Written by, Minahil Asif Ali Khan
She opened her eyes for the first time and giggled as her mother gave her a sad smile. Little did she know that she was going to lead a difficult life. The life of a warrior. The life of a fighter.
The years in which she should have laughed and played, she spent hiding from enemies and shift from place to place. In addition to all her misery, she kept losing family members.
On the other side, the childhood of other children was full of memories, full of life, full of happiness. But her childhood was dark and miserable. Her eyes witnessed murders at a young age and every time she trembled and felt goosebumps going up her white milky baby arms.
Her blue eyes contained oceans of sadness; those eyes had depth that anyone can get lost in them. Those eyes were so mature for such a tender age. Her delicate self like a petal of a flower.
That morning when the sun rose, she heard thunders even when the sky was clear. Her brother, father and mother ran along with her. The frightened chirping of birds made her little heart freeze with fear. She nervously glanced at her scared parents.
Sweat rolled down her clear skin. In the distance she saw her brother struggling to keep up with them. Presently she heard a gunshot, she looked back to witness her brother fall to the ground as blood seeped out of him.
Her mother gasped and cried silently. Tears went down her mother’s helpless eyes. Her father ran towards his son, his dear son. She saw men dressed as soldiers capture her father.
They slaughtered him in front of her eyes. She saw her father being murdered and felt a sharp pain in her heart.
Tear drops like small pearls fall from that oceanic eyes that were going through a tough storm.
In the background she saw fire burning down series of houses. As if even the fire wanted to gulp down their existence.
They charged towards the mother and daughter. Her mother panicked and shouted at her to run. She ran on her delicate naked feet going over the pieces of broken glass, bullets, burned objects and dry blood. Her long hair flew in the air like they were the only thing free.
She heard her mother’s cries from the distance. Unable to see her mother in pain she kept running, sobbing hard.
Out of nowhere she felt a sharp, stinging pain in her stomach, followed by the sound of gun. She placed her tiny hand in that area and felt the warm blood coming out. She fell to the ground.
Her whole life flashed in front of her eyes. Maybe now she was at last free. Maybe this was the only way to freedom. Maybe now she can question God why was she made to go through all this? Maybe now she can ask what was her fault?
Her eyes closed down and she blacked out. She was at peace now. She was a warrior. She was a fighter. She was a KASHMIRI.