"Take warning, O you who have eyes!" This is a lesson for those who chant "My body, my choice." The choice was hers, and the body was hers, but what followed was a room echoing with silence. Behind a locked door lay a corpse that had been silent for months, with no eye shedding a tear, no mourning, and no prayers nearby. There were only walls, crying out as witnesses to the utter loneliness of a woman who was once proud of her independence. She had broken the silken bonds of relationships, viewing them as chains of captivity. Intoxicated by the opium of feminism, she had alienated herself from her family, her brother, her father, and above all, her Lord. "Actress Humaira Asghar"—a beautiful face, an independent woman, a famous name. But was she truly successful? When a police officer calls her brother, the reply is: "Speak to her father." And when the father is called, these words come from a father's tongue: "We have no connection with her; we severed ties long ago. Since it is a corpse, bury her however you like." The call ends, but the question remains open: What kind of life was it that hardened a father's heart so much? What path was it that silenced a brother's sense of honor? What mindset was it that left a living being to rot as a corpse for months? This is not merely an incident; it is the grim reality of feminism that looks glamorous in advertisements, inspiring in speeches, and revolutionary on social media, but is hollow, lonely, and filled with darkness from within. Feminism began with women's rights, but it is ending in her isolation. Feminism extracted woman from the sacred relationships of mother, daughter, sister, and wife, turning her into just "self"—and this "self" ultimately left her entirely alone. The institution of the family, nurtured by centuries of civilization, which contained sacrifices, love, grievances, pride, and the warmth of kinship, was cut away by today's woman, who considered it a "chain." And when the scorching heat of time burned her, there was no shady tree left to shelter her. Facebook friends, Instagram followers, and Twitter slogans of freedom were all silent. The father's door was closed, the brother's heart had turned to stone, and the mother had perhaps died years ago from weeping. What a strange society this is, where if a daughter is disobedient, the father is called a tyrant, but if the father becomes detached, the daughter's independence is celebrated. When a woman leaves her home, she is called "powerful." When she gets a divorce, she becomes "courageous." When she breaks relationships, it is labeled as "self-awareness" rather than "rebellion." And when she dies alone, in the form of a decaying corpse, the entire society becomes a silent spectator. If only Humaira Asghar had known that feminism cannot provide the shelter of a mother's lap. If only she could have understood that a father's scolding is an echo of love, and a brother's protective honor is a veil of respect. If only she had known that misandry is not women's empowerment, but an intellectual deviation that detaches a woman from her Lord, her religion, and her nature. A woman must certainly be strong and independent, but she should remain connected to her roots. She should not consider a mother's love, a father's affection, a brother's honor, and a husband's companionship as a burden. Otherwise, the destination on the path of feminism is isolation, indifference, and an unburied, unclaimed corpse. Humaira Asghar is gone, but how many more daughters are getting lost in the fog of feminism? We only regain consciousness when a foul-smelling corpse begins to question the walls: "You wanted freedom, didn't you? Take it… but now I have no one!" 💔💔💔 ___________📝📝📝___________ Narrated. Selection: Islamic Tube Pro App