Fate

The sun was shining brightly, it was the middle of summer…

I woke up early and was sweeping the yard. My grandmother was sitting and watching me.

• “My girl, you studied all night, you didn’t sleep at all. You should rest a little!” she said with concern.

• “It’s okay, Grandma, if I go one night without sleep, nothing will happen. God willing, I’ll pass the entrance exams, and then I’ll have plenty of time to rest.”

• “If your parents were alive, they would have helped you,” she said sadly.

Just then, my stepmother woke up and came out.

• “Ugh… what an unpleasant morning. Hey, Malika, did you iron your brothers’ shirts?”

• “Not yet… I haven’t finished.”

• “What a useless girl your mother gave birth to! When will you ever do things properly? You can’t do anything right—only know how to eat and sleep,” she shouted.

• “Why do you keep scolding her, daughter-in-law? Leave her be. She’s already struggling so much,” Grandma defended me.

• “Don’t interfere! It’s all your fault—spoiling her like this!” my stepmother retorted.

—

That’s how my days passed—my stepmother never stopped scolding me. My grandmother, however, helped me in every way she could and wished for me to be an educated, learned girl. I never gave up; I did my best.

I believed that one day I would become a great person and free both myself and my grandmother from this darkness. I lived with that determination.

If I managed to finish the housework one day, I wouldn’t finish my lessons; if I finished my lessons, the housework would remain. My stepmother’s temper worsened day by day. Not only me—she would even scold and quarrel with my grandmother. Every day, she found an excuse to say:

• “When will I get rid of this witch of an old woman? She hasn’t died yet, and I haven’t been freed from her!”

Since my stepmother was the only one working in the house, our household wasn’t in good shape. She spent most of her earnings on herself and her two sons. To buy books and notebooks for my studies and medicine for my grandmother, I sometimes went to the evening market to sell small goods. Somehow, I managed.

One morning, while making breakfast, I was putting the kettle on when my stepmother said:

• “Hey, Malika. Why are you so slow? Here—this is my most expensive dress. Iron it carefully, understand?”

Then she looked at me mockingly:

• “Why are you staring like that? Right, you’ve probably never even seen clothes like these.”

I stayed silent and started ironing. While I was ironing, my grandmother said:

• “Malika, dear, your tea must be boiling—go check on it.”

In my hurry, I left the iron on the dress without realizing it, and the dress got burnt.

What followed was chaos and shouting that’s hard to describe. My stepmother was so furious that she practically lifted the whole house with her screaming. I was standing in the kitchen trembling so hard that I didn’t even notice I had spilled boiling water on my own hand.

Still yelling, she came at me with fury in her eyes. She had always looked for a reason to hurt me, and now she had found one. She dragged me into the room where I had been ironing. Without thinking twice, with her eyes red with rage, she pressed the hot iron onto my right hand.

• “That’s for defying me and burning my dress on purpose!” she shouted.

The pain was unbearable—I screamed and cried, writhing in agony.

—

Well, those days passed, but…

The questions Why? For what? What was my fault? still haunted me.

Years went by—it’s been two or three years since that incident. I entered university. God willing, I wanted to become a lawyer. Now I’m in my third year, living in the dormitory in Tashkent, far from my grandmother’s love. I miss her terribly. I call her occasionally from my friend’s phone, but I still miss her deeply—I haven’t seen her for almost eight months.

When we talk, she always says:

• “I’m fine, my dear. I take my medicine on time. Don’t worry about me. Focus on your studies. You must become the lawyer I always dreamed of. Don’t think about me.”

But I knew my stepmother was still making her life miserable. I constantly worried—was she healthy? Was she eating properly? Was the house peaceful? These thoughts disturbed me even in class.

What could I do? If I went home, I’d fall behind in my studies. Oh God, please give me patience…

—

Finally, I finished my third year. Now I was in a taxi on my way home—so happy, so excited to see my grandmother again and feel her love. Not even the difficulties of the long journey could spoil my mood.

After two days of travel, I finally arrived at my street. I ran from the corner in excitement—but for some reason, the front of our house was full of people. The men wore traditional coats and skullcaps.

I was puzzled—what was happening here?

Then I heard someone say, “She has passed away, my girl.”

Those words were enough to make me lose myself. Everything blurred before my eyes, and the only thing I could hear was that sentence repeating in my head. I couldn’t say a word—I just sank to my knees at the gate.

When people tried to bring me back to my senses, I suddenly ran inside…

This cruel world had not only taken my parents from me—it had taken my grandmother too. I could only imagine how much pain she endured without me…

—

Years passed. I fulfilled my grandmother’s wishes and my own dreams. Perhaps they were her last will—of that, I have no doubt.

Now, I work as a judge in the Tashkent city court. I believe there are two main reasons why a girl would choose such a profession:

«First, repeated encounters with injustice in her life.

Second, a strong sense of pride in her homeland»

I had both reasons. And besides, this was my greatest goal—my duty to my grandmother and my country.

Today, as I sit by my grandmother’s grave, I recall the events of the past, one by one.

“Grandma… I’m here! Your beloved granddaughter has come to you as a judge. Forgive me for leaving you alone. I couldn’t save you from that place. But now, I will not allow such things to happen again. No child’s life will be like mine. I promise—and I will do everything to keep that promise.”

(O. Zuhra) 2023