Moments of Aggression: the Story of the Death of An Innocent Girl

When your behaviour is normal, you decide with a sense of urgency. But sometimes you become very aggressive, and when your aggression gets out of control, it becomes difficult for you to control yourself. You do not understand the nuances of the matter and make decisions that cause you serious harm that cannot be remedied.

Women have endured oppression for centuries. Rape, domestic violence, of which we find many examples in history. Sometimes the oppression escalates to where a woman is killed with no fear. The existence of a woman is honourable in every way whether she is a mother, sister, daughter, wife or any other woman. But sometimes man violates the sanctity of relationships. The woman whose life was like a spring. The grief in her life was far from over. But she withered. There was another atrocity, and the target was again an innocent woman. What difference does it make?

Today this innocent woman is the victim of oppression, tomorrow another innocent woman will be the victim and this oppression will continue. But when you can't do anything else, you may speak up. You can at least be satisfied in the court of your conscience that you have raised your voice for an innocent. I will speak out against this oppression. What is the status of a woman? Is she a slave? Doesn't she have a right of her own?

Women are often the victims of the aggression of weak men. By doing so, they also cause irreparable damage to themselves and sometimes even destroy someone's laughing house. I will tell you about one such incident in which a boy killed an innocent girl along with himself because of his aggression.

It was ten o'clock in the morning. We were all doing our daily chores in our homes. Suddenly there was the sound of gunfire. We all stared at each other in amazement as the sound came from near our homes. We were all worried about who fired this fire and why. But no one knew that someone's life had been ruined and two children had lost their mother. The birds had stopped chirping; flowers had withered and life had become desolate.

When they ran to the sound of the bullet, they saw a young girl covered in blood. And a short distance away, a young boy with a pistol in his hand was drenched in blood.

Let me tell you who was this "girl". She was our relative and lived in our town. She was in college when a boy sent a marriage proposal for her. When the girl's parents did not agree, the boy reached their house with a pistol and said that if I ever get married, I will only marry her, otherwise I will kill myself.

They both liked each other. Maybe they met on their way to college. The girl's parents had to say “yes” and they got married. After marriage, she shifted to her husband's house. Her husband, husband's siblings, and parents all lived in the same house. In short, it was a joint family system. They were so happy they felt life had never been so kind to them before. Then she gave birth to a son who doubled her happiness. Shortly afterwards, they had another son and became a full-fledged family. Life went on with full vigour. Suddenly grief came to her house without knocking.

It is in our Pakistani culture that women stay at home and men go to work. Her husband went out to work as usual that day. She was fasting. First, she washed all the clothes in the house. She had prepared the children in the morning and sent them to her mother. She was resting when her husband's brother came.
And he said, “Bring me food”.
"I'm a little tired," she said. Tell your sister to give you food. (It was also heard that her husband's brother was drunk.) Now we don't know how much truth there is in this because some say he was not drunk.

The two (the girl and her brother-in-law) started arguing over this, and the girl said that you are not my responsibility. The boy pulled out a pistol and shot her without thinking. The bullets hit the girl in the head and she died on the spot.
The boy's sister came running out and asked, "Brother, what have you done?"
The brother asked if she was dead.
The sister replied, "Obviously you shot her in the head. She is dead." At that moment, the boy turned his pistol on himself. His sister leaned over and shouted at him not to do so, but by then it was too late. He shot himself in the jaw and the bullet went out of the way of his head. First, we heard that he was injured, but after a while, the news of his death came. This unfortunate boy took the life of an innocent girl along with him.

There was a resurrection that broke out in their house. The children were calling their mother. The girl's mother was crying for her daughter, and the boy's mother was crying for her son. The girl's husband had become like an idol. Life had taken away everything from him in an instant. He didn't even go to his brother's body because he probably couldn't forgive him even after he died.

The boy whose brother killed his wife, his life was ruined and his dreams were shattered. How many dreams he must have had for his family, but his family were broken. Now his little ones, a two-year-old and a four-year-old, ask him where our mother is. We have to go to our mother; he has no answer to give them.

One day his son came out with a picture of his mother and told everyone that my mom would come and pick me up and love me a lot. I will lie down with my head on her lap. It is said that the elder son talks to his mother on the phone for hours, but they do not know that their mother will never return. Who will quench the thirst of their motherhood? No one can be a substitute for a mother, no matter how much one loves, but no one can be like a mother.

Today, the tormented soul of this innocent girl asks us what was my fault. Why I was taken away from my children? Why my laughing house was demolished? Why every time a woman is the victim of new oppression? Why a woman may not do as she pleases, or when she does as she pleases, a wrongdoer will come and ruin her life?

The woman has always been punished for sins she never committed. Such women perish, but leave a story behind. I don't know how many people will write about this story after me, but even then this oppression will continue and history will repeat itself. Tomorrow another girl will fulfil the ritual of this world by sacrificing her blood. The story will be written and after a while, it will also disappear. But for how long?