who am I

Today I am busy groping myself. I am cut off from the world and looking into my heart. I am asking myself.

Today I am busy groping myself. I am cut off from the world and looking into my heart. I am asking myself. Who am I? My mother was an illiterate woman. My father often raised his hand against it. I wonder why this happens to my mother. 

Grandma says your mother speaks because of that. I accepted why my father's mother would lie. My brother had grown up before me. He got married. The sister-in-law came home and the same scene of killing continued. One day, the faces changed. 

So he said your mother speaks the language. I was developing consciousness. I was good at reading. She moved forward on her own like a weeping plant. From school, the journey to college became easier. Somehow eighteen years old. Became FA in age. 

That father started looking for a relationship. He said, "Complete the girl before she runs away from us." Today, twenty years have passed since my marriage. I have traveled with my husband for two decades. My husband raised his hand against me two days after the marriage. 

I asked him why he hit me. When I did not have children for two years, I was called barren. After three years, Allah gave birth to three daughters in my womb in four years, then the crime of creating a woman was also written in my account. I gave birth to my daughters every day. To be punished. Then Allah listened to me and blessed me with a son. 

Happiness was celebrated at home. But my happiness was short. The angel of death took Mirabita on his lap with me on a journey to heaven. So I was called a witch who ate her child. She was called a work thief due to slight negligence. She used to serve her mother-in-law day and night. I am a woman who is evicted from a room after her needs are met. 

I became her partner but I could not become her secret partner. I, the mother of her children, never became her friend. My newborn Hassan's gentleness could not attract him or the warmth of my existence could not melt him. There were bruises on his forehead that he could not go. My education did not work for me. On the contrary, it became a mockery for me. 

Lying in a corner of the shelf and lying on a bed in the corner of the house with a lifeless body like theirs. I am a woman who has always been a source of comfort and embarrassment for men. Allah kept Paradise but this woman was found guilty of driving a man out of Paradise. 

The burden of the father's shoulders, the sleep of the mother's eyes, the taunts for the brothers, the stuff to meet the needs of the husband. Who am I? If I lure a decorated heart in a room, wealth is laid on me, but if I am in the walls of the house, even food is hidden. 

Who am I A living corpse who has sacrificed her desires and recited the Fatiha on her happiness? The track on a train. On which a train weighing several tons carries its heavy load and runs away on the track. And the silent track makes the noise, roaring train pass by itself. A silent track that never gets angry, never complains. Just because the train keeps running. 

I'm a woman whose heart beats in my chest. The generation I raise I can. If I ever cry with my husband, he will convince me. Sometimes when I am sick, he will take my hand in his hand and record the kiss of love on my forehead. And say, I am not. . Is it necessary to bind him with the chains of hatred? The man is the ruler and I do not deny his sovereignty. 

But let him also admit that he is mine. Even a man cannot survive without a rib. Just as a train is useless without a track, so a man is incomplete without a woman. When a woman is an essential part of one's life, then why is her existence not recognized? Why not give what is right.