Name: Abeerah Tariq ERP ID: 22659

WOMEN HAVE DREAMS TOO

Saima tore off her new crimson boxing gloves, pulled a burqa as dark as night itself over her

head, and then then secured her niqab tightly. It was past seven when she said her goodbyes to

Faisal bhai (her trainer) and made her way out of her ‘safe haven’. She liked to call the arena

that, but to her parents it was the ‘coaching center’ she attended after college. She loved the

place that bolstered her passion for boxing. Even more she loved this feeling: tightly wrapped

knuckles, hitting the punching bag repeatedly and her; strong, undefeatable, alive.

The narrow winding streets on her way back held a familiar setting. The smell of cheap Gold

Leaf made her wrinkle her nose as she walked past the group of boys lounging by their bikes.

Her apartment wasn’t far from the Boxers Training Camp, but she took her time to stroll past the

shops looking for nothing particularly. After climbing several congested stairs and colliding with

at least three people she finally reached her doorstep.

“Assalam-o Alikum Ammi.” She said, monotonous and tired, as she entered. It was routine, but

she could have never anticipated rubber sandal that came flying out to strike her shoulder.

“BAGHAIRAT, BAAP KI IZZAT DOBOY GI!” (shameless girl want to tarnish my reputation!)

Her father’s angry voice echoed in her house.

He tore her bag off from her shoulders and turned it upside down, shaking it vigorously to empty

its contents. Her gloves tumbled out, making her breath catch in her throat. He stared at them in

disgust, but without any astonishment, like he already knew. Her mother’s gaze slid to her but

she could not meet her eyes. She felt fear rise in her stomach and bile in throat.

“Where were you? Were you learning how to become a boy with boys?” Her mother grabbed her

arm tightly and shook it violently. No. But the word got stuck in her throat.

“WHAT IS THIS?”
Name: Abeerah Tariq ERP ID: 22659
WOMEN HAVE DREAMS TOO

Her father bellowed and grabbed her by her hair. She could feel the pain sear her scalp as she

struggled in his grasp. His rage was unstoppable. He slapped her across the face so hard that she

fell, her cheek hitting the wooden coffee table. She touched her lip gently; it was bleeding from

the blow. She got up and looked at Munna, her 12-year-old blackmailing brother, who was

currently relaxing on the couch. Of course. She had spent her last week's pocket money to pay

for new gloves, her brother had missed out on his bribe to keep his mouth shut and took revenge.

“You made Muuna lie about attending tuition. But thank god my son isn’t like you. YOU

SHAMELESS GIRL. You've shown your true colors!” Her father screamed in anger. “You will

not be allowed to go to college or meet any friends from now. Stay at home and help your

mother. YOU ARE A DISGRACE.”

Disgrace. For the first time, she had the courage to stare at him squarely in the eye.

“It would be better if I had no daughter at all.”

“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong, Abbu. It’s not a sin to practice my favorite sport.” She

heard herself say quietly.

“BATAMEEZ. HOW DARE YOU TALK BACK WITH ME? Tum nay meri haq halal ki kamai

zaya ki hai, ab bus.” (You have wasted my money earned from my hard work, not anymore.)

“Abbu, for once, please, just listen to me. I love boxing. I am good at it. I won’t ask for any

money. I have a tournament coming up. Please, try to understand – ”

“Girls don’t do sports.” He cut her off. “Have you ever heard anyone’s daughter in our family

doing anything so immodest?”

“No.” Her mother agreed, shaking her head.

Name: Abeerah Tariq ERP ID: 22659
WOMEN HAVE DREAMS TOO

“But Abbu many girls…”

“ENOUGH, NOT A SINGLE WORD FROM YOUR MOUTH.” Her voice drowned in his, mid-

sentence. She grabbed her arm and pushed her into her room “Amjad bhai will come with his

family to ask for your hand in marriage with their son, tomorrow. I will no longer be responsible

for your nuisance.” He locked the door in reply.

“NO ABBU PLEASE, DON’T DO THIS TO ME. AMMI!” She banged on the door. She knew it

was futile. It wasn’t the first time she had faced her father’s wrath; but it was the first time he

had trampled upon her dreams without any way out. She crumpled against the door, her fingers

trembling with realization and her father’s words still ringing in her head.

She knew she’d be married soon; it was a destined fate for a girl like her. But she did not want to

be that girl. She wanted to be the best at boxing like her heroes like Muhammad Ali and Rocky

Marciano. But they were men and she wasn’t. She was supposed to be a girl who knew how to

clean the house, cook and take care of kids. The book on her side table called it discrimination

due to biological procreation. Saima promised herself that she would carve her own destiny in

this brutal world not as a mannequin or a marionette toy, clothed in men’s honor for their honor.

“Izzat.” (Honor) she repeated the word.

Not anymore. She was done being molded by men for their own egos to rule her life as they

deemed fit. She pulled out the money she had been saving for her tournament and stuffed it into

her bag with a few essentials. She had her life planned out. There was no guilt holding her back.

She pulled open the room’s window and jumped, she turned to take a last look and then she ran.

(947 words)
Name: Abeerah Tariq ERP ID: 22659
WOMEN HAVE DREAMS TOO