Mashalla

When she was born there was joy. The celebration of life. Her home town was Saqqez in Iran where everyone knew everyone. She went to school. Played her games with her brother Kiaresh and her friends. She was rigorous in her fasting during Ramzan. But she looked forward to its end. Celebrated Eid. Before which she had got her new clothes stitched. Which included a new hijab. Which hid her beautiful hair. 

Life went on. She graduated from school and watched her brother explore his world with a growing confidence. And she always asked why she couldn’t. 

"Why?"

Difficult questions to answer from a free spirited intelligent girl. Who would'nt  take the usual " Because I said so " or "Because that’s the way God wants it". So she lived with it. Realising that for a small town girl and for everyone else the rule of the Guidance Police was absolute. 

She was excited about going to the big city. To Tehran. The lights there seemed so bright form afar.  Five hundred and seventy one  kilometres. Seven and a half hours away from the Guidance Police. She didn’t let the hijab slip. But it wasn’t tied to her head so tight that her lovely locks didn’t peep thru.

They arrested her. They took her to the police station. And on to the Moral Security agency for a briefing class. But they taunted her and she didn’t take it quietly. She answered back. To an authority that was unused to and didn’t like being questioned. The medical scans showed skull fracture and  bleeding. They moved her to a hospital in a coma. Forty eight hours later she was dead. 

 

When she was born there was joy. The celebration of life. Her home town of Siolim in Goa where everyone knew everyone. She was rigorous

 In her Good Friday fast. But she looked forward to Easter. 

Especially the Easter Vigil service.  But " No Sleeveless" . She wouldn’t be allowed into church. 

" Why ?" she asked. 

" Why?"…..