It’s an unlucky day, there is so much dust around and Karachi Water Board has gifted us with empty tanks. The desire for drops of water is increasing minute by minute. Chained behind walls, we serve to shiver the legs with our beauty. Family planning seems to be an important factor in our lives, fixed in numbers usually six and often the number varies in the records of NADRA. Born to be slaves like the Africans, our existence refers to comfort only. Living in highly populated areas, we have neighbors too, distinct in everything: quality, color and size. Within a single family we all have same features, sixlets, can be a term of reference, so that no communication gap occurs. We live a harsh life, locked behind wooden doors with no sunlight, we are at a miles distance from the real world.
We can sense someone close to us, the door seems to be opening. A monster has come up to pick us and put on a great show. We move from our comfort zones, ‘it seemed as if, we haven’t moved for years, the muscles have become stiff. Our bodies are going to be washed today there is so much dust on us. ‘Get ready, be prepared are the slogans’. The masters have realized our worth in their life, drops of water fall on our bodies, and we feel the comfort, clothes and bodies are cleansed again and again so that no dirt remains on our figures. We will be representing our master, the supreme council has gathered. We can hear a lot of talk around us, probably the guests have come. It’s time to march close to them, first they try to hide us, then parade us like prostitutes. Shifting us from place to place, milking us with water as pure souls, they present us in front of strangers. As a battalion we march towards our ultimate journey, the guests are hundred eyed, looking at us from each angle, touching us weirdly while others move us again and again. Coughing over us, they love to lick us. With each second, they get dirtier. Sometimes our neighbors resemble their animal nature, smoke on our faces trying to exploit our beauty, the whiteness we bear, and they try to destroy the makeup done by our masters with Fair n lovely. While others leave their dirt on our hearts. We are washed by the masters again and imprisoned, again; the guest hadn’t bidden fairly on us.
Every week we have such guests and we undergo the same torment. The UN seems to be sleeping when our rights are being exploited. One day we will draft a new constitution for ourselves. Sometimes we are dressed differently too, bearing tattoos on our bodies and try to attract the guests, so they are pleased by our kindness.
Some of us lose their hearts and die, leaving others behind; like the Hindus, Christians and Muslims we don’t have any graveyards and we are thrown by our masters in dustbins as if we don’t matter to them ever. We don’t belong to any sect which can appeal on our behalf in front of the men in black. We leave our family behind with a disastrous future as the master’s welcome new slaves. Nobody gives an ear to our worries. No NGO protests for us, our society has no mayor or feudal lord who can fight for our rights. Even the Americans do not favor us.
Some of us, are awarded life imprisonment waiting for death to come to us. Probably that is why the NAP ordinance has been issued to release the pain from our bodies at once.