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Her rapist stood in her brother’s, cousin’s, uncle’s or father’s skin. Tired or angry, she couldn’t refrain from her husband’s advances, for they are meant to be given in.
Trigger Warning: mention of rape, child abuse, incest, trauma.
Ten years of imprisonment,
a petty sum for a fine!
Death sentences in some “special cases”,
the rest are all treated the same in a line.
Proofs and witnesses are bought with coins that shine.
The victim girl remains with none
who will call her: “mine”.
You called it justice!
And considered it right.
But what about the crime of denial of rights?
How could that rape be justified?
In the court of law, she is pried
with the questions of her trauma, out loud.
Once she was raped in seclusion,
now endlessly robe-robbed in the crowd.
Her match now will never be found;
although her criminal will wear the groom’s gown.
Disrobed for eternity, she should wear the shroud.
“Boys are innocent and naive.
Because they are mistaken, we cannot cut off their life”
Her right to be honoured was denied.
Yet was that rape justified!
She was clad in a dress
that flaunted her curves.
It wasn’t your upbringing’s fault,
it gave a boost to your nerves.
You raped her because it eased out your nerves.
It was her fault, she couldn’t hide
her nature-bestowed curves.
“This fault of hers invited the rapist to her side.
Her rape for dressing according to the vogue, serves her right”.
The right to feel beautiful, confident and comfortable is denied.
And yet was that rape justified!
Intelligent and confident is what she was.
Her skills put her on the professional ladder to rise.
Her continuing progress thus became
the cataract of your eyes.
You raped her to prevent her dreams from being actualized.
The only way you could bring her down
went up through her thighs.
“In a man’s world, she dared to stride.
Being the weaker sex, how could she put up the fight”?
Her right to progress was denied.
She was a soft, little cherub; delicate as a bud.
Her tiny pair of hands, hardly two springs old
lie squashed on the ground, drowned in her own blood.
You raped her because your sick mind was beyond any hold.
She had no curves, she was controlled.
She couldn’t even understand what was told.
She wasn’t capable of producing any urge that you couldn’t withhold.
“Don’t cry over her, it’s better she died.
A girl-born is always a stake to family’s pride”.
Her right to live was denied.
She was beauty; she was brains.
Her voice was sweet and her disposition the same.
She was the product of her parents’ pain.
She was every man’s marital aim.
But she was the one beyond your claim.
You raped her to possess her
by subjecting her to public defame.
“Waiting for the right one, led to her being victimised.
Had she been wedded away, she would have escaped the plight.”
Her right to belong to herself was denied.
“You should call the rapist your kin
to prevent his organ from going in.”
But what should be done when the kin’s
well-known hands have committed the sin.
Her rapist stood in her brother’s, cousin’s, uncle’s or father’s skin.
Tired or angry, she couldn’t refrain
from her husband’s advances, for they are meant to be given in.
“Family is an institution, sanctified.
Don’t blacken the family’s name that is bright.”
Right to trust and object, both are being denied.
And yet is that rape justified.
Independent ways and free will; beauty and life
with lots of skill, Youth did her bestow.
Soaring in its fragrant flight,
she was being coloured in her beloved’s hue.
But you thought if she can take one, she could take another few.
To you, she was no more than a whore;
her fault being that she was that night with her beau.
“She had a relationship with a boy, thus she was already unpurified.
If my daughter did so, I would have strangled her tight.”
Though the right to sexual freedom was denied,
yet was that rape justified!
A mutilated body was found on the street’s side:
a sight which even hungry hounds disliked.
Gang rape done to her was identified.
Her crime was being alone at night.
Assaulted by two while she cried;
Another two preyed when her body stopped to try;
And as she bled her last, she was stormed by another Hyde.
“A good girl knows to be with the light.
Only a slut sneaks out in the night.”
Her right over her body was denied.
Shock stilled eyes with all dreams drained.
Doctors used anaesthetizers but all in vain.
Her lips quivered, but she couldn’t explain.
She had scars far more than just inhumane.
Constant bleeding body; continuous writhing in pain;
She got nightmares from her real-life
that was driving her insane.
You, too, had wept; you too have cried;
Had your own sister or daughter in their place lied?
All their human rights were being denied.
You could not have called it: “justified”.
Recommended read:
This poem is a part of the 2015 anthology entitled An Address to Indian Patriarchy by Nishtha Mishra.
Image source: CanvaPro
Dr. Nishtha Mishra is an internationally published author. She is a Doctorate in English Literature from one of the reputed Central Universities. She has been an all round topper and has 5 gold medals to read more...
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