Bride-Shopping (Hyderabad)

Through this poem, I wish to highlight the plight of young Muslim girls of Hyderabad who are sold off to Sheikhs on the pretext of marriage. Besides trafficking, much worse happens to them.

I was born beautiful to the poor parents

Who dreamt of richness Every day,

My birth was a blessing in disguise,

As it would fetch them handsome pay.

As it would fetch them handsome pay.

Wealthy style, luxurious stay

This is all what they pray.

Big cars, bigger bungalows, with a big man

Life will improve for the entire clan.

Life will improve for the entire clan.

Frankly, I would state what

I thought happiness and smiles will now be bought

Because a rich old man has come to select

A bride for his young son in Gulf

A bride for his young son in Gulf.

Wedlock with the sheikh’s son,

Appeared so exciting and romantic

No words could have ever told

What other side was about to unfold.

What other side was about to unfold.

And hence decided,

As destiny would have it,

My uncle brought Sheikh

Sahib to our home me and my sisters were paraded.

Me and my sisters were paraded.

Elder one was dark,

And the eldest looked so Bony

The youngest eyes were haggard

But I was fit for the phoney.

I was fit for the phoney.

I was happy, happy at my Fortune

That I was marrying a rich young boy

My adornment soon began with

Clothes, jewellery, make-up, Mehndi

As I was marrying the Sheikh’s boy

As I was marrying the sheikh’s boy.

The big day arrived soon,

My father got lakh as my price

Times hailed me as a proud girl

Proud of my meteoric rise.

Proud of my meteoric rise.

My face was covered with Veil,

And the groom was behind the curtain

Kazi Ji read the “Nikahnaama”

”Qubool hai” chanted thrice, made it certain.

”Qubool hai” chanted thrice,made it certain.

Parents content, sisters delighted,

16 years youth blissfully ignited.

Everything seemed like a boon,

As I was going on a honeymoon.

As I was taken for the honeymoon.

Native village was left behind,

For a five star hotel and a sensual room.

But to my shock and horror

Sheikh himself was the groom.

Sheikh himself was the groom.

70 years old Man laughed at me,

Caught me in his hard arms

In vain, I shrieked I Yelled I cried

Ultimately, I had to accept

That I was his bride.

Now I was his bride.

Morning, noon, evening, night

Kept on passing by.

Raped again and again in confined walls

I could only weep and sigh.

I could only weep and sigh.

After a month or so when he was fed up

He deserted me on a platform.

Divorcee, dejected and pregnant

I came back to my meaningless home.

I came back to my meaningless home.

Soon was married off again

Rather sold out for a little less.

Virginity lost, abortion absorbed,

Life became hell with the incestuous mess.

Life becomes hell with incestuous mess.

Into a vicious circle now,

Sale-purchase-condemn,

Misery and more misery,

There seems no end.

There seems no end.

Be it an Ameena, Noorjahan or Rehana,

In the garb Of

“Nikaah” continues the trafficking,

Neither parents nor politicians come to respite

These girls have suffered,

And they are still suffering.

They are still suffering.