Island of Doomed Women

Object of pleasure, an article meant to give us aesthetic joy, a sponge to soak in the animal instinct of men, a political weapon when IT is used in the improper way, a doll in our hands whom we dress up as we want it to be dressed, a trophy that we like to keep and show off in our kitchen and drawing room but not to the outside world is the modern definition of an Indian women.

We forgot that they could be our mother, grandmother, daughter, sister, our wife, our friend most importantly a living organism. Now they are merely reduced to a definition. An Indian woman is a symbol of helplessness crying out loud for freedom. Freedom from the jail called kitchen, freedom from a society that treat them like inanimate object. When a beautiful parrot escapes from the cage and tries to soar high up in the sky it is attacked by uncountable ugly and insecure crows and killed. The parrot is every Indian who dares to think of a life beyond kitchen, the cage is the culture and the so called social norms and I don’t think I need to illustrate on the crows.

A girl returning from school is raped; student molested by teachers, a girl returning home is raped and killed, countless housewives getting beaten up by their husband. That is not the saddest part, the saddest is that when they cry for help we try and commercialize their pain, agony, and suffering to our benefit. Girl is raped, ruling party tries to find a way to blame it on the opposition or make the issue disappear to consolidate their position, and opposition party uses it as an weapon to come back to power, the intellectual people of our society tries to come into the limelight and buy some name at the expense of someone’s lost dignity. No one cares about the person who was raped, the best we do is throw some money at her face as state grant an expect her to buy her dignity back. But the monetary part comes only if the case gets some media attention, else the girl is either raped again this time with the aid of the police, who either act as a silent observer or join the grotesque party, or killed.

I spent my Saturday nights with my friend at some club getting drunk; I am a boy hence our Indian society will call me a cool dude. A girl going to a club gets stamped as a tainted woman and if she drinks with her friends, especially if the friend is of the opposite sex then she is a prostitute according to the RULE BOOK OF INDIAN CULTURE. According to a female minister of the state of West Bengal, raping a prostitute is not a crime.

Our society says that girls must wear clothes that cover their body from head to toe. But does it mention anywhere that the girl should be raped if she is not dressed according to the rule book? We love to ogle at girls in a mini skirt or in a little black dress but if that girl becomes our girlfriend or wife we order them to dress up according to the rule book. We don’t allow women to work because we are insecure of losing our trophy or maybe end up suffering from inferiority complex.

Justice, the word has very little meaning in our country. In India there is only one golden rule, if you have gold you rule. There are several hundred cases where innocent victims are rotting in the prison as the hearing of their case did not bare any fruit, while those with power and position consider committing crime as their birth right. The rape victims get out of the prison only to hunt down their next prey. A girl was raped and justice is not served now, they say justice will be done. My question to them is when? Tomorrow? Within a week? A month? Never?

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