Can a beautiful flower grow fearlessly ?



My Mamma thinks that I am a fearless person because I don’t share my fears with her, neither does she. Neither I am afraid of heights nor the waters. I am afraid of things which people think are normal and that make me absurd to them.

First, I was afraid to come out of my Mamma’s body because I was not sure whether I would rest in my Mamma’s lap or in a dark garbage bag which would have made me feel that I was in the womb again, but without listening to Mamma’s heartbeat and without oxygen.

A few years later, I was afraid when uncle from my neighborhood asked me to accompany him to the chocolate shop to get me a chocolate.

When I grew a little big and we traveled on the train, I was afraid when a man offered me a seat on his lap.

I was afraid to walk alone to the school.

I was afraid to ask for butter on bread when I saw butter in my brother’s plate. They told me that they could only afford butter in his plate and he needed to be strong, maybe he bled more.

I was afraid to ask for admission in my brother’s school. They told me that he needed better education.

I liked my brother’s shorts but was afraid to wear them because I was not supposed to wear clothes which revealed my body. I didn’t understand how did it matter. I had same legs as his but more beautiful.

I was afraid to talk loud, to laugh my heart out. After all, I was someone else’s property and had to go to that house someday, so I had to behave according to that house’s rules.

When I walked on the road, I was afraid to look up to find someone staring at me. I tried to stare back a few times but they looked down at me as if I walked naked.

I was afraid of the dark and had to return home before the dusk. Everyone questioned the character of women who stayed back late.

I was afraid to fall in love because loving someone again was something that was not a family value.

I was afraid to be loved by someone because if I had to say no sometimes later, he might have taught me a lesson by defacing me with the acid.

Getting married was something that haunted me. Will he beat me every day? Will he accept my friends? Will he allow me to continue with my job? Will he not demand anything after marriage? Will he burn me alive someday because one day my father would say no to his demands?

I have been afraid all my life, every day and everywhere. I tried not to be afraid and tried to be a fearless person. But I see no chance of things getting better until everyone starts to think. Until everyone dares to teach their children- not only sons but also daughters- to behave, to respect not only women but also men, to treat people like people, to try to become human again.

Once I was afraid to come out of my mamma’s body and today I pray that the person coming out of my body is a boy. Not because I don’t want a girl child but because I know, no matter how much we debate and fool ourselves and people around us, that the world is not a good place to be for women anymore.

You might wonder who I am. Well, neither I am a human nor an animal; I am just an object- a woman.




Ironic Choices we make

People saw them fighting over something in the middle of the road. One was dominating and had put the other on the ground. People said he was being cruel and started beating him with canes and pelted stones at him to separate them. More people, mercilessly, joined in with more bamboo sticks to stop the cruelty. He started bleeding but did not spare the other one; he stood on top of him.

People spared him only when they found that one of the men with bamboo sticks had mistakenly hit the windshield of a car. Divided in two groups, they started hitting each other.

Both the bulls got up and went to the other side of the road to witness the cruelty of the ones who-merely a moment ago- behaved like the ones who stop it.

Bulls looked at each other and thought of being cruel to stop the cruelty. And then…