The Old Times

Deception is not unique to our era; tricksters have existed in every age. This is a story for girls who sometimes look for escape rather than solutions, showing that patience and discernment are essential.

I arrived at the agency one morning around seven, ready for work. Around ten, the postman delivered a letter. Inside was a message from a woman, a reader of true stories. She wrote that she wanted to share her own experience, hoping it would help others and ease their troubles. The next day, she sent her story, which began like this:

In my family, boys were always preferred, while daughters were treated with distance and ignorance. Being a girl in such a household left me deeply hurt. My childhood was filled with longing and isolation, my spirit shaken by the inequality I faced. I constantly wondered why my home differed from others, why sisters were not valued like brothers.

I wished I had been born elsewhere, where parents showed love and attention. At home, we were never included in outings, rarely allowed to meet relatives, and always felt invisible. The tension in the house was palpable. My mother valued education highly, having been denied it herself, and wanted her children to succeed. In-laws were educated, so any uneducated woman felt a sense of inferiority. Though I was intelligent and hardworking, exams would terrify me; my mind would go blank, and I could not write a word.

Eventually, my father realized I needed help and arranged a tutor who usually taught my brothers. He agreed to tutor me after the boys’ lessons. I needed more than academic guidance; I needed emotional support. My soul craved affection, and the tutor, a young man named Buland Bakht, understood our household environment. Recently graduated and seeking employment, he had begun tutoring while job hunting. His kindness, patience, and attention helped me develop both interest in learning and a growing affection for him.

Buland was admired in our family for his character, and everyone praised his integrity. No one knew I spent extra time with him at a nearby restaurant after school, chatting over tea or coffee. He promised that once he secured a job, he would ask for my hand in marriage. My parents liked him so much that they often spoke of his virtues, and I trusted his sincerity.

Time passed, I passed my matriculation, and Buland was overjoyed. When he gifted me books to celebrate, I reminded him of his promise. Hesitant to speak directly to my parents, we found a way through my sister. My mother agreed without hesitation, saying he should bring his parents for the proposal. After a few meetings and discussions, the engagement was announced.

However, Buland was secretly conflicted. On the wedding day, he went to book tickets for a trip with a friend, rather than prepare for his marriage. He had found another girl, the daughter of a wealthy businessman, and intended to marry her. Only at the last moment did he reveal the truth, forcing my parents to adjust wedding plans. Ultimately, he married the other girl, while I was left humiliated, my hopes and trust shattered.

This experience taught me the painful truth: appearances can be deceiving, and trust must be earned carefully. Although the world has changed, the lesson remains timeless—parents must recognize and nurture the sensitivity of their children. A nurturing, loving environment ensures children grow resilient and confident; neglect and emotional neglect, on the other hand, can leave lasting scars. In my life, the most precious gift would have been the attention, love, and respect of my parents, which I lacked in my childhood.

Today, years later, I have chosen to renounce marriage and avoid the chaos of weddings. Even now, the mere thought of such events fills me with fear. I have learned to value true understanding, honesty, and care above all else.