"Ithazh! Bring some water!"
A 21-year-old girl, with a face as delicate as a painting and an elegance like a swan, rushes to obey. Her movements are graceful, but her fate is anything but.
"Today you have a customer! He is a rich man, so behave carefully!"
The voice belongs to a hefty woman, chewing paan, her stained lips twisting into a smirk. Ithazh nods, silently obeying. She turns to the mirror, adjusting her white saree—a stark contrast to the world she lives in. The red bindi on her forehead glows like a drop of blood on snow. The reflection deceives her; it paints her as a goddess, draped in purity. But the cracks in the mirror reveal the truth—her saree is torn, her bindi smudged, her hair in disarray. She knows the truth: tonight, she is just a flower tossed into the hands of a monkey.
Yet, she refuses to let her soul wilt.
For the world, she is a woman meant to be preyed upon. For herself, she is something more—a dreamer, a fighter. Each stolen moment of study, each secret page she reads for her IAS exam, is a rebellion. Society denies her the right to knowledge, yet she clings to it, as if her very survival depends on it. Because it does.
Late at night, or whenever she finds a moment of solitude, she studies. She presses her lips together, holding back even the sound of her breath, afraid someone might hear. In a world where even education is forbidden to her, learning becomes her act of defiance. The IAS dream feels unreachable, but her determination surpasses even that distance.
"Why do you have books?" The hefty woman’s voice cuts through the air. "Are you trying to study? Do you think you’re worth more than this? Keep that away! Stay ready at all times! Smells good, doesn’t it? If even a single rupee is lost because of you, I will lock you in that room without food!" The woman laughs cruelly, her voice dripping with mockery and control.
Ithazh’s hands tighten around the book. She says nothing, but in her heart, she vows—*One day, I will prove my worth.*
"Ithazh! Your value has gone up today! A big customer! He has paid 50,000 for you! Go, go, get ready!" The woman’s laughter fills the air again.
Ithazh's heart clenches. Is that all she is worth? 50,000? Can’t she dream beyond this? Can’t she break free from this gilded cage? Can’t she create her own identity?
That night, she makes a choice.
She wraps herself in the same white saree, untouched by time or fate. "Let it reflect all the dirt on me," she whispers, "but I will always be pure, like a swan."
Then, in that moment, she realizes—she is pregnant. A wave of emotion crashes over her. Pain and happiness intertwine, but the thought of her child being born in this cursed place is unbearable. She wants a better life, not just for herself, but for the life growing inside her. Her child deserves a future untainted by the horrors she has endured.
She climbs the high wall, her heart hammering. As she leaps, fate betrays her—her legs crumble beneath her. Pain sears through her, but she bites down on her scream. She cannot stop now.
"Where is my 50,000 doll?!" A fat man bellows. His footsteps are nearing.
"Ithazh! Where are you?!" The woman's voice screeches through the night.
But Ithazh is already running—running with broken legs, her saree now drenched in blood. Yet, for the first time, she smiles. Because this pain, this suffering, is hers. It belongs to no one else. It is the price of freedom.
She hides, she stumbles, she thirsts for water, but more than that—she thirsts for her dreams. Like a Phoenix that burns itself for rebirth, she knows the risk. Chasing the sun might turn her to ashes, but she refuses to give up.
The world may have caged a swan, but tonight, she chooses to rise as a Phoenix.
Can she reach the sky? Can she defy destiny?
She doesn’t know.
But she will run until she finds out.
Unexpectedly, a car stops before her. Hope flickers in her heart, but as she looks at the men inside, terror grips her. Their eyes, their smirks—it feels like another trap. Panic surges through her veins. She turns and runs again, but exhaustion betrays her. She stumbles, collapsing onto the cold earth.
Tears blur her vision, but she cradles her stomach, whispering, "I won’t let this life suffer as I did. I won’t let this fate define me."
She pushes forward, crawling if she must, her broken body fueled by the unyielding fire in her heart. Carrying a small future inside her womb, she refuses to surrender. Her dreams depend on no one. No helping hands reach for her, no savior emerges, but she moves forward anyway.
"Is it really this hard for an underdog to chase a dream?" she wonders. "Is this my fate? Am I destined for nothing more than this?"
"No. No. No!" A broken voice repeats, again and again, until it becomes a war cry echoing through the night.
Did she escape? Did she fly?
The answer remains unknown.
But one thing is certain—she will never stop trying.
React
