“Is the T.V working?” asked Shabana from the edge of her lungs so her voice reaches down in the hut while hanging by the ladder, fixing the antennas on the roof to catch the connection through the cable. “A little left, oh yes, it is working. Didi come down or you’ll miss the only part you have been waiting since yesterday's promo.” her brother yelled. Shabana was obsessed with Fawad Khan, who is a Pakistani actor. Who wouldn't like such a gentleman with his perfectly trimmed and edgy beard, hair cleanly combed, puffy from the front, gelled to the sides of his head, broad chest and smart fit physic? But his appearance was not the main cause of her obsession. It was the way he acted, a man who respected and embraced the woman. Shabana had never seen any of the men in her village who were that calm towards their women. Dramas for her were always a fantasy and after all, it was just a ‘Drama’. For her, it was all unrealistic and too good to believe about a man. Back to T.V, now you know what Shabana was waiting to watch all day, his one glance.
Even till this day, most of the rural areas are deprived of technological entertainment, whereas, we can enjoy the content by just a click and here we go traveling the world online. A village is a place surrounded by small, underdeveloped fragile ‘Makans’-huts. Technology is beyond their minds and only they know of is Nokia 3210, the ‘over-smartphones’.
Shabana was a 13-year-old girl who would wander in the village. She would jump, run around with her girl-friends who were more feminine than her. They would wear dupattas around their necks dropping down under the private line of shame, while Shabana would always be confused why they would tie them to difficulty as it was a barrier to enjoy the joy of freedom. On the other hand, Shabana’s signature look was plain colored Salwar (bottoms) with her usual floral printed kameez (top). She would pair them with each other creating variations of looks with only those few colors of each cloth that she owned.
Shabana once snatched one of her friend Gulzar’s dupatta running miles and her friend followed her trail to catch her. Shabana bumped into a soft cushion and banged on the sanded ground. She moved her sight up immediately upon realizing it wasn't a cushion but her friend's dad, his belly was hanging below the belt that another step would make it fall. He stared her in fury, grabbed through her arm, dragged her on to the pit where all the 'Waderas’ held discussions with villagers. He yelled out loud in the call for gathering and publicly raised his hand smacking her face hard enough to shove her onto the ground and made her mouth bleed. No one questioned him, they kept talking amongst themselves seeing the monkey tricks. He then snatched the dupatta from her hand and kept his way moving. He was a 'Wadera’ too.
‘Waderas’ are elite landlords who run the village community and take all final discussions. They are powerful wealthy beings that are respected and worshiped despite their cruel actions. No one ever raises their voice against them and whoever does, faces the wrath just like Shabana was about to.
Shabana raised her head while still on the ground. Her innocent teary eyes were pleading for sympathy. The fellow villagers were unmoved. Shabana struggled to stand but no one was willing to offer her a hand. She ran parting the crowd to her home. She stayed home the other half of the day trying to sort the reason for the incident. She slept empty-headed in unease.
The next day, it was Sunday, another school holiday. Shabana woke up, performed her daily rituals. Her mother served her a Sunny Side up egg, crisped on the edges, sided with a paratha topped with a spoonful of fresh butter and a glass of milk sprinkled with a pinch of saffron and mixed nuts. Shabana was stuck thinking about yesterday's event. Her eyes were puffy due to restless sleep. She couldn't finish her breakfast and left the house without any notice in an urge to get an answer to calm her confused brain.
