Accusing Eyes. Questioning Eyes. She saw none of them. She kept staring at the ceiling above.

Accusing Voices. Questioning voices. She heard none of them. She was lost in her thoughts. Thoughts of the one she had liberated. Liberated from the fear of being molested. Liberated from the fear of being a burden on her parents. Liberated from the fear of being tortured for dowry. Liberated from the fear of being burnt to death.

In turn, she had also liberated herself. Liberated from the fear of being tortured for giving birth to another baby girl.

Years later she was still staring at the ceiling. The delayed shock of strangling her baby had driven her crazy. Nothing had changed for her though except the setting – from the Maternity Ward to the Mental Asylum.