"I am one of those who did not protest. Hardly tuned in to the news channel. Nor did I head to Rashtrapati bhawan. For one because it was inconvenient. This incident was trying to push me out of the comfort zone that I have gone into. Decent job, a beautiful relationship and all the comforts of this life. My anger, anguish all just kept simmering. It still is. Just that the lid of comfort is stifling it. I should be ashamed but it seems that feeling is being kept at bay too now a days. I don't know what state I am in.
May be its denial. The feeling of its not going to happen to my loved ones. And it doesn't get any worse.
I am sorry for to be speaking on behalf of you this shamelessly. But this is probably what a lot of arm chair revolutionaries think. And some genuine people who think its time we change and are working to bring that change. I am just dishing out philosophical cliches to feel less guilty of what has happened to you in my country."
I am "That girl" or "victim" or on hindi news channels "peedit".
Yes,I am the one whose vital stats that erudite doctor spews for one and all to bet if the see saw game I am playing with death shall end in my favor. Quite honestly, most of us are secretly hoping its the death that wins.
But don't worry. Nothing to be ashamed of.
So am I.
So are my broken bones,my pulpy intestine and that raped.assaulted vagina. They all are in favor of the victory of the morbid.
And you know what, I don't want you to feel guilty if you could not leave the comfort of your home,holidays and loved ones to join the candle march or protest at India gate.
Why should you?
What do I have in common with millions of women in this country and what purpose do I solve?
Nada. Zilch.
But for the argumentative Indian, I am a diet for its ever acute powers of reasoning and argument.
I am suddenly a role model ( not sure how many would allow me the usage of "role model") for everything that is wrong in the system. For every torture that has been inflicted on women.
I am the demi god whose agony and pain shall mark the creation of new rules and laws,my cries for help shall be transformed into helplines and my ever clinging shadow of fear shall be taken to enhance regulations pertaining to security for women.
And alas like everything beautiful,cogent,powerful,true and honest, we Indians are going to make a stone statue out of it. Like we have been doing it for millions of years. 33 million possible versions of honest,philosophical truths transformed into idols,useless bloody idols.
Today those ideals sit in the police station,the parliament,the court and what scares me most, is that our hearts are pretty much occupied by those stones.
Don't get me wrong. I am not accusing anyone of shying away from duty. Its ok, I was one of the carefree,relaxed youth for whom world was the oyster till yesterday.
Till.
Till I saw the darkness in my fellow beings whom I used to address as bhaiya,bhai sahab.
And you know what I could see so clearly in that darkness?
Sure, by now you would have picked the guilty and had been accusing either the government,the media,police and a lot of you could be holding me responsible ( for my prowess of seduction or my mobile,jeans or chowmein ).
But what I saw that day behind those blood shot eyes,filthy words and that fiendish struggle to prove their manhood by raping and assaulting me was the helplessness of mother and sister.
That mother who turned her eyes away when those guys groped and fondled the sister they were meant to protect from everything bad.
The sister who silently cried and lost her bachpan in helplessness.
You know why those eyes were so vacant?
They were devoid of a challenge. In form of a slap that could have come from mother or in shape of a loud noise and a bold voice of the sister which would have alerted the society.
It seems like an anticlimax way out to what has been happening with women.
I won't write lines about how I am the victim and how this country has lost it etc. I won't crib about how society is going to see me when I am back in the system.
All I hope is that all of you get some guts and you can stand up and Slap.
Slap them.
May be its denial. The feeling of its not going to happen to my loved ones. And it doesn't get any worse.
I am sorry for to be speaking on behalf of you this shamelessly. But this is probably what a lot of arm chair revolutionaries think. And some genuine people who think its time we change and are working to bring that change. I am just dishing out philosophical cliches to feel less guilty of what has happened to you in my country."
I am "That girl" or "victim" or on hindi news channels "peedit".
Yes,I am the one whose vital stats that erudite doctor spews for one and all to bet if the see saw game I am playing with death shall end in my favor. Quite honestly, most of us are secretly hoping its the death that wins.
But don't worry. Nothing to be ashamed of.
So am I.
So are my broken bones,my pulpy intestine and that raped.assaulted vagina. They all are in favor of the victory of the morbid.
And you know what, I don't want you to feel guilty if you could not leave the comfort of your home,holidays and loved ones to join the candle march or protest at India gate.
Why should you?
What do I have in common with millions of women in this country and what purpose do I solve?
Nada. Zilch.
But for the argumentative Indian, I am a diet for its ever acute powers of reasoning and argument.
I am suddenly a role model ( not sure how many would allow me the usage of "role model") for everything that is wrong in the system. For every torture that has been inflicted on women.
I am the demi god whose agony and pain shall mark the creation of new rules and laws,my cries for help shall be transformed into helplines and my ever clinging shadow of fear shall be taken to enhance regulations pertaining to security for women.
And alas like everything beautiful,cogent,powerful,true and honest, we Indians are going to make a stone statue out of it. Like we have been doing it for millions of years. 33 million possible versions of honest,philosophical truths transformed into idols,useless bloody idols.
Today those ideals sit in the police station,the parliament,the court and what scares me most, is that our hearts are pretty much occupied by those stones.
Don't get me wrong. I am not accusing anyone of shying away from duty. Its ok, I was one of the carefree,relaxed youth for whom world was the oyster till yesterday.
Till.
Till I saw the darkness in my fellow beings whom I used to address as bhaiya,bhai sahab.
And you know what I could see so clearly in that darkness?
Sure, by now you would have picked the guilty and had been accusing either the government,the media,police and a lot of you could be holding me responsible ( for my prowess of seduction or my mobile,jeans or chowmein ).
But what I saw that day behind those blood shot eyes,filthy words and that fiendish struggle to prove their manhood by raping and assaulting me was the helplessness of mother and sister.
That mother who turned her eyes away when those guys groped and fondled the sister they were meant to protect from everything bad.
The sister who silently cried and lost her bachpan in helplessness.
You know why those eyes were so vacant?
They were devoid of a challenge. In form of a slap that could have come from mother or in shape of a loud noise and a bold voice of the sister which would have alerted the society.
It seems like an anticlimax way out to what has been happening with women.
I won't write lines about how I am the victim and how this country has lost it etc. I won't crib about how society is going to see me when I am back in the system.
All I hope is that all of you get some guts and you can stand up and Slap.
Slap them.
