Freedom to Cry -Shabiha Farjana

It was a sunny morning like any other. Yet, something felt different that day. Alisha could sense an unusual tension in the air. The faces of her family members were clouded with worry, and anger simmered in the silence. Her brother, Abdullah, hadn’t gone to college, nor had he told her to prepare for school.

“What’s happening?” Alisha asked herself. Her parents were engaged in a hushed but intense discussion, their expressions weighed down by concern. Unable to contain her curiosity, she approached her father.

“Abbu! What’s going on? Won’t I go to school today? Why do you and Amma look so worried?”

Her father sighed deeply and replied, “Oh, my daughter, a curfew has been imposed, and your school is closed today. Times are difficult, dear. The government is…”

“Stop, Alif!” Alisha’s mother interrupted. “Why are you telling her this? She’s too young to understand. You’ll only scare her.”

“No, Ayesha,” her father replied firmly. “She must know. The government is oppressing us, snatching away the rights of talented students. From children to adults, everyone has a role to play in resisting this injustice. If she doesn’t know the truth, how will she distinguish between right and wrong? It’s our duty to tell her.”

Ayesha’s eyes filled with worry. “But what are you saying? If Abdullah hears this, he’ll only be more determined to join the protests. I can’t stop him as it is, and you’re encouraging him!”

As her parents argued, Alisha slipped away to her brother’s room. She found Abdullah hastily preparing to leave.

“Bhaiya, where are you going? Didn’t you hear? School is closed today!”

Abdullah hesitated for a moment, then confided in her. “I’m going to join the protest, Alisha. Don’t tell Amma.”

Her eyes widened. “Bhaiya, Abbu said the government is hurting people—killing our brothers and sisters. You’re brave, I know, but please, with your friends, make them stop. Drive them away so no one else has to suffer. And Bhaiya,” she added with a shy smile, “don’t forget to bring me chocolate when you come back.”

“Inshallah,” he said, ruffling her hair.

Abdullah left without telling his parents. Outside, the situation grew more intense. News of student arrests spread through the area, deepening Mr. Alif’s worry. As night fell, Abdullah still hadn’t returned home. By then, Mr. Alif was sure his son had been arrested.

When he broke the news, Ayesha and Alisha wept silently, their fear of the authorities silencing their cries. Days turned into weeks, but Abdullah did not return. Alisha spent her days gazing out of the window, hoping to see her brother coming home triumphant.

One day, while she was watching a procession of protesters on the street, the police opened fire. Terrified, she stepped back from the window, but it was too late. A bullet struck her forehead. A faint gasp escaped her lips before she collapsed. With the hope of freedom and thoughts of her brother in her heart, she passed away.

Her death was a devastating blow to her family. Mr. Alif struggled to remain strong, but Ayesha was left speechless with grief.

Time passed, and the protests gained momentum. The oppressive government was finally overthrown, and the arrested students were released. Among them was Abdullah, who returned home on the day of victory.

As he emerged from the jail, he scanned the crowd, searching for Alisha. But she wasn’t there.

“Why hasn’t Alisha come to greet me?” he wondered. His father’s demeanor seemed unusually somber, but Abdullah brushed it aside. On the way home, he bought chocolates for his sister, his heart filled with pride and peace. He had fulfilled her wish by helping drive away the government.

When they arrived home, he looked around, calling out eagerly, “Alisha! Alisha! Where are you, dear sister? Look, I brought you chocolates! I kept my promise. Why are you hiding? Come out!”

There was no reply.

Realizing something was wrong, he turned to his father. Mr. Alif placed a trembling hand on his son’s shoulder, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Alisha… she’s no longer with us, dear. The oppressors’ bullet took her from us.”

“What?!” Abdullah cried out, his voice breaking. “Is this… is this what we fought for? Is this the freedom to cry?”

His words dissolved into a wail of anguish, a heartbroken scream that echoed the grief of an entire family torn apart by injustice.