The Story of Nirbhaya, Rape and the Indian Culture (Part – I)

Once upon a time, in a time not so long ago, there was a colossal empire ranging from snowy mountains to tropical oceans, upon which there lay a curse. It said that every third daughter born into the empire would be sexually assaulted, but no one would care. Sure enough, women were raped and abused for centuries, and matters just seemed to keep on getting worse. But, no one in the empire did anything because, well it was their curse, what were they supposed to do? Things got so bleak that mothers started killing their baby girls as soon as they were born either smothering them with pillows, or letting them starve to death; because such a death was preferable to the life that awaited them. With every decade, the crimes grew bolder, and the victims, younger. And, every time the victim’s families would cry for justice, the empire would turn a deaf ear towards them, reiterating how going against their culture was a definite way to get raped.

Well, I stand here, today, before all of you, to testify that rape doesn’t happen despite Indian culture; it happens due to it. Maybe our culture isn’t the only reason, but it’s the main thrusting force, as I will show in my next post.

Anyhow, nothing seemed to change. From the apathy of the government, the people despaired, and criminals drew hope. From the corrupt, inefficient police force, the political class took what they wanted. And, when they could afford it, the public learned to try and buy its justice. But, justice is a shy bedfellow, and she doesn’t sleep with filth.

She took birth within this empire, Justice did. In the form of a little girl whose parents sold off everything to educate her. So that they could save up money for higher education, they ate meals of Rotis and salt. They sent her off to the mountains to study, because she would be “safe” there. And, she grew up determined to help other poor girls and boys like herself, studying hard to make her parents proud. And, they were. They were so proud that they let her live a normal life, unlike many other families in this empire who breed their daughters with the sole purpose of “catching” a good husband for them. Unfortunately, the curse of the third girl fell on her. And, as she was returning home with her friend one night, three hours before even 16 year old Cinderella’s curfew, four ugly ogres decided to stop her and assault her.

Now, the rule of the empire was that the curse had been earned, and had to be “respected”. For some fucked up, perverted reason, IMHO. If you were born a girl, and a male from the empire wanted to have sexual intercourse with you, if you valued your life, you would let him rape you. But, if you were raped, the empire deemed you dead anyway. And, your relatives would lament the fact that since your seal was broken, they would have so much more trouble getting a “good husband” for you. Courts and lawyers demanded raped women to prove that they had tried to fight off their attackers. “Where are your injuries?” “Why didn’t you fight back?” Politicians demanded to know why the raped woman had dared to set her unmarried foot outside the house. And, if there was a boy involved, well, according to the Empire, she might as well have been wearing a sign on her forehead that said “Open”.

Does it disgust you? Yes, it disgusts me too. Yet, the funny thing is, the vast majority of the Empire actually believed that if women behaved in a certain way, they deserved to have a random bloke shoving themselves into their bodies. This bizarre notion seems completely insane when seen objectively, but the Indian culture actually encourages and promotes the mentality of a rapist, as I will clearly show in my next post.

For now, I want to tell you what happened to that girl, born of justice. “Where are your injuries?”, they would ask. Well, she chose her dignity over her life, a personal choice, and one that I am so sorry to believe our society forced her into making. “Where are your injuries?”, asks our *legal* system.

Plastered on every front page  of every newspaper across the world, your honor.

So brutal that she could not speak, Mr. Counsel. So horrific that to just say that she was sodomized with an iron rod, and her entrails literally ripped out is an injustice to what our country’s culture put her through, your lordship.

Don’t stop with the four accused (one of whom played a nice relaxing game of tennis before hanging himself to death). Find that politician who dared to ask all those victims of rape why they were out so late. Find all those policemen who turned away sobbing girls from their stations, saying that an FIR would only damage their reputation. Find the cops who beat up a minor rape victim. Find the cops who handed Rs. 2000 to the father of a five year old girl who was sexually assaulted by two men, who once again proved their insecurities by seeing the need to penetrate the child’s body with multiple objects. Another three year old suffered brain damage during a rape. Three sisters aged 5, 9 and 11 were raped and murdered in Maharashtra last month.

Is this not our culture? It is! These men that you call brutes, you have fed them their parathas and milk. You have shown them how the women of your house are treated. How the women of your empire are treated. Don’t throw away all responsibility now. These are your children. Your children who raped, tortured and brutally murdered a young girl who was only trying to help this worthless empire of filth.

Somehow, though hundreds of women were being brutalized across the country it was this girl, who fought back until she lost consciousness; kicking until two of the men restrained her legs, punching and scratching until one of them restrained her arms, biting three of the accused as they raped her, presumably screaming for one deaf ear in this entire empire to stop this disgusting invasion of her self; it was this girl that woke up the individuals sleeping across this great empire.

But the Indian culture doesn’t care for the individual.

And, after she had been literally torn apart by our fellow-men, they tossed her bleeding body out of their vehicle, where she lay for over an hour until one of the gawking citizens decided to call the police. The police took another hour to get there. By that time, the girl had been bleeding all over the Capital’s cold roads, in the middle of December, for over two hours. The State police took one look at her, and refused to touch her. She was naked, you see. And her intestines had been torn apart with a rusted iron rod. As her injured friend carried her into the police vehicle, they drove to a far-off hospital because God only knows what their priorities are. And, by the time she got to the hospital, her internal organs were infected, and her brain shutting down.

Did you resist?
Can you prove that you resisted?
Where are the injuries?

This Court is now adjourned.

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2 thoughts on “The Story of Nirbhaya, Rape and the Indian Culture (Part – I)

  1. surya says:

    its nt d india bt ya its indian(we) who let ol dz hpn…..y d corrupt empire z ruling ds cntry??? coz v let dm do dt.
    y r d laws r md bt nva followd? vn v dnt wnt d change 2 hpn dn hw wd it vl????

  2. FOREWORD – NIRBHAYA’S INDIA
    (www.nirbhayasindia.com)

    4.45am Singapore time. She died.
    Yes she died. Really died. Finally.
    And it was 2.15am here, but India cried.
    The news, this one time was nightly.
    For twenty six nights, not days thirteen,
    She fought and still stayed composed
    Psychiatrically. Her face that reposed
    Faith in protestors remained unseen;
    The face unseen, the woman nameless,
    From some village, a bus traveller so less
    Privileged than the ruling or moneyed,
    Was enough to get India up and frenzied.
    So my two-bit mind for all its confusion, is clear about
    The fact that the rape was but a spark, to begin the rout.

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