Words Of A Broken Girl

“Take every chance. Drop every fear.”

The hoarding right outside her window said so, while she sat at the corner of her dark room. Her face had stains of kohl. Tears ran down her face while she continued to stare at nothingness. Every stare, every hand which creeped up to her, every touch on her skin, made her feel more abhorrence in herself. Did he try to get his hands on her? No. It was a big no, her insides shouted. 

It was pure love, it was that one feeling which every girl craved for, a love which every girl demands, her soul is in a need for. She knew that if love was a grain of sand, his was the universe of beaches yet, she couldn't eradicate that one thing which he wished for, he craved for because her own cravings had a blockade which she couldn't eliminate, no matter how much she may try. 

Zainab was still where she was, sixteen years ago, stuck in those same dingy streets of Bhendi Bazaar. Even though now she was miles away, but the eight years old, stuck in the twenty four year old never left her soul. She couldn’t let go of that one blood-curdling incident since it happened. The incident which has tormented her past, had become an evil spell on her present. Sayeed had always loved her with all his heart but when ever he thought of embracing her with his love, she resisted, she made him feel as if he was the only one craving, she made him feel as if he was someone who just wanted to satisfy his lust for her. It was as if she was cheating on him, cheating on herself whenever he came closer to her. She felt as if her cat will leave the bag if she let someone close to her. It’ll be as if her dark horse image will be disclosed, so she preferred to turn violent whenever someone tried to touch her, her past. Her tears were still on the shore of her deep ocean like eyes, but she wondered how long will she hold back herself, how long will she hold the clandestine. She had to let the cat leave the bag, somewhere, somehow.

Zainab was never someone who could trust the species of homo sapiens, how could she? Her own blood failed her back then. How could she make her believe in another human? But then, she even had to let it out, that’s when she found herself the perfect companion. She opened up her laptop and created a profile for Blogspot. No identity, no photos of her, and no names written but she started typing furiously, she started typing about the succubus of her childhood. The account which she never told her soul about, was now being typed to her eyes.

“You know, many a times we feel, had that one thing happen in a different way, or maybe, had not happen at all, the life we lead would have been different. That’s what I’ll do now, share my conundrum with people I’ve no clue about, and you know what? That’s the best thing about it. Had it been to people I know, it wouldn’t have make any difference since the ‘happening’ was their gift to me. 

I was telling my  li’l plastic doll in hand not to use my lip gloss when she goes out. 

“It’s not for you Faiza. It’s mine.” I told my doll, while she smiled with her eyes wide open, as lifeless as one could be yet I talked to her throughout the day. From our meals, till the time I went back to bed, Faiza roamed around with me to every possible place I went to.

It was 7th April, when i woke up to a twisted neck of my doll. My Faiza was dead that morning. How? When? Why? No one had a clue except the one who did it. There was a waterfall of tears which I experienced that day. I cried my eyes out, from sobs it turned into wails and howls. It was as if a family member had passed away. That’s when my grandma got up from her rocking chair and caressed my head.

“Do you wish to have a new baby doll?” Grandma asked me, while she rubbed the tears off my face.

“Who’ll buy me one Grandma? No one will.” I replied in a very low tone and tears rolled down my plump-like, pink cheeks. 

“I will.” My grandma declared while my eyes glistened with hope.

“Will you grandma?” I spoke up in my child like voice, while Grandma nodded her head in acceptance.

“Let’s go now then. I’ll take Faiza along to bury her somewhere and get another doll just like her.” I  said and got up from my place, adjusting the pleats of my little pink frock. 

Grandma too, adjusted her saree and held my hand, leaving behind Malabar Hills, she paced her footsteps towards Bhendi Bazaar, a popular market in the city of Mumbai.  Fascinating shops, accessories, toys made my eyes flicker with the glamour, until the time it turned darker. As she stepped deeper inside the sombre streets of the Bazaar, I realised that something was wrong, that instinct, I felt it right away.

“Grandma, where are we going?” I whispered to my grandmother. 

“To find a new marionette for my little princess.” She smiled at me, without making an eye contact. 

My tiny, innocent brain, couldn't read the lie her eyes held back then. 

We soon entered a cramped house. Poorly lit, dark shades of walls, it made me feel uncomfortable and scared.  I tucked harder at the dead Faiza and walked behind my grandma till the time they encountered a lady who had a paan-stained smile and was in her mid 50’s. 

“As-Salaam-Alaikam!” Grandma wished that scary looking lady. I gestured a Salaam to her as if I had lost the ability to speak.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam!” The lady greeted back. “Make her lay down, I’ll just be back.” She said to grandma while she was lost behind the curtains again.

Grandma commanded me to lay down on a small folding bed which I did without a word. Why would I question, my Grandma had ask me to. For me, Grandma could never be wrong. 

“I’ll get my doll after this, right grandma?” My innocence questioned. 

“Yes you will. Now just hold me tight. It’ll pain a bit but you’ll be fine. This will make Shaina a good girl.” Grandma consoled me while she dropped down my lingerie. I had this uneasy feeling developing in me. 

“What are you doing grandma? We are not home. I’ve even had my bath today.” I told her, nervously, dreading something really horrendous in the air. It choked her. 

“Ssssh! Shaina, grandma told you na? It’s for your good. A little pain and everything will be over soon, then we’ll buy a doll just like Faiza.” Grandma tried to comfort my nerves again. 

The lost lady came back inside the room with a ‘knife’. It scared me. The situation, the surrounding, the people, everything petrified my 8 year old soul. She put the knife on flame, heating it with a casual attitude as if she was upto something. 

“Hold her tight.” She said while my grandma locked my movements.

That’s when the lady approached me, with the ‘knife’. I knew it was something way too inappropriate but I couldn't let go as my hands were locked by Grandma.  Tears rolled down my face as the lady approached me further.

“Leave me Grandma. It’s scaring me. I don’t wish to be a good girl. Just leave me, please.” I howled with all my heart. The intimidating situation was something which got on my nerves. 

“Stay shut Shaina. Stop misbehaving.” Grandma shouted at me while my sobs just got louder.

Dash! The knife strikes through me and it bled. My clitoris was lost in my own blood while my mind was lost in it’s own thoughts. Returning back home, she bought me yet another doll while a part of me was buried with Faiza, forever. 

                                                                                                                                 ~ Ms. Anonymous

Zainab signed off her post. The practices of her past haunted her till day. When she came to know what had happen with her back then, she was devastated. Everybody knew, except them. 

They called it “khatna”, a practice which was a ritual since years in her Bohra community. Proudly done with men, but a behind the door activity with the woman. The post button, made another tear travel down from her nonchalant eyes to her cheek. 

The world finally knew the injustice to her life. She didn’t have to live with a guilt that she held back something though she knew a few things can never be unhanded, so was her fear to be known.

“I really love you Sayeed” She texted the love of his life because now, she had unhand herself to love, to him. Dropping down her fears and taking a chance.