I had only one younger sister, Para. She left us forever 17 years ago, in a car accident while coming to the airport for Germany!
Her death broke me. I was immersed in the sorrow of Para, in that time Ramona came in my life.
Para was not only my sister but my daughter. When my own daughter was born, I named her Apra remembering Para.
What a coincidence that today is Para’s birthday and Ramona’s younger sister’s birthday too.
I remember today when I wished Para a happy birthday for the last time 17 years ago here on the phone from Germany.
My younger sister Para was a victim of rape and sexual abuse since the age of 11. She told this to me, one of her best friends and some family members many years later when she was 16. When I failed to stop the atrocities on her, she also wrote a letter to me.
I often get angry and feel guilty that I could not get justice for my sister in order to save the promise given to my mother and the false honor of the family. Maybe that’s why today I am not getting justice and my daughter is not getting her rights. By blackmailing the perpetrator of these misdeeds with whom I have a blood relation, they stabbed me in the back for money and property by illegally preparing fake documents.
Now, my daughter is also 11 years old. I also see my sister in my daughter. I tremble when I think that from this age my sister had suffered sexual abuse and I remained silent due to false respect, family pride and mother’s words. As it usually happens in the Indian culture for the sake of honor.
I lost everything in India.
I have nothing but Para’s memories and some letters.