She had no name. Her mother Perveen died due to delivery complications even before she opened her eyes. Her father tried to give her possession to his in-laws who refused to take her. She was brought up by her grandmother who took care of her for a few years but she herself was too old and weak. Her grandmother died when she was only five years old. She was declared a curse in the family. Her father remarried to a divorced lady who already had two children. Her stepmother was not nice to her. She always kept her away in a small storeroom adjacent to the kitchen. She was not even formally named yet. Her grandmother used to call her Baby, hence everyone else also started calling her the same. She was unaware of the happenings around; she was still too young to understand life.

After her grandmother’s death, she came under the supervision of her stepmother. She was made to do all the cleaning in the house. She even washed clothes of her half-siblings, polished their school shoes and did all the dishes. She wore old and discarded clothes, ate their left overs and slept on the floor in the storeroom. She never questioned the disparity between her and them. Her father was too busy with work and her step mother ruled the house. Her half-brother Amjad started calling her Maasi and thus, she got a new name.

She was a quick in learner. She learnt very fast that her purpose in life was to serve these people. She would sometimes see her father bringing toys and clothes for Maryam and Amjad. He was her father too. Her grandmother had told her that. Her grandmother also used to tell her stories of her mother. She would sometimes close her eyes and feel herself in her mother’s arms. These dreams were very short lived.

Amjad and Maryam made her do their homework too. She had many questions which were never answered but she kept copying things from books to notebooks. She quietly sat in one corner of their room when they prepared for exams and made her own sense of education.

She occasionally went out of the house to fetch groceries from the shop nearby. Once she got late at returning home. Shop on the street was closed so she went to the other shop which was across the road. The shopkeeper was busy in dealing with a distributor and she kept waiting till her stepmother reached there and dragged her back home. She was only seven years old then. Her stepmother beat her till she lost consciousness. She never crossed the road again.

She was given charge of the kitchen when she was tall enough to reach the stove. Her stepmother often ill-treated her and her father always looked the other way. She was being raised to be a maid and she had accepted her fate. She had never asked anything from her father. In fact, she had never talked to him ever in her life. She did not complain. She did not cry. She never questioned her existence. Sometimes, she looked at the stars of the night sky and raised her hand to touch them. Sometimes, she thought about her mother and tried to give her a face from her own imagination. Sometimes, few drops trickled down from her eyes but she would wipe them immediately with the back of her palm. She would clean her nose with the sleeve and get busy in the never ending house chores.

Days turned into months and months into years. The house was being decorated as Maryam was getting married. She wore Maryam’s old red torn shirt and did all the work. Two years later, Amjad got married too. She wore the same old red torn shirt and did all the work. She got the opportunity to serve a new member in the family but soon the bride and groom shifted elsewhere. She was left alone in the house with her stepmother and her real father.

Time passed by quickly. Her step mother was very sick. She was diagnosed with last stage cancer. She did not live long and died the same year. After her burial when all the relatives had left, Amjad and Maryam demanded their share from the father. She listened to their arguments while pretending to be working in the kitchen. They threatened him of dire consequences and stormed out of the house.

It was the first time ever she was alone in the house with her father. He was old and sick. She sat outside his room and listened to him sobbing. He was heartbroken and dejected. Today, his second wife had died and her children had scorned him. He was lying on the bed and coughing in pain when he felt warm hands caressing his feet. He opened his eyes and saw his daughter whom he had not yet named.

In the yellow light of the mercury bulb, he could see her old red torn shirt. He tried to get up but she told him to keep lying and rest. He had heard her voice for the very first time in his life. He managed to get up a little and saw her face. She looked just like her mother and he instantly called her Perveen.

She helped him get up and sit on the bed. She sat on the floor before his feet. He put his hand on her head and started crying. She felt his tears falling on her lap. She held his feet tight and tears started rolling down her cheeks too. They both wept for all the lost times. Not a single word was said yet a tale of 30 years was told.

He stood up from the bed and took her to the room of her half-siblings. He told her that this is her room now. He then went to the kitchen store and lied down on the floor. He could see starts on the night sky from the holes in the roof. “Where had she slept during the rainy days and in the winters, did she even have warm clothes or warm bedding?” His heart would’ve stopped beating tonight if she had not come and took him back to his room. She was his real blood; warm and gentle.