"I took a lot of time to paint my hands with henna....."

I took a lot of time to paint my hands with henna. But my husband never liked it. He would always say, ‘Cover it well! It’s visible’. I wanted to cover my disease, all the white patches of my hands and feet. I spent my life for covering myself from the hatred of people. I try to save my heart from the negligence of my loved one. Whenever I went to attend any village function, people would point at me and pettily said, ‘Incurable’. No one ever wanted to know what I was going through. Everyone was busy with their opinion about my sufferings which they knew nothing . Almost thirty five years ago first I saw white patches on my skin. I only paid attention on me when my husband started sleeping in the floor separately. It’s been thirty years we are sleeping separately. He said it was difficult to sleep in a small bed, just like it was difficult for me to paint my hands with henna all the time. I was not allowed to attend my only daughter’s marriage. I was waiting to talk to her at her wedding day; I knew she could never leave me at the most important day of her life. I was constantly looking at the mirror and checked my white patches under my eyes which were developing newly. When my daughter entered into my room I asked her which saree to wear. She smiled to me and said everything looked good on me. And included, I should stay at home, if her marriage breaks for me, I would suffer more than her. My daughter was eighteen that time and in front of her I felt like a child who was holding a saree and looking into a mirror to go to a function. I never looked into mirror after that. I never cared how much white patches I developed into my face or body. I was suffering because the illness was going deep inside my mind and damaging my soul. The disease did not give me pain as much as people gave me. Especially those whom I love most. One day a woman stopped me during our conversation and said, I must be cursed to have this kind of disease, as it was hard for her to accept that someone like me could have such disease. I corrected her and said, ‘I am blessed to be able to see true faces of people before I die. I have learned in this world people only value skin not heart’.

• Mosammad Aklima Begum (65)