Shabana joined her friends at their usual meeting place. All her friends were uncomfortable with her presence. It was expected due to the incident. Shabana tried to cool down the heat and cheered them pretending that things are fine, but inside, she was desperate to find her answer. As soon as she got a chance, she asked her friends about Gulzar's absence. They blamed her for Gulzar not being around. She was grounded by her father and was soon to be married to a guy. Shabana was shocked to hear the news. She still couldn't understand why everyone was exaggerating. It was enough of her patience, she stood upfront and asked why she was slapped and what is Gulzar being punished for. They looked hesitant to answer. One of the girls gathered her courage and said: “Shabana, we are mature now and it's mandatory to cover our breasts. Dupatta signifies our respect and you took that away from Gulzar.” Shabana looked down at her chest and then at theirs. She connected the dots and everything made sense to her now. On her way back home, she noticed each woman passing by. All of them had their parts covered with unique dupattas; bright light colors, pearls, and tassel hanging on the edges, traditional chunris, shawls, ajraks, floral and plain chadars, everyone had their own distinct style and taste. What mainly mattered to them was hiding the obvious.
It was Monday, the school day. Shabana woke up and dressed for school. Her mother smoothed her hair with oil and tightly twisted two braids hanging down at the front. She set her stationery and books in the sack with cloth handles attached on each side and hung it on the shoulder. She walked two miles to her school. Her day at school went rough as the incident flew to every ear all over the village. She was embarrassed and suffered the brunt of spiteful comments. Even her friends sided with others in fear of getting rolled in the snowball. The whole school was eyeing her to shame but she managed till the last bell rang. The journey back home extended as she tracked the longer route to dry her tears. While lost in her line of thoughts, a voice cut her to reality: “Oh look, She is ready to mingle”. She turned to see the owner of the lusty voice. It was an adult boy accosting his stocky friend. She bolted to her hut gasping and banged on the door. Her mother welcomed her in and with a realization of Shabana’s condition, in no time dragged her to the washroom. Shabana couldn’t keep the stress in and cried out loud. She tried to explain to her mother but her sobs didn’t let the words complete while her mother continued to ignore her digging in drawers and pulled out a long white piece of cloth. Shabana was unaware of what her mother was struggling with. She saw her engrossed in cutting the cloth in rectangular pieces padding them with a layer of cotton. They seemed like little cushions. Shabana stopped crying and was more interested to know what the process was about. She was about to reach her mother with a question but before that, her mother handed the stack of cushion to her. Shabana noticed the smile her mother pulled while saying: “You are a woman now”. Shabana a naive girl steadily questioned: “Am I a mother to be?”. Mother turned Shabana making her back face towards the mirror. She showed her the blood mark Shabana had on her uniform. Shabana was moved by the sight and screamed panicking: “I will die!”. Her mother calmed her and addressed the natural behavior of a woman’s body. Prior to that day, Shabana always thought that a girl becomes a woman only after she bears a child.
In the village, the school system does not educate the students about the body changes in humans, not about the menstruation cycle nor the intercourse.
Shabana’s first day of mensuration went miserable. She had a painful, sleepless night. She went a dozen times to change her outfit. It was a struggle that took all her strength to even walk a step. The cramps were extreme like knives were being stabbed in the bladder and the intestine drying down sticking the sides to each other making it flat. The stomach was bloated to the edge of bursting that was suffocating her. The lower back felt like a crumpled paper ball that had an urge to unfold and stretch straight. The sun rose and so did Shabana. The morning seemed irritating to her, all she wanted was to lie down the rest of her day but her desire was ended just when she was greeted by a hurdle of women entering her room without any notice. “Bohot bohot Mubarak ho meri guria, aj tum bari hogai!” (Congratulations my doll, you are a grown-up now). The ladies came and kissed her forehead taking turns and gave her blessings. It seemed weird to Shabana unlike other girls who treasured this tradition. She let it all slide and got ready for school. She showed up for breakfast. Her dad looked at her in shock. He strictly ordered his wife: “Samjho apni beti ko!”(explain your daughter!). Her mother forced Shabana inside the kitchen. She told her that she is no longer allowed to go to school as she turned a woman and it is now her responsibility to take charge of household chores. Shabana was numb after hearing her mother. The clock was counting days in minutes. Every other second opened a dreadful surprise for her. She was a little girl who couldn't understand the norms of her culture. Her mother handed her stack of rotis (kind of bread) on challi (a plate made of date stems) and pushed her to serve her father and brother. Tears were dropping on rotis while she gave them the food. She was even told to eat after the men of the house are full. Shabana’s mind couldn't catch the sequence of sudden arrivals of such traumatic events. She didn't know who to blame. Nothing seemed right. There was no one to guide and at last decided to accept it as her fate. She changed to her casual clothes.
