I’ve always been eager to study, but it became the true purpose of my life when I was just 8 years old. There was an aunt in my neighborhood who treated me with love and kindness. She had big dreams, but she came from a poor family. She couldn't finish her education and was married off early. Her in-laws were cruel. They taunted her, abused her, and demanded dowry. I didn’t even know what “dowry” meant back then.
Then one day, she was gone.
Some said she set herself on fire. Others said she was burned by her in-laws. I cried for days. I asked my grandmother what dowry meant—and if there was a way to escape such a fate. She said, “Yes. Become a collector.”
That was the day I decided: I would not live a small life. I wanted to become something big. Not just for myself, but for every woman who has ever been silenced, hurt, or made to feel small.
But my journey wasn't going to be easy.
I was born with pneumonia and chronic breathing problems. A little sunlight or rain could make me sick. Still, I never missed school. I don’t know how I survived those days—coming home with no energy to even walk. My parents were always worried, always caring, always trying their best.
Then, in Class 9, my health collapsed again. I got my first period, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. I had constant nausea, unbearable stomach pain, and weakness. Doctors tried everything. Hormonal pills helped, but they brought dangerous side effects. I had to rely on them just to function. Even though I was struggling, I kept going. I kept studying. I didn’t quit.
Then, right before my board exams, I got dengue. I remember lying in bed and asking, Why me? What did I do wrong? I started to lose faith in God. It felt like I couldn’t even breathe without medicine. My father kept telling me, “You’ll recover, one day.” And for a long time, I tried to believe him.
Despite everything—pain, pills, tears, exams—I pushed forward. I gave my board exams while injured, exhausted, and sick. I didn’t stop.
After school, I went to other city to prepare for NEET. My father found a top gynecologist nearby. She did my checkup and told me to return for the report in two days. I went alone.
That day is burned into my memory.
She looked at me and said, “You’ll never fully recover. You’ll have to take medicines for life. There’s no alternative in medical history.” She told me to give up sweets, outside food, ice cream—everything that made me feel normal. And with those words, something inside me broke.
It was December 31st. I’ve hated that date ever since.
I didn’t tell my parents at first. I was tired of always being the girl with the problem. I cried alone in my hostel room. The next day, my father came and met with the doctor. “Isn’t there any hope?” he asked. She said, “No, sir. Don’t waste your time or money.”
Before all this, I was strong emotionally. But with every medical visit, every failed hope, every painful injection—I became weaker. I developed migraines from the medication and finally decided to quit NEET. I told my parents, “I’m not fit for this.” They encouraged me to try again, but I knew I couldn’t.
I joined graduation.
Then, COVID happened. I returned home. In 2020, my grandmother—the person I loved more than anyone—passed away. I fainted from crying. I injured myself. I went into a coma. For two years, I lived in a half-conscious state. That grief broke me in ways I can’t explain.
By 2023, I was still traumatized. But I joined my further studies and slowly I started to feel a little better. Then, during my first semester, I got another diagnosis: some deformation in my brain.
But then, something unbelievable happened.
The new treatment I was on—meant for my brain—also healed my lifelong disease. Both problems... gone. To this day, no one knows how.
So why am I telling you this?
Because you should know: behind every strong girl you meet, there might be years of silent battles. Behind every smile, there might be tears she cried alone. I’ve been sick, shattered, broken, and hopeless. But I’m still here.
I still want to do something big. Not for praise, not for fame—but because there are girls out there who think they can’t. Girls who think it’s over for them.
To those girls, I say:
It’s not over. You are not a burden. And even when it feels like the whole world is against you—don’t quit.
Because one day, like me, you might just witness your miracle.
