"So you approached me without being aware of my identity?" He asks me, while raising an eyebrow.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement.
It takes me a while to compose myself and form a sensible reply. "Yes, I wasn't aware of your identity...
I see a myriad of expressions across my mother's face; there's fear, anxiety, disbelief, despair, shame, guilt...
After what seemed like an eon, she finally says, "Are you okay, my dear? What happened?"
"I was... raped."
She gasps. "Would you like to talk about it?"
I stayed silent. But it seemed like after an eternity, I could finally at least form a few words in my mind.
"It was on the day of the conference." I was again at a loss for words.
"Do you know him?"
"No."
"Would you like to file a police report?"
"No." I then pause, looking up to find my mother not very pleased with my decision. "I don't want to relive it all again, mama." I try to explain.
My mother then took a deep breath and seemed to be contemplating something. After a minute or so, she says, "Would you like to abort the baby?"
I don't know why, but I could feel tears streaming down my face and an emotion I couldn't describe. I already knew it was too late to abort. I must be around 20-22 weeks in already. But it was something else that made me feel uneasy. Something else which felt wrong.
"No, mama."
She then came forward and embraced me. I could then feel her tears as they wet the back of my shirt. We stayed so for I don't know how long.
She let go of me, and then composed herself to say, "I support whatever you decide on, my dear. I love you so much. Everything will turn out okay in Sha Allah, my dear. Have faith in Allah."
I nodded. We both remained silent.
"Would you like something to eat?" My mother asked after a long time.
"Yes."
...................
Time flew by as my stomach got bigger and bigger. I somewhat started adjusting better. I began studying again as a distraction. I still didn't speak until necessary. My mother made sure no one came too close to ask me questions I still I wasn't comfortable asking. I knew by now most of my relatives and even those who were not related to us, got the news.
I tried to remain oblivious to it all but I could feel the change in people's attitudes.
They kept bombarding my mother with questions, but since she did not seem to answer, because she didn't know herself, people started victim blaming.
"It must be the girl's fault."
"No, it's the parent's fault. Why send a girl to a city like Delhi?"
"Her boyfriend must have impregnated her."
"She dresses and acts so holier-than-thou. And this is what she does behind our backs."
"Our daughters are so much better. They just have healthy friendships with their male colleagues. My daughter would never dare such a thing!"
My mother never let those accusations reach me. She shielded me from it all. But it took a toll on her and I could see the grief in her eyes.
I then started wondering if my decision was too selfish.
Allah does not impose upon any soul a duty but to the extent of its ability
I kept on repeating these verses to find peace.
Soon enough, the pains started kicking in. Starting from my abdomen and lower back and all the way down my thighs. At first I thought they probably were false contractions, since there still remained around 2 weeks till my expected date of delivery.
But the pains did not subside with any painkiller and further grew in intensity.
I was sure by now that it was probably time to go to a hospital.
I was rushed to the hospital and my obstetrician informed me that I was 4 cms dilated.
The pain lasted for around 10 hours and finally, after what seemed like an eternity of excruciating pain, I delivered my beautiful baby boy.
My mother placed him on top of me while I was still on the delivery table.
"Isa." I smiled and placed him on my breast. He started suckling slowly and in that moment, I felt like my life found meaning again.
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