Anindita Pingala

I am walking through the halls of St. Johns- Kilmarnock school. I can sense cold stares and I feel as if everyone is watching me. Just the other day I had been like them, but now I'm totally different. This school won't accept me as the person I was before.

Before I used to wear a school uniform but now I wear a long black berqua. A berqua is a lengthy dark dress that covers my whole body, except for my eyes. I don't like this, but I don't have a choice. This is the result of the Taliban and the Afghan Government. We received a letter in the post from them, telling us that even if we were not in Afghanistan we still had to be dressed as all the Afghan women dress. It`s my religion and it will always be, which means no more school uniform for me.

What happened to my friends and teachers at this school? Clothes don`t shape who you are, it`s still me Anindita in this long black cloak. I used to be the most popular girl at the top of the class, and now I don`t even have any friends. Anindita lost all her fellow classmates and teachers just because of her religion.

My name is Anindita Pingala, which means I am a beautiful Lakshmi. I am 15 years old and I am an Afghan. I moved to Canada four months ago and made lots of new friends, until we got the letter of hate and disappointment. Wearing these clothes makes me feel invisible and noticeable all at the same time. It covers my whole body, so I feel like no one can see me. But at the same time everyone looks at me, which is why I have mixed emotions. This is me, Anindita Pingala 15 year old beautiful Lakshmi.

It is the end of the school day and I am walking towards the grocery store with my mother. We talk about my father. If he returned he would look for us, but we would be gone. My father`s name is Faheem. He got taken away from our own house by the Taliban. He is a prisoner now and I might never see him again. `` Mother look, it looks like father! Can it really be him?`` I whispered in Arabic. This wasn`t what I expected to find in the grocery store.

I ran and ran all the way to Faheem as it really was him. My father, the one who had taught me everything as a child. I gave him a big hug, he laughed, I smiled and mother started to cry. It really was Faheem. Where did he come from? Why is he in this particular grocery store?