By Shogofa Shokori
She was born only five minutes after her sister. Two little souls entered the world together, twin girls, alike in heart but not in body. One was healthy and strong, the other from very first moment, bore a visible difference. Her legs did not match, one thin and fragile the other swollen and heavy. The doctors didn’t know what to call it and people around whispered old beliefs; if you give birth to twins, one is often with weakness. While one sister grew with ease, the other grow with pain. Her days blurred with doctors visits , treatments and medicines. Her father spent his entire salary on her care. But nothing changed. She remained the same fragile girl with legs that ached and a body that didn’t quite belong. Then something small yet meaningful happened; one day a doctor suggested a new name for her: Rozana which means the brightness of day . Het twin was renamed Shabana, the quite of night. It wasn’t a cure, but it brought a shift , a tiny hope that this child, despite her suffering, carried a special light within her. But the struggle was far from over. Neighbors continued to tell her mother that girl wouldn’t survive. You can’t raise her, they said.
She will die young. But her mother refused to give up and Rozana didn’t give in. She started school beside her twin, but her journey was nothing like her sister’s. Some mornings she came home in tears. Some evenings her sister would hold her tightly as they walked back, trying to absorb her pain. Some days neighbors helped her. But despite the pains Rozana was exceptional , sharp minded, wise beyond her years and stunningly beautiful. She had a quiet dignity about her. When she spoke , it felt like you are listening to a philosopher. She understood kindness more deeply than most people ever would. In school , Rozana quickly rose to the top of her class. She was offered the first position but she said “please give me the second” I don’t want to be called to the office every day. I cant keep walking that far. Who gives up first place out of humility? Only someone who has already battles for greater than grades. On the street, girls her age would race home from school. Rozana always behind, moved step by painful steps. During Eid, her classmates visited each other, celebrating joy. Her twin went too. But Rozana stayed home , ashamed not of who she was , but of how others looked at her.
She had the kind of face that turned heads, the kind of heart that softened anyone who sat with her. But still felt invisible. In Mazar, she began therapy. A hard plastic brace wrapped around her leg to support her walk. Under the sun, she moved with difficulty, but also with determination. Her therapist praised her spirit. “you are better than most of our patients “ they told her. We want to give you a Scholorship to study MBBS, she smiled ,but declined. Not because she wasn’t capable, but because she feared it was offered out of pity, not respect. The brace helped and the difference between her legs became less visible. But the emotional scars remained. She passed the entry exam of university with a high score and enrolled in Engeanering department . She was proud everyone was. But again, she asked for second place. Not because she lacked the intelligence to be first, but because she didn’t want to walk across university too much. The journey , everyday was still hard. One day she and her little sister went shopping to prepare for university life. The market was crowded. On the street, some shop materials were placed carelessly. Her leg caught on something, and she stumbled . A boy shouted, “ hey disable girl be carefull”.
She didn’t reply , but her little sister saw it, the pain in her eyes, the way she held her head lower after that. Still ,she moved forward. She finished university with grace. At family weddings , she was always the most beautiful woman in the room. But she never stood, never danced only sat quietly, smiling because she didn’t want anyone to look at her with sympathy. She got a job, until the Taliban returned and took it away. But she didn’t break. She used her sharp mind to find another opportunity. Today , she manages a large hospital ‘s finances with such precision and skill that even older staff in awe. But again, she sits alone. Her desk is behind a glass barrier. Everyone who meets her feels her kindness. Patients love her. She often helps the poor without taking money. But some still don’t undrestand. One day, a women came to speak with her. Rozana stood up , the women gasped, “ oh you are disabled?” And just like that , behind her kind smile, another storm brewed. She went home that day and didn’t eat.
She slept for hours. Because sometimes, even the strongest people fall apart, quietly. Her family adores her. Her twin sister has married and has a child. Rozana is full of joy for her. When she is happy , the world feels brighter. But no one truly knows what dreams she hold. What fears she hides. What strenght it takes to simply exist in a world that is quick to judge, and slow to undrestand. No one knows, except one person, the one who watched her struggle, fall and raise again. The one who learned strenght just by watching her life.
She isn’t a famous character from a novel. She is not a TV personality or someone that history will write about. She is the kind of person whose story quietly lives in the hearts of those who truly see her.
Yes, she is my sister. And I’m the little one who grew up watching her walk through fire. She is not just my hero, she is my whole world.
The author is a social & women rights activist and can be reached at shogofashokori939@gmail.com
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