Let Her Live

By Divya Behl

The sun was setting over the village of Piplantri in Rajasthan, casting a warm, orange glow over the fields. The air smelled of freshly cut hay, and the distant sound of cattle bells echoed through the narrow lanes. At the heart of this village stood an old banyan tree, its roots spreading deep like the traditions that still held this place. Raghav stood in the middle of the village square, his fists clenched at his sides. His newborn daughter, Noor, lay in her mother’s arms, unaware of the storm brewing around her. “You know what must be done,” an elder said, his voice as emotionless as a goth. “A girl is a burden. She will take from you, not give. It is better to –, “No,” Raghav cut in, his voice firm. “ My daughter will live.” A hush fell over the crowd, which consisted of the village panchayat members. Some shook their heads, unwilling to change old ways. Others looked at Raghav with curiosity, wondering what had given him the courage to speak against something that had been practiced for generations. The days that followed were not easy. 

Neighbours whispered when Raghav passed by. Friends turned away. Someone threw a stone at his house in the middle of the night, but he did not back down. Instead, he fought back, not with fists, but with words. Every evening, he stood under the banyan tree and spoke to whoever would listen. He told stories of girls who had grown up to be doctors and businesswomen. He spoke about the strength of a mother, the wisdom of a sister, and the courage of a daughter. Slowly, his words started to spread, like ripples in a pond. At first, the resistance was strong. Some laughed at him, others warned him to stay silent, but he didn’t stop. He spread awareness about the importance of education and the role women could play in society if given the chance. A few villagers began to listen. One father hesitated before pulling his daughter out of school. Another mother held her baby girl a little tighter instead of looking away in shame. 

Slowly, the mindset of the village started to change. The positive effects of Raghav’s campaign became visible. Girls who had once been hidden away were now seen carrying books, attending schools, and dreaming of futures that had once seemed impossible. The village, once resistant to change, saw new opportunities blossom. Some men who had doubted Raghav’s words now supported their daughters’ education. Families who had once only hoped for sons now celebrated their daughters’ achievements. Years passed, and Noor grew up under the shade of the banyan tree, listening to the stories her father told. She watched the village transform, saw the doors that had once been closed begin to open. Now, she stands in the same village that had been the starting point of this journey, and thanks her father for bringing an enormous change.

By Divya Behl