This poignant story from a young eastern writer written in the form of a letter just struck me. A child, a young girl is abused by her violent, drunken father with her mother maybe even aware of the goings on but is left on her own to deal with her fear, pain and helplessness in her long recurring nightmare until she resolves it the only way she could. This story may be fiction, or it may be her personal experience, but we know, how well we know, it is the experience of millions of children, girls, women on this world. A story of lightning force expressed in a child’s meek and self-effacing voice; a child who, despite her horrible mistreatment and abandonment, still sees the good in those who could have helped her but didn’t.
(**Sha’Tara – the burning woman, I owed you one. Unfortunately, it’s not just a fiction – for someone out there, it could very well be the reality.)
You might be surprised to find this letter waiting by your bedside, but I couldn’t think of any other place where it might catch your attention. I am also sorry that you would waste the next few minutes reading this while you could have finished so many chores around the house before leaving for work. Trust me, if I had any other means to tell you what I have to, I would have. But there are none.
From my childhood I have seen you always in the same state – rushed, agitated and sweaty. No matter how early you woke up or late you slept, the mountain of work you had to accomplish never diminished. You accepted whatever life…
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