Everywhere smelled of dust and a painfully heavy quiet. The tables and chairs that once witnessed endless laughter, conversations, and the youth's dreams were now buried deep beneath layers of dust. Each corner of the restaurant brought back memories of days I had built with love and lived with hope. As I closed the doors for the last time, it was as if I had lost a part of my identity. The farewell tasted bitter, like burnt coffee lingering on my soul.
Farewell, Princess-Maryam Restaurant.
The city was the same, yet it was nothing like before. The women and girls in bright clothing and makeup had disappeared from the streets of the city, and I was no longer called “Princess”. As my books and notebooks were gathering dust in the corner, I had no idea when I would be able to sit in a classroom again. My academic dreams, like many other dreams of mine, felt distant and unobtainable.
I spent days suffocated with confusion, having no clue where to restart or how to accept the way my life had changed overnight.
But I am not someone to give up.
The real battle was inside me. Every single day, I had to choose between hope and hopelessness. Slowly putting my broken pieces back together, I rebuilt a new, stronger me. This time, I forged a new path over the broken one. One that would lead to knowledge, a basic right that was taken away from women and girls of my nation.
In those days, KUDAC Educational Center was born, a safe space for growth, for many kids who needed hope more than anything else, and myself. It was built in Bamyan for orphans and working children. At first, I believed I was the one creating a safe hideaway for the kids, yet it turned out these kids became the real safe hideaway for my tired soul. Many of these kids had never experienced the real warmth of parents and a family. The small hands that were meant to be holding a pen and paper instead bore scars of labor. Despite everything, the flame of hope in their eyes was the warmth my soul needed.
It’s unfair to call KUDAC just an educational center. Although the kids learn how to read and write here, that is not the whole story. They also learn how to express themselves as confident individuals. They learn that being kind is not a weakness but a strength. The kids who did not have time to dream because they had to work learned to dream fearlessly. Each time I see a huge smile that shows a fallen tooth or a dream that is painted with childish innocence, they remind me that education can change lives.
As the laughter of children echoes in the halls of KUDAC, a warmth spreads through my chest. They remind me that closing some doors does not mean the end; instead, they could be the beginning of something new, something more beautiful. And each time, without fail, it makes me smile. It is my motivation for trying to work hard so that I can help build a safer, brighter, and happier future for them. What I once thought was failure and my downfall turned out to be a path guiding me toward something far greater, something that helped me find the purpose of my life.