In the evening as the usual day, she was leaving to meet her friends while her mother stopped her and brought her a dupatta. Her mother draped it over her shoulders down her chest. Shabana exclaimed: “but my chest is flat!”. Her father who was enjoying his tea, spit it out upon hearing her. The room was silent as the embarrassment flooded in. Her mother took Shabana away and explained to her that such things aren't meant to be talked around man as it brings shame and disrespect. She gave Shabana the dupatta and asked her to wear it to symbolize the womanhood. It was a lot for this little girl to absorb. She did as said and walked out to meet her friends. On her way, she bumped into a guy. His one glance made her uncomfortable. He resembled Fawad Khan, just a little skinnier, darker in complexion, medium-long greasy hair and around 5 inches shorter than him. She instantly told her friends about him as she met them. Her friends advised her to stay safe. After the gossip session, Shabana went back to her home where another shell-shock was expecting her arrival.
As soon as the door opened, Shabana was welcomed by a few of the guests at her house. She thought they are here to congratulate her too. Her mother grabbed her hand and wrenched her into the room. Her mother seemed very excited. She made her sit sound on the bed and carefully pulled out an exquisite dress. It had stitched multi-shaded traditional gota (kind of embroidery) on a bright sun colored Pishwas with yellowish gold Pashmina dupatta that had orange floral embroidery on both sides. Shabana’s eyes pearled as her mother bestowed the dress to her. Shabana had the desire to wear it since her mother bought this dress and told her, she’ll gift it to her when it’s the right time. Shabana hugged her and her mother whispered: “It is time for you to be the bride.” Shabana as soon as she heard the bull sprint, snapped and threw the dress on the floor. Her mother triggered and Shabana received an instant slap for showing such temper. Her mother then ordered her to get ready and appear for the ceremony in acceptance of the proposal. Shabana felt helpless like a puppet that was attached to commanding strings. She met her future inlaws. She knew that no one values her stance. She locked her dreams in a box and drowned them somewhere deep in her heart. She wasn’t even told about her future spouse until the guests were gone and the tsunami tumbled her soul.
THE WEDDING DAY…..
Shabana was sitting in the bride's room while her friend Noor was giving her a bridal makeover. She was 12 years older than Shabana. They were neighborhood friends. Noor adored Shabana as she didn't have any child. She was divorced after 1 year of her marriage as she couldn't bear a child. Shabana's presence always made her feel motherly. On her big day, Noor insisted Shabana's birth mother to dress the beloved bride. Shabana wasn't happy. She didn't pretend to wear a smile as even tears were declared worthless. Noor parted Shabana's hair from the middle, combed them back and braided them in place. She fixed an antique rusty brown tikka(jewelry) right in the middle of partitioned hair and made her wear matching two fingers long heavy earrings, a traditional mala(long pearl necklace) that had an artificial flower at the end touching her belly. She wore a bright coral vintage gown reaching her ankles. It had shimmery beads and zari(type of thread) embroidery all over it. Noor spread the blood-red pearled dupatta over Shabana's head covering half of her face. She slid her feet in glittery golden sandals and Noor walked her to tie knots with a 41-year-old man, Mian Sa.
The marriage was extravagant. The whole village was invited as a Wadera was getting married. Every guest was presented with a gold coin. The food was served in silver thalis (huge plates that have various portions). The bride and groom performed post marriage rituals. All three wives of the groom and their daughters welcomed them to the Haveli(palace). Shabana was taken to her new room. The trail to the bedroom was covered with rose petals. She walked on it to the bed and sat there. She wished the wait never ended but the door was slammed open soon. She was unknown to the first dark thundery night. She cried and begged, but Mian Sa forced himself on her and shut her voice inside her throat until the clouds rained.
