Where the Mind is "Nirbhaya" - Thinking Aloud

‘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