Skip to main content

Help her?




“My face is BURNING”
Never before did she scream that way. Three middle-aged men stood beside her grinning, showing off their yellow teeth between the parted brown lips.
“HELP ME. I don’t want...”
She fainted.

She opened her eyes in the Burn ward. They said it took two weeks of intense care to bring her back to senses.
“Get her a pen and paper”, the officer commanded.
“I can speak. BURN them” She could see no more but in her eyes, fury was explicit.
“We assure you that. Tell us what had happened”, the officer spoke gentle.
“That night, I was asleep in my room when I woke up with...” She coughed.
“...Men talking” She coughed again.
“Rape...Acid...” She breathed heavily.

Her eyes rolled up. She turned pale.

Who were they? Educated illiterates.
How is taking away her face (and life), happiness to them?
I don’t know the answer to this but tell them, beauty is a great source of masturbation and that would have been perpetual. Is that is how we can stop them?
No books, no family could.
Authorities? Hah! I guess I already made you laugh.

Women_Beauties, inside-out. Shame that we ‘plead’ for respect.
How can hatred land into such brutality? The deceased is not the sole sufferer. Lives are connected.

And rape? Acid? ACID?  Who could have had thought of bringing our lab chemicals to such use! Revenge, Hatred, Jealousy_They have brought up astonishing ideas.

Her fault was, those men had a weak, a vulnerable heart. Poor enough, for not being able to endure that vengeance.

Did I tell you she was 13? 








Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Till the blood dries.

  "The blood oozing out from the cut, gave me immense satisfaction."  "But where was the cut?"  "His neck."           I recently read about Nietzsche's thoughts on Morality and how the good and the evil have been reversed. He asks one to revise the existing norms and to live on ones mental instincts rather than following the herd morality. Isn't that a contradiction there?            The individual's mental instincts. Would they be good? Who decides the evil? Where do you cross the line?            When one is raped, why is there pressure on the law by the family? Would indirect foreordained justification calm your blood? No doubt Nietzsche spoke shit about democracy. 'A 16-year-old girl and her 22-year-old boyfriend were arrested for killing the girl’s adopted parents and leaving their bodies in the house to rot in an upmarket neighbourhood in Vadodara.' ...
2 comments
Read more

I was shamelessly staring at him.

I realized I was shamelessly staring at him but I didn't cease. At the gas station, our bus was standing among vehicles which constantly honked horns. The conductor was engaged in a fight, a brutal one they said, which I didn't bother to look at. Soon the bus driver, too, became a part of it.  Half past one, the heat was intense. Cacophony surrounded me.  Abuses to pleads. One spat paan while the fight continued. For the young men it was a recreation, "Let's call the Prime Minister to sort this out", one joked. An elderly man staring at young girls playing. Women fanning themselves with the loose end of their saree and their mother-in-laws frowning at them as their sarees slipped from their heads. A mother grabbing a handful of chips from the packet her daughter was holding, chewing, cursing the weather, and the fighting men, as few bits fell off her mouth. An unmarried couple, taking all the advantage of the half-empty bus. A lady, post staring me from he...
13 comments
Read more

I looked Pretty.

She was playing with his shirt buttons. In the metro, they stood face to face. Though, her head swung down often as she talked and smiled and blushed. The metro was crowded. But for her, it was just him. You could tell it from her eyes. You could see her eyes twinkling as she looked at him. She was beautiful, wore a salwar-kameez, hair tightly tied up. Her fingers brushing his’. In between, she slid two of her fingers in his breast pocket and giggled. She had a baby laughter, pleasant to my ears. She seemed so much in love, so content. Her man. Where was he? Yes, in front of her. Where were his eyes? Where were his eyes? I regret looking pretty that day.
4 comments
Read more