The Hell

It happened several years ago, but the scars still remain fresh in my heart. During that time, I didn't even know how to pray; my prayer took the form of tears. I don't remember how many days I spent in tears.

Due to pride and ego on my maternal side, my relatives, in the name of elders, separated me from my loving dad. It was a minor issue that often arises between couples. If my relatives had given them time, they could have resolved their issues on their own. Instead, they chose to file a case against my dad and asked my mom to leave him permanently. They didn't consider my relationship with my dad or allow me to meet him.

As an eight-year-old girl, I spent my days in loneliness, and my nights were filled with tears and sorrow. No one was there to understand me or ask for my opinion. I missed my dad and our happy home. My grandparent's home felt like hell...

God heard my tears. One fine day, my school headmaster allowed my father to see me. I ran to him and hugged him tightly; both of us started crying. After a few days, my mom wanted to reconcile with my dad, but my grandpa opposed her and warned her. Later, she took me and my little sister and left my grandpa's home. My dad was waiting outside in the car. We reached our home at night, and I slept peacefully with my dad, mom, and little sister.

I longed to meet my dad and wanted my family back. As an eight-year-old child, I didn't know what to do. I just prayed to God, unsure if my way of praying was proper or not. In the end, I got my family back.

Those days still haunt me, but I will never give up on my prayer.