As of this week, women in Afghanistan must cover their whole body (including their eyes), according to the Taliban’s Supreme Leader.
The following rules are now in effect: The full face must be covered—no hands, nothing visible. The black veil was presented as a “recommendation” a year ago, now it is the law.
This is Laila’s story:
In a small, sun-drenched village nestled among the rugged mountains of Afghanistan, there lived a girl named Laila.
From the moment she was born, it was clear that she was different. With eyes the colour of the clearest sky, skin as soft and luminous as the petals of a rose, and a smile that could light up the darkest night, Laila was known far and wide as the most beautiful girl in the world.
Her beauty was not just in her appearance but in the kindness she radiated, the way she cared for the people in her village, and the gentleness with which she treated every living thing. Even the elders, who had seen much in their long lives, marveled at the grace with which she carried herself. She was a beacon of hope and joy in a land often shadowed by hardship.
But as Laila grew older, the world around her began to change. The village, once a place of laughter and freedom, slowly fell under the control of a regime that sought to extinguish the light of freedom and impose its own rigid beliefs. The beauty that had once been celebrated became something to be hidden, something dangerous in the eyes of those who now held power.
One day, Laila’s father came to her with a heavy heart. “My daughter,” he said, his voice breaking, “you must wear the burqa. It is no longer safe for you to show your face.”
Laila’s heart sank. She had always worn her beauty with humility, never using it to harm or to boast. It was simply a part of who she was, a gift from the Creator. But now, that gift had become a curse. The burqa was not just a garment; it was a cage, a shroud that would hide her from the world and turn her into a shadow of herself.
As the heavy cloth was draped over her, Laila felt as though the world was closing in on her. The vibrant colors of the village, the faces of the people she loved, even the sunlight that had always kissed her cheeks—all of it became distant, muffled, like a dream slipping away.
The first time she stepped outside in the burqa, Laila felt the weight of a thousand unspoken words pressing down on her. The villagers, who had always greeted her with warmth and affection, now looked at her with pity and sorrow. They too mourned the loss of the girl who had once brought so much beauty into their lives.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Laila’s world grew smaller with each passing day. The girl who had once danced in the fields, who had laughed with the children, who had cared for the elderly, was now confined to the shadows, her voice silenced by the thick fabric that covered her from head to toe.
But the saddest part of all was not the loss of her freedom, nor the isolation that came with it. It was the knowledge that the beauty she had once shared with the world was now hidden away, seen only by the darkness inside the burqa. The joy she had once brought to others was now buried deep within her, a flickering flame struggling to stay alive in the face of overwhelming darkness.
And so, the most beautiful girl in the world became invisible. Her beauty, her kindness, her light—everything that made her Laila—was hidden away, lost to a world that desperately needed it. She walked the streets of her village like a ghost, a silent reminder of all that had been taken from her and from those who loved her.
In the end, it was not the burqa that broke Laila’s heart, but the realisation that she would never again be able to share her true self with the world. She had become a prisoner, not just of the cloth that covered her, but of the fear and oppression that had stolen her life away.
And so, Laila’s story became one of the countless tales of beauty and light extinguished by the darkness of tyranny. A reminder of all that is lost when the world turns its back on freedom, on love, and on the simple, irreplaceable joy of being seen for who we truly are.
This story was submitted by a woman named Laila (name changed).
