Honour & Shame Essay Example for Free

Honour Shame EssayOne Sunday morning I was thrust my children back from their regular soccer game. It was a warm summer day, sun shining ever so brightly, making the uneven t experience picturesque. As I drove along in my Holden with rigid brown seats and the windscreen wipers that didnt work, I looked over to my sixteen year old daughter academic session next to menodding and shaking her head rhythmically to, in her words, legendary music band One Direction. An image of Asreen flashed through my mindKiran? the voice on my restless phone was barely more than a whisper. Kiran? Is that you? .The train tug back home was a typical for Friday eveningIt was very busy Friday evening train ride back from work, Are you able to speak up a little? I asked, raising my own voice overagainst loud chatterschatters from fellow passengers and rattling hindrance from the train.I found your number in Indus Age, My the line went suddenly went dead. Indus Age is a local monthly newspaper. i It has largest circulation to Indian and S bulge outh East Asian union in the country. I was interviewed a week ago concerning about my plight with honour based violence. After two years of lengthy legal achievement over evidence of injury which included tampered medical records I managed to get a divorce. I was sure that such crimeshonour based violence against women was prevalent and practiced behind closed doors, after my divorce I wanted to assist other women in similar situation and accommodate my phone number oblige in the newspaper.I thought I lost her but then, few minutes later, she was back. Sorry I had to hang up I thought soul was coming. My parents are forcing me to marry a 35 year old man who I dont even k now. I am a captive in my own house. I cant take it any longer. I need attention. She stopped for breath. Please help me, she said in a trembling voice. She sounded frantic it seemed that she was at the mercy of her family.I didnt know who I was talking to but I knew I had to help. I spoke quickly, muckle you get out? T present are all sorts of help available if you can get out. I knew from my own experience that if a girl has do up her mind to run she usually finds a way to do it. This woman could be anywhere in the country but she was desperate and I had to reassure her. There is help for you,. I said. There are women refuge houses, people to support. I would support you. Youll be okay.But howWait, thats Dad. Hes coming. I have to go Her phone went dead.I felt anxiousiety, my pulse shot up as I tried as best I could to get on with my daily household choresroutine and parental responsibilities. Later in thethat evening while I was preparing dinner my phone rang again. I tried badly to understand but couldnt make out anything except the gasping sound panting. I turned off my range-hood and enquired, Hello?Its me, Asreen, she spoke, her voice penetrating as if she was right next to me. I did it, I ran awayWhere are you?Redfern.Asree n, you have to call the police. DailDial 000 I had put my phone on speaker as I washed my hands.No, I dont want police. My family will never see me again. My community will disown me, she said claimed almost hysterical.I could conceive of why Asreen didnt want police to be involved. She was in a state of fear and frustration. Her parents who loved her dearly until very recently changed overnight and now consider familys honour more important than that of their daughters well-being and happiness.Meet me at Redfern railway station in 45 minutes,. I said cleaning up my kitchen.Please dont be late,. she hung up.I called on my children and explained them that I need to go out on an emergency. I drove as fast as I could past the motorway speeding up to maximum limit. I reached Redfern at 8 p.m. it was crowded, people force one a nonher to get ahead in line. Few country trains hurried past while the intercity trains stopped at the platform for passengerss dark and deserted. I walked acro ss the automatic ticket machine to find myself staring at a tall slim woman leaning against the closed door humming what I could understand a very popular song. from Justin Beiber.She looked no more than sixteen dressed in a traditional outfit her head was cover in a veil. I caught her eye and she smiled and then waved at me.Kiran, she said enthusiastically.Yes. I walked closer I could see her eyes swollen lips dried smeared make up over her face. I offered her a bottle of water and walked with her to my car. No one spoke, the two minute walk felt like an eternity.Breaking the suppress she spoke softly, Thank thank you Kiran. You saved my life. I read your story and only after I spoke to you I found courage to pass along my house.I didnt know what to say, I was in a state of shock. I felt rage I could barely focus on my private road I wanted to say something. Asreen continued, There were bolts on all doors and someone from the family was always home. I didnt know how to get out . And if I did, where would I go?We talked about family, food, school, fashion and many other issues on our way back. We talked as if we were best friends and had known each other for many years. I introduced Asreen to my children Maya and Vicky and offered her rice and honey curry for dinner. It was close to midnight she looked very tired and fell asleep as soon as she sat on the lounge.I imagined her situation it was her mother who position her marriage. She grew up knowing that one day the subject of her marriage would come up but didnt expect it when she was sixteen. She was one of the smartest girls in her school she wanted to become a psychiatrist. One day when her parents woke her up and told her that she was going to get engaged Asreen said bluntly, But I dont want to.For the next few days I enquired at womens refuge centre, department of community services, legal aid and other community based organisations. What followed was another hook proceeding lasting more than 12 w eeks. I became Asreens foster parent while she continued her education. Later that year Asreen and I started Honour to help other women from South East Asian family facing honour based violenceI sat next to her contemplating on the events of the day. I wanted to help Asreen and reach out to other women in similar situations confronting criticism and oppression from inside their communities and often close family members for not being obedient to the traditional rules set by men for thousands of years.Are you alright? Asreen said waking up suddenly. I realised that I accidentally dropped my glass on the wooden floor breaking it into pieces. wherefore cant I live like any other sixteen year old girls? Why cant I have boy-friends like girls from my school? she cried while cleaning up broken pieces of glass.It was close to two, I was so exhausted I could barely feel any strong point in my legs. I could hear Asreens voice slowly fading away. With my eyes closed I tried to seek explanat ion for such acts against own daughter.The issue of status of women is always in question in a patriarchal society. For thousands of years people from Indian sub-continent had considered daughter a painful burden, a potential source of shame to her father. Family is vital principal group and marriage hallowed as sacred. Women are deprived of their freedom and those who rebel or go against the norms faces threat the people of the community so much so that they are even killed for honour. perhaps this comes out as it makes it like a newspaper article, not a narrative. As we arrived home I hugged my daughter tightly and said with tears running down my cheeks, I love you. The time frame here doesnt work, youve already taken the story on years but now go back to the present