Page flipped…
In a Crematorium crowded by people in white. Grief and sorrow were ruling over those funeral rites. Near the burning dead body of her father, she was standing deadly in front of my sight. Her head was covered with a white wrinkled dupatta. That flickering dupatta made strikes on her cheeks because of which half profile of her face was visible. Blisters of dead skin and dark black patches with redness under eyes were imperceptibly visible. Due to tide of emotions arose in her, tears rolled out of her eyes. Her heart wanted to shout but throat was really dry. With that burnt Ash of her dad our evening rested at night.
Present Time…
Sitting near the window “she- my fiancé” read the above last page of my diary. Which salted her wounds in green. Those traces of ink in diary reminded her that how a harassment led to an acid attack, how she being a victim of that acid attack struggled for justice in court, how she failed in fight for justice and how this struggle and failure penetrated stress in her dad. She saw how her dad used to feel that being a “retired army officer” he couldn’t save, and provide justice to his daughter. Not only this she witnessed her dad pretending his comfort in front of her but at her back he was sinking in depression and anxiety. Stress as a slow poison stole her father’s life.
With these grey colours of the past her eyes were about to overflow again. She hadn’t said a single word about the diary but her eyes spoke everything to me. She was sobbed in painful silence which was interrupted by my voice ” Common Anika, otherwise we will be late for our NGOs donation meeting.”
She with her hard work achieved success and joined an NGO for other helpless acid attack victims…By being strong and confident she gave a tribute to her dad.
After 4 years which got extended to 6 years…going on…
Her case in court is still lined up…voices of millions of people fighting for justice are still audible.
