I was on my way home, I saw someone weeping on the side of
the road, I hung on.
It was around midnight, but the beggar was cold and crying, so I hung on.
My mother would've probably killed me, but we’re women, we’re born for compassion, so I hung on.
Defense classes were tiring, and six hours without food was agony. But he needed it more, so I gave it to him, I hung on.
The joy and relief on his face as he devoured each and every bite of my tiffin was rewarding. I hung on.
It was around midnight, but the beggar was cold and crying, so I hung on.
My mother would've probably killed me, but we’re women, we’re born for compassion, so I hung on.
Defense classes were tiring, and six hours without food was agony. But he needed it more, so I gave it to him, I hung on.
The joy and relief on his face as he devoured each and every bite of my tiffin was rewarding. I hung on.
It was a dark, deserted alley with a humid weather to match, and my full sleeved long dress was clinging to my skin with sweat. I still hung on.
I stuffed the tiffin in my bag, and hurriedly made my way home. I was scared; but I hung on.
How was I to know that a gang of men would block my way? Danger vibes were lurking around the corners, like a pack of hungry wolves eyeing prey. I closed my eyes, prayed, and hung on.
Times were bad for girls ,as the gang surrounded me. I was pinned to a wall and groped everywhere, my tolerance was tested. But I just had to hang on.
Courageous enough to break their hands and legs and noses, flipping them upside down with strength that put them to shame. I had nothing to fear; I won the fight. Punishment was approaching swiftly for them; they just had to hang on.
Picking myself off the floor, and helping my dignity up, I ran home. Mama’s arms were around me as I sobbed. She didn't scold me even once. Justice had been self attained, I hung on.
My house wasn't left alone after that; I was on every screen with the guilty, telling my story to these..people with cameras. My heart was sinking, but my head was held high.
Each time I feel like giving up during those terror seizures, the nightmares, I see some other girl, who wasn't so fortunate. She couldn't fight and had faced it all, and now her parents were running to the corrupt police stations. All she could do was cry in frustration. But her survival gave millions of other girls strength.
The only time when suicide wouldn't be considered cowardice. But we’re born to be heroic, saviors. We’re born to stay and fight for our right to protection.
Yes, I had saved myself. But I was still broken inside. While my heart was relieved, my eyes weren't shining. When my mind said it was safe, my perspiration contradicted it.
I would never again consider the world to be a beautiful, safe place. But I had people who believed in me, who would be heartbroken if I gave up. And just like billions of other girl victims, I’m not enjoying anymore. Since that fateful night, I am and I always will be,
Hanging On.
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