Daily Times

I was not expecting this call, least of all from a hospital. “Mira is in trouble, can you come?” Nina was on the other side of the phone from a local hospital, asking me very reluctantly. She knew very well that I was tied up in all sorts of things, and would not be able to drop it all but she had to ask. “I will try. Which hospital?” I perhaps surprised Nina by my response. Nina was a good friend of mine and had known me for years. She knew very well that I had difficulty coming over at a short notice.

“North Manchester, page me when you are here,” Nina hung up abruptly, maybe fearing that I would change my mind if our conversation carried on. I knew Mira would have wanted me to visit her. I desperately wanted to go to see Mira, but I was in middle of my own domestic affairs.

I have no idea why I get myself entangled in these kinds of situations. Maybe, entangled is not the right word, but it’s pretty close to the scenario of my life. I lead a great life, according to the standards set by our so-called society. I should be proud of the fact that I am seen as a strong woman of the community who has a stable family life with beautiful children, been educated to the highest level, and is running a successful business in education. I should be very proud but I am far from it. Instead, I carry a big hollow empty space within me that I try to fill endlessly by keeping myself busy with women who are not as fortunate as me.

I deal with issues of women and children on a daily basis through various commitments, my way of contributing back to society and making use of the good things that I am blessed with. Maybe, one day, I will manage to minimise that hollow space in my heart through sharing my love and passion for humanity.

I am very passionate about women empowerment through dialogue and education, and I work with a few Manchester-based women’s organisations. I am an ambassador for Science Technology Engineering and Maths. I believe in accepting cultural diversity and progressing together on global path with peace and prosperity.

I met Mira through some organisation that I cannot name. Even her name is not Mira, and I cannot say more about where and how I met her. When I first met her, she came across as an offensive young girl who showed little respect towards any help offered to her. To me it’s always a challenge to reach out to the unreachable ones, and Mira became a challenge instantly.

I was told that a few days ago Mira had a court hearing and was told that she may lose the custody case of her young children. Naturally, she was distraught and life lost all meaning to her. I do not blame her for showing me contempt when we met. She didn’t speak English well, and my Punjabi wasn’t so great, but still that did not stop true emotions from being properly communicated. She was upset and angry and that came across very strongly in our first meeting.

Mira came from India as a spouse to her cousin in the UK. She had been living here for four years and had two children in that period, along with umpteen fights suffering all sorts of abuse on the hands of her vile husband and manipulating in-laws. I have often wondered why people from the subcontinent are so quick to marry their daughters off to strangers living abroad. Even if they are related, they are more or less strangers because the people back home have not been abroad to see how they live and who exactly they are. Why do parents not take proper care when sending their young daughters abroad? Surely, the promise of a good life cannot diminish their sensibility as well as responsibility towards their daughters.

I have known many young women who come to the UK after marriage; many go through some horrific ordeals. Some remain inside the house for many years, and those who manage to get out end up suffering for the rest of their lives. I truly wish the immigration policy makers were to tackle this issue with utmost sensitivity, and provide ways of making the transition for these young women an informative one. If Mira’s parents had known about her cousin’s violent temper, would they have married their daughter to him? Actually, I think they still would have because sadly, this is never a cause of concern when the marriage is being arranged within families. In fact, individuals with behaviour issues use family loyalties to extend their martial statuses.

When I got to know Mira I realised how much she had suffered since the day she landed in this country. She confided in me and I listened to her patiently, feeling at times my heart would break with the pain she carried. Even when she managed to flee from her abusive marriage, her in-laws filed a case against her, accusing her of running away with family’s expensive jewellery. They filed for full custody of her children, saying that she was not fit to look after her children. The charges against her were numerous, ranging from adultery to schizophrenia. So it was no surprise that the poor soul suffered from a nervous breakdown many times. Once, she even tried to take her life but survived. All she ever dreamt of was a normal family life where she lived happily ever after with her loving husband and children. But perhaps for some people that’s all it remains — a dream while they carry on living the nightmare in search of their way back home.

Once Mira said something to me that I can never forget: “Baji, you will never know what happens inside girls like us.” What truly pained was to hear the words “girls like us.” Why have we made our society so narrow-minded, so rigid that the victims have already decided their own punishments? Why do these boundaries exist? Maybe my struggle is to minimise these boundaries and remove tags of “girls like us” or “people like us”?

My friendship with Mira was a special one. It was a friendship between two humans, regardless of their race, age or nationality. We were connected through each other’s pain. I tried making her laugh with my silly jokes; I tried to make her see that there was a life outside the circle she was confined to. That day when I had the call from hospital, I realised that she was in trouble. Sadly, I could not go that night as I had commitments towards my young children. I deeply regret that decision because the next day, to my shock, Nina called me to tell me that Mira had passed away.

To date, I have not asked anyone how she died. I don’t need to know anything more than that she is gone forever. Mira has left this world but this world still carries on. There are still vile people who continue to make lives of daughters of other people a living hell, while parents are still marrying their daughters off to strangers living abroad in hope of a better future for them. And ‘girls like Mira’ are still suffering and finding a better life in their deaths.

The writer is a UK-based biochemical Engineer, activist, teacher and an author