The Lost Daughter - An Ode to Motherhood and Flawed Mothers

Mothers are always praised and glorified for the sacrifices that they make and are called supermoms, if they find a balance with their family and work life. Movies have always portrayed mothers as either sacrificial or supermoms. But do all the mothers choose the same road?

Maggie Gyllenhaal's 'The Lost Daughter' speaks for all the flawed unnatural mothers. People who become mothers at an early age, who feel traumatized by the whole new version of themselves, who live in fear of losing their original identity in the run for creating one for their children, who make choices selfishly regardless of their children's needs. Leda in the movie, in fear of losing her individuality in the love for her children, takes a decision to focus on her career. She finds it as an amazing experience and embraces everything that she desired, peeling off the perfect mother image that she is supposed to keep.

When women are considered to have innate motherness in them, people don't realise that not all the women can be "perfect mothers". Flawed mothers and their maternal guilt, and their struggle between the desire to live on one's own terms and to live for someone else, needs a representation.

Leda is conflicted about being liberated from the responsibilities of parenthood and wracked by guilt for the price she paid for that freedom. The suffocating claustrophobic motherhood that young Leda experiences with an unsupportive husband contributes to her momentous decision to choose herself. She upends the centuries of self- sacrificing image of mother and chooses herself because mothers are individuals with flaws, and everyone cannot be supermoms.

Leda and Nina in the movie demands to look deep into the problematic depiction of mothers and motherhood in our social structure. Leda and Nina haven’t simply resigned to the fact that they’re emotionally detached, they’re caught in a catastrophic cycle of wanting to abide by, but also wanting to break free. In Leda, Nina can see her future, and it terrifies her. And in Nina, Leda can see her past. Unlike the orange peel, this chain will likely remain unbroken.

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Shuli’s Love

Shuli washed her hair twice that day. One for her love to cleanse all impurities of reality and one for herself. She took a nap twice that day. One for love that took her melatonin, And another to forget. Shuli laughed twice that day. One on behalf of her tainted Love, And another on her botched brain cells. She cried a quarter that day. Half a quarter filled with anger, and the other half with shame. She danced twice that day, One for lost time on love, And another for her love for dance. Shuli wrote twice that day, One for her heart and Other for her brain. She gave two hugs that day, One for her wet pillow And another for herself. Shuli played hostess twice that day, One for her pain and the last for her sanity.

Little Poem

My procrastination ends here, While the urge to write chokes my throat, My hands get paralysed as in a trance, I find excuses to write a little poem, I make up a lonely man, a distressed woman, a lovers’ quarrel, an unrequited love, But they are reluctant to play the part, Maybe i should give them a raise, Or throw a party at midnight, Maybe a few drinks might work, Only if they don’t puke. I can expect a little vandalism, Some damage to the property and a mini scandal, Possibly out of rage. But at the end when I bring my weapons, Sometimes they get scared and back off, Some may never come back, Others find it funny and mock at me, And opportunists, seeing my desperation, Attacks me with manipulation. And all these while, my three panic attacks talk to me in a different language, I try to write a little poem With a racing heart and flowing eyes, I write my little poem, tortured and broken, I end my little poem, Like a mighty warrior, Who had a pyrrhic victory.

Madeline’s Mirror

Madeline’s mirror told her she’s fat, It appalled at her shapeless dress, Covering a chunk of flesh. She looked at her broad shoulders And big breasts, which reminded her of a pile of clothes that no longer fits her. But Madeline smiled and applied her eyeliner effortlessly. Her mirror sneered at her chafing thighs kissing each other when she moves. Madeline’s mirror found her plush lips contradicting the pair of flesh on either side of it. It spotted the two chins fighting for space like contestants in the combat zone. Madeline admired her freckleless skin, and applied her favourite lipstick. The mirror reflected her flabby arms complementing her saggy belly. Madeline moved closer to her mirror, which still in oblivion, started to produce sympathetic smiles at her legs. It mirrored how her legs carry all the weight, hiding under her flowy dress. Appreciating her silky hair and perfectly manicured...

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