From Khairlanji to Kopardi
Via Dilli Mumbai and any other
Desolate spot in a town or village.
Only the names of the places change.
Lines from a Marathi poem written by Neeraja. Yes, only the names of the places change – it is Delhi, then Unnao, Hyderabad, Unnao again and so on and on. Each time, the same story of a woman’s rape unfolds before our eyes. A story of bestial cruelty and police indifference. A story which changes when the media takes over, and suddenly it is a big story. There are angry protests, processions, politicians get into the scene, make statements, some foolish, some insensitive and many banal. They express their outrage, promise that the offenders will be punished. Finally the furore dies down. And nothing has changed. Except for the mourning grieving family. Except for the fear that stalks women when they are on lonely dark streets, a fear that can become a constant companion if allowed to take control.
“Rape,” says Susan Brownmiller in her book, Against our Will, “is a conscious process of intimidation by which all men keep all women in a state of fear.”
And so the constant reminders: Come straight home after school, college, work. Don’t go out after dark. Don’t go to lonely places.
Does that...
from Scroll.in https://ift.tt/35a0p9F
No comments:
Post a Comment