Contestant Name: Sana Shafiq
Papers were scattered all over the bed. She carefully caressed their surfaces, as if they were too fragile and were bound to break if put to hard-work. The certificates, the degrees, the trophies: all her achievements. She could trace all the memories embedded onto them: the struggle, the toil, but the sweet fruit. It had been too long, thus sighing, she gathered them all and put them back to their place, moving out of the room, turning away from the past.
The corridors were eerily quiet, with only her and her silently loud companion thoughts left alone at home. Rounding up a corner, she landed in a space with long aisles and rows, cutlery, fridge, oven and stove. For these all are assumed to be a women’s métier from a very tender age. Perhaps it was hidden somewhere in between the lines of her henna-stained hands. Somewhere along the way, her success story began to die in the way it just began. She turned on the stove. Her dreams all charred away, as the common notion was victorious: A women’s place is in the kitchen.
An architect, an engineer, a scientist, an artist wilted as flowers. But for how long will we all be prisoners to the society?
Total words: 208
This is a short story entry by PLB member Sana Shafiq.
Send in your entries to email@example.com
For more details about this contest, visit: http://plb.thepakistaniwoman.com/contest