India’s Daughter: A Voice

Everybody is aware of the December 16, 2012 Delhi gang rape, forever marked as the Black Day in Indian history.

A girl is far more responsible for rape than a boy.

It is what Mukesh Singh, one of the main accused said in the BBC Documentary, ‘India’s Daughter’. What is her crime Mukesh? That she was out alone in the city at night? That she went to a movie with an unknown stranger? Well, then it’s a pity she didn’t have defending lawyer AP Singh, a well educated man, for a father. Because he’d have taught her the correct lesson by putting petrol on her and setting her alight in front of the entire family. I think that he should have done that to Jyoti’s pyre because, come on, going on a date with a stranger equates engaging in premarital activities.

Also, I thank heaven that Jyoti died, because as a woman, we have no place in the society according to the second defending lawyer ML Sharma.  Our culture is the best. In our culture there is no place for a woman. What about your mother, Mr. Sharma? Wasn’t she the one expelled you out of her vagina? Probably the reason you have that stupid mouth? She must be really ashamed of you. As for you Mukesh Singh, can you exactly tell me what Jyoti had done that day? Had she provoked you in some way of talked badly to you or did she step into hell the minute she entered your bus? The bus that you now allegedly drove. It’s not as if you were pulled into the news because you drove the bus. I don’t think that you’d have missed the chance of teaching her a lesson. But then, you didn’t expect people to create a mountain of a molehill. After all, it’s just a rape. They happen every day. So what if you pulled her entrails? So what if you raped her? You were teaching her a lesson only. She was a bad girl. She had to bear the consequences of her crime.

The thinking of these people disgusts me. I didn’t know that being a woman in India means I immediately put sex in his eyes. A man sees his mother, his sister, his friends, he is horny. What are women? Walking porn? Aren’t we human beings? Or are we just objects for men to put right? To have their way? To do what a man wants, to fulfill his needs?

Pity those who see women as a commodity. Praise those who see women as people who can make a difference in society.

I have the answer the question Jyoti’s father asked. What is the meaning of a woman? To think in patriarchal terms because that’s what people understand, a woman is a human being who doesn’t have a penis. But she has equal rights as a man. No man has any right to teach any woman any lesson. She’s the only one who has monopoly on her body. She’s a birth giver, the mother of the planet, of all human beings. She the backbone of the society. Jyoti died but what has come from her death? The juvenile comes out in December. The rest, instead of being bludgeoned to death have been kept alive for two years now, that too by a fast track court? Besides, what has the government done to increase the safety of millions of women like her? The documentary, that was a good chance identify the problem has been banned. Leslee Udwin had to leave India, because she gave the hope of a better future by presenting facts.

The question I ask is: Does this darkness have a name? This cruelty, this hatred, how did it find us? Did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and embrace it? What happened to us that we now send our children into the world like we send young men to war, hoping for their safe return, but knowing that some would be lost along the way. How did people become monsters? That they show no remorse, no regret at what they did. Blaming her innocent soul for this. They’re not sorry. But the world is sorry for them. The devils they’ve become. And we hope they die.

I am truly ashamed of the country I live in today, along with thousands of others. And that’s sad.

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A Day Of A Lawyer’s Life

This is a poem that I’d written some time ago, but wasn’t sure of posting it. Since I’ve nothing new, so here it it. Constructive criticism appreciated.

Today the trin-trin of the phone,
And my alarm’s baritone,
Woke me from my deepest slumber,
I woke up confused and had never been dumber.
“Ten minutes to go for the hearing”, the message had said.
I put on my jeans and buttered my bread,
I washed my face with shampoo, not soap,
“The judge may be late,” was all I could hope.
The phone screamed once again,
Not my client, I hoped in vain.
For across the hall, her voice did howl,
“You’d better be here,” was all she growled.
I took my keys and ran to the car,
Which, unfortunately, was a little bit too far.
When a voice inside told me not to rush,
I said to it, “Shut up dude, hush!”
I started my car and pressed on it.
It lurched forward like and athlete-fit.
I raced my way across the town,
The client was at the gate, her face a frown.
“Once again?” she questioned and hurried ahead,
“Was working last night, went late to bed.”
“Judge Jury is not easy to please.”
“Jenny, relax and trust me and be at ease.”
I reached the court just in time,
To see the judge enter behind.
All rose and greeted and sat down again,
She banged her desk, “Let the court begin.”
I cleared my throat, stood up and said,
“My Lord! My client here says she is fed,
Of this man, here ahead of us,
None other than her husband, Mr. Bathidas.
She says she wants to end this,
This marriage, the little joke of his.”
“Objection, my lord!” said Bathidas’ side,
So for hours together, I was grilled and fried.
Four hours later, I lost the case,
I’d lost my client and shamed my face.
I went to the office and rested my head,
The bell buzzed, and to the phone I said,
“Who’s there?” Oh Lord! Not another client.
“It’s Mr. Weatherly, your client.”
I banged my head, “Just a second.”
I covered my desk, with books without ends.
And loosened my tie and ruffled my hair,
And dropped some papers here and there.
“Enter,” I said in a calm voice.
He said, “I give up the case, it is my choice.”
“What? Why? What about the fee?”
“I am sorry, after today, you won’t get any.
Your performance at the court was despicable,
I don’t want an attorney, so ill-able.”
He stood and shook my hand and left.
A fear into my mind slowly crept.
What if everyone does the same?
Not everyone, I said, you stupid insane.
The friend stood on the cabin door,
“You lost the case and are sour.
But it is already five and now,
Lets grab a beer, no when, where or how.”
He ordered me to get up and clear,
And asked me to put aside my fear.
I left my cloak and the office table,
I cleared up and forgot my label.
With Ted I went up to the bar,
And drank vodka, and beer and sidecar.
At half past twelve, I left the place.
The consequences, tomorrow, I’d have to face.
My next hearing is not till afternoon, at four.
Till then, I’d sleep sound and snore.
Just at the thought, the phone buzzed once more,
“It’s a night hearing, at ten past four.
I know it’s stupid and can’t be helped.
You better come prepared, or else you’d be sacked.”
I sighed and drove the car again,
And prepared myself for an all-nighter (insane!).
And this is a day in a bachelor lawyer’s life,
A day without children, nor friends, nor wife.