Once, a young girl lived in our neighborhood...

Once, not so long ago, there was a bright young girl.

Often, the teachers praised her academic talent – she was above average in studies.   

Frequently, the friends asked her to sing a Bollywood number – she was a gifted signer.

She had dreams to fly in the sky one day. That did not mean simply to be able to purchase an airline ticket. She wanted much more –to conquer the world perhaps.

Her parents were proud of her. Yet, they were eager to marry her off as soon as possible.

And she was an obedient daughter.

So, she got married.

Soon, she had a child.

Taking care of her family became her fulltime job.

Everybody saw her doing that job but nobody knew about her feeling…

…of how she felt about the lost dreams,

…of pressures of not being financially independent,

…of the incompatibility with her husband,

…of the helplessness that nothing could improve the situation,

…of perhaps many more issues, pinching her day in and day out,

She was unable to share her feelings with her parents – they would feel the guilt, thought she.

What could she share to her husband, who might be a reason for her troubles!

Her child was too small to listen.

The friends considered her as a happily married. How come she had pent-up emotions, thought they.     

And she was not aware of any helpline. Or perhaps such help-lines did not have enough media exposure to reach to someone like her.  

One day, recently, she committed suicide.

Now, everyone is wondering why?