Dead

So she’s dead. Yes, she was a fighter; yes, she was brave; yes, she wanted the culprits to be caught and punished; yes, she wanted to live. But she didn’t. She was beaten, raped and stripped, and then she died a painful death. Why, you ask? Because she had the misfortune of being born a girl. She was 23 years old. A good bit younger than I am. She was studying to become a doctor, a doctor like the ones who tried to save her life in vain. Call her a brave fighter; say that her death will not be in vain; announce that this incident has awakened our nation—but the truth is that this 23-year-old girl went for a movie and died.

And what awakening are we speaking of? Have men stopped raping women since this incident? Have they stopped leering at or pinching or molesting girls since this particular heinous crime was reported? No, far from it. Perhaps they are being reported more often now. Perhaps this has given more men across our country ideas on how to show their power over women. Will this bring about a change? Will this make my country a safer place? Hah!

Just this morning, as I was walking through a crowd to get to work, a man took advantage of that crowd to keep bumping his hand into my ass. He only stopped and walked away when I gave him the look of death. Safer, you say?

Today, I am ashamed to be an Indian. For many years in my life, I always said that I never want to leave India, though my family has travelled and lived far and wide. But I wanted to be in my own country, be home. I loved my passport that proudly showed that I’m an Indian citizen. Today, I want to run away from this country, I want to move away, take everyone I love with me and never look back.

I don’t trust that there will be change. I don’t trust that the laws will be made more stringent; I don’t trust that the judicial system will indeed quicken its pace; I definitely don’t trust that the mindset and value systems of men and women across the country will change. I no longer trust my country. I no longer feel safe in my own home, in my own city. I no longer have the faith.

Call me pessimistic, call me a coward, call me what you like. But this is the truth. This is my truth. The truth that this girl is dead, and that her family and loved ones will have to live with it. The truth that the friend who was with her that night will have to live with this terrifying incident. The truth that every single day, I still get letched at, and feel scared to go home alone or stay alone in my own home. The truth that sometimes, I wish I was not born a daughter. The truth that I am completely and utterly helpless. The death of this girl, my friends, is my truth. 

Rape punishment? Oh puh-leez!

What is the big deal about this Delhi gang rape? I mean, it’s just one more girl who has been assaulted, physically and emotionally. Look around, these things are happening in our country ALL THE TIME. We will protest, be angry in our statuses and blogs for a few days, the news channels will piss us off a little more, sympathy will be garnered for a week, and then life will go back to normal.

The news channels, as they already are, will go back to reporting on far more important things, such as the Gujarat elections. We will go back to our far more important lives, which includes planning our Christmas and New Year’s parties. Will we not go out for a drink this evening because of this, and the other innumerable incidents of a similar nature? Nope. We may discuss the issue and tsk at it for a while, before quickly moving on to far more pressing personal issues—boyfriend problems (I didn’t say girlfriends because boys rarely discuss their love-life problems) and who’s the bitch at work.

We will wake up the next morning and go back to work and do what we do every day, and soon, this 23-year-old medical student will be long forgotten. Just like Pallavi Puryakayshta has been along with the various girls in Haryana, who get brutally raped, humiliated and killed every day. They’re too far off—some random women the media is creating hype about. I mean, why would any of this bother me. More importantly, why would any of this bother the democratic government that we voted into power? Oh puh-leez! Be realistic.

I have better things to do than sign petitions and light candles for some girl who is dying a slow, painful death in a hospital in Delhi. Besides, the doctor said she has an indomitable spirit. I mean that’s good enough, right? She and her broken, shredded body and soul will figure it out. Just like the other rape victims, dead or alive, and their families, magically figured it all out—obviously, since we haven’t heard about them at all anymore.

Please let’s not waste our energy and space on our facebook walls to show the world just how much we care. We would rather post photos of our winter vacations. In fact, soon I’ll be blogging about my trip to Goa.

Let’s just continue with our lives, as everyone does, and ladies, take the advice of our leaders and try not to get raped ok? Because it is your fault for dressing provocatively; being out late; mixing with men too freely, etc. So pull up your socks, till your neck, preferably.

As long as it isn’t me, or someone I love getting raped, I’ll just stop at clucking and writing a bbm status about how justice has died in this country we live in. And then will change it quickly to tell mah frenz where I’m drinking tonight.

All this continues and will continue while this girl—a 23-year-old medical student(younger than I am)—suffers silently in pain and tears in one corner of Delhi. Slowly she will suffer till she will have no breath left in her. She will die and someone else will get raped and killed, and life will just go on and on. 

December blues

Sigh. Yes that’s how I’m feeling for the last few days so I will start this blog post on this melancholic note. Sigh.

It’s December again, which is usually my favourite month of the year (apart from my birthday month , of course; except that my birthday is on the first day of the birthday month, so it’s over as soon as it starts, you know?). Every December, I start counting down to when I will be heading home, to Calcutta, to party with my childhood peeps. No such countdown this year. My feet seem to be rooted firmly to the ground. In Bombay. Sigh.

Well to be fair, I am going home for mere yaar ki shaadi in January, which is why I can’t go now. But my heart is set, right now, on Goa. I *really* want to go to Goa for Christmas. Firstly, I need to get away from Bombay for a bit and away from my regular routine, and I want to reconnect with lots of things in Goa. So Goa is on my mind.

It’s been a confusing time. Not so much for me, per se, but because some of my closest friends are going through some trouble, and I feel... like I’m a part of it too. I mean that’s natural right? If you’re best friend is going through a heartbreak or family stress, you are there for him/her and hence are a part of it. Actually, my bestie has also been a part of my recent confusion lately, and I absolutely love her for that. She’s one of the few people in my life (and in anyone’s life she is in) who doesn’t think twice before going out of her way to do something for someone she loves. And she’s proved this over and over again. The beauty of what she does is that, to her and in her mind, she’s not doing anything out of the ordinary at all! If she loves you, this is the only language she gets. And I love her for that.

I am at a stage in my current ‘confusion’, where I am and want to be happy, but something is holding me back. A fear of something, I suppose. Recently I’ve been accused of being more pessimistic than usual, and although my initial reaction was to be on the defensive, I realised later that that indeed, is true.

Another friend, who happens to be a pillar to me, explained it to me like this. My pessimism is a personality trait which helps me (apparently) in my career, since nothing pleases me and I always want more; but it harms my personal relationships because often I don’t give them a chance. My mouth was open as I listened to her because honestly, it made perfect sense.

Right now, I feel stagnant again, and I feel the tickle beneath my feet to do something to get rid of this stagnancy. Go somewhere and get inspired. I feel most uninspired right now, partly because my work, though I love it, can be unfulfilling. I even started working on my book—yes, the one I’ve been talking about for a few years now—and stopped again. Lack of time, inspiration, ideas and creativity. Sigh again.

The one pretty good thing is that my new place has worked out pretty well. I love the apartment. After the cute, cosy but matchbox-ish apartment I used to live in, the big windows and breezy nature of this one makes me happy; very happy. All my friends have liked it, certain someone has liked it and most importantly, the mothership liked it. She is NOT easy to please.

It’s December and I want to party, relax, let my hair down. I miss those days when all of us would coordinate all year round and be heading back to Cal at the same time. Squeals of laughter and giggles would fill all our houses, and many times, we would have to keep each other warm since our skimpy clothes wouldn’t do it. I feel far away from that time, in more ways than one. Sigh.

I hope my December gets better and more exciting, and in case I can’t write again—Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year! Please please have a super awesome December; that’s the least the month deserves—especially if the world does end this year!