An Antidote To Rape

Looking out of the car window while driving past the metropolitan whilst contemplating on the several posts in the internet that calls the country and its people "a bunch of prowling rapists who misbehave with anyone and everyone... a rape country," I looked around and watched people move free with short clothes that flew higher with stronger winds and viola! I had a strong feeling and wondered if the "dress" is what is to be actually blamed for rape being on the rise these days as everyone in the television, on the internet, the sidewalk and upon the tea-stall benches have been seriously concluding. Well yeah, everyone has been saying it and suddenly it hit me too... its all because of the clothes one wears that incidents of rape has been shooting up in my country. Why don't we all just agree?! 

Look at the men, all the bold, old and ugly alike, dangling their freedom in their boxers, some stopping to spray the electric post with the flick of their wrist that pulls their state-of-art pajamas down at their will and those satans of earth strolling around in their pink lungis... this is it! this is precisely the reason for rape as every tom, Dick, prick and harry have been talking about... the dress code that makes it easy for men to rape so conveniently. Perhaps men who see women as mobile targets must be forced to dress in layers and layers of clothing that will restrict their access to their free will(y) till a point where he can hardly get out when aroused nevertheless spray a post at his will. The world will surely be a safer and a much cleaner place to live in. 

Yeah right, its all in the clothes. All one's got to do is turn the tables now... right?!

Rape Of Mother India

This here is a classic painting of the legendary Maqbool Fida Husain, the artist. This particular piece of art where you can see 2 bulls ravaging a child and the mother with a spear like line running through with droplets, suggests Mother India's fate being torn between the political parties via corruption, lack of growth and infrastructure, scams and so on and so forth and everything we are famous for; the Mother simply is not able to escape this horror as the child (India) barely retains its cling on her. The spear shedding that droplets shows the painters frustration and anger in the situation where he has added a line-like-spear that sheds droplets... this could be blood, tears, sweat, water... just anything you want to fill in with; probably that droplet, those droplets that finally manages to squeeze from us after the mad people who rape our country have taken all they can from us. This is a classic that shows the helplessness of rape and the agony of the people who are caught in this power struggle. Being self-critical before others mock at us and shame us, wouldn't it be ideal to stop and think, if this wouldn't be the ideal picture to depict what the country is going through at present with all the scams, corruption, price hikes (esp. petrol), Rupee's plunge, cover-up politics, silencing-counter-politics, poor performance at the UN, shameful heads hanging in the human rights courts... and everything and everything more you can add to the list till the line runs through you like the spear to squeeze those final drops. Once again as good things go, this picture too got into a controversy following its title... "The Rape Of India." What else can you name it?! R.I.P Hussainji.

Touch Me Not

“I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid of this, these thoughts, whispers in my mind. Did he rape my head, too?” Laurie Halse Anderson, Speak

“come back so i can say yes this time do it again now that i know what to call what you did

this time i'll be ready i like it rough now and i'm done with romance i never met another man who loved me so much at first sight he had to hurt me to do it” Daphne Gottlieb, Why Things Burn

“Touch has a memory.” John Keats

“Who taught you to write in blood on my back? Who taught you to use your hands as branding irons? You have scored your name into my shoulders, referenced me with your mark. The pads of your fingers have become printing blocks, you tap a message on to my skin, tap meaning into my body. Your morse code interferes with my heart beat. I had a steady heart before I met you, I relied upon it, it had seen active service and grown strong. Now you alter its pace with your own rhythm, you play upon me, drumming me taut.” Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

“Touch. It is touch that is the deadliest enemy of chastity, loyalty, monogamy, gentility with its codes and conventions and restraints. By touch we are betrayed and betray others ... an accidental brushing of shoulders or touching of hands ... hands laid on shoulders in a gesture of comfort that lies like a thief, that takes, not gives, that wants, not offers, that awakes, not pacifies. When one flesh is waiting, there is electricity in the merest contact.” Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

Off-road: “Reader, suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.” Mark Twain

Pic: An year old, from my archive