Latest posts by Muneera Jamal (see all)
- Motherhood Is Not Meant For Me, But The Hope Never Dies - November 11, 2016
- Five Minutes Of Motherhood - September 20, 2016
- Why We Don’t Talk About Men Rights ? - July 5, 2016
‘One day, my daughter will be a doctor’ boasted Imran as he looked at Sara’s grade sheet. He was too happy to notice the gray cloud that had swept off her smile at his remark.
The daughter in her strangled the journalist in her and she did not resist. She knew her father had done a lot for her and she felt this was the only way she could pay him back.
There was no gasping for air, no flailing of limbs and no struggle for survival. There was death, but no tears were shed and no condolences were offered. It was just her, silently mourning at the carcass of her dreams. Medical college- a dream of many became purgatory for her. Her smile was her armor and every single day a constant struggle.
‘Make tauba, darling, you are living a modern lady’s dream’ said that one soul she risked confiding it. When her mother did not understand her, how could she expect the world to empathize with her?
She discretely mourned another death, this time; the last glimmer of hope had been ruthlessly crushed. Yet again, nobody knew, nobody felt and nobody understood. She got up fine the next day, nobody knew she had been up crying the entire night, the storm, she struggled through is her own, the hardships she faces are her own, the world only sees the smile and marvel at her luck- not everyone can make it to a medical college.
She is Dr. Sara now, tied to the lives she did not sign up for saving. The responsibility was thrust on her and now she cannot back out. She feels she owes her degree to every single person whose tax money was spent on her government funded education. She feels she is indebted to the silhouette that would have made a better doctor if she had not been forced to claim his/her ‘seat’.