‘The accomplice to the crime of corruption is frequently our
own indifference’
-Bess Myerson
They chose to name her ‘Nirbhaya’, the fearless one, as if
was a virtual armour to fortify her spirit to survive. Now, a little more than
a week after her death it is a title to honour her battle.
If only words had the power to wish away mortal wounds!
Today an angry nation seethes in a chaos of protests against
a system impotent to assure a woman safety, no, not in the tribal terrains of
unexplored India, but in the capital city of the world’s largest democracy.
Yet ponder beneath layer after filthy layer of such heinous
crimes against women and what you discover is a perverse society which still
mourns the birth of a daughter and often brings up a son on a diet of
exaggerated self importance He is the chosen one, his father’s trump card to
heaven, who will rule the brood because he is innately superior to all the
women in his life. An attitude he takes beyond the circle of his family to
subjugate womanhood in totality to a vassal hood of sorts.
Today we have ‘god
men’ that argue how the victim literally brought this horror upon
herself all because she did not have the presence of mind or inclination to
entreat the drunken brutes into a pact
of sacred religious brotherhood. A statement, that goes beyond being just a ridiculously
simplistic solution to a pathetically shallow reaction to a rape victim’s
plight.
Ironically, it is not just men that contribute to such
thought but a large number of women with warped thinking as well.
Recently, walking through the glittering aisle of a gift
shop, admiring the delicate Swarovski swans and glass blooms, I came across a
sign that read
Nice to see,
Nice to hold,
But if it is broken,
Consider it sold.
Strangely enough, it took me back to many of those ‘rationally
challenged ‘movies I had watched as a child on television.
A hapless woman’s modesty is outraged by the villain. Her
father promptly hangs himself from the ceiling. A Panchayat is called where the
accused arrives unabashed .He is condemned to marry the wronged woman so that
she can salvage her honour. Justice prevails and all is well in a world where a
woman is a crystal vase sold to the one who tainted her. Equally repulsive was a
film that shockingly enough went on to win several awards- the supreme saga of
a woman who marries her rapist to reform him to righteousness. Ah the sweet
fruits of sin!
Talking of movies, one wishes there were more on the lines
of Mirch Masala , a 1985 production
starring Smitha Patil as the firebrand village woman who with rare
courage terminates the threatening
advances of a lustful Subedar by hurling sacks of chilli powder on him with the help of other tormented women.
Again, such portrayals were rare and more often than not
relegated to the genre of parallel cinema. Going by the stereotypes, I wonder
if it was the common truth of the times that was reflected on the silver screen
or such portrayal that slowly conditioned the society. The debate continues...
Today, to rise above this mire of decadence is the call of
the enlightened and the empathetic body of men and women. I see it as the
courage to step out of the cosy cocoons that we build around ourselves into a
not too comfortable zone of more responsibilities. It could be something as
basic as discussing such sensitive topics within the family without the unaffordable
embarrassment, so that we may empower our women with skills and attitudes that
ensure their safety. And do it with the same methodical seriousness as aware
parents would follow their child’s vaccine schedule or educational progress.
It is also a call to move from mute acceptance to vociferous
questioning, as and when we encounter these demons around us. Whether it is to
defend a neighbour who is a victim of marital violence (www.bellbajao.org) or to courageously
shield a school girl from prying hands on a public bus (www.tulir.org).It could
even be something as personal as refusing to assess the gender of the baby in
your womb or rejecting the suitor who measures his worth in your father’s
wealth.
To do all this and
more ‘Nirbhaya’, fearless of ridicule, immune to the apparent impracticality,
because as men and women sharing a
common set of beliefs, we owe it to all our women, not just the unfortunate one
who was raped of all her hopes and dreams that night on a bus in Delhi.
And also because, all that prowled fearlessly that tragic
night were ugly monsters of carnal lust that have thrived through times on the
indifference of a lopsided society and the paucity of potent laws.
This is for you, Daughter of our hearts that
rekindled the flame within a nation to unite for causes...let us not need such
painful reminders to set things right.
Daughter of Our Hearts
Squandered spoils of
a plunder,
Pawn in a game of
vice,
Defiled in soulless
slaughter,
I am Draupadi’s
daughter
Lost to demoniac lust,
Rescued ragdoll
nameless
Reclaimed by earth,
fire and water,
I am Sita’s daughter
Call me not deity,
Nor brave heart
divine,
Even my little dreams
Are no longer mine.
I am the tragic truth
That did a nation’s
pride shatter
Mourn for me, India,
I am your dear
departed daughter.
Asha Mathew
