Nayana: My name means eyes, they say. I see it all but who sees the real me?

Nayana: My name means eyes, they say. I see it all but who sees the real me?

I don't know how to begin with but till yesterday I was a girl, my classmates and my teachers were looking up to me. And all of a sudden I feel like some transformation happened with all of them or with me but I am no more anybody's best friend or a favourite student. But I feel like this world needs to know that I am not wrong, so whoever is wrong should go through this mental torture and I am strong enough to handle such situations because more than my mother, this life has taught me to be strong.

I am Nayana, I lost my mother when I was 9 years-old, and my father and my two elder brothers were all I was left with. I was sent to Usha Tai, my father's distant sister's place so that she would take care of me, a motherless daughter. My father was too busy with his drinking habits and Bagha, my elder brother was into smuggling coal, goats, calves and all that would make him rich overnight and Jogi, my second elder brother is a mentally challenged boy, who loves me very much but just not strong enough to take care of me.

I stayed with Usha Tai and learnt all household chores for a year and eight months, actually till she felt that I was ready to earn my own bread and butter. So I had to go to Mumbai, where Usha Tai’s two daughters were already working at some Sahebs’ place.

Soon I was living with some Saheb (My boss) and his family. I actually liked it there. Mem (My boss’s wife) was good to me, she would let me play with Baba (my boss’s fifteen months-old baby), give me new dresses and would let me watch television. She would oil my hair and tie them neat. I used to feel like she is my mother and I was ready to spend my entire life there but destiny had different plans.

After staying there for seven months, some NGO people came with two police woman and took me away, accusing Mem that she was torturing me. I begged them, cried and did everything to make them understand to let me be here. But they did not listen at all.

The last time I saw Mem and Baba were that day, Baba was crying his lungs out and Mem was too fragile to handle things like these. Those police woman kept pressing me to give it to them in writing that they were torturing me, but why would I lie!

I lied on the floor and covered my head with my dupatta. And then..... (to be continued in the second part)

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