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Dear Braveheart,
As, I write this, I am a little numb. But still I am writing this last note to you. May you rest in peace now! Because wherever you are gone, life will be better than what it is here. Yes, you can take a bus anytime you want and with whoever you want. No one will judge the time and question the length of the skirt.
In our part of the world, I am like you, a nameless, faceless woman. Fear hangs around every dark corner I stand. Who knows when it pounces over me?
It’s a shamed Saturday for us here. As you are put in the pyre today, I hope the rage stays in our hearts to melt the shackles of the society. As the fire blazes in the sky and we hang our heads in shame, may this shame live on in our hearts and minds.
We hear the stories of how you asked about the culprits when you regained consciousness and how you wanted to live. As the wood and fire takes over your body, may your courage stay with all women; that courage to fight back. Such are the times; we are clinging to your courage.
Finally according to Hindu rites, the skull will be broken to let the soul go free; I hope with the first blow, we learn to question the conditioning of patriarchy.
I pray that you be the last daughter whom a father puts to the pyre.
I am sorry; these are the kind of goodbyes we are paying. Such sad times we live in. Braveheart, Delhi is freezing each day; I hope our hearts should be otherwise. I still am not sure how I am actually feeling. Every nerve of mine seems to be numb. I will take time to pick up but I hope you rest in peace now.
Nothing is making any sense today. I have no words for your family. But Braveheart, Rest in peace.
May we who are reading this, never rest in peace. This is going to be a long journey. We have just woken up.
Lest we forget this shame and the burden that each one of us is a part of this society.
Ma’a Salama my Braveheart!
I remain,
A dented, painted woman.
*Ma’a Salama is Goodbye in Arabic
Proud Indian. Senior Writer at Women's Web. Columnist. Book Reviewer. Street Theatre - Aatish. Dreamer.
Rest in Peace, Nirbhaya, Amanat, Braveheart. Hoping and praying that the last twelve days of your life will force open eyes that are wide shut and blinded, and rip away the thick, insensitive skin of a seared collective conscience.
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