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Goodbye to the young woman who wanted to live. May she rest in peace, but the rest of us need to wake up.
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. Workaholic. read more...
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Stop glorifying biological parenthood - other methods of growing a family are just as valid, and completely a couple's choice, especially of the woman whose body goes through pregnancy and birth.
Stop glorifying biological parenthood – other methods of growing a family are just as valid, and completely a couple’s choice, especially of the woman whose body goes through pregnancy and birth.
Trigger Warning: Contains derogatory remarks about having a baby through surrogacy or any means other than giving birth through biological means, and may be triggering, especially to adoptive parents.
Recently Priyanka Chopra Jonas announced parenthood by surrogacy. This has once again sparked the debate about ethical surrogacy, which is a discussion for another day.
Why do parents avoid explaining the physical part of relationships to their children? The mindset is-'they will learn on their own like I learnt.'
Marriage. A word with conflicting sentiments. Love, exhilaration, fear, and adjustments were all deep sentiments that tingled in the pit of my stomach from time to time. However, I believe that the final decision must be taken solely by the two persons after the completion of courtship period (or whatever you call it).
My cousin got married in this lockdown. She was not very excited about the shrinking guest list. Though she was ecstatic she had me. More than the sisterhood bonding, we apportion a cognation of mentor-student. Moreover, I feel so protective towards her as she is introvert, shy, and timid. All I endeavoured and wanted her was her voice and a stand for herself.
It was her mehndi the day I reached. She rushed to hug me with those moist eyes. Fighting back my tears and holding her in my arms, my mind toggled between past and present. “I am so happy you made it di,” she said. It was the moment of mixed feelings, a reminder of the time when I was naïve to the change marriage brought into my life. I inhaled my lungs full of air in disbelief that the baby girl is getting married in two days. She blushed as others giggled and teased her asking her about the guy.
In the series of letters to her daughter, here is the 6th letter, where the writer talks to her daughter about grace, success and being a good human being.
It is early part of the morning as I am writing to you. A new year has dawned. The new winter Sun is streaming through the balcony. And my cup of ‘Chaai’ stares at me, like an old lover. Yes, darling half of the city is asleep, after last night’s celebrations, but today is such a beautiful day, to talk to my daughter.
I have already written so many letters to you, each time I wonder, if I really have something more to say. My mother-daughter’s conversations are endless. Each day the mother hen picks something on the way and takes it preciously to the daughter hen. Each day, there is something to share.
This beautiful series of letters from a mother to a daughter shares wonderful life lessons about love, healing and learning along the journey of life.
Editor’s Note: Paromita has been writing an uber-popular series called Letter To My Beloved Daughter. You will find Nos 1, 2 and 3 at these links.
Dear Beta,