Tales of the Unheard

Continued..... I now wonder what was picture perfect about our life… how was it that our wretched lives seemed so perfect to me and why? I learned it a little too late… it was all the slightest details you’ve read above that made my life seem beautiful to you and me on the outside, but the inside was just as ugly and dreadful. My family, my home .. a blissful masquerade that was a piece of heaven on earth for me soon turned out to be a gateway to hell. Life sure was difficult and every single day was nothing but hard work, another shot at survival. We lived some really hard times all these years with blindfolds. We were fooled by the beauty of the outside colors to the extent that we ignored how black and white our lives were from the inside. I had turned fourteen years old, crossed my childhood/playful years and entered my teens working as a shepherd, seeing nothing but poverty, hunger, struggle and a constant desire to at least live a day of our miserable lives tha...

Destiny .... I often wonder what it means. A word that holds only seven letters but means so much more. It’s funny how a few letters enfold such deep philosophies of life and death within them. But it still remains a conundrum ... a riddle ... a question of what really is our fate? What and where are we destined to be? Tears flowed down from her beautiful black bright eyes ... dimming the usual glow on her face. She pretended to wipe away all her pain, sorrow and sufferings that her tears reflected. It was the same every time she was scolded, never ever uttering a single word rather just listening and nodding her head to every taunt and insult directed towards her. She seemed to absorb every single word and let it all out in tears, for they were the only companions of her life full of doubts and misery. Shazia, a fourteen year old bread earner who knew nothing about work or life.... a domestic worker who hardly ever had a home or a family to learn from and live with, or to...

“ If only we could become stars and shine just as bright, a light that illuminates pathways and lives" – Nyla Little do we know of how much we can control our lives, at times it has no purpose or meaning yet it proves to be an everyday struggle. “I remember that I was only 6 or 7 years old when I realised life was as bitter and harsh as the winter. Our empty stomachs growled as the night grew colder...’ said Nyla, a fourteen-year-old domestic worker, a bread earner and another victim of the harsh realities of our ugly society. She smiles at me asking “ are you going to write a story on me too? ” I smile back at her, as I lift my pen, watching her hide her sadness just as she starts to unveil the unspoken truths of this world, holding back tears just to show how strong she is, she questions “what do you want to know first, how my life is or would you rather want to know how poor I am?” Blank, clueless and quiet, I remain silent, gath...