That Last Night

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 26; the 26th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is ‘That Last Night’.

She was running..as fast her legs could carry her….running in the wee hours of dawn. And then suddenly she was grabbed from behind. She let out a blood curdling scream, only to wake up drenched in sweat. She looked around, yes she was back in her cell. Wiping off the beads of sweat her mind took her back down the memory lane to that last night of the month of March.

She had always wanted to be a good wife, a caring daughter-in-law & a proud mother of her kids. At 19, when the henna patterns were being made on her hands, she created her own dreams-loving her new family unconditionally & dedicating herself to her husband. It had been just a week of their marriage. Only a few very close relatives were still around in the huge house. It was a joint family as was typical in this part of Afghanistan, with 2 of her brothers-in-law living under the same roof with their families. She was the youngest daughter-in-law & some said the prettiest.

The door creaked open at midnight. She knew it’d be her husband, returning after meeting his friends. The thoughts of their wedding night flashed across & she blushed at the memories. The bed creaked under his weight & suddenly the smell of alcohol filled the room. She got up from the bed & stared at the stranger-“Who are you?””What do you mean who am I? I paid good money to your husband for you…now where do you think you’re going…?!!

She shuddered & blocked out that half an hour of hell she’d experienced. All she remembered was running. Running away from home, away from her in-laws, to the town. She remembered reaching the police station, bruised, out of breath & trying to explain to the officer what happened in between sobs. She remembered being handcuffed… being accused of Zina, daring to run away from home. She remembered the court’s order-12 years in jail.

Now at 25, she sat staring at the walls surrounding her. That last night 6 years ago…may be she should have run towards the lake, she never learnt swimming after all.

Note: The ‘moral values’ expected of a woman seem to be the same everywhere. Although this post is based on a news article I read today about Afghanistan, such practices are prevalent in India as well. Raising awareness is the least I think I could do.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

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