I cried today.
Well, I could cry while watching an emotional movie scene or seeing someone else teary eyed.
But today I cried for people whose tears got lost in their painful screams.
Yes, I am talking about the much spoken atrocities on women & seldomly surfacing male abuse.
You read a headline, you sympathise. Some go ahead and post on social media. Sad emojis. Crying emojis. Scrolling through rage of anger, swiping through the wave of sadness. Two days later, you have another trending bandwagon to join, another herd to follow.
No, this post is not to tell you what you should be doing. Not to advise you on what should you teach your kids. Not a guide of do's & don'ts for you to protect yourselves. This is not another opinion on unfortunately another common topic of interest in our country.
I am saying, I cried for them. Because I don't know whether they got the time for it. Before they could, they were named children of India. Another label, another set of responsibilities & restrictions. As if replacing their identity relieved them.
A man touches me in a crowded space & I feel disassociated with my body for sometime. If not touch, then I have a pair of eyes staring at me as if my body is at his disposal. No, not every man does this to me. No, I do not face this on a daily basis. All I am saying is, when I experience this, I need sometime for myself to recover. To let that cringe slowly dissolve and seamlessly blend into my daily routine.
When I read a headline of another rape, another acid attack, I cry. Because I cannot fathom the pain. Because I cannot hold her & tell her that it will be okay. This too shall pass. There is no scope for a lie. She cannot undergo another brutal scenario.
So I choose to cry. Shed a tear for her. It's the least I can do for her. Pray that I don't read such news again. I pray that...well, I just pray, to be honest.
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