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It has been 3 years today since the horrific rape and murder in New Delhi. So much has been said about it. But have things really changed? Is there any reason for hope? Akanksha Dureja writes an open letter to Nirbhaya.
Dear Jyoti,
It has become a kind of a ritual that I write to you or for you, every year on this date. Sometimes the words are published and set free in the universe, sometimes they rest in the quiet corners of my drafts. But, every year, I wonder what you must be going through right now. What your course of life would have been, had you just got an auto that night and reached home safe. What you felt during those horrific last moments, and a thousand other whats, hows and what-ifs. To all those questions, there might be different answers but only one thing resonates, that this country has failed you, in life, in death and in-between those two as well. If there were a fourth aspect to it, India would have failed you there as well.
To tell you the truth, nothing much has changed since you left. The media did its job of making a martyr out of you and naming you Nirbhaya, the fearless, but that’s about it. I was stupid to fall into traps of hope they gave us and maybe that’s why it hurts so much. You were made into a political agenda and all those politicians tried to use it to the best of their abilities.
Three years today, and one of the monsters who pulled out your intestines will walk out of custody in a few days’ time. And he’ll be handed over a sum of Rs 10,000 to start over. How we love our boys! Because, well, men will be men and they make mistakes, so what? That doesn’t mean they should be punished! If someone was old enough to rape, it doesn’t necessarily mean he is old enough to be punished! Wait, wasn’t that rape and murder, and ‘rarest of rare’ at the same time? Well, that bastard was two months short of being 18, so he wins. Yes, no questions asked. He gets his money and his life back. He makes his parents proud of giving birth to a boy. And your parents shed a million tears for the things you had to go through, and lead a life remembering and cursing the day, both at the same time.
India has not only failed you, my dear. It has failed all of us who prayed for you, who wanted you to live, who stood holding candles asking for justice and a change in laws. It’s possible to buy justice in this nation, but it’s not possible to let the rapists know that they are not wanted here. We will cajole them, serve them, defend them, until we feel they have been reformed. And reform, they don’t. I can’t believe it is so difficult to understand that. Sigh.
My tears don’t stop every time I think of you, and that’s not just on Dec 16th every year. You’re on my mind at many times. I wish I had known you while you were here. I got to know a little more about you through India’s Daughter and I am really thankful to Leslee Udwin for making the film. Once again, the nation couldn’t stand the fact that she dared to bring out the horrible faces and attitudes of the rapists out in the public. Those who feel they were protecting the (false) dignity of the nation by banning the film, don’t know that they were only protecting the identities of those rapists and the patriarchy entrenched deep. You, on the other hand were a nation wide phenomenon, and is there any really need to protect the dead?
I am sorry, Jyoti. India is no country for strong women like you. You chose a wrong nation to be born in, so technically, it was your fault. If there is reincarnation, be wise and choose a better country this time, a country which can protect you and give you justice. India is not that country because it loves it’s false honor and pride more than it’s real flesh and blood daughters.
May the scars heal and the memories fade.
India’s Another Daughter
Image source: flame by Shuttershock.
A software engineer, a realist, and a cribber by the day. A chef, a writer, and a dreamer, by the night! read more...
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We can’t bombard impressionable young women in the name of enlightened entertainment to feed them the same drivel. At least let us not label misogynist movies as helping the cause of women.
I have watched at least 2 ‘purported’ trailblazing Bollywood movies in the recent past that left me with a feeling that I had taken part in the ice-bucket challenge all over again. This time around, however, without even the satisfaction of having supported a worthy cause.
Both the movies have about a 90% liking rate on IMDB/Rotten Tomatoes. Both are touted to ‘sensitively’ portray the taboo topics that seem to be mostly hidden underneath a layer of banana peels – dangerous to even tread nearby.
Dushyanta clearly remembered everything. But he didn't have any intention to accept a poor woman from a remote hermitage as his wife and her son as theirs.
Dushyanta clearly remembered everything. But he didn’t have any intention to accept a poor woman from a remote hermitage as his wife and her son as theirs.
She sat motionless on the royal bed, her knees drawn up to her chin, staring vacantly outside the palace window.
She was sheathed in exquisite scarlet red silk, shot through with golden threads forming intricate traditional patterns. Chests of gems and jewellery were strewn all over the bed. The maids were fussing over whether a diamond-studded necklace would suit their queen or a gold choker would look better. Another younger maid was arranging her tresses in a coiffeur.
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.
Paromita Bardoloi began her initiative Letter From A Stranger, India, as the exchange of ideas and advice between her friends. But it has become much bigger than that.
In an age of instant messaging and two minutes noodles, writing a letter seems like a thing from another century. We are so constantly flooded with information, wisdom and conversations are taking a backseat.
A letter is an intimate experience that lets the writer go deep down within oneself and the receiver can read it again and again. At the end of the day, for both the writer and the receiver it is a therapeutic experience. Bringing this experience back is the initiative “Letter From A Stranger, India.”