The cry of pain

I cried in pain, perturbed by noise Lo! My parents hugged me with care and poise!

The above two lines convey my feelings at the time of my birth. We do not remember the most important time of our life that is the moment we breathed our first. Little do we know of the cascade of events that followed it? Our maiden cry, our maiden laugh and the first time we uttered a meaningful word!! No we do not remember anything, but surely our parents do, and how much it really means to them!

The stories of my mother about my mischievous acts set off a cascade of imaginary images in my mind! We all do share one thing in common that is our childhood and the memories of it remain buried in the deepest chambers of our heart!

Every parent wants their children to have a princely and royal life and they leave no stone unturned in fulfilling the dreams. For boys, the parents are convinced that they will be the masters, no matter what they become, but the girls are taught right from the birth that they have to leave their homes and go to their “original homes”.

Now here begins the confusion, I started my write up mentioning how glorious our childhood is, then where from these baseless and idiotic conclusions follow which discriminates a girl from a boy. Does it mean that the place where I spent two decades of my princely life is not my “original home”. When I was a child I had a stern belief that there exists no such thing as “gender divide” and girls can be better than the boys, but as they say “glasshouses are meant to be broken” and so did my illusion! As I grew up the fact was served to me right away at different circumstances and it only led to my broken belief and broken wings (I had a theory that all girls are beautiful princesses and have a pair of invisible wings).

Now what led to such a drastic change and complete U-turn of mindset? Here begins the story!!! I have a distinct relative who lives in a remote part of the valley. As I do not want to reveal the identity, for convenience let us name her Aiza (noble). Aiza was born off poor parents thus not with a silver spoon in her mouth. She was the eldest of four daughters and most sensible of all. She passed her matriculation exam and then had to leave her studies, because neither the monthly income nor her parents supported the decision for further studies.

As luck could have it, some months ago her parents got her married off to a peasant who was a distinct relative and 15 years older to Aiza. This was a new challenge for a 16 year old girl who was married to a man almost twice her age. But, Aiza was very mature than her age and accepted the challenge thrown to her by destiny. Aiza like a dutiful wife and a good daughter-in-law shouldered both the responsibilities with poise, patience and grace. She used to wake up early, do all the household chores, serve food to family and then go to fields for her routine work.

Year after her nuptial knot, she was blessed with a daughter and she began to dream of a rosier life! But her life was not a different one and as a custom she had to face the taunts of her in laws for giving birth to a daughter. Her husband was not supportive as well and when he used to come in evenings, he threw volley of abuses at her and sometimes would also beat her for not taking care of his family members!! Now here let us give a pause to the story and I request my readers to answer my query. So what is with this marriage stuff? You marry a girl, impregnate her, get the privilege of being a father, and then beat her mercilessly for not taking care of your family members? Who is she your maid? Or the one to decorate your family? Or has she married all the members of your family to take care of them? Is she your wife or the wife of entire family? No doubt she has to take care of the family but it is not obligatory, what right do you have to beat her? Or should I say that you want her to be a maid during day and a wife during night! Ridiculous! Now, coming back to the story, Aiza braved all the odds and began to swallow the bitter pills of life.

One day, her husband came home early and ordered her to make tea. Aiza stood up and fainted, her husband nudged her and commanded her to stand up, she, now fragile and frail in her twenties stood up and served him tea. “Can I take rest for some time”, she requested. “Oh! Sure, why not”, her husband said with a fictitious smile. She got up and as she stepped forward, he hit her hard from behind and she fell down with her belly touching the floor. Blood began to ooze out and her daughter now 3 years old called a nearby hakim, the Hakim checked her and conveyed of her miscarriage.

Alas! The husband turned monster had hit her so hard that she lost her baby! Years passed by and Aiza now became emaciated day by day. One day she decided to put an end to this miserable life and filed for divorce. On hearing this, her husband turned red in face. He feared of humiliation and decided for vendetta. He took out his sickle and chopped her hands!! And then exclaimed,” you speck of dust, how dare you go against me, now face the music” and left.

Aiza fell there in pool of blood for a long time and then disappeared behind the curtains of time forever!! This is just one story, but there are hundreds of Aiza’s in our society. Who cares for them? Is this the way we are treated in our “original homes”? Who will come to our rescue? How difficult is it to understand that women are: The crown of society, not the sandals you wear! She is the respect of family, not the garbage you throw! She is your honor, not the waste in bin!! At last she is a human being…so pure, so ethereal!!!

By Azra Mufti

(The writer is a member of Epileptic Foundation Club, America. She writes for the World Pulse and happens to be an MBA from SVIET College, Chandigrah. Feedback at: azramufti786@gmail.com