My forced exit from Illinois back to NY to be among the same people who despised my very being is where I found myself again.And while I was happy about reuniting with my child, I was also slowly suffocating again in my attempts to regroup and find a way to get as far away as possible from the life I had known thus far.With my older brothers’ upcoming nuptials and the first wedding in my immediate family quickly approaching, my parents were thrilled and equally hopeful they would somehow be reinstated to the same community that had exiled them a little over three years ago.I on the other hand, took another chance at finding true love just for it to be short-lived and overshadowed by the regrets of my unhappy past. Like a poisonous snake, the reminders of my shortcomings in life would wrap itself around and strangle every longing, hope and desire I had for a decent future.

A weight equivalent to a ton of bricks is what it felt like I was carrying upon returning to school for the first time after giving birth, and having to finish out my junior year of high school.

In our close knit Indian community, an unwed teenage mother was viewed as an unforgivable stain on the family honor. My parents’ house, once filled with social and frequent gatherings, had become a tomb of cold and suffocating silence in the wake of my delivery.

I was faced with having to make difficult decisions about my immediate future and also ill prepared and unequipped to navigate the pain and distance I would be met with in having to leave my baby behind in order to secure a good future for us both.

I became a teenage mother overnight but the discovery of my hidden pregnancy over the last nine months were now the least of my problems.I was now faced with the pressure of having to give up my baby for adoption, and simultaneously endure the blame and shame for my family’s once well regarded reputation.My father now also for the first time in my life, was indefinitely gone leaving my mother to bear the burden of having to answer endless questions she had no answers for.

The oversized clothes could only hide the truth for so long. I remained fully convinced that I would somehow, someway make it through this pregnancy, give birth and give up the baby without my family and community ever finding out.Little did I know God had a completely different plan. The disappointment in my Mother’s eyes was worse than any punishment I had feared over the past few months as my belly secretly grew bigger and bigger, day after day.All my hiding now fully exposed by a harsh truth that catapulted me into a razor sharp reality of my present situation.I’m seventeen years old, unwed and now a teenage mother to a beautiful baby girl. Up until I had given birth, I believed she was the reason my life as I knew it was over.But that was far from the truth. Becoming her Mom was the only thing that gave my life any real hope or meaning.

Turning sixteen and becoming pregnant brought forth one of my worst fears.During this era of my life, I regrettably mastered the art of acting perfectly normal while my mind raced in several different directions, searching for a way out.Confessing to my parents felt impossible, I couldn’t stomach disappointing them any more than I already had.Getting an abortion felt like the only option that could safeguard my future. The secrecy was beyond exhausting as I learned to abide within the realm of concealing my symptoms as I anxiously counted down the days until..

For years, the darkness and silence of the house I grew up in slowly began its work of choking my hope of a better future. It was weaved and knitted tightly from a concept within the walls of my childhood home that I learned to carry into my adult life.

In my family and community, the unwritten rule was absolute, what happens behind closed doors stays there.

Plagued and then eventually cemented by, “What will people say? was the phrase that guarded the threshold of my family which locked away and safeguarded the reality of the physical, emotional and sexual abuse I endured.

To speak out was not seen as seeking justice; but instead was viewed as a betrayal that would surely tarnish my family's reputation and ripple through the generations to follow.

For a long time, I minimized and ultimately made room for my shame and pain, learning to operate and spectate through life wearing a carefully curated mask of compliance.

What began as a remarkable love story of forbidden love that defied the times of early 1970’s India, ended in tragic heartbreak, high betrayal and ultimately, murder.

I invite you to join me on this journey as I share the untold events of what led up to this fateful night that changed mine and my family’s life forever.

Prisoner of Hope presents Dangerous Arrangements - The TRUE story behind the murder of my Father, Bhaskara Karnavar.