Nausheen, a pretty young girl was a dedicated photographer. Since her childhood it was her one and only passion! She loved to capture moments in her superb clicks! Nausheen started to receive offers from various organizations to work as a photojournalist.
After scanning the offers, she finally picked up the carrier of her choice!! She also worked as a freelance photographer and thus doubled her income. She started fulfilling the dreams of her parents and provided them with a lifestyle they dreamt of! Nausheen was very ambitious and loved to add skills to her kitty.
She had a fire in herself which never stopped to die down. With each passing day, she wanted to explore new things and capture the lively moments. She had a sparkle which often left a positive impact on others. Being young and talented every rival wanted to have a journo like Nausheen!!
Two years passed and she was flourishing in her career. She had her dream job and loads of other achievements to her credit. So far she had exposed many corrupt people with her apt photographs and unintentionally caught many eyeballs! Her fame was growing far and wide and her swot had doubled! One such scandalous project that she had exposed involved a top notch businessman. He was sentenced to long term imprisonment. He developed bitter cruelty towards this girl and his animosity took an ugly turn. He hired some hooligans and planned to teach her a lesson. On the fateful day, Nausheen left for work and the hired hooligans for lust of money threw acid on her face!! She cried, moaned, wept in pain with no sign of relief! She was rushed to a hospital where she was declared to suffer from 80% damage to her face.
Nausheen, an iron willed girl! This incident did not break and shake her courage. She started to fight. It was no doubt a herculean task to fight the miscreants but she never stopped. She mustered all her courage and started an online and offline campaign against all the acid attack victims! The beginning was slow, many people did not want to hear her story, and others heard her sob story but did not come forward for help. Her faith was shaking but it did not break. She did intensive research and approached all the people she could with her hard earned money. Her campaign gained momentum and invited support from many groups! People started showing interest in her story and wanted to help her somehow. She filed a public litigation and successfully managed to push the miscreants behind bars!! She fought and won!! On being asked if she faces any complex, she replies” The face you burnt is the face I love!
P.S: Acid attack, often known as vitriol attack or vitriolage is one of the most brutal assault in modern times. Bangladesh has been reporting the highest number of acid attacks on women. In India, ASFI (Acid Survivors Foundation India) is a leading NGO which provides support services to these victims. Laxmi Agarwal, an Indian campaigner is doing commendable job in this field. She was attacked at the age of 15. She has also advocated against acid attacks through gathering 27,000 signatures for a petition to curb acid sales, and taking that cause to the Indian Supreme Court. Her petition led the Supreme Court to order the central and state governments to regulate the sale of acid, and the Parliament to make prosecutions of acid attacks easier to pursue. There are thousands of Nausheens and Laxmis in our society, but most of them do not display same courage and patience! We need to support them and love them. Globally, there are as many as 1,500 recorded acid attacks each year with more than 1,000 cases estimated to occur in India alone. However, many attacks go unreported because victims are too afraid of stigma to come forward, most of the girls do not get a suitable match and end up leading miserable lives. A special request to all the guys who have a soft corner for such girls, lend a helping hand to such ladies and marry them, mere slogans won’t help! Let us begin a change!! A change of thought and conscience!! Also the government should act strict to the miscreants and punish them. Plus they need to regulate the selling of acid!! Think Different, Act Different!
WHERE IS MY HOME?
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? 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 doctor 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!!!
Excerpts from Book TEARFUL PAGES authored by Azra Mufti, a freelance columnist having written more than 100 articles for various domestic and national dailies, currently working as an assistant professor in CGC Landran Mohali.