I was a kid, probably in my kindergartens when my dad bought me my first battery-operated doll. I don’t know if I was ever into dolls that much but somehow papa always gifted me a barbie on my every birthday, even when i was a teenager. It was kind of a tradition back then. A barbie from every nook of the world.
I just saw that little dollie lying in my closet and I picked it up. To my surprise, the moment I picked her, I could feel the touch of my father. The affection , the care, the love he always had for me and the touch! Yes, that touch lingered with me for a little while and I was taken down the memory lane.
My doll is bit withered with time now. Rusted batteries, old dirty clothes, lost charm yet there is something about it that has always attracted me. I guess it’s the smile. I can completely resonate with her. With every passing time, i am losing my inner child, my innocence, my charm and a bit of myself to s blackhole. But there’s always a smile that I wear to make myself believe that everything is going to be alright.
But, the truth is that there’s a gnawing hollowness in my heart, that I know i’ll have to learn how to live with. The emptiness around me and within me eats me from inside but that’s exactly when one fights against all odds and bounce back with full thrust. Because even with all the emptiness, I know you’re always there to protect your little girl. Nothing anyone said matter, no problem was big enough, everyday was full of laughter when you were around. We miss you papa. I know you’re not here anymore. But you live in me, in every bit of the house, every thing you ever touched, your clothes that still smell of you, your wrist watch that still hold close. Every morning I wish and pray that both your kids make you proud and take your name to a new high. You shall always live in our hearts forever.
I love you papa
“Mumma, I am wearing that favourite red saree of yours. But these golden bangles don’t match up with my dress. I am looking like a princess, exactly like papa used to describe when I was a kid and wore your makeup and saree. How curious I was then to become a bride. Please tell papa to be strong and not cry behind those pillars. The smell of those flowers I kept in the vase the other day is still fresh in my room. Mumma, why are you crying looking at my pictures? I swear It didn’t hurt much. The cut was deep and initially it pained a lot but then I couldn’t feel anything. My hand was all numb. Sleep was taking over the pain I had. I was loosing my sight. Maybe because of the watery eyes but there was a deep darkness surrounded all around me. I could not see or feel anything. No, I wasn’t scared of the darkness anymore. It was like I was sleeping in your lap and nothing could hurt me now.
This pain was a lot less than what I felt when he touched me. It was nothing in comparison to the pain he gave when he tore my blouse and slapped me. I was shouting and crying for help but nobody listened. I tried to run but that devil pulled me and forced himself all over me. When he was done, he didn’t even bothered to put a piece of cloth over me. I was lying there for hours -naked and all bruised. But now mumma, I am free, free from all the pain and torture. I am going mumma. I told you and all you asked me to stay quite. Now don’t cry please. I love you and papa but I couldn’t live with that pain anymore. I will miss you mom. Bye”
This is the story of every girl who has been a victim of rape. When she tries to raise her voice she is made to sit down quietly. Even if she manages to gather some courage and stand against the cruel act, she is treated with a disgust and all the blame is forced upon her. Why? Just because she is a girl? Women are even scared to share such incidents with their friends and family because they know they will be blamed and their family won’t support her.
In the end the girl is left with no choice but suicide. This is not done. Suicide shall not be the only way to get free from all sorrows and pain. Why victim has to suffer and the rapist run free? Girls are not weak. They are strong, stronger than any men. If not physically then emotionally. You are not any less independent. So stand for yourself. Stand for the injustice done to you. Tell your parents. File a report. You raise one voice and there will definitely be 10 other voices to join you. Remember you are not alone! the person in the mirror is always with you. How are you going to face that person? So be strong enough and fight for your right.
Girls don’t want to be worshipped as goddess, keep that for holy cows. Atleast treat us equal. At least stop dominating us. Atleast stop raping us! The problem is not with the girls , or their short dress or them being drunk. The real problem is in the eye of the beholder. Let’s just respect women becaus she is one of the most amazing creation. You don’t have to make her you sister , mother or wife to respect her. Just respect her no matter what.
A drunk girl should not be treated as an opportunity but a responsibility! Her short clothes don’t give you invitation for raping her or even commenting her. She has more of male friends, that doesn’t make her a slut. She is as normal as you are. Just don’t treat her like a sex toy. She is a human too. Love her. Respect her