Stereotypes
• Drug addicts
• Prostitution
• Beggary
• HIV Aids patients
• Hysteric people
• Raped victim
• Sweepers
• Divorced
• Widow
Sharing the Voices
I am Faiza. I am 22 years of age. It’s been 8 days since I’ve been in Dar-ul-Amaan.
How I came here is a long story. Although it is just another of the stories that
have happened to girls here in Dar-ul-Amaan, a place of shelter for the girls
like me who do not find a place to go when girls have to undergo the unfortunate
changes of fate in life, when our families reject to keep us.
Today, a few students came for a research work, I was chosen for interviewing, I
was asked about my life and why I came here. My story goes as under.
I was 14 years old; I lived with my family apparently quite peacefully in
Islamabad. I had a loving mother, an indifferent, stubborn but caring father. My
siblings including me are six in number. I am the eldest.
I had passed my matriculation exams. On my desire to study further, my father
refused to permit me saying that it was enough and that I do not need to study
further. We did not have much financial problems.
Everything was going smoothly when one morning I saw my mother very disturbed,
that afternoon my mother and father disputed over some matter to which I had no
knowledge. After that, they had a meeting in private and everything was calm
again.
Unaware of what’s going on, I was busy in my own little world comprising my
home, my family and my friends. I was a teenager, and I did not care of worldly
problems.
The following week after this minor incident of my parent’s fight, both my
parents came to me when my siblings were at school and out for a play. My mother
told me that I’ve to go with a person and that I will be living with him from
now on. In spite that my mother was saying that the person will be taking care
of me, I did not understand why my mother’s facial expressions were not going
along with her words.
My father who had a stubborn, indifferent nature; said that I should not disobey
my new ‘caretaker’. They told me that neither I will come back to them now and
nor I should think about it.
I was filled with a mixture of feelings of amazement and sadness. My suit case
was packed and I was made ready to leave with the new person. That man was about
middle aged person, I did not like him but I was to obey my parents so I went
with him. I had the hope of coming back to home.
That man took me from Islamabad to Rawalpindi. I was surprised and perplexed; I
wondered that are all the girls departed the way my parents did? What about the
entire marriage thing that my friends talked about!
I was given a separate room to live in. For a couple of days, although I missed
my family but it felt like an air of independence, I had new and costly clothes,
some fine jewelry, but then the scenario changed. On the third day two more
girls came there, I did not care much to understand that why we were there, also
because I was assured by my parents that I will be looked after.
The next day my ‘caretaker’ came with a new man; I was handed over to him. From
here onwards, the part of my life began of which I had never dreamt of. A
nightmare and the darkness from which I could never get out.
I was thrown into ‘mud’ by my own parents. I became what is commonly known to
the world ‘A call girl’. My parents sold me for 150,000. I did not know this
fact till a long time. And even if I knew how could I believe it, I was too
young to understand and digest it.
In two weeks’ time, I was sold to two people. After two weeks, on getting a
chance, I ran away from there. I don’t exactly know how but I somehow reached my
home.
I thought I will tell my parents of the brutality that happened to me. That the
‘caretaker’ was actually a monster. I thought that my parents will shelter me,
and that they will help me.
But I was wrong; I was not even heard properly. My tears did not melt their
hearts. They kept me for a day and then I was made understand that I have to
accept all and that there was no place at their home for me. I was compelled to
go back. Ultimately I was taken back to the place. I had to indulge in this
profession for my whole life.
During these seven years, I went back several times to my home, each time
thinking that I will be heard but money had blindfolded them. The power of money
is so evident that it can even take sympathy and humanity out of humans.
I did not go to police because I feared very much. They were powerful enough
that they could buy the police. They were all accomplices.
Even if I went to them for help; who would have believed me? We face
discrimination. Who would have taken a step to help a girl like me, toward whom
the world looks with disgust? I was different from other girls; I realized it
soon that I was into a hateful profession. Therefore, I never opened the fact
before others that ‘who am I’. I went into a low self-esteem. I could not stand
the taunting sights and the whisperings of people around. The world that looks
down upon us and still indulge in such activities which keep such professions
alive.
I was taken abroad, two times to Dubai. They always kept my passport with them,
lest I should run away. With the passage of time I realized how strong and
organized their business was with hundreds of girls sold every day. I had no
chance of escaping.
The customers tortured me both physically and emotionally. I was abortioned two
times during these years. Death seemed the only way to escape from this
miserable life but I was not alone, there were many girls with me who shared the
similar feelings.
I usually prayed to God to make happen something, a miracle. And something did
happen.
It was four months ago, when I happened to go to Pearl Continental, where I met
a guy. He was a young man of about 24 years. He belonged to a rich family who
was a victim of lack of attention of his parents. We had frequent meetings.
For the first time in seven years, I felt that someone could understand me and
show real care for me. He listened to me. I was really surprised when one day he
proposed me; he said that he will give me an honorable life. Surprised and
happy, I accepted the proposal.
We discussed all the possible ways, at last we decided to tie in wedlock and
announce our marriage when circumstances are favorable.
He introduced me to his parents as a friend. We tied into wedlock two weeks ago
and after a week, on my husband’s suggestion I came to Dar-ul-Amaan.
My parents and others know that I’ve run from there, and that I’ve left the
profession which I never opted for.
And that is my story; it’s been eight days now that I am here, my husband comes
to meet me regularly. I have dreams of a happy life, but I have fears. I fear of
what if I am caught? What if my in-laws refuse to accept me when they find the
truth about me? And what if my husband gives up on me?