I am a Mother; a mother of children who are as alike as they are
different from each other. My children are spread all across from north to
south and east to west. My children are the citizens of India; I am Mother
India.
They dress me in spotless white and hold me in high regards. Then why
does my heart weep? Why is my gleaming white attire soaked in tears of blood
for my daughters? I grieve at the plight of my female progeny as they are
molested; tortured and exploited right here in my bosom. My children pledge
never-ending love for me and claim to save me from harm whatever the cost but
don’t they see with the degradation of their morals and their treatments
towards my daughters I die a silent death each day?
‘Vande Mataram’ they sing. I bow to thee, Mother they say. But they
realize not that their mother will one day disappear; crushed under the burden
of their sins.
What sins you ask? Sins that makes me loathe the children I bore; sins
that demean me as a mother; sins that even put the devil to shame; sins that
make the air toxic and the water venomous; sins that cause the decay of a
nation!
Look towards my bosom in the city of Nashik my 14 year old
daughter is being gang raped. She is
crying for mercy; pleading but are they listening? Every scratch on her body
becomes a wound on my heart but my children seem to be unaware. Their mother
bleeds as they take the innocence out of a child. She is scarred for life and I am
drenched in her tears and gasps!
I bleed through my arms in my beautiful desert state of
Rajasthan which boasts of beautiful palaces and forts. My eight month pregnant
daughter is being tormented by a hot iron rod by none other than her husband
and in-laws. Oh the inhumanity; she is with child! She tries to protect her
baby but she is unable to. She is being punished for they fear her bearing a
girl child. I see the terror in her eyes. I feel the burn in my skin; I feel
the heat sinking within. I feel plagued by Female Feticide and apathy towards
girl child. I die a little with each touch of rod on her body; yes I die a
little!
My heart skips beats and I feel nauseous as my shoulders
bleed in my own city of Guwahati as my teenage daughter gets molested
in wide public view. She is hurled around by her hair and her clothes pulled
apart. Why again you ask? Because she dared to protest against lewd remarks
passed at her. As she begs for help from one onlooker to another; I feel her
helplessness. As she tirelessly tries to escape the monsters; I feel the fear
in her. I fall down as does she. I lose the faith in life and the goodness of
people as does she! I feel feeble and vulnerable as I look around and see
grotesque realities exposed; as I see horrific true faces of those!
Look at my favourite south, my legs feel numb as I witness a
heinous act in the city of Bangalore. My son poisons his infant daughter as
what he
wanted was a son. He laces her milk with poison and feeds her. She
flutters her eyelashes and gives an innocent doting smile as she drinks the
poison out of her father’s hand. Oh the shame! As the poison starts to affect
her organs she gradually slips away to eternal oblivion; I feel impaired and
paralyzed. I feel violated as she is killed within days of opening her eyes.
I hear their silent cries; I feel their pain; my daughters
are suffering in vain. In the guise of my daughters being liberated; biases are
still nurtured. If nothing else, my daughters are forced to move heaven and
earth for the husband’s family leaving their very own. When they do that silently,
they live in regret and sadness lifelong. If they don’t, they are touted as
bane to society all along. All this; these very acts of prejudice against my
daughters are cancerous growths and with each passing day I move a step closer
to my fall.
Stop! Look Around and Wake up! I don’t want to soak anymore
in such brutalities. Enough is enough! Stop the blatant crimes against women
for I, your mother, am one of them. The girl being raped is I; the woman being
thrashed for bearing a girl child is I; the girl being beaten to death is I;
the bride being burnt for dowry is I; the girl being eve-teased is I and the
woman who works nonstop for you at home is I too. When you hurt even
one of my daughters you push me towards my end; you pave way for your Nation to
die!
My Daughters, rise and soak no
more in the torture and the pain you have forever bore. If none change; you do
and say yourself ‘I shall soak no more’!
Some Statistics:
In India, 1 crime is committed against women every 3 minutes.
1 Molestation case every 15 minutes
1 Sexual Harassment Case every 53 minutes
4 out of 10 women have experienced violence at home
I urge all women to speak up and stop tolerating any form of
non-sense even if it with regards to how you should dress or if you are forced
to cover your head and sometimes face in the name of respecting elders. It can
be anything from a tiny speck to a huge concern but unless you stop enduring;
your plight and the predicaments of your daughters shall never change. We women
often chose to ignore issues as they seem too small to rake up a storm for;
change that and you shall change the course of the way women are treated in the
long run. Say it loud and clear ‘SOAK NO MORE in FEAR’.