PURDAH (standard:other, 311 words)
Author: Mehul	Added: Jan 25 2002	Views/Reads: 3621/1	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Afghanistan, women, and the dreaded black veil...

PURDAH 

She lay on the dusty ground, now deserted, tear stains marking her fair
cheeks. Her black garment was brown with the dust, but the veil still 
covered her face. A metre away from her lay the motionless body of 
another woman, her sister, bruised and beaten, without a sign of life. 
She could see her face, still cringing in agony, as the stones had come 
raining on her helpless body tied to the mast. The stones came from the 
dust, the dust, which had come in hordes to watch the life of innocence 
being snatched away, and then the dust had gone just like it had come, 
while she cried. The face was blank now, and very pale, the same face 
which had caused all this. She was walking in the market, when the wind 
had blown, blown her mask of the world away, shown her radiance to 
them. She ran to grab it, but it flew on, carried on the wind like a 
bird, wanting to escape from the world. And they chased her, and caught 
her; a crime had been committed, against their religion. This called 
for a greater crime, it was written. So she was dragged to the ground, 
and the stones lay there, beckoning. They were already red, but she 
couldn't see. The dust was already around her. It was a breach of 
custom. No, she could not have shown her face; they cried, no. And the 
stones rained. Her sister came running through the dust, ran from 
person to person, stone to stone, but still the stones rained. And she 
cried. The night came, she slept on the dry ground, while her sister 
slept elsewhere, not on this dusty Earth. They came in the morning, not 
the same dust, but her friends and relatives. No tears remained, no 
blood. "Cover her face", she said gently. 


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