December 16, 2011

Cry, And A Memory

She attributed her duties oh so well. She perished in the agony. Strayed away the fulfillment for thoughtless contributes. What did she achieve in the shambles, she had no idea. It takes a multitude of effortless care, or so she thought. Bringing up an issue, she had no players in her game.

Rashia was a wounded acrobat. A mind with the thought of cages and birds. Never in her entire life had she been so drawn to forgive the many sins of others. Yet, no one forgave her for what she did. A mistake, you can say...But it was planned for her to commit.

A wounded cluster of her brothers lay upon a pile of tiles. She swept the dust away so they found solace at their ground. Gravity can be so unforgiving. Food was always a missing, but it was plenty for her. Many wanted her, many. She wanted none. She had never wanted anything but love. It was a difficult word in Rashias' family, a very difficult word indeed. All everyone cared about was the weather. Everything in between, not Rashia. She complimented her existence with her silence and smiles to her beatings. Mother, Father, sisters. She had overheard her Grandmother once. She had told Mother that her first born was a girl, but they killed her. The infant had been burned alive.

Her dreams consisted of her entire schedule of life taking an overturn into the next. Some were bad, some were worse. Rashia wrote a Diary. She recalled her dreams and 'escapades' and wrote everything else. Things she could never, never tell anyone. At times when her lead broke, she broke down into tears. A broken lead was her way to her sibling's room. Brother would beat her up for asking. The others would have 'fun' at the Climax. Her Diary was her Real mind. I reflected how she actually obeyed the cruelty she was assigned with each and every day. Not one day passed when her drunk Father wouldn't grab her veil and beat her if she hesitated.

Misery fell upon her day by day. Mother was helpless. And Rashia fell in Love. She fell in love with her silence. Day upon day she thought in quite in her shack about the Day she would die. Her accomplishment was death. Slow death, she thought. But she still smiled.

Her Brothers left for the Army. She was the only child. She was the only girl. And that meant marriage. Mother came in one day to speak to her while Rashia was washing the dirty laundry.

"Rashia, it is now time for you to fulfill your duty of becoming a woman. Your time's over, here."

"Mother, the sky looks so beautiful today, doesn't it?"

"Stop it and listen. I have no time for dreamy talk. Did you hear me?"

"Yes mother, I heard what you said. It's Time I go"

That day in the evening, Rashia went to her bed after completing her chores. She put her veil aside, took her diary and started to write.

Dear Komal,

My time is over here. Mother told me herself today. Today was the day I had been waiting for. My life now rests on the hands of the Almighty. I shall be free. Every inch of my being shall renew their soul tonight. I have been a victim of conflicts I had no business in. I have been punished and forced to issue penalties for the sins of Others. I was thrown like a corpse in my dear Brothers room when I asked them for any form of help. My Father never looked me in the eye or ever even thought of me as his daughter. I have no friends. You are my Counselor. Mother is my permit. Courage is my ticket. I have had random thoughts for a long time, but not anymore.
I am ashamed of being what I am. Just ashamed. My womanhood has in fact pressurized me to do the deed I am to commit tonight. It is not a Blame. It is a woman's freedom to Face; Face the harsh reality that no one has ever or shall ever, I pray, have to go through in their life. I pray for Glory. I have always. I pray for 'Women'. I pray for Father, Mother and my Brothers. In the End, I pray for myself.

I have had a restricted and grounded life since I can remember. My Birth was an Omen to my family. I am an Omen to myself, I believe. I smiled throughout my rough Fate. I destroyed my Soul already. No more of destruction is left for me, except Death. I am not ashamed of any one in my family. I am ashamed of myself. Very ashamed. My conflicted thoughts, Sins, bad habits...Everything is my fault. I say it with Honesty. I have put up with cruelty only I brought over myself. Yes, at time it was unfair...but I am the Unlucky. The Very Unlucky.

So today, on my 15th birthday I bid farewell to my distraught Soul so that it accomplishes what it has yearned to. I Forgive all those who thought I was a Burden. I Thank them as well. I Thank you, the most. Today, instead of reminiscing what went Wrong and what Good I accomplished, I will Obey my Heart for once. I will Die on my fifteenth birthday.

And now my Soul feels sorry.

I have always Loved you in my Silence,


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