Aneesa, the Acid Attack Survivor, turns Pain into Power
Srinagar, Nov 23: A week before her life melted into darkness, Aneesa Nisar was planning her birthday. Her sister was expecting a child, the house was full of soft laughter, and every morning she stepped out for work with her mother’s prayers on her shoulders. She was independent and cheerful, building dreams quietly like every young woman her age. Nothing about those days hinted that fate was preparing to ambush her.
Seven days later, at the turn of a lane near her home in Srinagar, a splash of acid would burn away the life she knew, leaving behind a face she would not see again for nearly two years. February 1, 2022 was lurking.
DAY THAT TORE HER LIFE APART
That morning, she left as usual. She remembers looking at the mirror several times, an odd restlessness she couldn’t explain.
While walking back home later that day, she felt someone was following her. Her heart tightened. She called her mother. “Mummy, dil bohot ghabra raha hai.” “Come home,” her mother said.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Aneesa replied, but she wasn’t.
Just a few steps before reaching her home, a bike screeched in front of her. There was a honk. A moment. A look. And then, acid.
A burning splash that tore through her face, her eyes, her life.
In seconds, the brightness of a 21-year-old girl’s world turned into an unending night.
Hospital walls swallowed her screams. Six days in Srinagar, then Chennai, where the real battle began. On 9 February, her first major surgery. She was taken into the operation theatre at 7 a.m. She returned at 8 p.m. Her eyes stitched shut. Her face wrapped in layers of bandages. Pain was not just in her body, it became her existence.
In the months that followed, she underwent 28 surgeries. Twenty-eight, let that sink in.
Her father, a tailor, stood under the harsh Chennai sun for hours, waiting outside hospitals, praying his daughter would survive. Her mother and younger sister took turns being strong, though they were breaking quietly every day.
Aneesa, however, couldn’t see any of this. Because for seven months, she saw only darkness.
Seven months later, one eye opened. Dim vision, shaky outlines, nothing clear. It took almost two years for her to finally see her face again in a mirror. And when she did, she froze.
“Yeh main nahi ho sakti.” This can’t be me. She shut her eyes.
The pain was deeper than the burns. It was the grief of losing the version of herself she once knew. But then, she remembered her father’s sweat in the Chennai heat, her mother’s silent prayers, her sister’s sacrifices. And she whispered to herself.
“Sirf yeh chehra hi hai jo mujhe aage le jayega.” Only this face will push me forward.
In that moment, Aneesa was reborn, not with skin, but with courage.
WEIGHT OF A FAMILY’S PAIN
Aneesa says it clearly, “Shayad maine jitna sehna tha seh liya…
Lekin mere gharwalon ne mujhse zyada seh liya.”
Her parents sold what little they had. Bills of one to two lakh rupees per surgery, travel, rent, food, fear and trauma.
Yet not once, not once, did they let her feel alone. They stood beside her even when the entire world looked away.
Aneesa’s voice is soft but firm. “Duniya ke saamne aao. Humne itna dard jhela hai, ab darrna kyu, Himmat mat haaro.”
This comes from a girl who lived in darkness, opened her eyes after almost two years, and still chose hope.
She doesn’t mince words. “There should be a complete acid ban.
Attackers should feel the pain they give. They sit in jail, but they never feel what we feel.”
It is a plea from someone carrying burns that will last a lifetime.
A NEW BEGINNING: HER BUSINESS OF COURAGE
Just last week, Aneesa did something unimaginable after all she has endured, she started her own small online jewellery business: Own Aura by Aneesa.
Not gold. Not expensive ornaments. Just fancy anti-tarnish jewellery, silver-toned pieces with a shine she hopes will light her new life.
The response has been overwhelming. Messages flood her phone:
“You are an inspiration.” “Your patience teaches us courage.” “We want to support you.” She smiles, shyly.
This time, not because life is perfect, but because she is rebuilding it with her own hands.
She refuses to depend on anyone. “Abhi meri lambi journey baaqi hai,” she says. “And I have to walk it myself.”
A FINAL PLEA FROM A 24-YEAR-OLD GIRL WHO SURVIVED HELL
“I just want people’s love and support,” Aneesa says quietly. “With your prayers, may be the life ahead will be kinder.”
Her story is not just about pain. It is about turning the pain into power.