The next day Shabana woke up in pain. She was bruised all over her hands and around her shoulders. Her dress was torn from the back and her skin was showing that had scratches. She was scattered like a wolf invaded her. She managed to get up and went to take a bath. As she poured the water, the color turned red. Her ear lobe was bleeding as last night the monster snatched the earning from her ear. Her tears were dissolving into the water. She dressed in a light blue Salwar Kameez, tied dupatta around her head and left her room. She was assigned to cook food. It felt like any other day as if she was living here since birth. While she was peeling the potatoes to boil, she felt a breeze blown into her ear. She was dazed as Sahil grabbed her from behind and scooped her tight. He was the same boy she bumped into on the day of her proposal. Soon she came to know that he was her owner's brother. He released her and left the kitchen. She was trembling. Since this incident, she veiled her face and kept an unknowing distance from him.
It was about to be a year since Shabana got married to Mian Sa. There was no sign of the newborn’s arrival. Shabana was aware that Mian Sa married her for a son. She was terrified as she didn't want a divorce like Noor. She knew her parents would marry her to Quran(Holy Book) if her master leaves her and she won't be allowed to leave the house or they may sacrifice her for their respect.
On the day of Shabana’s step daughter's marriage, Shabana was abducted by Sahil. He took her to a deserted hut and forced himself on her. She cried but no one was around to pull her out from the black hole. A moon night turned in a traumatic experience. They returned to their roof. Shabana stitched her lips and didn't utter a word. The nights went rough just like the other days but now the nightmares could be seen through open eyes. After a few days, the good news was received by the villagers; Mian Sa was going to be the father once again. Everyone was celebrating, but, the mother knew the locked secret behind the doors. Shabana was broken. Every breath she took screeched her soul. She knew that the miracle isn't a gift, it's a curse. She knew it was a forbidden child but she stayed silent. If the treasure was out of the cave, the innocent life will not be able to survive by the hands of the keepers.
9 months later….
The little life, a fragile body with the purest soul was looking at her mother with those wide hazel eyes. Shabana had a smile on her face while she watched her newborn girl yawn. She wished for a girl and it was granted after all the sufferance. Mian Sa wasn't excited about the girl's arrival. As soon as he heard the news, he went into the ward and snatched the baby from Shabana. Shabana screamed and cried but he smacked her on to the ground while she was trying to stop him, she fell unconscious.
Shabana woke up in her room. Her back was hurting. She managed to get off her bed and stepped out of her room. She was confused seeing a crowd of people mourning. A woman standing by, not knowing of her presence, uttered some words to a fellow: “Larki thi, mar gai, acha hoa ek or bouj sai bach gai Mian Sa.” (It good that the girl died and now Mian Sa have less of the burden.) The other replied: “Mian Sa nai tou khud usay mout kai ghat utar dia” (the girl was strangled to death by Mian Sa himself). They continued the chatter while Shabana lost herself and the patience she was asked to keep since years. She grabbed a knife from the kitchen and ran in search of Mian Sa. What did she see? Mian Sa was celebrating the death of her only child, cheering drinks and gaging. She rushed towards him screaming in agony and aimed to stab Mian Sa on his chest to twist the knife into his heart, but, she was partially successful. He was hurt, but not enough to die. People tried to strap her, but she escaped the haveli. Shabana ran into the jungle and found her way to the railway station. She was weak and tired as the delivery wounds were fresh. She was lucky enough to jump on the train that was just leaving. People were running after her but they failed to catch her. She fainted and woke up only when the train stopped after the 2-hour journey. Shabana was in the city, she peeked out of the train’s door and smelled the freedom she dreamt of, but, a long drive was waiting for her- a new beginning- a new struggle- and a lot more challenges.
Picture Credits: David Lazar
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