The Delhi gang rape victim died today after days of
a brave but futile struggle.
How do I feel? Angry yes, sad yes, pained yes. I
want to react, do something, anything which might express my agony and
frustration, relieve me of a great emotional burden that I feel on my chest.
Anything, absolutely anything will do…
Then I see this four line news item on yesterday’s
newspaper about another gang rape and suicide of a minor girl in Patiala. What
do I feel? Nothing. Angry no, sad no, pained maybe.
And then it dawns on me…
- It is not the event that impacts me but the ‘story’ around the event. All I want is a good story, told well. Even if it is a horror story... (and there are a lot of expert story mongers on a variety of news channels who are more than keen to do my bidding)
- Being so engrossed in the story (so as to even forget the event as soon as the story dies) I can only react to stories but can’t really act meaningfully to influence, shape or prevent events.
- I am someone who is too bloody engrossed in the game of whodunit, so much so that I have forgotten to ask ‘what went wrong - what goes wrong’. In other words, I can only blame but can't take responsibility.
- I would rather debate than resolve anything. I refuse to see the futility of debates. If debates could resolve anything then why so much disenchantment with the parliament? Debate is all that the 500 odd johnnies do there! ... Debate is a great spectacle. It gives me a sense of self-importance and intellectual titillation. It makes me feel that I have played my part without actually having to do anything... I love debates.
- My fears make me react (something like this can happen to me). I have no real courage to act. No courage to respect and protect (neither women nor anyone)… Else
- Wouldn’t I stop sex determination tests and female foeticides / infanticides in my own house
- Wouldn’t I stop rationalizing or sympathizing with khap mentality
- Wouldn’t I say no to dowry, covert or overt
- Wouldn’t I ensure that my daughter gets as much food, education and affection in my house as my son gets
- Wouldn’t I ensure that my father didn’t abuse my mother whatever the provocation
- Wouldn’t I, when schools make mandatory for girls to wear salwar suits instead of skirts (in the name of our tradition), insist that boys should be made to wear kurta pyjamas by the same logic
- Etc. etc. etc.
- In all of the above, I can be a boy or a girl, a man or a woman. In fact I am none. I am a bloody eunuch. Impotent. Imbecile.
- I have been plotting these rapes for as long as I can remember. Years, decades, ages. I am the one who write the script, set the stage, get the actors and pull the curtains… And I am the one who watches – in agony, in horror or in sadistic pleasure.
- I will never be caught, tried, convicted and punished.
- But I will always be haunted and hounded by fears which will lead to and find sustenance in my reactions and inactions.
- And sometime, maybe, sooner than later, I will get raped... Karma... Justice... Misfortune... Who knows? ... A self fulfilling prophesy.
I am deeply ashamed. I am sorry. Probably I deserve
the state I am in. Help me God!
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