Awaaz-e-Insaf: The Girl Who Became Justice

The sun was burning hot that July afternoon in Sialkot. The air was heavy and the road was full of dust. Ayesha was 10 years old. She sat under the big neem tree near her small brick house. The tree was very old. Its branches were wide and gave the best shade in the whole street. In her lap was an old notebook. The cover was torn and taped with blue tape. The pages were yellow and some were missing. She held a small pencil in her hand. It was so small that she had to hold it with three fingers. She wrote slowly, one word at a time. Her handwriting was neat and careful. "I... want... to... become... a... judge." She stopped and read it again. Then she underlined the word "judge" three times with her pencil. She smiled to herself. Suddenly she heard footsteps running on the ground. Her best friend Zainab came from the street. Her pink dupatta was flying behind her. She was breathing fast and sweating. "Ayesha! Ayesha! Where were you? I was looking for you everywhere!" Zainab sat down beside her under the tree, wiping sweat from her face with her dupatta. Ayesha showed her the notebook. "Look what I wrote today." Zainab took the notebook and read it. Her face changed. She frowned and looked worried. "Ayesha pagal ho gai ho kya? Girls cannot become judges. My Ammi says that judges are always men. Big men with mustaches and loud voices. They sit in big courts and wear black coats." Ayesha took the notebook back. She hugged it to her chest like it was something precious. "Who made that rule, Zainab? Allah made boys and girls both. If a man can give justice, then a woman can also. I have seen it in my dream many times." Zainab laughed but it was a sad laugh. "But Ayesha, your Abu sells vegetables in the market. My Abu is a shopkeeper. How will we go to big school? School fees are very high. Books are expensive. My brother had to leave school after 8th class because we had no money." Ayesha looked at the main road. Cars and motorcycles were passing by. She could see the building of the District Court in the distance. Lawyers in black coats were going in and out. "I don't know how," Ayesha said quietly. Her voice was soft but there was strength in it. "But I will find a way. I have to. Someone has to help poor people. Someone has to listen to them. Someone has to be fair." That night, Ayesha could not sleep. The house was quiet. Her little brother Ali was sleeping beside her on the charpai. She got up slowly so she would not wake anyone. She went to the corner of the room and pulled out a small biscuit box from under her bed. It was an old yellow box. She opened it carefully. Inside were some coins. She counted them in the moonlight that was coming from the window. 10 rupees. 10 rupees total. She had saved them for 3 months from her pocket money. Sometimes she did not buy toffee so she could save 2 rupees. Sometimes she walked to school instead of taking a rickshaw. She held the coins in her small hand. "10 rupees," she whispered. "This is for my first notebook and pencil. This is the start of my journey." She put the box back under the bed and lay down. She looked at the ceiling. Through the small window she could see the moon and the stars. "Ya Allah," she prayed with her eyes closed and hands together. "You know my heart. This is a small dream, but please make it big one day. Give me strength. Give me courage." She made a promise to herself that night. A promise that she would never forget for the rest of her life. "I will study hard. I will not cry. I will not give up. One day people will call me Judge Ayesha Khan. One day I will wear a black coat and sit on that big chair and help people." Outside, the moon was shining on the neem tree. The wind was blowing softly. And under that tree, a small dream had started. A dream that would one day become very big.