Agony Of A Daughter

Note : Though the account narrated below is not the actual story of
Mukhtiar Mai, it is inspired from it, with regard to the injustice
meted out to women in the very name of honour and justice.

(Dedicated To Mukhtiar Mai)

I awaken to a throbbing pain flowing unceasingly through my battered
body. I try to open my eyes, but a sharp twinge reminds me that they
are badly swollen, owing to the severe beating that I took yesterday. I
try to sit up, but the scathing sting that shoots through my corpse of
a body, makes me wince in sheer agony. The mere thought of the day
before makes my heart stop momentarily. As I take in the dreary
surroundings of the hovel to which I have been confined, the ghastly
memories of recent events come flooding back. I remember now....

I am a teenage girl, the youngest daughter of a family that dwells in
a conservative village. Like all villages in our society, ours taught
us about the gaping inferiority of the female sex, and our subsequent
duty to diligently serve the superior male gender. I was obedient from
the very beginning, and unquestioningly did what
was asked of me. I did not object even when my father arranged my
marriage with an elderly man I had never seen before, and would not
behold until the day of my wedding. I cried at night at my flagrant
helplessness regarding my own fate, with the shining stars offering
little solace. I was overwhelmed with melancholy, but consoled myself
with the position that I was fulfilling my obligation towards my
parents. Little was I to know that I would incur the menacing wrath of
my whole community, by committing the ultimate
transgression.

And then I saw him. I had heard about love from a few outspoken and
"rebellious" women of our village, who had described it as an emotion
that fulfils the unquenchable thirst of the soul, yet leaves one
craving more. But even the most eloquent of writers could not describe
the aching joy that I felt, the passion that I sensed for this stranger
at first sight. The feeling was apparently mutual, as he seemed
mesmerized by my person as well, and gazed wondrously at me.

I learned through some discreet inquiries that his name was Ranjha,
and he belonged to the neighbouring village. Things progressed rapidly
from there on; the first tentative meeting, the secret long walks, the
silent understanding, the consuming passion
underlying the apparent hesitation, the timid admission of youthful
love, brought to me unbounded happiness, such as I had never
experienced before. Nevertheless, all during this blissful time, the
fear of my family and community, and the torturous foreboding of my
coercive wedding remained at the back of my mind. I expressed these
inhibitions to him, and we decided to elope, and forever free ourselves
of the suppressive shackles of our chauvinistic society.
However, my worst fears took their ghastly form when we were caught on
the night of our daring escape. What followed was a physical and verbal
tirade of barbarous abuse. Ranjha was taken away to his village to be
"punished for his sin". I was beaten half to death by my morally
righteous father, for casting this irremovable blemish upon his
precious "honour". I was kept in solitary confinement and denied food
and water, while my family decided upon their future course of action
to "redeem" themselves after my "vice".

It was eventually decided: my fate would be determined by the council
of village elders. All of a sudden, there was a faint ray of hope for
me in the midst of the bleak circumstances. Surely, these wise men
would understand the sanctity of love, and would act to unite me with
my beloved to maintain the inviolability of this universal
emotion.

Their shocking ruling struck me like lightning, and left me
dumbfounded. I had, according to them, stained the reputation of my
whole village through my sinful promiscuity, and should thus be
punished by being publicly deprived of my own honour.

I felt dazed, and the magnitude of the stunning realization hit me
with full force only when I discerned a group of men maliciously
approaching me. Their eyes exhibited the naked lust which they were
about to fulfil. I desperately fought to free myself, but was easily
overpowered. My violent screams pierced the encapsulating silence, but
fell on deaf ears. A burning ache scorched my whole being whenever I
was touched by these vile animals. I could hear my own cries echoing
against the environs as one decadent brute after another mounted me,
but not a single voice of dissent was raised. A daughter of the village
was being rapaciously robbed of her dignity, and the people were blind
to it. Even my parents looked on silently as I was hit again and again
into submission; providence watched dispassionately as an innocent
believer who had dared to dream of a better life, was repeatedly
violated; the gods looked on shamelessly as my clothes were ripped
apart, and my esteem flayed. I kept screaming until my voice was
hoarse, as I watched blood oozing down my body, and gathering in a
puddle on the ground. My body writhed in naked suffering with each
depraved shove. I looked up at the heavens for divine intervention, and
then at the spineless cads wordlessly viewing my desecration, my
eyes pleading for mercy. I saw their blank, distant stares; it was then
that I realized the chilling fact that the flame of ethical conscience
no longer burned in their hearts&;#8230;

I remember everything now; the pain, the frustration, the fear and the
utter humiliation. As I watch the golden sunlight dimly enter my
stifling confines, I realize that I have nothing to live for now. The
daylight doesn't offer hope; it is merely a mirage
meant to deceive fools like me; fools who dare to dream, and live to
regret it dearly....