Dear Daughter

Her laughter made the house throb with life. Meera was the soul of the entire household. Her tiny feet were adorned by adorable silver anklets and everytime she moved around, her mother would find out. Being the naughtiest of the lot, her mother would often find her trying to climb a tree, or boxing with the boys of her locality. Lord knows the number of times she came back with a bruised arm and a broken leg. Her mother smiled as she leafed through the album that contained memories from her darling daughter Meera’s childhood. “Mummy, I will be a bokshar (boxer)”, her little girl’s voice wafted in the air. She looked around the empty room with a jerk, as if someone had suddenly woken her up from a deep slumber. She almost expected to see her little girl standing there, looking up at her with pleading eyes. But there was nobody in the room. She didn’t have any tears left to shed now. It has been almost 8 years since the day her 14-year old Meera was killed. She was raped and profusely beaten before her murderers dismembered her arms. Her lifeless body was found in the nearby jungle that borders their village. She could feel something clawing at her heart, no matter how many years have passed, the pain was still raw. She wondered if death could hurt half as much. She had been told by the inspector of their village that Meera was killed because she was setting ‘a wrong example’ for other girls of their village.

Only if she knew that Meera’s dreams were going to cost Meera her life.. she would have never… let her dream? Oh, who was she kidding.