I plunged my bike into the curve and just as I came out of the turn, I saw her.
Sweat on her brow and broom in hand, she was one of the many women working on the new road under construction.
Who is she? What are her aspirations? Does she have kids? How many? Do they go to school? How does her husband treat her? Will she always only clean roads in the sweltering 40degC heat? Does she worry about her future?
I had no answer to my questions. How small I felt and how ignorant.
As I passed in front of her, our eyes met.
It was as if she knew all about my questions. And yet happily forgives me for having just questions.
I wonder who she was…
Guldasta 
“She” is what we all are – an ordinary person, and “She” represents what we dread to have – a life full of struggles and misery.
Thanks for writiing