When a Storyteller died

She never wanted to study computers she always wanted to be a news reader or a writer. As a kid, those formally dressed news readers in T.V always fascinated her. She would sit with her father for hours just to see their lips moving. She would carefully notice their hand gestures and later would enact them in front of mirror. She always wanted to share her stories which she imagined and lived.

When her high school result came out she disclosed this wish to her father that she wants to become a journalist and she wants to have a degree in media field. But then one of her cousin who was still in school interrupted and stopped her in middle saying that “journalism field is not good for girls, you need to do job till late night and then you need to do field work as well. “ She looked at her father and said in meek voice “ No Papa, journalism is not only about field work, there are other profiles as well where you do only office work, like editing news or news reading or storytelling, ” and before her father could say anything her brother again said “ Uncle, I don’t think it's a good job profile for girls.” and this time he did not say it in a suggestive voice rather his words had the tinge of order and dominance.

“hmmm, I believe the same.” her father said in flat tone and left the room. She threw the sealed envelope of journalism admission form in dustbin with heavy heart and tears in her eyes.

That day, an engineer was born and a storyteller died. Today, she works on her machine with empty eyes, her lips fakes the smile. But as night crawls in, her dreams come alive with a hope that may be one day the storyteller in her will survive. Her struggle is on and so her fight.