"The Girl Who Dared to Dream: Rising from the Hills with Roshnai"

The cool breeze, scented with the gentle fragrance of rain-soaked earth, flows through my nostrils into my brain-almost as if it's sweeping away all the darkness and pain within me. In the dim room, sunlight filters through the holes in the bamboo walls. In the sunlight, dust particles glisten, resembling stars twinkling in the dark sky. After a while, the sunlight and heat intensify, and rays come through the holes, falling on my body. It feels as though the warmth of the sun is magically healing the wounds on my skin.

Suddenly, a scream-"Your daughter has no character, mister!" Outside the house, a village meeting has been called about me. Even the Officer-in-Charge (OC) of Remakri police station is present. The entire village is against me today. And the only reason? Because I study. Because I play football very well. Because I'm the only girl in the school's science club. These are my crimes. That's why, on my way to school this morning, through the empty road in the hills, I was brutally raped. After raping me, they beat me mercilessly, tied my hands and feet, dragged me over rocks, and threw me into the waterfall stream. About four hours later, an elderly village woman found me when she came to fetch water. She called others, and then the police and my father were informed.

According to the villagers, the 50-year-old drug-addicted man is not at fault. The fault lies with me-because I'm "bad," because I have "no character, because I study. The village meeting's verdict was that we must leave the village; otherwise, they would outcast us and socially isolate us. Even the police remained silent in the face of the villagers' wrath.

The entire day passed, and as the sun began to set, evening approached. Outside, the crickets chirped. The whole day passed, but my own mother didn't come to check on me. That night, in the darkness, I tried several times to end my life with a half-broken, rusted blade lying on the floor-but I couldn't. The thought of Asiya, a third-grade student from Bogura district, came to my mind. It had been two days since she passed away. The entire country was in uproar over her. The little girl had gone to visit her sister's in-laws, where she was gang-raped by her sister's father-in-law, husband, and brother-in-law. They even cut her uterus with a blade. She died in the ICU eight days later. But why couldn't I die? Why did the Creator keep me alive?

My name is Pulok, which means joy. Yet that joy has been uprooted from my life by society. My dreams will never come true now. I will never be able to conquer space. I will never get to touch the soil of the moon. The night passed.

In the early morning, the door of my room opened. I saw my father, mother, and elder brother standing there. They hurled vulgar abuse at me and said, "Come out, we are leaving the village right now." We took shelter 90 kilometers away from Remakri, in Nailyang Para of Alikadam upazila. It took us two days to reach. One day after arriving, my father married me off to a 41-year-old man, while I was just 15 and in eighth grade.

On the very night of the wedding, I was forced into physical relations against my will. My husband regularly abused and tortured me. Nestled in the lap of the Chittagong Hill Tracts, these scenic hill villages are breathtaking in beauty. These nature-wrapped villages seem cut off from the outside world. But behind this picturesque scene lies a brutal reality-illiteracy, violence, and negligence overshadow the lives of thousands of girls.

I heard that many girls in Remakri stopped going to school after what happened to me. Nine months after marriage, I fled my husband's house and came to live in Chittagong city. Two months later, I gave birth to a baby girl. I named her Roshnai, meaning "light"-so she may be the light that pierces through the darkness of the hills and illuminates the paths of other girls.

I work at an NGO to raise my daughter. After her birth, I couldn't afford any toys for her. But in class seven, I had built a telescope for the science fair and won first prize. I kept that telescope for my daughter to play with. When her tiny hands touch the telescope, it feels to me like she's playing on the surface of the moon with her little fingers. I used to dream of conquering space, of touching the moon's surface-but now, that dream is confined only to my daughter's toy telescope.

Yet still, dreams awaken in my heart-that hill girls too will one day break through Earth's atmosphere and conquer space. My story is not just of the hills; it reflects the voices of thousands of oppressed girls around the world. It is our collective responsibility to listen to those voices, to help them reach their dreams.

There must be a world where children are not deprived of their rights, where they receive education. Equal access to education is not just a dream-it is the birthright of every child, whether from the hills or the plains. The way society punished my desire for education proves how far we still have to go on our journey. When education becomes a girl's key to freedom, standing in her way means destroying a nation's future.

Roshnai must become the representative of a generation that rebuilds their future on shattered dreams through education. I dream of a girl where even in the remotest village of the hills, a girl can dream of looking through a telescope into space-without shame, blame, or abuse.

In the vibrant tapestry of the world of voices, every voice matters, no matter how much society tries to silence it. Every turn in my journey is marked by scars, but these scars shape a future where no girl is left behind.

I am not just a victim of silence; I am the voice of a generation-one that will rewrite the path of the Commonwealth. I have risen from the ruins of injustice-not just for myself, but to build a world where my daughter can look at the stars without fear.

I want my Roshnai to grow up never hiding her dreams. I want no one to snatch her pen or telescope away. I believe it is possible to create a safe, compassionate, and just Commonwealth-where every girl shines as brightly as the meaning of her name.

My journey does not end here-this is just the beginning of a new expedition, paving the way for a new generation.