Laxmi was sweating. She was doing the dishes and finishing her daily chores. Today marked the payday. Generally, people are ecstatic about this day, but not Laxmi. She was getting flashbacks of the same time last month. She was well aware of the drill.
She would finish work and go home. After a tiring day, she wouldn’t have the luxury of even sitting down for a cup of chai, but will directly get to cooking for her hungry 2, 4, 7, and 10-year olds – all of this while avoiding the eyes of Ramu, her husband sitting with a bottle yelling abuses. She doesn’t want the day to get over, her husband to hit her, to snatch the money, and to give double the pain after the children have slept than all of it put together in the day, for him to sleep with a smug face. While no one is out there to listen to the cacophony in her heart.
Because we live in a country where “Boys will be boys” is a valid undertone, and ‘raping wife’ is not even a reasonable concept!
It was about 10 pm. Little black dress, tall black drink. It was just supposed to be a super-chill evening at a high-society club – a treat to herself at the end of a hectic successful week. She was in the middle of the dance floor, matching her movement with the music.
It was then that she felt a grip. She was disgusted. She tried to free herself, but the hands were too firm for her tipsy brain. She tried to resist, to shout, to struggle. No! Don’t! Leave me alone! But to no avail.
It’s only when she woke up she wailed. It was a cold parking lot, with her clothes torn, her hair awry, her heart yowling in pain, in disgust, in weakness.
Because we live in a country where “Boys will be boys” is a valid undertone, and holding a drink is an invitation.
Hanging her school bag, she was waiting for the rickshaw to come. For her, the day is darker than the night. Every morning is a struggle, to accept something that disgusts her as a norm.
Every day she is touched by the driver in the ways she doesn’t even holds her dolls. She doesn’t like it, she doesn’t understand what is happening, and she knows it is very painful, but she doesn’t know a way out.
After all, she had tried telling her Mum about it when her uncle visited. But her Mum shushed her and told her to not tell anyone! The sooner you accept, the better it will be for you. Playing with her dog she always wondered how wonderful her life would have been had she been able to switch it to that of the dogs’.
Because we live in a country where “Boys will be boys” is a valid undertone, and being a GIRL is living a life that of an object!
Because “Boys will be boys” till someone teaches them to be more.