The Day he Raped her

The day he raped her. He not only broke her hymen which was meant to be kept sacred as a shrine but he also broke her self made cocoon that the world is good. That the earth has more angels than devils.
For him maybe she was just another girl, just one more sin added to his already existing ones or his maiden one. Whatever it may be his first sin or second or third......but for her, it was the last time; the last she believed that mankind is good.
The transition from being an extrovert, smiling, cheerful girl to a reserved, almost dead one took just bad touch. Aah, the word "just", how inferior it makes the problems of a girl appear. It was "just" a catcall, shrug it off; it was "just" an eve-teasing; it was just a few drops of acid; it was "just" a rape FORGET IT. But what all is she supposed to forget -the night when she was being followed or the silent road she traversed or the broad daylight where people were busy buying vegetables from the Sunday flea market and he was holding her from behind pretending that she was his daughter. What is she supposed to forget the way he trapped her saying that her father was sick or the way he would steal glances in the rearview mirror of the cab she boarded. She was followed, in the subways, in the metro stations, in the malls, outside her school premises, outside food plazas, weddings. Just one wrong move and down she goes, her dreams, aspirations dwindling in oblivion and breaking her piece by piece into a weaker, fainter, version of herself.
Is she also supposed the forget how he had taught her to write and given her chocolates when she topped a painting competition and always brought gifts for her when was in town and that night when her parents were out for a wedding how he had used her, how he had made her feel like a doll-not the ones she had grown up playing with but the one who had no choice but to comply to every wish of her master? Is she also supposed to forget how her parents had reacted when she had told him that she was sexually abused by her own uncle?"Shhh! Don't tell this anyone. We can't go to the police, forget it like a bad dream. What will people think of you, and your uncle? It will be you who will be at the paying end, nobody wants to marry a rape victim".Though broken she knew how the society was. It was fine with a playboy marrying a girl but a rape victim was a big NO.
At least she had the courage to tell her parents and knew about this but what about the one who only knows that 'The earth revolves around the sun', 'Peacock is our national bird. How will she feel about herself when she hits puberty and begins to understand all of it. The tears which she had shed every night while hugging her teddy and saying in a sobbing voice" I don't.... know what .....was.That....uncle...bad......why ...he...put....hand....inside....my skirt.....that hurts....Mumma never....told this...it hurts...

The tears will be back again with a stronger form and will be like a chain pulling her back from succeeding. She will again spend nights questioning her existence, her sanity, her purity, her luck, her integrity.
Now, who is she? She is a daughter, a sister, a mother, a grandmother, a widow, a pregnant woman, new additions to this existing old ones are a female calf, a female goat because over the years we as humans have evolved and have developed a superpower to see the eyes of even a female calf or a 3-year-old child and tell that "She was wanting it".Yes, the goat's eyes were filled with lust. I could understand it by the way she swayed her perfectly arched back. Yes, the 8-month-old girl was crying loudly and wanted me to feel her, she was constantly winking at me, she even made signs calling me. And yes, did I mention she was wearing a skirt which was way above her knees and a small shirt which exposed her belly button and the black kajal in her eyes were so enticing, the way she was biting her lips; it was as if every part of her body was calling out to me, calling out to the societal stigma which would haunt her for the rest for her life.

The day he raped her-he ripped her soul apart and while he would be free-roaming in the streets, she has been crippled by that "just" rape for her entire life.

GoodBye Patriarchy

We are always amidst a raging war for rights; feminism has become the new cool and only a sane few voices their opinions on gender equality. But when we talk about feminism each day, we only talk about equal job opportunities, equal pay, equal rights but we often neglect the microscopic levels of Gender Equality.

It is ironical how people claim to be self-reliant and type long messages showing solidarity for the movement and they will be the very same people shouting at the top of their voices while asking their wives to bring tea, water, food or anything. But I can't really blame anyone, because hypocrisy is in our blood and we all have been brought up seeing our mothers, aunts, grandmothers, sisters-in-law, tune in to the voices of their husbands.

It is strange how the world is progressing with leaps and bounds, women have proved themselves in every field but household work continues to remain a woman's forte. For some women it is their choice to be a housewife, cater to the needs of their family, fulfil every wish of every member, I respect that completely. But I have an issue with the other lot-the ones who work just like their husbands, earn for their families; they have fought for their rights, are following their passion, working with utmost dedication, is a devoted employee or an employer outside but when she enters the home she again becomes a housewife catering to the needs of the family and the husband can't do the household chores like washing dishes, washing clothes, cooking, serving because he is the "man of the house" and housework is the duty of the woman.

The same woman who was strong, independent, had dreams, aspirations, ones who were the princess' in their fathers' kingdoms end up becoming a mere slave in their in-law's houses. If she's working she's still independent and is allowed to fly provided that she flies below her husband. I hate men who feel like being a man makes them born with a silver spoon and makes them privileged. But how can being born in a particular gender make you stand out, make you a born king?

The patriarchal thoughts-a woman must listen to everything her husband says, an age-old believer mother-in-law saying it's rude to back answer your husband, till the times these minute cancerous thoughts exist in families, we can say GoodBye to gender equality and feminism talks!!