Sunday 25 August 2024

When will you be home?

 


You haven’t come home, the street’s got emptier.

A car whooshes past, an ambulance somewhere

pierces the dark. The clouds overhead clear

but the remnants of rain still drip on the stairs.

I’m on the balcony. I’m on the phone.

Where are you my girl, in this night alone?

 

I’ve taught you a few things early, much before

I’d wanted to. Hands, touch, violence, abuse.

Bliss was not an option. Every day’s a war –

girls have to grow up fast. We cannot choose.

I’m at the doorway. And still on the phone.

Where are you sweetie, in this wide danger zone?   

 

I’ve taught you to dream. But I’ve been circumspect.

Only hoped that you’d be safe on the streets,

that you’d be given some basic respect.

We dream small, where red lines and limits meet.

I’m out on the lane. Please pick up your phone!

Where are you, daughter and when will you be home?





News of the Kolkata rape and murder of a post grad trainee doctor on 9th August has been reported in the international media,  you might have seen it and therefore can surmise the reason for the poem above. 


Widespread protests have erupted across India this time, people are marching in their thousands calling for justice for the doctor and for women's safety. It's distressing, outrageous, preposterous that women face this level of violence but it's also heartening to see the solidarity. I'm hopeful still. 


Kolkata used to be a safe city for women, it's still regularly voted as the safest in India. However, the sad truth is that India has become progressively unsafe for women over the last 20 years. The reasons are many layered and complex, but what is not in question is that we require a seismic societal shift if things are to change. Making the laws more stringent can only achieve results if they are implemented rigorously, that is where the system is failing. And it is failing deliberately - because there is political patronage of criminals, an enabling of violence against women across the board and across party lines. That needs to stop immediately if the rape culture is to change. 


Hoping for that change soon, for speedy justice for every case of abuse/rape and in the R.G. Kar Hospital case in particular.   


Wishing all women a crime free, disrespect free and stress free environment at every corner of world. May we get to see the dream of an equal and just world realised in our lifetime. Thank you for reading.




10 comments:

  1. Yes, I saw that story - and my heart ached. And continued to ache as I read your heartfelt poem.

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  2. Your poem is every mother's nightmare. The world grows more and more unsafe. Sad here we are seeing so many criminals flood across our borders...

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    1. Indeed it's growing more and more unsafe, which is quite baffling when one thinks of the advances made in all spheres. Why is that huge advancement not translating into a safer, happier, more peaceful world? - that's the question no one wishes to focus on.

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  3. Hari OM
    That one story has been taken up... but what about the countless others never heard of, yet perpetrated? This has been deeply disturbing, but one despairs that all the protests in the world cannot seem to change something that seems to be written into the DNA of men... your poem hits the mark so well, Nila... YAM xx

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    1. There are some 86 rapes reported in India everyday. Much under reported, estimates say only 20-25% get reported, overwhelming majority don't come to light. I wonder what the worldwide rates are. And if it is truly written into the DNA...

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  4. Your poem is striking.
    www.rsrue.blogspot.com

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  5. Oh your poem cries out. Sadly there are too many women in danger in places that should be safe. Just minding one's own business and doing mundane errands, should not be stressful. My heart is there for all concerned. And I'm angered that anyone - women, children should be in senseless danger. Big sigh for the whole world. Well written, my friend.

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    Replies
    1. Women and children seem especially vulnerable right now. Disheartening and infuriating, to say the least.

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