HerStory

Her head is full of thoughts, almost as full as her pink lips. Thick black hair matches her thick black skin. Her crooked teeth mirror the curves of her mouth that form a mischievous smile. Those deep brown eyes have seen things that you can never comprehend.

She grew up in a small village outside of Dhaka, Bangladesh. Her mother left her for the wealth of Dubai. Soon, her father and baby brother followed, leaving her to her uncle. Scrambling for money, he sold her to a man. The man illegally brought her to Kolkata, India. Sold again she was to another man who began to sell her every day. Abuse occurred to her body and mind as she was exploited daily. Eventually, the police interfered and caught the man who brought her to India. He was not jailed because he is only a middle man in the trafficking process. She arrived at a shelter, he heart empty but her belly full of the growth of an unwanted child. She is now 17. Sympathetically, the shelter paid for her abortion. Though it was a legal, medical procedure, something went wrong for there are frequent jolts of pain in her abdomen. She might not be able to have children but that is inconsequential because she might be able to be married due to the stigma attached to her.

Her life now is in India, due to a long court process she cannot go back to Bangladesh where there is no home for her. Her parents cannot be found and her uncle is a bad man. She learns to stitch in school at the shelter and passes the days by writing.

Then enters an Auntie. Her first day, the Auntie ungainly attempted to make the sounds of the girl’s native language. Laughter could not be contained and the Auntie welcomed all laughter and smiles from all the girls. One day, when the girl was sitting alone, the Auntie sat next to her. The girl, with a head bursting of pain and a heart swollen with anger, began to cry. The Auntie, not saying a word, reached out and held the girl’s hand. Slowly, a friendship grew from their laced fingers. They would sing songs, comb each other’s hair and play games whenever the Auntie was around. They began to pass the morning by gazing into the other’s eyes. Staring long enough would allow them to find the other’s beauty. Staring even longer, they began to see their own beauty reflected in the other’s eyes.

For a while, their relationship remained pure, unsullied by the girl’s past. The Auntie’s innocence as white as her skin. Her ignorance to the foreign sounds around her made it easy for the girl to lose the burning memories. One day, the girl looked up to find the Auntie talking to her counselor. Auntie’s mouth was wide open with eyes full of surprise, dismay and horror. The girl knew the Auntie was no longer ignorant to her sins. The counselor called the girl over, repeating to the girl the conversation. The girl stood grave and stone, emotionless except for two small tears creeping out of the narrow slits in her eyes. The Auntie engulfed the girl in her arms. Though they have frequent hugs and signs of affection, this embrace was undeniably prevailing, crushingly emotive, and deeply heartrending than any other before. The Auntie pulled away to kiss the girl’s tears and the girl saw that the Auntie’s face was wet. Using her shawl as a handkerchief, the girl whipped Auntie’s tears away and they grabbed the other’s face and laughed at their own sad faces.

The called themselves “paagli bone”, the crazy sisters. Each morning began with butterfly kisses and ended with Eskimo kisses. Like all sisters, they picked on each other but always left with the words ‘I love you.’ The girl taught the Auntie her stitches and the Auntie threw the girl a birthday party. The girl even met the Auntie’s father and saw the many pictures of her friends from home. The relationship as strong as it was, was not without its ups and downs. There were days where the girl was jealous of the Auntie’s ubiquitous attention to all the girls. There were days where the Auntie did not trust the girl and her devious ways. But, at the end of the day, they only grew closer through it all. Only conversing in broken languages and body language, they understood each other.

After three months, it came time for the Auntie to leave for her own country. The girl would be left in a place with little outside contact, let alone the ability to communicate across to the other side of the world. The girl was not even sure of the location of the Auntie’s home. In her soft voice, the girl would remind the Auntie of her threatening departure and the Auntie would soften to a silence. She tried to explain that she has to go to university to graduate, that she needs to get a job in her country, that she has a family to go back to – but the excuses never satisfied the hunger for the need of constant love and redemption. There are two more days until their separation.

This is the recent history of one girl, Ripa. I know it well, for now memories of her run with the blood in my veins. It’s amazing how someone could impact your life without ever having an actual conversation. And it’s amazing how much it hurts to leave them. I ache. I will share with you my heartbreaking last day when it arrives. Until then, know this story. For it now defines who I will I am – always the paagli didi.