The Rejected Girl

The Rejected Girl

The society may reject her, but in the eyes of God, she is dearer than anyone

(Titled "Khotta Sikka", written by my father (Late) MuzaffarKhadim, this article appeared in Kashmir Uzma on 10, Oct 2008 and is compiledin his book, "Falah Ke Moti". From its original text in Urdu, I take theprivilege to translate it into English. Unless we identify this parasite in oursociety and try to eradicate this evil that consumes lives together, we cannotexpect the benignity from Allah.)

That scream from the dark room of my sister! With all theheights of restlessness I ran to her room. I was yet to enter in, the othermembers of the family also rushed. The view inside was terribly horrible andunconceivable to one's mind. Dearer than my life, my sister was lying in thepool of blood in her bed. A dagger had pierced deep her bosom. "What happened,who did it?" we all shouted. She gave a little shake to her right hand and Isaw a long piece of paper stuck in it. The moment I tried to take that piece ofpaper out of her hand; her body bade goodbye to her soul.

Under the mountains of grief and sorrow, we could notunderstand what was going on.

Trembling, I opened the letter. It was written in herelegantly beautiful handwriting. I had no courage to read it. But it wasnecessary to know why my angel like sister had to take such a tragic step.

Here is what she had written:

"My dear brother,

I know you will be the first person to read this letter ofmine. I also know what you all are going through right now. From long I havebeen thinking if I should take this dreadful step or not. At last this was allI could think of. By spilling my blood over this floor, I felt I will be ableto save the honor and prestige of a thousand girls like me.

How do I tell you what I have been going through from past ayear or two? I have never been unaware of the fact that you too have been goingthrough the same condition, but I was feeling that without any fault of mine,it was only me who was the reason for such condition of yours.

From the day I stepped into adulthood, you all wanted to geta good match for me so that your shoulders rest at peace from such an enceinteresponsibility. I too had a few dreams and wishes of my own, but unfortunatelywe had some cocooned wrong conception of our society about their likings, wayof thinking, customs and culture. We thought that modesty, chastity,qualification, religious upbringing and beauty were the only scales foracceptance; but in this market, we saw that people are hungry of some otherartifacts.

After long, this secret unveiled to us that in our societythe wealth and caste weighs more. This experience taught us that no matter howqualified a girl is; if she doesn't earn herself, her qualification is of nocount and that the modesty of a girl is not an ornament but a reason to lookdown on. This bitter truth came in front of us only when we stepped into thisfield. Otherwise everyone by LIPS says, "We believe in only what Islam andhumanity professes!"

Around two years back, for the first time a family came tosee me, after excavating all my bio-data, they almost said yes. The happinesstouched the heights like of Eid in our family. It felt as if the two familiesgot what they have been looking for. But alas, it was only an illusion. Ididn't know what kind of an interview it was for me. The eldest lady among themunbraided my hair. Doubting my long hair, they left with an everlastingsilence.

Then another family came, three ladies and two males. Itlooked as if the ladies had directly come from a bridal salon. So much ofmakeup soured one's eyes. Again the eldest lady among them started doingpostmortem of my nails. When they saw them unpolished, they clearly said, "thismuch of simplicity doesn't work now." With miraculous courage I replied, mysimplicity is my asset, my ornament!

My words sounded too outdated to them and without a wordthey left. I wonder had they never heard that if the water fails to reachnails, neither your Wadhu (ablution) nor Ghusl is valid? How come can oneafford to remain impure?

I pondered to all my levels after all what is it that ismissing in us. Finally I landed on three points:

First and foremost thing is that we belong to lower caste.Our truthfulness, our qualification is all in vain for our forefathers werenever custodians of neither any shrine nor its sermonizers.

Bilal (RA) and Abu Bakr (RA) could enjoy the equal rights.Salman i Farsi from Iran could earn the height of honor and respect in thecourt of our Beloved Prophet (SAW). A blind primitive, Hazrat Abdullah Ibn UmmiMaktoom (RA) was of more importance against the mighty Qureshs to the extentthat a whole Surah was revealed in The Holy Quran in his favor! These are theteachings of Islam we claim we believe in.

Unfortunately in our society, the preachers of theseteachings themselves have become such Mehmoods that no Ayaz dares to sit intheir company. The reproach and curse of Inequality of social status and thecaste system was long heard from Hindus, but encountering my own people, I cameto know that we have much excelled them in this field. How come that a daughterof any carpenter can becomes a daughter in law of Syeds'; more to that, howcome that a girl from the family of ""ی caste becomes the bride of any potter; unless it be the matterof infatuation between the boy and a girl?

The second reason was my simplicity. I tried all my best tocome in sync with their appearance, but to bid goodbye to Islamic way of lifeand that makeup or dressing which shattered the holy teachings of my belovedProphet (PBUH) was impossible for me.

And the third reason is that we were not financially so richthat could veil all our shortcomings. We had never learnt to pileup the heapsof wealth and had no mansion raised from the filthy interest money. Laterenough we came to know that in this society, there are no buyers of theteachings, nobility, simplicity, and God consciousness that we believed in.

The cure to incurable disease is death, and that is what Iam hugging today. The grafting dagger that you see in my heart has indeed myhand on it, but its endowment is from this rotten society. On the trembling Dayof Judgment, the question to this society will be asked, "For what sin she waskilled? (Al-Quran 81:10)"

I am sacrificing my life with this hope that no sister everagain is kicked off only because she was not born in any higher caste family…"

I was yet to complete this letter of my sister thatsomeone's wailing elbow hit my bosom. All of a sudden I woke up. My younger brothershook my benumbed body, "brother, why is your body shaking?"

Sweating, I rushed to the room of my sister. I saw thisepitome sculpture of faith and nobility in prostration on her prayer rug. Afterlong when she raised her head, the numberless tears from her eyes weretwinkling on it.

This "Khota Sikka" (bad penny) may not be acceptable in oursociety, but indeed in the Eye of Almighty, she has attains an everlastingsuccess and prosperity!

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