Dear Father,
Tomorrow is my 2nd birthday and I know you and Mother are planning a big party (I have seen the stack of invitation cards you left on the table, you see). I know that I am the pride of your heart and that you have big plans for my future (I hear you and Mother talk about it all the time). Just like the parents I had earlier.
They say one does not remember anything about past lives, but I do. Especially the last few years of my last life. I don’t remember them the way people do on that TV show that you and Mother watch. I remember them when I am fully awake, doing everyday things, like eating, like playing with you.
You see in my last life my name was Jyoti. Off course, by the time I died people had started calling me Nirbhaya. I know it means the fearless one. But I know I was very scared when I died. You see, I was afraid for the millions of girls I was leaving behind as food for the hungry vultures that preyed on city streets in India. I was afraid for my parents, who had worked so hard to see me educated; I knew they would never be able to pick up the frayed strands of life and continue with it after what happened to me. I was afraid for my friend, who I knew would go through hell, describing the last evening we spent as a happy couple. Most of all I was scared about being re-born as a girl again in the same city.
You see, on that ill-fated evening, I was tortured to death. Most people called it rape. But the definition of rape is so trivialized, so I call it torture, the worst form of torture. What happened to me could happen to anyone. I was just more vulnerable because I was a girl.
People lit candles, they marched, called out slogans…all in my name. Most of them did not know the names of the people who tortured me. You see, I was the victim and everyone knows the victim. They did not realize that what happened to me could have happened to anyone, yes “anyone” – male or female. The iron rods that were used to assault me could have been used to bash a man’s head to pulp as well. It could have been a man who was trapped in the bus, who would most likely be robbed and killed. My torturers were not humans; they had tortured others in the past. Like I said, I was more vulnerable because I was a girl.
I see you discussing other similar incidents, and I know my fear was not misplaced. I know when I grow up I have to go back into that same world, as a girl again. I know not much has changed in the past two years. The vultures are still out there. I know the world is still not safe…for anyone.
Father, I know you and Mother love me very much. But don’t love me so much that you can’t cope if something happens to me. You see, I can’t see my parents in agony again.
With love,
Your darling daughter.
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Beautifully expressed! Brought tears to my eyes! No, there is no change – inhuman torturers are still rampant.
Thank you Kiran. We humans have an unending capacity to cope. I remember reading something about coping and adapting by @tanushree and had found it to be so true. One ends up feeling that sometimes, maybe, jungle law might just be the best