The past few weeks have caused a national uproar over the
way a fellow human being has been tormented. I chose to use “fellow human
being” instead of “woman” because; she was first another human and then a
woman. The sheer inhuman nature of the crime makes me wonder how the hands did
not tremble and heart did not bleed as they treated another human being with so
much cruelty as to put the worst enemy tormenter camps to shame.
There has been an unending debate by various sections, some
demanding harsher punishment/capital punishment , some criticizing women for
the clothes they wear, some asking women to learn self defense, some advocating
teaching men how to behave with women…etc. But I am not even getting there. It
is not about what should be done, what could have been done, who is to blame,
or how tough laws should be. I am still closer home, on how the women around me
have been reacting to the crime. How fear has started impacting their
psychosis.
The horrific nature of the crime and the heartless gut wrenching
manner in which a woman has been abused has left an indelible fear in the minds
of scores of women across the country especially the women around me. A friend
reported how giddy she has been feeling ever since the news broke out and every
time she talks about it she feels stressed out and jumpy. Another friend didn’t
want to talk about the episode because she felt nauseated every time anyone
even spoke about the issue.
My mother didn’t want me to hire a driver to drop them off
to the railway station because I would have to come back alone in my car with
an unknown driver, even though he would be from a known source. A friend, who
commutes to work by auto everyday as she could not drive due to a back problem,
brought a vehicle last week, so that she may drive to work. She reasoned her
life was more important than the back pain.
And today as I picked up a friend to go to the market, she
came down in a lovely sleeveless dress and even before I could comment on how
nice she looked, she ran upstairs. “Just a moment, I’ll be back” she said. I
saw her grabbing a shawl and draping it around her. “Why take the risk”, she
said as I looked quizzically at her.
The fear of suffering,
they say, is worse than the suffering itself.
It does not mean that I have ceased
being fearful, but I have ceased to let fear control me. I want to accept fear
as a part of life -specifically the fear of the unknown; and I want to go ahead
despite the pounding in my heart that says: turn back, turn back, and don’t
venture too far for you know not what lies beyond. I want to be a butterfly that spreads its wings out in the sun. I want to be the heroine
of my life, not the victim and I hope all the women out there want to be the
same.
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