For
the hundredth time
In
three short months
He
raised his fists
It
was a count –
More
than one – everyday
Of
their marriage
She
snapped
Turned
against him
Looked
at his raised hand
Challenged
him with
Nothing
but her stare
Finally
it was the look
That
silenced him
She
had had enough
Her
celebration for
Hundred
days of marriage
Was
freedom;
From
him and them!
But
as she turned away
Insecurity
got her
What
would her parents say?
Would
they welcome her back?
Or
worse – send her back?
For
the hundredth time
In
one day
She
prayed for herself
And
her two girls
They
were in the battle
Called
school – but
The
path to it was not clear
It
was filled with beasts
Treacherous
beasts
In
human cloaks
Let
them come home
She
chanted – as
My
daughters; Whole
And
unscathed – for
It
was a battle
To
be fought everyday
By
every woman
A
soldier in her own right!
For
the hundredth time
He
wondered why
That
he was allowed
To
come back late
While
his sister was not
It
was a matter of
Just
five minutes
But
the delay
Caused
them worry
He
had never known
Why
there was the
Inherent
fear – for
He
had never
Assaulted
a woman
He
had only thought
They
were objects
Of
beauty; of grace
To
enter into the
Institution
of marriage
And
serve men faithfully
Find
reasons to keep their
Roving
eyes grounded!
GIVE
their fickle mind
No
reasons to stray, to cheat!
As
he ogled at the other girls
On
the road – without realising
They
were someone’s sisters too
He
was a proud man
Who
did not abuse
He
had learned
To
only objectify
From
his father
And
his mother
But
he realised
Twenty
years later
When
he had a daughter –
Men
are beasts - he said
His
wife snorted
Hypocrisy
at its worst!
For
the hundredth time
In
that evening
He
breathed out loud
His
daughter was back
After
one more day
Every
day the college
Declared
a holiday
She
had the curfew
Don’t
go out after dark
He
warned ominously
The
news item was new
Affected
him more than
The
piece last time
It
said
It
was closer to home
The
brutal incident
Occurred
just five blocks away
And
the probability
Was
high they said
Of
it occurring once again
In
the same area,
By
the same men
They
were still free, unscathed
Till
then he had never realised
That
brutal men – beasts
Could
touch his daughter
He
was a citizen of
A
free country – but
His
daughter was not!
She
had the voter’s card
She
had the license
To
everything except freedom!
For
the hundredth time
She
looked at her watch
The
street loomed closer
That
treacherous strip of no light
Vagabonds,
scum, loafers
Sitting
idle ogling and whistling
But
every one of them
Capable
of making her
Not
her father’s daughter
But
her father always said
No
matter what – you’re mine
The
only man in town
To
have said so – for
She
had heard others say
It
is a shame
To
have been abused
It
made you
‘Not
their daughter anymore’
They
said – the cure was
Marriage
– Shackles to you
Not
medical science.
In
case you got the ‘proof’
It
was not their fault
The
men who had done it
It
was your fault
That
you had to cross
The
road to reach your home!
Little
did they realise
You
crossed it always
Looking
at your porch light
Haven
of safety – though
People
inside rarely spoke
Of
the evils you had to face!
But
you smile at yourself
These
men here – brave bulldogs
When
facing single cats
Are
no match to the safety
And
lights of your home
They
operate only in the dark
And
mostly many to one!
For
the hundredth time
That
day
She
kept the dress
She
had lovingly taken
Back
into the rack
Because
the hemline
Was
indecently short
The
sleeve was little
It
might provoke
The
men all over the city
Much
like the colour red
Provokes
a bull
But
bulls had only five senses
She
said – not six
But
reality was far different
Bulls
had five senses
At least
With
a sigh – she kept back
The
dress she always wanted
She
should have worn it
Before
marriage
It
was not only the
Other
men – it was
Her
own husband - he
Wanted
her to wear it
Only
inside the house
No
one else should see
The
lower neckline
And
the higher hemline
She
thought of calling him
To
request it as a
Wedding
anniversary present
But
decided otherwise
Why
spend on it
When
you can’t use it?
She
waited for the day
She
could wear clothes
Without
being judged
Walk
on the streets
Without
being looked at
Because
every women knew
Being
looked at is not
A
celebration of beauty
It
was a sign of discomfort
It
made you squirm
Because
the look lingered
And
travelled
From
head to toe
It
had become a routine
To
cover your form
Or
let it become
An
exhibit for eyes
-
A disgruntled female
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