Chapter 1 (Humiliation)
It was a cold morning in Sydney. A light drizzle had made the atmosphere even quieter and more solemn. Only two days had passed since Ferisha had stepped onto Australian soil, but she had already begun to compose herself. In a small yet comfortable dorm room, she had settled in—books neatly arranged on the shelf, her prayer mat placed in the corner, and the photographs her mother had given her tucked safely in the drawer close to her heart.
Today was her first class. She woke up early, performed ablution ( Wuzu ), offered her Fajar prayers ( Namaz), and dressed in a long blue skirt, a loose white shirt, and a white hijab. She could speak English, but she was aware that blending into the fluency of this place wouldn't be easy.
The university building was tall, modern, and unfamiliar. As she stepped into the classroom, a subtle wave of anxiety gripped her heart, but Fresha lowered her gaze and quietly took a seat in a corner. The professor’s voice echoed, words began to form on the board, and she focused intently, committing each one to memory.
When class ended, Ferisha placed her books in her bag and slowly began to leave the room. As she neared the door, a group’s laughter caught her attention. Three boys and a girl—mockery clearly visible on their faces—had fixed their eyes on her.
Suddenly, a voice called out, "Look, the terrorist has arrived in class!"
A burst of laughter filled the air. The others joined in.
Ferisha ’s steps froze. For a moment, it felt like ice had spread through her chest. She
wanted to speak, maybe scream, maybe explain—but her tongue refused to move. She cast just one glance full of irritation to them, into those eyes filled less with hatred and more with ignorance—and then, clutching her bag tightly, she lowered her head and walked out of the room.
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( Scene shift outside of class)
Ferisha stood alone, placing her books and belongings into her locker. Her eyes were lowered, as if she were lost in her own world.
Suddenly, someone poured cold water on her from behind. She flinched for a moment, holding her breath. The freezing water soaked her clothes, sending a jolt through her body. She inhaled slowly and turned around—only to see the same girl from the former group standing there, laughing with an empty bottle in hand.
Ferisha ’s heart burned with anger. She took a step forward and, with a trembling voice, “Do you have any manners? Don’t you have any decency? ” she almost growled.
But before she could even finish her words, a boy standing with the girl (her boyfriend) shoved Ferisha hard. She fell to the ground, her elbow hitting the floor, and a wave of pain rushed through her body.
Two other boys nearby burst into loud laughter, as if it were all a game. One of them, with a predatory gleam in his eyes and an arrogant tone in his voice, stepped forward “You're helpless,Miss terrorist.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. She remained on the floor for a moment, as though she had surrendered. But then, with trembling hands, she supported herself, slowly stood up, dusted off her clothes " I'm going to complain this all, you bastrads " she yell again while slamming her locker, and walked away in anger and frustration that cause her exhaustion as well.
Behind her, the echoes of laughter lingered
" We'll see about that missy"
She again felt sudden wave of anger but , she knew that, right now she's cannot take any fights, specially when she's all alone right now, yet one thing was sure that soon she'll complain about this behaviour.
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