Seher knew she was risking her life, endangering herself by stealing resources from her father. When she had started dealing with people, Seher had realised money carried the power. Money spoke, sometimes money was the power, so she used that power to pull people on her side. And what exactly was her side? She couldn't convince them by speeches or moral values, because the rules of the village had literally shut their ears closed.

Men wouldn't listen, but women could.

'Bharat ko toh azaadi milgayi... we are an independent country. Mardon ko milgayi azaadi, aurton ka kya? Aren't we Indian too? Humein kab azaadi milegi? Ye padho".

(... men got their independence, but what about women? Aren't we Indian too? When will we get our independence? Read this.)

She passed a newspaper to the women who sat there, most shook their head, 'Humein padhna nahi aata (we can't read)' it went on until the last woman. The woman from lower sectors were uneducated, the daughters of labourers and farmers who were married off.

She sighed, "Likha hai ke desh mai aurton ki sankhiyan kam horahi, ladki paida hoti toh maardete, bimaar hoti toh theek se ilaaj nahi karate- kya hua ek biwi margayi toh dusri laadenge. Azaadi ke liye toh mahilaye bhi ladi thi, tees saal hogaye magar azaadi nahi mili (It is written that the number of women in the country is decreasing; if a girl is born, she is killed; if she falls ill, she isn't given the proper treatment, and why would they care if their wife dies, they will marry another. Women also fought for freedom, but even after thirty years, they haven't gained their freedom)".

One of the woman who sat there shook her head, "Seher jaanti ho kya kar rahi ho? General Sahib ko pata chala toh hum sabko zinda gaad denge (Seher, do you know what you're doing? If Jahangir Shaikh finds out, he will bury us all alive)" it was more of humour the way she said it, but Seher felt her heartache, "Kyun gaadenge? Unko kisne haq diya hai humari jaan se khelneka? Na humarey mulk ka kanoon unhe ye haq deta aur na khuda (Why would he bury us? Who gave him the right to play with our lives? Neither the law of our country nor God gives him that right)"

The woman went silent, "Seher tu apne ghar jaa, teri baaton se darr lagraha hai mujhe (Seher, you should go home; your words are scaring me)".

Seher looked around at the faces of the women, her heart raced as she continued, "Agar hum aise hi chup rahenge, toh kabhi kuch nahi badlega. Jang bina ladey kaise jeetogey?(If we stay silent like this, nothing will ever change. To win a battle we first need to fight)."

One of the older women, with lines etched deeply into her face, spoke up, "Ladkiyon ki maut ke liye hum kuch nahi kar sakte, magar Beta yaha kayi Maa hai jinki khudki betiyan hai, agar tumhari ye jang mai woh shaheed hogaye toh unke chotti bacchion ka kya hoga? (We can't do anything about the deaths of girls, but there are many mothers here who have their own daughters. If they become martyrs in this fight of yours, what will happen to their little girls..)"

"Amma..", she said softly, "Maut toh dono jagah hoskti, shauhar ke haaton shaheed honey se accha hai apni bacchiyon ke haq liye ladte ladte shaheed ho... takey aapke bacchey ye garv se kehsake ke meri Maa ne meri azaadi ke liye lada tha. Abhi nahi ladey toh aaney waali naslon ki har aurat issi gau ke peepal ke paid ke saamne apna dam todegi aur jeeyegi bhi toh roz roz ghut ghutkar maregi... kya chahte hai aap? (Death can come in both situations. It is better to become a martyr fighting for your daughters' rights than to be martyred at the hands of your husband... so that your children can proudly say that their mother fought for their freedom. If we don't fight now, every woman of future generations will die in front of this village's peepal tree or, if she lives, she will die a slow death every day. The choice is yours...)"

Seher's voice trembled as the last of the women left, leaving only her mother behind. She sank into a nearby chair, her hands clutching the edges as if for support. The room, now empty, felt heavier, filled with the echoes of the conversations that had just ended. Tears streamed down Seher's face as she spoke, Seher sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face. "Ammi, why is it so hard?" she sobbed, her voice breaking. "Why can't they see the need for change? I’m risking everything, and for what? To make them understand that they deserve better, that we all do?"

Her mother, with a gentle hand on Seher's shoulder, said softly, "!They are afraid because they have never seen a different way. If change is difficult, then fighting for that change is more difficult".

Seher looked up, her eyes red and weary. "But how do I keep going when it feels like I'm fighting against the whole world?"Her mother’s gaze was firm and kind.

"You keep going because there are others who will follow. Your courage plants seeds, and one day, those seeds will grow. It’s not about the immediate results but about the long-term impact. You must be the spark that ignites change, even if it takes time."

She looked at her mother, and found her own reflection in her eyes. Her father was right about one thing, she was just like her mother.

____

She sent a letter to Saahil, telling him about this problem, the answer was short, "One cannot become a powerful person without knowing a powerful person. To gain power, one must first know those who wield it."

Seher had realized what she needed to do, she closed the letter, and her father arrived.

"We had a successful harvesting season, your ideas worked well, that's why I have decided that now you will look after the lands".

Her hardwork was paying off, she was getting the power and winning her father's trust.

She was handling the female panchayat, looking after the lands and their city investments.

___

"Does anyone know pottery? Embroidery or stiching?" Seher asked in the next panchayat, many raised their hands, "You know you can make a lot of money by selling them".

Money was the language both men and women spoke, in Seher's eyes the most powerful man was her father and if the women of this language learnt his language, then they could be powerful too.

