By Amrita Paul:
“As my pen glides over this page
it falters, erases
Once again I become
a child on the bed, staring at the sun
wilting in the heat
wishing for a pyre.”
At times I feel that we are mere puppets in the hands of this structure called society. We believe what we are told to believe, see what we are directed to look at, and ignore anything which could be even remotely controversial. Anything unpleasant can be conveniently side lined because after all,-“What would people say?” So we remain blissfully married and have an affair with our secretaries, pretend to save the world and bribe a traffic police or impose restrictions on our daughters before going to a nearby brothel and sleeping with someone half their age. Obviously the above implied statements are not meant for ‘everyone’ but you see, kind words have never been quite a favourite of the people of this nation.
“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.”
Vladmir Nobokov had the potential of transforming something as disgraceful and insensitive as incest (illegal sexual intercourse between close relatives) into a rather poetic affair. It literally makes you go into the mind of Humbert and find out for yourself why paedophiles never cease to exist. But alas, reality is a far cry from a popular 20th century novel. It is dark, cruel and gruesome. It is about cheap pleasure which one derives after destroying the life of young girls forever. In fact, it is so shocking that most people would not even believe that something like parental rape could ever happen to anyone. Because it is not something that you talk about when your friends come over or you attend a party. You an engineer, a doctor. You dream of building bridges, saving lives. But not everyone walking on that bridge or into your chamber is brought up by caring parents. Some inevitably fall prey to greedy monsters whose thirst can never be quenched. So what if you save the young girl who drank a bottle of phenyl? You are again sending her back to the hell hole she came from. Where she was beaten up, impregnated and left to suffer.
Incest, my friend, is probably a much bigger problem than you can ever imagine. It is humiliating, excruciatingly painful and the most heinous crime an individual could ever commit. May be that’s why we need to pause, take our time out and think whether the young girl walking down the bridge is returning back to a happy household or planning to jump into the river, midway.
Yes, undoubtedly it is not something as objective as poverty, land acquisition or lack of water which a minister might promise to provide after to vote for him in the upcoming elections. Hence the action needs to be taken by us, people like you and me who have had a decent childhood and know the importance of having one in order to lead a life without many regrets or mental baggage. The responsibility of this country’s future is in our hands and like always we have a choice- A choice to take charge and make the necessary changes, or ignore the issue like any other coward who is too bothered by what people around him might think of his actions. It will never be an easy fight, but if we don’t try and stop this, no one ever will. Lets first begin by creating enough awareness, so that the victims of such act know that there are people who want them to come out in the people, support them and fight for them. Let’s start now.