Dear M.L Sharma and A.P. Singh,
You see I know who you are- The blessed progeny of Adam who holds the reins to the life and death of the ill-cursed breed, called woman (woe-man?!). Damn you, Eve, you wretched, disgraceful little thing! Didn't the respected Mr. Adam tell you how to dress, how to sit, eat, bathe, breathe, live, die? Didn't he tell you to stay away from the Pandora's box, from the 'desires' of life, to wipe that ugly smile off your face and plop yourself in one corner of the globe, barely breathing? However, you couldn't listen, could you? Its all YOUR fault. You have unleashed the evil torrent of hu-MAN-ity onto yourself, on your own bidding. Be ready to be groped, stripped, raped, beaten and killed because you dared to look out of that well, Adam sentenced you into. Am I right, Mr. Sharma, Mr. Singh? Please do correct me so, because you see I am Eve too, I need to be taught a lesson.
Sirs, (or do you prefer Masters?) Iam overcome by irrepressible desires. I think, yesterday when I stepped out of the protected sphere of my house, covered from head to toe, I incited a young man to touch me. You see, I forgot to cover my fingers; I waved them about, flashing my painted nails right in front of his eyes, in a lustful dance move, making obscene gestures with my fingers as I went about my chore. I sinned, my good MAN; I tore through the pristine white sheet of Indian culture. What do I do now? Should I burn myself to death or are you on your way to that to me? Please do punish me so, because you see I am Eve too, I need to be taught a lesson.
I like how you compared me to a flower. Beautiful, soft, pleasant! You opened my eyes as you explained that a flower is only worth till its kept in a place of worship; you throw it down a gutter and no one will ever touch it again, like the dirty woman. But I like lotuses, yes the same ones that grow in the gutter, mud and slush. Iam scared, Sir. I think the flowers and I are sinning, again. Iam the dirty woman. Should my petals be ripped off and sunk down the same gutter I belong to? Please do show me my place, because you see Iam Eve too, that too a lotus loving one, I need to be taught a lesson.
But all men are not like you. Some tell me to open the pandora's box, some tell me to leap out of the well, some tell me to smell the lotus; they look into my eyes and tell me they see more than breasts and a vagina. They hold my hand and together we peep out of the universe of gender, we swim away from the deep oceans of tradition and emerge on the other side of the world, where you don't exist. Who are these men? Or are they even men? Should they be thrown together with my lot? Please do tell me, because you see they are Eve too, we all need to be taught a lesson.
However, when you are done teaching me all the lessons, I want to teach you one too. Incase, just incase, you forgot, I gave life to you. I gave you the right to live, even as they aborted my baby girl. I held you close and warm inside me, bore silently the excruciating pain of childbirth, took care of you like delicate flower (yes, a flower), hoping against hope that you will remember the lesson of womanhood I was teaching you. But you forgot, and so did I. So, please teach me, because you see I am Eve too, I need to be taught a lesson.
Yours fearfully
#Nirbhaya
You see I know who you are- The blessed progeny of Adam who holds the reins to the life and death of the ill-cursed breed, called woman (woe-man?!). Damn you, Eve, you wretched, disgraceful little thing! Didn't the respected Mr. Adam tell you how to dress, how to sit, eat, bathe, breathe, live, die? Didn't he tell you to stay away from the Pandora's box, from the 'desires' of life, to wipe that ugly smile off your face and plop yourself in one corner of the globe, barely breathing? However, you couldn't listen, could you? Its all YOUR fault. You have unleashed the evil torrent of hu-MAN-ity onto yourself, on your own bidding. Be ready to be groped, stripped, raped, beaten and killed because you dared to look out of that well, Adam sentenced you into. Am I right, Mr. Sharma, Mr. Singh? Please do correct me so, because you see I am Eve too, I need to be taught a lesson.
Sirs, (or do you prefer Masters?) Iam overcome by irrepressible desires. I think, yesterday when I stepped out of the protected sphere of my house, covered from head to toe, I incited a young man to touch me. You see, I forgot to cover my fingers; I waved them about, flashing my painted nails right in front of his eyes, in a lustful dance move, making obscene gestures with my fingers as I went about my chore. I sinned, my good MAN; I tore through the pristine white sheet of Indian culture. What do I do now? Should I burn myself to death or are you on your way to that to me? Please do punish me so, because you see I am Eve too, I need to be taught a lesson.
I like how you compared me to a flower. Beautiful, soft, pleasant! You opened my eyes as you explained that a flower is only worth till its kept in a place of worship; you throw it down a gutter and no one will ever touch it again, like the dirty woman. But I like lotuses, yes the same ones that grow in the gutter, mud and slush. Iam scared, Sir. I think the flowers and I are sinning, again. Iam the dirty woman. Should my petals be ripped off and sunk down the same gutter I belong to? Please do show me my place, because you see Iam Eve too, that too a lotus loving one, I need to be taught a lesson.
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However, when you are done teaching me all the lessons, I want to teach you one too. Incase, just incase, you forgot, I gave life to you. I gave you the right to live, even as they aborted my baby girl. I held you close and warm inside me, bore silently the excruciating pain of childbirth, took care of you like delicate flower (yes, a flower), hoping against hope that you will remember the lesson of womanhood I was teaching you. But you forgot, and so did I. So, please teach me, because you see I am Eve too, I need to be taught a lesson.
Yours fearfully
#Nirbhaya
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