silence and suffering

Madhushani - she lies in hospital right now. Hooked up to tubes. On a ventilator because if she breathes the internal haemorrhaging will start again. She is just 21 years, pretty, lively, smiling eyes, soft spoken and shy.

She went out with her sister. Stepped out of our garden to buy something from the shop nearby. They were walking down the road together, giggling, and chattering as I often saw them do - more friends than sisters.

The prada four wheel drive, a woman hanging on a mobile. A fraction of a distance. It was just the mirror that slammed her skull. She dropped like a stone unconscious. She hasn't opened her eyes yet. And it is now three days. If she moves, the bleeding in the brain begins again. They removed one clot, but they can't keep opening up her brain to mop up, so they say.

Dilky is just sixteen. Her sister. I don't want to see her everyday - her eyes listless and tired. Helpless really. You can see the agony written across her face...her voice is low and subdued.

There are no answers. None at all. Suffering and pain always faces silence.