"I will sell your pots, handmade necklaces, and clothes in the city," she became the medium.

Heena had gotten married to a man twice her age, he earned well. The thing was, Heena never knew the value of money until she got her own, so that day from the market, she bought payal and bangles.

When her husband came home, the innocent Heena showed it off to her husband. She thought he would compliment her, but instead, he grabbed her shoulders and asked, "Kisne diya? (Who gave this to you?)"

"Kisine nahi... mere paison se khareeda hai (Nobody, I bought it with my own money)"

He laughed, "Tere paise? tu aur tera baap mere paison pe paley ho (Your money? You and your family are surviving on my money)"

Maybe it was the power of money that made her speak against him, "Maine apni mehnat se ye paise kamaye hain (This is my hard earned money)"

Her husband’s face twisted with anger. “Chal iss mahina apne paise ka anaj laana, tujhhe aath aana bhi nhi dunga (Alright, survive on your hard earned money) ” he scoffed.

That day when her neighbour Naeema came over, they asked, "Kyun badi ladayi hori thi? Mujhe laga aaj tu nahi bachne waali... (Why were you fighting? I thought you wouldn't survive today)" Heena laughed, "Bura nahi hai dil ka woh, kabhi haath nahi uthaaya mujhpar. Bas izzat nahi karta mere baap se jo khareeda tha usne mujhe (He isn't a bad man, never raised his hands on me. He just doesn't respect me because he had bought me from my father)".

Naeema raised her eyebrows, "Khaana khaya tuney? (Did you eat anything?)"

Heena shrugged, "Keema ke parantha khaya."

"Apne paise ka? (From your money?)"

Heena nodded, "Aur paise bach bhi gaye, ek baat batao inhoney aaj mera parantha churakar khaaya. Itni hassi aayi man kiya bolu unhoney, 'Kyun aaj mere paise ka khaana kaisa laga?' (And I saved some too, you know today he stole some of my food, I had the urge to ask him, 'How did my hardwork taste?' "

"Kapde silne mai itni kamayi hai? (You earned this money just by selling clothes?)"

"Mujhe bhi nahi pata tha, kapde toh mai aisehi silti thi, ab jab paise aarahey toh man kar raha ki silti jau aur bechti jau. Uske paise se meri zindagi chalti thi, lekin mere paise se meri izzat aur khud-mukhtari bhi hai (I didn’t know either. I used to stitch clothes just like that. Now that money is coming in, I feel like I should keep stitching and selling. His money kept my life going, but my own money gives me both respect and independence)".

The women began to bring their crafts to Seher, who organized markets in the city. As the demand for their goods increased, so did their confidence. They no longer saw themselves merely as dependents but as contributors to their community’s economy.

The woman who had dared to run away from the village before were either financially stable or educationally aware.

Most women were happy with the financial freedom, the men couldn't figure out who their source was, and they had their speculations, but since this was their General's daughter, they couldn't speak up against her.

When people have kept quiet for too long, they burst out, some family bonds started to shatter, Naeema- Heena's neighbour came to Seher, her face was covered, "Kya hua? (What happened?)"

Seher inspected her face and saw the bruise, "Mai nahi rehsakti ab waha... (I can't live here any longer)"

Naeema had never argued with her husband. He was the authoritative figure, but when she tasted the freedom of security, her silence, her patience started to crumble.

"Alag bhi nahi hosakti hu... (Neither can I ask for a divorce)"

Divorce was taboo in the village. A woman could neither choose her partner nor leave him on her own terms.

"Sheher chalogi? (How about the city?)"

The young woman started crying, hugging Seher, "Haan."

___

The car ride was slow, but Naeema brought a lot of her snacks to eat on the way, Seher drove to the outskirts as Naeema bent down, hiding till they entered the city.

Seher relished in the way, Naeema got excited and asked her about things she had never seen in her own village.

She showed the curious Naeema around the marketplace where their clothes were sold. Naeema got excited when she saw a man buying her clay pot.

"Best choice!" She applauded the man, Seher took her to the villa where Maheen was staying. They were having a cup of tea when Maheen entered, wearing a school uniform, and excitedly hugged Seher.

They chatted, and then it was time to return. Saahil was walking her back to the car, "Do you eat well?"

"Yes I did.. Seher. I wanted to talk to you about something".

"About what?" She asked with a soft smile, relaxing in his presence but he tensed up.

As if deep in thought, she directed those love filled eyes towards him. Her smile and eyes speaking to him better than her words had ever. And like a poet she whispered his name, "Saahil..."

Her lips parted as her eyebrows danced with every word, "Saahil, are you okay?"

He was supposed to reply but he was too dazed, awestruck lost in her words, his brain trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. Her hands hovered above his heart and this time he felt something in his heart. It was beating loudly, as she gently patted him on the arm to get his attention, her hand indirectly touching his heart and his body flushed.

He stopped breathing, as she smiled with her eyes, "Hmm..?" she asked in that lovely voice of hers, his heart was buzzing, he felt an ache in his heart. He wanted to pull her close, embrace her, hold her hand and tell her, he wanted to surrender his heart, his entire being to her.

But he could not. He resisted himself, his thoughts and when she raised her eyebrows he realised she was waiting for him to speak, "Take care".

____

Saad will return from next chapter onwards. And Saahil× Seher romance arc starts, their mohabbat begins ❤️

I hope the past few chapters weren't boring...