Hajra Bano

  Note : This is a fictional story, written with imagination and emotion.It brings alive the voices of our freedom fighters.The aim is to remind us of their dreams and our responsibilities today. Today was the Independence Day of my country, yet I don’t know why my heart felt so heavy and sad. There was a beautiful fragrance in the air, the birds were chirping, the sky was open with the flight of free birds, the weather was pleasant, and the soft breeze was touching the soul. The scene was so beautiful, enough to heal any sad heart. But still, I don’t know why, I don’t know why my heart remained sorrowful, and a sigh kept slipping from my lips. I had thought that today, like everyone else, I would celebrate my nation’s independence with great joy. I left home with this very hope — that by looking at my flag, I might forget all my sorrows, that I might for a moment free myself from the responsibilities weighing down my shoulders, that by seeing my tricolor and hearing my national an...

 Some dreams don’t die with a loud crash — they fall quietly, like feathers in the wind, leaving behind an ache that lingers for years. This is the story of the day my wings were clipped — not by failure, not by lack of ability, but by something as simple, and as cruel, as a single piece of paper ( Money). It has been one and a half years since that day, but I still remember every moment — that day, that time, that very instant when the wings I had built with so much hard work were cut off… just because of a single piece of paper, which I did not have at that moment. It was evening when I received a call from a friend. She asked me, “Have you taken admission in Post Basic Nursing?” I said, “When was the admission form released?” She told me it had been three or four days, and tomorrow was the last date. I replied, “Alright, I will go tomorrow itself with my documents to the college where I got selected,” because I had taken the entrance exam — a big exam — and I had qualified with ...