Disturbed musings

Being a girl translates to leading a very tough life in India, where 5 or 50 is just a number... Truly tough life, where every girl has to learn a few life-saving tips while walking on a double-edged sharp sword - so she could live - JUST LIVE and nothing more. No expectations, no hopes, no wishes, no demands... just plain survival instinct!

If a girl gets to survive without being mutilated in her mother's womb, that's the first level of luck. And then starts the actual struggle - of trying to please everyone by following a checklist of tough(er,est) rules carefully! 

Here are a few Don'ts in THE checklist: 

- be humble

- look ugly (preferably)

- don't get dressed attractively

- don't laugh loudly

- don't talk a lot

- don't act smart

- don't wear jeans or skirts

- don't go out in the evening

- don't mingle with men

- don't go to pubs

- don't eat out

- don't drink/ smoke

- don't do this 

- AND don't do that.

Otherwise, you'll get raped and mutilated - so what if you're just a sweet little girl. And mind you, you actually asked for it by wearing that cute little (red???) frilly frock. Why, I wonder, are we living such brutal lives? Why is there so much of hatred around? Where is all the love and compassion gone?

I'm deeply hurt and shocked by the amount of brutality being inflicted on women, in an era that doesn't let even 5-year-old girls be spared from mind-numbing violence. I'm a woman and I'm a mother of a girl too... While my heart goes out to the little girl who is battling for her life in yet another Delhi hospital, I'm also worried sick about the scar it leaves on the little one's mind forever. 

Would she wake up every now and then in the middle of the night screaming and trying to run away? Will she ever be able to get over the harrowing traumatic brutality she was put through and lead a normal childhood? Will she play with her dolls and soft toys with the same excitement? Will she draw 8-shaped cats, asymmetric cars, balloons and rabbits, and color them in the most hideous patchy way using funny color combos? Will she sing and dance like a bindaas 5-year-old? Will she, when she's just a little girl (still), ask her mom "What will I be... Will I be handsome, will I be rich"? Above all, will she EVER trust anyone again with the same innocence as she did till a few days ago?

I very much doubt it. Life will never be the same for a child when the biggest gift of being a child - her blissful childhood - has been snatched from her. I pray that the girl be relocated and brought up elsewhere rather than in this country... where crimes against children are a seriously punishable offence, where there's a zero-tolerance-level approach to pedophiles, where child psychologists and counselors can play an extraordinary role in taking care of the little angel and re-stabilizing and rehabilitating her into a normal social set-up.

A request to all smart girls out there, and all the smart boys who are girls' best friends - stay safe and learn to say an affirmative NO at least once in a while. 

And please teach your young children, siblings, and cousins a few safety tips, and the difference between 'good touch' and 'bad touch' - and help young innocent girls avoid the brutal traumatic experience called rape!! What happened in Delhi should NOT recur anywhere again :( :(

P.S: It's really really unfortunate that two of my consecutive posts deal with the same topic. And I so strongly feel the need to move on, in search of some (thing more) peace(ful)!

Obit to a sung-too-much soldier...

...Since I couldn't come up with an ode! It's as good (or bad) as a lengthy epitaph can get!

I'm not thinking so much about what to write. I'm more concerned about how to write what I want to write. So many people have written so many millions of words over the past few weeks... expressing shock, disgust, concern, solidarity, angst, anger, hatred, murderous instincts - and every other emotion that one can think of when a heinous act of crime gets out of control and focus, and gains an enormous amount of propaganda.

What happened in Delhi to a 23-year-old unfortunate girl happens to a lot of others everyday in some corner of the world or the other. But the extent of brutality involved this time is what got the attention of the media, the civilians and the netizens around the world, caught people by the scruffs of their necks to sit up and take note of. And think. And react. Protest, if you will! Call it rape, or sexual assault, will you? I call it BLUDGEON. 

A lot of netizens posted minute-by-minute updates of the-how-of-it-all... and about what happened to her with the grossest possible details in the most grotesque manner - probably expecting unsuspecting folks like me to 'Like' the status and share the same with scores of others. With the tag lines "How many likes for this brave girl?", "We're with you, Damini", "Nirbhaya, you're the brave daughter of Mother India", "If you ignore it, you've no heart".

Yes, I agree. I've no heart. I have no heart to Like or share something so gruesome and shocking. I had no heart to feed the wild imagination and secret pleasure of those voyeurs and perverts out there waiting for a glimpse of the-girl-who-was-violated, and all the gory insider details associated with the incident. I had no heart to rape her over and over again with words, pictures, remarks, comments, discussions, tags, Likes.

Wait a second... what am I trying to prove here? That I'm in some way superior to the rest of the human(e) race? That I've a heart while all those umpteen others have a stone in its place? Nah, I'm only trying to understand what is there to 'Like' about a crime of such violence and magnitude?

And now, after all this dichotomy, she finally rests in peace under a piece of earth, wrapped in a piece of cloth... probably with a know-it-all smile of a witness-to-a-never-ending-hysterical-drama!

Strangely, I'm happy for her. I'm happy that it's all over. For her and for me. The pain, the agony, the protest marches, the lathi charges, the anger, the 24X7 almost-live coverage, the (unwanted) attention - yes, unwanted and unnecessary attention because she didn't ask for any of it - the solidarity, and everything else.

And now, I can peacefully go back to doing whatever else I want/ used to - both online and offline. I can read (about) Happiness or 50 Shades of Grey as mindlessly as I watch(ed) the crime scene after the recent bomb blast in Hyderabad while sipping piping hot chai; I can groove to my favorite music while enjoying a Valentine's Day surprise dinner at a plush restaurant of a star hotel; I can engage in gossip about the murder of an acquaintance by her husband and come up with theories on whether it was really a murder or just a suicide; I can cook up the family's favorite meal, including dessert, and relish it without feeling guilty about the calories being downed; I can watch Tom & Jerry some zillionth time on telly and laugh out loud like a child - without a care in/about the world.

Oh that reminds me - what was my answer when baby S asked me: 'Amma, what happened in Delhi... all adults are talking about it?' I remember I told her something. I DID tell her something... but what was that? There I go blank again! Short term memory loss I guess! (My) Memory is such a fleeting thing. And Public memory? Uff forget it! Let's not get into theories and waste our time. Let's just go back to doing what we're good at - FORGET AND MOVE ON.

Love to all and peace to the entire world - minus the girl-who-died-at-last!