In the narrow lanes of Nuh, where dust hangs low and the air carries echoes of centuries-old customs, a girl named Jyoti once dreamed of a life beyond what her village had laid out for her. Her eyes, curious and unafraid, met those of Munfed, a young Muslim man whose quiet strength matched her own. What started as a tender friendship blossomed into a love that would test every boundary their world had drawn.
When Jyoti chose Munfed, she wasn’t just choosing a man, she was choosing a path that few dared to walk. The whispers turned into warnings, the warnings into threats. Yet, she stood tall. With conviction rooted deep in her heart, Jyoti embraced Islam and chose the name Aliya—“the exalted one.” The transformation was not in faith alone, but in spirit. From the ashes of defiance rose a woman ready to shape her own destiny.
Jyoti and Munfed built a quiet, content life together. He worked diligently at a private firm, and their home echoed with the laughter of their two children. It was a simple joy, the kind that doesn’t make headlines but means everything to those who live it. Life, though modest, felt full.
But on the morning after the July 31 violence in Nuh, the winds shifted. The riots had scorched the land, leaving behind scars, some visible, many not. Munfed, worried sick about Jyoti’s safety, rushed back home, unaware that love had once again made him a target. On his way, he was stopped, beaten, and accused of being part of a so-called ‘Love Jihad.’ The police, draped in the garb of justice, played a cruel game. They staged an encounter, shooting him in both legs before dragging him into custody.
Jyoti was shattered. She hadn’t just lost her partner’s presence, she now carried the weight of his pain. When Miles2Smile visited Jyoti, she sat cross-legged on a rug, her youngest asleep beside her. She spoke softly, her voice steady despite the storm inside. “The bullet is still in his leg,” she said, eyes fixed on the floor. “Doctors say it’s too deep now. He can’t walk properly. He’s always in pain.”
We brought her groceries, medicines, and baby food. But Jyoti didn’t want to depend on handouts. “I want to earn,” she told Miles2Smile, her gaze firm. “I want to run my own shop—cosmetics. Something I understand. Something I love.” It wasn’t just about money. It was about dignity.
At Miles2Smile, we believe in planting seeds, not just offering shade. We helped Jyoti find a small shop to rent, a dusty corner space with peeling paint but plenty of promise. Jyoti traveled to Delhi herself, navigating wholesale markets, bargaining with traders, filling sacks with kohl, lipsticks, bindis, nail polish, and creams. She returned with hope wrapped in plastic packets and cardboard boxes.
Today, She opens her shop every morning at 9. The signboard reads “Aliya Beauty Corner” in simple lettering. Inside, she arranges her shelves with care, lining up bright lipsticks and neatly folding scarves. Local girls come to buy their first kajal sticks. Women drop by after school runs to browse or talk.
Back home, Munfed moves slowly. The pain in his legs is constant, but he smiles when he sees the children run into Jyoti’s arms at the end of the day. His pride isn’t in his old job or the money he once earned, but in the strength of the woman who now carries their future forward.
