The Silence That Whispers

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 47; the forty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

"Look into the others eyes, many frustrations
Read between the lines, no words just vibrations
Don't ignore hidden desires
Pay attention, you're playing with fire

Silence must be heard, noise should be observed
The time has come to learn, that silence...."

Enigma kept telling her silence must be heard, silence must be heard. That got her uncomfortable and she had no idea why. She put the marker in between the pages of The road of lost innocence and closed her eyes. Images flashed in to her mind like a torchlight. 

She saw herself on the airport, a trip to Canada, both work and pleasure. She saw a little girl jumping up and down with excitement of flying for the first time. There was a couple on the way to their honeymoon, engrossed in love. And then their was this woman in black veil on a wheel chair being pushed by a good wealthy looking man. Only her eyes were visible from under the veil. The eyes that spoke pleas, incredibly sad eyes as if pleading for help. Their was something about those eyes that did not feel right, that tugged her heart and that haunted her every now and then.This was all six months ago.

She came back to present with a jolt. Enigma was still screaming to her silence must be heard, silence must be heard. Annoyed, she turned off the player and went in to make some coffee to soothe her mind. It has been long she had not watched television. Putting down her coffee mug on the table, she grabbed the remote surfing between the channels. It has been so long that all the daily soaps felt like alien to her. There wasn't a good movie on as well. She kept surfing and a channel had her attention. They were airing a talk show with the survivors of human trafficking.

My name is Dia, or so I call myself. I don't know my real name. I guess I never had one. Being born a girl in a very poor family is a curse, and that curse wrote my fate. As soon as I was born, I was sold to an old man who posed as my grandfather till I was 12. He never gave me a name. I did all the household work from as long as I remember. He would beat me, tie me up and keep me hungry if I made a mistake or disobey him. I turned 13 and I decided to run away. I have had enough of him, I gathered my courage and my belongings, not that I had anything and I ran away. I have no memory of how and when I reached a church that seemed a good place to hide. I was dead hungry and my clothes were torn off from many places. My lips felt dry and my skin pained from cracks. Sisters of the church took me in and kept me well. I was still afraid of any human contact and for a long time did not get in touch with any except for the sisters. My wounds were starting to heal and I started believing this is my life. I wanted to spend my remaining life praying to Jesus. For a moment there I forgot the curse that was woven in the lines of my fate. And then I fell in love. He was a soldier, decent, good natured, behaved well, looked good and was so much in love with me. Our romance bloomed and I began to trust him after initial inhibition. One day he said that he was being drafted to an undisclosed remote area. He said he can't live without me and begged me to come with him. I loved him too much to say no. After all he was the one giving me all the love I craved for in all those years. I agreed. I took with me everything I had then, my I-card that said my name which was given to me by sisters and other necessary stuffs. I bid my home, the Church, goodbye and went with him with dreams of a better love filled life in my eyes. But my destiny had different plans for me. What came was way away from my thoughts. He kept me in an isolated cottage, tied to the door, naked. He would rape me and beat me whenever he wanted. Sometimes his friends would also join. One day I managed to escape. I had nothing with me, no papers, no I card. I had no idea who to turn to. I was just robbed of my faith again. I begged, stole, did whatever it took to keep me alive. I wasn't ready to give up as yet. One day a woman came to me. She was dressed good. She inquired about me. Till now all my injuries had been inflicted by men. So, it was easy for me to trust this woman. She said she takes care of females like me and asked me if I wanted to live with her. I had no option and moreover it sounded tempting to have a house to live in with good food and clothes. Living with her meant I would not have to beg or steal any more. I agreed. Little did I knew where was my fate leading me. For few months I was well provided with. I had good food to eat, nice clothes to wear and had facilities that I had never seen before. And then one day I was sent with a man. I was scared. I didn't want to go but I had my gratitude to pay to the lady. He took me home, tried to make physical advances to which I denied and then I was raped again. He forced himself on me, time and over again throughout the night. I begged of him to leave me alone, I cried, i screamed and he seemed to love all these. When I went quite he beat me in to crying again. After the dark night passed I was sent back to the lady. I went to see her for I thought she will do something regarding this but all in vain. I saw her collecting payment from the man. It was then I realized she was a pimp. This continued until I was sold to a man, who I heard ran the escort services. There were a few more girls with me, some older, some younger and some of my age. We were told that this is just a dating thing. Everyone was happy to be escaping of this pimp. But I had seen enough to believe. Soon enough my doubts came true. We were kept in a sound proof dungeon. He ordered us around, telling us what to say, what to do, how to dress up. If we deny him anything or didn't follow him, we were beaten black and blue. We called him supremo. The people we were sent to for so called dating were some high profile associates from police, law and politics. All our hopes were lost. I tried to keep fighting it but I knew it was useless. I accepted it as my fate. Later again, I was sold to an old man. He kept me well and he didn't even touch me. Rather he taught me how to use people. He told me how to extract money from them. He taught me how to do the trade I was once a victim to. All that money and power blinded me. I started being the same humans I have hated all my life. I had to do this for I was better off with the old man. I wasn't beaten and abused and I knew once I get the power no one could touch me ever. But the worst part of I knew what I was doing to the other girls. I was inflicting them the same pain I had once been in. The nightmares and the sound of their screams didn't let me sleep. The feeling of guilt and remorse was eating me up alive. I decided to end this for once and for all. I released them and myself. I came to know about an NGO that helps the likes of me. Me together with them are trying hard to fight it off, but it is like fighting the whole system. All I have to say is don't hate the victims. If you really need to hate someone, hate the system and do something about it.

The sound of claps and murmur filled the newsroom. She got up with an air of confidence and pulled her veil down which She had not noticed earlier. As the camera zoomed in to the victim's face her heart stopped beating. Never in her life could she forget those eyes ever. She rued the moment when she failed to read her eyes. If she would have helped her then, the woman on TV could have been saved from numerous more sufferings. Silence must be heard sometimes, silence must be heard.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 12