Emaan's Corner

Written by Zuheyra E. Callisto A crimson dupatta covered the tears she tried so hard to keep in, cultural music played as people celebrated the childhood she was going to throw away, I wonder if she understood what was going on— perhaps all she saw were lights, festivities and dance. Perhaps she couldn’t quite comprehend that although she was playing with dolls yesterday— She was going to be cradling children tomorrow. Is it possible to mourn someone that’s still alive? To mourn the innocent spark which used to dazzle in her eyes, lost to societal expectations, to mourn the little doll sitting idle in the corner of the room she abandoned. The bruises she got from playing cricket were now replaced with bruises from the cruel punches from her spouse when she couldn’t get the chawal to be soft enough, Oh… how she loved cricket. I saw her mother shamefully standing at the corner of the room, she had tired eyes that knew what was about to happen— tired eyes that were victims of this harrowi...