Alishba's Plight by Lubaina Ehsan (guest writer)
I know my patterns but I don't know my words, mom. I know what to add in my tea but I forgot to heat it up, mom. I know I'm thirteen but I can’t act my age, mom. I can create, I can draw, but I really can't read mom. I know tuition centers are the norm, but I need YOUR help, mom. I want to learn, play and make friends, but my behavior wasn't accepted in special school, mom. I was improving, I was learning, I was understanding, but it all fell apart. You chose two month long family weddings over my therapy, mom. -- -- When I met Alishba*, she was wrapped up in layers of clothes (since the temperature had dropped below ten degrees Celsius after the rain in Lahore). She walked with a spring in her step, and didn’t need help sitting in the chair in front of her psychologist, but she just sat with her mouth half open; waiting to be told what to do next. We asked her to write her name, she wrote down jumbled up alphabets in a pattern. She created ...