I found a place on earth where death is celebrated.

It was dark everywhere.

I opened my eyes and found myself wrapped in black in a non-breathable fabric from head to toe.

I could hardly see anything far away due to the mesh on my eyes.

Forget about far; I couldn’t see an inch of my skin.

My hair was wet.

I was soaked in sweat.

Not only my skin but also my sweat was caged, causing irritation, rawness, and itchy red bumps.

I could hear the sound coming from every fold and corner of my body. REMOVE THIS.

Suddenly an old lady came to me…

“Be very careful about your scarf; otherwise, they will grind you for 7–8 hrs behind the bars for not wearing a hijab properly.”

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, 'Did I travel back in time?'

No, I can’t talk. She holds her maybe 12-year-old boy’s hands and flees.

One day Ginger was busy scrolling through reels.

And as usual, I was sharing my local train experiences with him.

I continued, ‘I saw a cute, very adorable approx. 2-year-old girl today in local; she was looking outside the window, asking her mom, ‘What is this?’ and ‘What is that?’ Both mother and daughter were twinning, covered in black burqas; only their faces were visible, and I could not resist staring at them… they looked so beautiful.

We shared smile….

Suddenly Ginger cuts me off and asks me, “At this stage of life, what is the one thing that truly haunts you? makes you feel deeply uncomfortable, to the point where you find yourself questioning how such behaviour is even possible on earth and why people do it?”

He gave me a spark to burn.

From that mesh on my eyes, I could see everything was closed or damaged by the bomb attack.

I don’t know whom to trust, and I can’t see a single woman walking alone. I see only testosterone-carrying hormones everywhere.

I saw a school with the highest grade till six, and all were taught the same syllabus to worship the floor where men walked.

I entered a house, saw three women in the kitchen serving one man, obeying every sense of his word, and did not dare to question back. Because they knew the answer would be found under the swollen eyes and the scars of rods all over the body.

They knew their supportive government would hear them out once they saw visible fractures or open wounds.

Only if the men who beat her to death took her to treat.

I could see only fear in the eyes. Fear of being a woman in this piece of land.

Forced to sacrifice herself for everyone. Stick to the pain and let it consume her life.

The male dominance is so high that you can’t have access to your body without a man.

Here you need permission to breathe; air can’t touch your skin.

I was terrifically horrified by the screaming sound out in the house lane. A woman was dragged out of her house and blamed for obeying his laws. The crowd was extremely angry and started throwing stones as punishment, which ideally would never have existed.

I went near her; she was bleeding, and that pain could not let her scream. Tears in her eyes were stuck there, just like her life was stuck between this land and death.

She begged for death, but that land was cursed. Even death can’t spread its legs there without permission.

Wind in my hair brought me back, but tears in my eyes started dripping on the pillow.

Forget about the big words guaranteeing women equal rights: the right to live, freedom, dignity…etc.

Women are still fighting the battle to exist.

Our misery is that we are celebrating death now. Cutting stems and branches will never bring happier days. Until the new seeds of empowerment are grown by big power.

The next morning I answered Ginger — it’s a weird paradox; the people I hate (Mard Jati) and love (Ginger) the most are both men.

Thank you for reading. Share your thoughts with me .

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