Caged

Being the daughter of a rich chief in my community, I was restricted from doing many things. My father always claimed that he had a reputation to hold. He was a very strict man and I lived by the rules. Barely eighteen, I had a lot on my mind. I only had three friends, Shebana […]

Being the daughter of a rich chief in my community, I was restricted from doing many things.
My father always claimed that he had a reputation to hold. He was a very strict man and I lived by the rules. Barely eighteen, I had a lot on my mind. I only had three friends, Shebana and Nadeer. I was to have no contact with any boy – not even my cousins. I could only talk to my brothers and they always checked my phone to see what I was up to. They always knew where I was going and followed me except when I went to school. I wasn’t allowed to watch and read anything that contained romance. So my life cycle was home, school, then home again. Sometimes, I visited the temple to pray, of course, with my brothers.
“Jassi!!!” My friends called out. School was over and we were heading over to our hideout.
Shebana and Nadeer entered a rickshaw and I rushed in and sat beside them. We told the driver where to drop us and began chatting about the day’s events. Nadeer, her dark skin glowing from the sun’s ray, finally asked. “So what book are we reading today?”
 We always went there to read our romance novels as our parents would never approve of it.
We would stay there for a few hours and then lie at home that we were copying notes in school. But I couldn’t come on weekends because of my brothers.
 We all spoke about the books we were going to read and laughed when we remembered some parts. Finally the rickshaw came to a halt and we filed out after paying the driver his money.
 We looked at the forest – our little hideout – sneaked inside and rushed to an uncompleted building where there was a big hole covered with tin foil. Shebana immediately removed it and we all grabbed our desired copies to read and took our positions; Nadeer on a stool,
Shebana on a tree branch and I on a wooden log. We read happily with our eyes on the time.
 A few hours later, we all packed up to leave. As we came out of the forest and back to the main road, it started to rain. Shebana and Nadeer went off as they lived in a different street. I stood under a small canopy and waited for a rickshaw to come. As I stood thinking of how to tell my parents I stayed in school copying notes, a tall figure joined me. He brought in a minty smell that caused me to meet his eyes. He wasn’t smiling and his black hair covered a part of his eye.
 We stood there, the atmosphere as cold as it could be. Finally a rickshaw came and I proceeded. Before I could enter, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to meet his eyes and he handed me my phone.
“Th-thank y-you,” was all I could say before I entered the car. I didn’t know why I stammered.
 “Jogi,” he said smiling and the rickshaw took off.
 As we entered a turn, I turned to see him smiling down at his phone. I looked at mine and saw a number typed in it. I smiled to myself and typed “Jogi” in the name box. That night, the last word I said was “Jogi”.
 Jogi and I became very close friends. We chatted, mostly at night and I always immediately deleted the chat the next morning to avoid my brothers’ queries.
 One day, we met after school at a restaurant close to his university where he studied Electrical Engineering. His dad owned a car shop and his mum sold jewelleries in a mall.  He was twenty one years old and had big dreams. He always treated me to ice cream which I mostly declined because I wasn’t used to receiving treats from boys. I even met a few of his friends.
 Gradually, what we shared turned to love. Shebana and Nadeer were happy that I was brave enough to have a boyfriend. He sent me letters and presents which I hid in between my clothes and in Nadeer’s house because her parents were not very strict.
 Soon, I could hardly spend a day without seeing Jogi. After about three months, I went home as usual on a certain day and met papa in the living room. He looked angry. His eyes were bloodshot and his nostrils were flared. I greeted him and tried to make my way upstairs.
“Good evening papa.”
“Good evening.”
I was about to begin racing upstairs when he stopped me.
“By any chance do you know a boy named Jogi?”
That question startled me and my heart began to race. He knew Jogi!
“Joooggii?”
“Yes.”
“No,” I said firmly and ran upstairs before he could say a word. I entered my room and
dropped my bag on the bed. I sat down and began to shake nervously. God, I pray he won’t do anything to him. Please at least not him but me. I don’t know why but I began to sob.
 I slept off. I woke up to a loud noise. I looked out through the window. My eyes popped out at who I saw shouting and I screamed. I ran downstairs like lightening and went outside. There was Jogi. I looked at the cut on his lips and an ear. His left eye was purple and shrunk inside. Half of his face was swollen and blood rushed through his nose. I began to cry. He was too tired to move and any movement caused him to cry out in pain.
 I turned to face my father who was held out his gun.
 “No papa, don’t! Please!!”
 He ignored me and pulled the trigger. I froze and watched the world become dark and began to fade. Things appeared blurry as I slipped to the floor. I closed my eyes as I felt the bullet hit me.
Radiyah Kareem is 14 years old. She is a student of New Horizons College.