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“Well, today we have a unique story of courage and determination,” the interviewer announced. “Neysa Singh, age 19 from Dharavi, is a representative for her community, and is an ambassador for education and women’s rights. Welcome, Neysa.”
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my experiences with you.”
“So, What inspired you to become such a successful leader of the Dharavi community?”
“One day, when I was 12, I was playing with my friends on the streets of Mumbai when …”
The deafening sound rattled my ears. My friends were confused by the commotion. I saw a group of men sprinting around the corner and into the thick smoke. Loud voices penetrated the air, and their thunderous …show more content…
I was forced to spend my childhood working long hours at the local leather processor preparing leather for manufacturing.
A newspaper agent noticed me one morning, and handed me the daily newspaper. I was stunned by this selfless gesture as well as very excited to be given my very own newspaper that I would be the first to open. There was an old dictionary that belonged to my grandfather and which I had pretended to read from time-to-time. I looked up the words in the headline, this was the start of my reading journey. I wrote simple words and phrases in a book daily, increasing in complexity.
Tired after hours of manual work, my body aching and my frustration was …show more content…
I couldn’t believe my mother had no understanding of my desire to equip me to fight for women’s rights by receiving an education and not being a poor domestic slave. Maybe she didn’t know better.
* * *
I recalled the violent incident when I was 12, I visualised their angry expressions but the purity in their objectives. It was hard to disobey my parents, but I knew it was time for change. I had to join that group.
At a run-down factory in southern Dharavi, I noticed that the members of the human rights group were young men, not a woman to be seen. A boy greeted me at the door and led me to the meeting and I was met by many confused glances. I sat in one of the derelict chairs, listening to the planning of another protest. Although the leader’s voice was engaging and persuasive, I sensed an ulterior motive - to take revenge on the government.
A violent protest was about to begin. Policeman and officials gathered on the outskirts of the slum to suppress the tension, but to no avail. That afternoon, several officers died in the conflict, which was a morbid sight. The violence and chaos caused by the protest did not result in the promotion of human rights. I was beaten by a policeman using a baton, and many were
“Well, today we have a unique story of courage and determination,” the interviewer announced. “Neysa Singh, age 19 from Dharavi, is a representative for her community, and is an ambassador for education and women’s rights. Welcome, Neysa.”
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my experiences with you.”
“So, What inspired you to become such a successful leader of the Dharavi community?”
“One day, when I was 12, I was playing with my friends on the streets of Mumbai when …”
The deafening sound rattled my ears. My friends were confused by the commotion. I saw a group of men sprinting around the corner and into the thick smoke. Loud voices penetrated the air, and their thunderous …show more content…
I was forced to spend my childhood working long hours at the local leather processor preparing leather for manufacturing.
A newspaper agent noticed me one morning, and handed me the daily newspaper. I was stunned by this selfless gesture as well as very excited to be given my very own newspaper that I would be the first to open. There was an old dictionary that belonged to my grandfather and which I had pretended to read from time-to-time. I looked up the words in the headline, this was the start of my reading journey. I wrote simple words and phrases in a book daily, increasing in complexity.
Tired after hours of manual work, my body aching and my frustration was …show more content…
I couldn’t believe my mother had no understanding of my desire to equip me to fight for women’s rights by receiving an education and not being a poor domestic slave. Maybe she didn’t know better.
* * *
I recalled the violent incident when I was 12, I visualised their angry expressions but the purity in their objectives. It was hard to disobey my parents, but I knew it was time for change. I had to join that group.
At a run-down factory in southern Dharavi, I noticed that the members of the human rights group were young men, not a woman to be seen. A boy greeted me at the door and led me to the meeting and I was met by many confused glances. I sat in one of the derelict chairs, listening to the planning of another protest. Although the leader’s voice was engaging and persuasive, I sensed an ulterior motive - to take revenge on the government.
A violent protest was about to begin. Policeman and officials gathered on the outskirts of the slum to suppress the tension, but to no avail. That afternoon, several officers died in the conflict, which was a morbid sight. The violence and chaos caused by the protest did not result in the promotion of human rights. I was beaten by a policeman using a baton, and many were