I haven’t yet tried my hands on fiction. I read Disgrace in my MA previous and I felt like writing something… here it is…
Touch…touch is something which makes me feel aware of presence. Touch me and I will tell you your name. Don’t show me your face, only touch me. So intense is my reaction towards touch. This sense of touch has made me what I am. If it wouldn’t have been touch, how could I have saved myself from the world so harsh around me? No wonder I would have been ruined by men of different ages in different times and at different places.
His touch made me hate him. His hands on my shoulder made me slap him hard on his face. The touch, itself was so humiliating as if his fingers gripping my shoulder raped every vein in me. This repulsion was the harbinger of my doom!
Life passes by me as if I’m a lifeless dry leaf lying on pavement unnoticed and unfelt for. Why I am here in first place. What’s that made me lifeless…a touch!
My body was so fragile, now stony; so luscious, now terrible; and smooth, now coarse…and I hate it!
I see dark circles moving round and round in front of my eyes, over my head. As if some dark puddle of mud is whirling and then a lot of commotion and a drop here and a drop there…everything calms down leaving me parched dry!
A finger dipped here, thumb probed there. How to resist my own touch? I hated when touched, when pinned to earth. I hated it immense but failed to resist. My body reacts to touch. It stiffened yet it allowed, gave passage. Something within me died and body tired out after struggle against his will. It played with the touch and its variations on all the contours. My eyes wept dry tears, kohl smearing the cheeks and yet marauded me as if a lifeless corpse is laid but warm not cold. I’m warm even when it freezes. Why? Why I couldn’t say no? He had his way and I lay there lifeless letting him beat the hell out of me. Twist, jerk, flick, thump, slurp…I felt nothing except the wetness so hideous over my skin. Something within me kept dying since then.
Scene from Disgrace…that’s would I could recall. Neither I know who took me nor do I have inclination to know.
I loved myself a lot and now…. I hate to touch and being touched
This can be any girl!
Rapes, inscribes his masculinity, rendering her as a lifeless stone on which now world will dart a story…
Many girls in Indian household do gets victim of such instances when an older cousin or some distant relative takes advantage of trust invested. Women have no class, uncategorized as they are… Isn’t it? It’s so easy to give your views on rape, be judgmental, and show compassion or ridicule. But, being a girl I feel it’s really difficult to face the victim of rape.
Over the past few years many rape cases have been reported in the capital city Delhi. Not even single effective measures have been taken against these cases. Either the rapist got bail owing to his big contacts or lifetime imprisonment is the only punishment. There should be capital punishment for rapists. They should be tied with a pole and stoned to death
The most pathetic news ever I heard in rape cases is of a 3 year old girl being raped by her own father, grandfather, and uncle. Where the hell humanity has gone? What’s happening around?
I personally feel that man who force woman (irrespective of her age) in a sexual act rapes her. Body, yet can be recovered, what about mental condition of the woman being assaulted. Bodily scars get erased with time but marks left on her psyche…
Who is to be blamed? A rapist? Or the society which we inhabit?
Media mystifies the real issue and trundle on to chalk a picture awry from what exactly happens. It’s not what happened with the body of a woman; instead it’s about what’s happening with her emotionally, socially, and biologically. The fact is even media doesn’t probe into the real issue. What’s the matter? Why bent towards raping and assaulting a woman? What kind of animal spirit gets unleashed?
A father raped his two daughters and impregnated them with his seed, ready to pounce upon the third one, gets jailed. (Patparganj, Delhi) What after that? Why doesn’t court pass the sentence to be stoned to death or to be castrated publicly?
Most of the rapes that occur are not by strangers, rapist somehow is related to the victim. What is it? Do men consider rape being a way of avenging themselves against the victim? If, yes, what would you call a rape by father of daughter (s)?
Rape-,an assertion of male authority, passing on of his dictum, showing his power, and a way to attain self satisfaction of his male hood; this all, especially after all those past gone feminist movements?
Are women safe?
Delhi- The Rape Capital Of India- Leave alone Indians, foreigners are not spared here
Frustrated man comes home beats up his wife… and don’t tell me this isn’t happening in India. It is and very much happening. We are all hand and tongue-tied scoundrels.
What kind of aggression or turmoil take place in the mind of a man that leads him to maul a female body?
Gang Rape- wolves tearing and clawing a living flesh
Picking up beggarly kids from roadside and dumping them drained off their energy and life in some heap of Municipality trash bin.
Some gazes penetrate me, ripping open hems of dress and gnaw at my flesh- such are the piercing, hideous gaze of those men walking, standing, sitting in the crowd.
Sometimes, it seems why we live; we are not supposed to live? How naked I feel when travelling amidst the herd of fellow humans. How can I be happy when someone is wailing in dark silence, crying for death to cover them… she is someone to me… she is me….I am a woman.