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It’s time to think!
One Sunday morning when I got up and wnet to the kitchen, I saw a girl, untidy with dirty clothes and dusty hair, standing there talking to my mother. As I called my mother, she turned her face towards me. Her innocent face with twinkling talking eyes as if thirsty of unknown, countless needs. She was our massi’s daughter. She was only eleven years old and her name was Tahira
I asked her to stay for a while; I took out a ten rupee note from my bag and gave her so that she could buy a meal. This became a routine, almost everyday she would come to our place with her mother and we’d give her some money to eat.
Once I asked her, would she learn if I taught her, she refused point blank; it didn’t surprise me as I know children of that age usually want to escape from schools and books. But what surprised me was that she wanted to learn but was forced to leave school whereas her brother was still studying at school. One morning on my way to school, I saw her at the corner of the road, she had two big bags and was busy fishing for useable things out of the litter, she was perhaps accompanied by her father. I don’t know why I felt like doing something for her, I kept looking at her until she left.
One day while talking to Tahira, I came to know that she had a strong intuition as she could see things before time; she was so intelligent.
Then I decided to tell her mother, she was very rigid. I tried my level best to convince her but all went in vain. She was not at all ready to listen to a single word about the powers that her child possessed. A few adys passed and for some reason Tahira did not come with her mother in the mornings. I asked her mother where the little girl was. To this question the mother replied “Baji us ko to biha diya khan Baba se, jawan ho jayen bachiya to...” she went on talking but I couldn’t hear a word after shadi, It seemed like these words were hammering my head.
My God — she was so young and innocent, that news shocked me, and her mother’s words kept ringing in my ears. Lost in confused thoughts and with heavy steps I turned towards my room. She was so young, so innocent, my lips were uttering these words repeatedly, her innocent face was flashing before my eyes. They had actually sold her for Rs. 10,000 only.
After some time we got the news that Tahira was killed by her in-laws.
She, with the help of her intuitive powers, told them about the death of her brother-in-law before time. She was beaten so badly that she couldn’t survive. She also received the title of “Manhoos” and “Kali Zuban Wali”.
Her mother came mourning to us; I kept on looking ather, wondering if the life of this precious girl was worth only Rs10, 000 only. Her mother was cursing Tahira’s fate. I asked my mother to drive her out or I’d lose my temper. I was cursing myself for not doing anything for Tahira. But what could I do, how many Tahiras would I have been able to save, how many suppressed smiles would I be able to help to turn into laughter.
How many innocent eyes would I be able to help quench their thirst of deprivations? How many.... It’s time to think.
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