A letter from Zainab: the brave little girl to her father.
After a long time I’ve gotten some time, so I thought I’ll put flowers on the graves ofy thoughts.
I have many questions to ask you, who’s answer my heart desparately cries out to know.
Is our body any different than that of men?They look similar tho, the colour looks similar too.
Then why are acid’s stain present only on a female’s body?
Then why do those brutal scars leave their marks only on our body?
When they inserted something into my that part of the body, then it pains a lot Abbu.
Not only does a fountain of blood ooze out; In the midst of pain not just a scream comes out, Even prayers and compassion doesn’t seem to work.
It feel as if someone has dipped it into the sun and placed it into my that part of the body. It feels as if someone has infinite coal on an open wound.
It feels as if my fingers have been scratched by a sharp rock; But, he doesn’t feel that way.
He is still drowning in the obsession of his childhood that he believes even if he takes my soul away, twists my neck, carress his fingers on my body; throws me away by crushing me under his palm.
Then tomorrow you will you will present him with a new doll to play with, but I am not a doll made in markets for small children.
In an envelope made of stars,
In a bag made of the winds.
I send this letter into the sky for you.
– Gaurang Nanda