Ariba Khan

December 17, 2017 | 1473 Views |

Girls are not diamonds or flowers, they're human beings, equal to men. You don't have to protect them, they can take care of themselves. They do whatever they feel like. You just keep your hands away from them. You got no right to touch them whatsoever.

It was 11pm and pitch dark.

She left from the office and was walking towards the main road.

She removed the scarf from her bag and covered a bit of her body that showed off.

Though she was headstrong, independent and confident girl,

her instincts told her something else was on the way and she was spooked about it,

with time she had learned to listen to that instinct but the silence in the air was still lurking.

It was too late for the shops to be open but to her surprise few of them were still working.

She stopped at a light and glanced at the shop to her right where some people were standing around talking.

Their wandering gazes roved over her and she continued to avoid them.

She reached the main road and was waiting for her pick up van to come.

Little did she know about the terror on the way, all her fears came true.

There came a car and stopped by her.

She was pulled in by two drunkards sitting on the back seat of the car while the one on the front

seat got down and pushed her in and they were boosted by the guy sitting on the driver seat.

She screamed, she yelled, she cried for help but all the wandering gazes were lost.

Nobody saw her, nobody heard her and every eyes that roved over her pretended to be blind.

She was terrified, she begged and pleaded but in return they pushed a piece of cloth in her

mouth to stop her from making noise.

She was taken to the road where nobody passes by.

They got down from the car and pulled her out, she resisted, she fought but they didn’t stopped,

they dragged her holding her by her hairs and slapped her and threw her down on the side of the road.

She kept fighting with all her strength until she lost, rest of the night, one by one, her soul was murdered.

She was left there to weep, unconscious, bruised and wounded.

She was rescued next day but though she craved for care and love but what she received were “taunt”.

“We know what kind of work she do late night”, “Short dresses, fit clothes, she might have

provoked them”, “Who will marry such a slut”, “Crocodile’s tears, shameless girl”,”Why to let

girls out” were enough to break her soul.

Her parents supported her but with shame in their eyes for letting their girl stand equal to boys.

Everyone criticized her for being a victim of rape instead of holding her hands during the battleshe fought.

She tied a rope from the ceiling fan, she wrote a letter precisely her last letter, she climbed up

the chair and lost the battle as she could not hold on any longer.

Her letter left every voiced that raised over her quiet, the only question she asked was “What

was my fault? I was not wrong but I was surely unfortunate. I am sorry for my bad fate”.

Her death created sensation, candle marches, placards asking for justice and every one stood on

her side but she was gone.

Every voice raised but she was silent, justice was done but time was wrong.

Every thing changed but took her death to unfold.

The question that is left unanswered is “what was her fault”?

Ariba Khan
Ariba Khan
Every new journey leads to a new destination and writing is the most beautiful journey for me!