The tale of divided sisters
Maybe in another universe, We’d just see your smile not the label, not the line that someone drew between us with the ink made of blood and pride. We might speak in different accents, but we laugh the same. We eat from different plates, but our mothers scold us the same way. How can we be so alike, yet told we’re enemies by birth? They fed us stories not fairy tales, but fables of fear. Told us God wanted walls, that the names and prayers made some more worthy than others. Today it’s religion. Tomorrow it’ll be love, the clothes we wear, the hands we hold. It never ends, does it? They drew a line before we could walk India, Pakistan two sisters pulled apart before they even knew how to say goodbye. One left, clutching memories like broken glass. One stayed, burying them beneath silence and ash. Those who fled had to build from the dust of loss. Those who remained had to forget what it cost. Both lost something no war could win, no treaty could ever return....
