Trigger Warnings: harassment, child marriage, family abuse, trauma
I looked down at my feet, running as fast as I could and trying as hard as I could to act casual. My heart was pounding faster than before, and I wondered if it could burst out of my chest. My whole body trembled with that absurd fear, though with each step I was getting closer to my house. I tried not to look over my shoulder at the bunch of people who just peacefully enjoyed the scene of me getting harassed by that mop of boys. No one even dared to stop them, not even my own father. He seemed to be threatened by those teenage boys; his eyes lowered, and his hands clutched at his sides. I went inside the house, not looking at my parents. That's only when I enter my room that I get to taste the oxygen.
A girl in this country cannot feel safe, not even in her hometown. She could not be protected by her own father or the boundaries of her own house.
The Turning Point
I opened my eyes; those memories still haunt me. I try hard to forget them, to hide them in the deepest corners of my mind. But they always come back and sting, even when I have achieved all the things I wanted in my life. However, when I look back at the timeline of events that followed, I realize it was a turning point in my life.
That day, I heard my father saying, "I don't want her wearing that uniform from now on. Do me a favor by getting her married as soon as you can." His words like daggers burned a hole in my heart. His voice was sharp, almost trembling with anger. I never realized I was such a shame for them.
But the next day, I couldn't help asking my mother, "Am I such a shame for you?" as she had told me that I would be wearing that uniform for the last time in my life. But she uttered something that was more unbearable. "You're not a shame; your father is trying to protect you. Besides, one day you'll have to become a bride, so what's the point of wasting time in school?" my mother said, her face stern but her voice breaking at the edges.
A Teacher's Intervention
I slammed the door shut behind me, ready to board the last ride to my school, but I didn't know it back then that it was just the beginning. A beginning to my path to success. It started with my teacher grabbing my hand and telling me my worth when I told her it was my last day. At school, "It's not the end. I know what you're feeling right now, but always remember that when one door closes, a thousand more open. I work at an NGO that offers free tutoring classes for all grades, especially for people like you. I will discuss with you. In that way, we would be in touch, and I would be able to help you more," she said warmly, her eyes full of determination.
I turned down her offer, but the next day I found myself lying to my mum. I told her I was going to see grandma, but instead I went to my teacher. She introduced me to the website of that NGO and spoke with a representative from a computer cafe. I hadn't known that the NGO was covering the cost. I went home, feeling high with new hopes and ambitions.
The Escape
The next day, I started my adventure of studying. I went to a cafe, covering myself up in a burka, under the excuse of seeing my grandmother. Everyone thought I was taking good care of her, but I only spent about 10 minutes with her, until one day when I stepped out of the café, relieved after giving my last 10th-grade exam.
My breath was almost caught in my mouth. My body went numb as I looked up to see the man with the same eyes as mine standing close to me. He grabbed my arm without saying a word and pulled me to the home. He threw me like trash on the floor and shouted, "She will no longer live here, I'm going to get her married." My father roared, his eyes burned like blood red. Never have I seen him this angry. His fists clenched, his face twisted with rage.
My sister came up to me and pulled me up from the floor when my mum slapped me. For a moment, I just looked into her eyes, trying to find the sin for which I have been punished, but I couldn't. I ran back into my room and locked it up. I cried all night so much that my eyes went dry. I was sentenced to death for only fighting for rights and dreams.
One week had passed since then, when a few women entered my room to judge me by my looks and decide whether I was a good match for their son or not. And a month late, I found myself becoming a bride. My mum and sister r trying to fix that dupatta over my head.
The Second Chance
"Look, how beautiful you look. You only get this jewellery and expensive dresses when you get married," my mother told me, forcing a smile through her tears. "You're so lucky you'll have many dresses now," my sister muttered innocently.
I wish I were old enough to understand; she couldn't. They left me in the room when my grandma entered. "You look pretty, but I think that's not what you want," she said, smiling at me, her hands gently squeezing mine. "Live your life," she handed me the ticket for a bus and my teacher's address. I wondered how she did this, but before I could ask, she answered, "Don't ask any questions, I'll handle everything."
That night, I ran in my wedding lehenga to the bus and reached my teacher's house. She had no family. She told me how she had contacted my grandma and made it happen. My life settled, and I was close to my teacher, who was now my mother. But sometimes I would think about my family. And one I decided to go back without telling Maria, my teacher. But then I received an e-mail that changed my whole life, I was admitted to Harvard.
Then I didn't go back because I thought it was not the right time to go back. Instead, I started my life in the USA. And now, after seven years, I'm going back to my hometown to meet my family. The one I left to pursue my dreams, but never forgot. I sometimes wonder if they had just agreed? What if they were with me this whole time when I achieved so much?
