Silence isn't always golden

Our stereotypes for prostitutes are mostly negative. In most of the cases we blame them for their situation, little realising that given the circumstances, we would probably have done the same.

In this gut-wrenching, starkly honest article, a young girl describes how she clawed back into the light from the utterly black pit she had fallen into.

Surviving Prostitution and Addiction

Her story is one which needs to be met with understanding, empathy and compassion. Her voice needs to reach every corner, for we do not know what's happening behind closed doors. It could be happening to close ones, tomorrow it could happen to us, our friends, sisters, daughters.

I singe the body electric

In thin harrowing first-person account, a young girl narrates the story of her marriage gone wrong, how it descended into hell and how she escaped. Will the wounds ever heal? Will she find the courage to love again?

I singe the body electric

Let her testament be a beacon of hope for countless women trapped in violent and abusive marriages and may it give them the strength to walk out and claim their happiness on their own.

The hand that rocks the cradle

The Winter’s air cannot chill you love,
For you were born to me
So bear the cold, till days improve
Wait, wait patiently.

My arms are weak from daily toil
Yet rest is forbidden now.
From labour and sweat I cannot recoil
For I must see you grow.

So lie under this tree, where I can watch
While I carry these bricks and sand.
I’ll wrap you in rags or a cold you’ll catch
Hush! don’t cry, for I’m near at hand.

Perhaps the future will be more benign
Perhaps our sweat will speak
And our lives will be free from hunger and pain
Till then your patience keep.

Till then, dear child, brave this chilly wind
Leaving you now,  I must go.
Against whom or how, we have sinned
I just can’t fathom now.

Doomed am I to this fate
But you must grow and discern
Why some have delicacies heaped on their plates
While some for bread crumbs yearn.

~ Nadira

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