Tonight don’t tell me ghost tales mama. Don’t tell me that zombies and vampires don’t exist as I fear these haunting demons the less but humans more. I don’t understand the topography of my body according to the tenets of biology but my senses have much developed to feel the pain and mock, to differentiate between the art of loving and making love, the force and creepy crawling stares. When I ask you mama what rape is then please don’t turn your head away in a shameless grin, don’t tell me it’s not a child’s play for my ears are not deaf to your screaming television sets “It’s a child raped to death”. I’m confused when my peers speak about it in whispers that it’s a form of murder where private parts are hit, a theft where dignity of the body is stolen, friends gossip that these demons have arsenals between their legs. Tonight I am unable to sleep mama for those bold newspaper letters and television news keep stalking my memory. Tell me mama how do I recognize those monsters, what do they look like, what should I do if they happen to pounce upon me?? I have nightmares mama, what if I become the news that we so comfortably gorge upon with occasional sips and bites? To comfort me please don’t tell lies… And among such abnormally normal questions the mother helplessly sees her child fall asleep with her legs crossed too tight, while she hums on… How many candles shall shed their tears? How many fires shall burn in rage? How many stories shall come upon our face? How many anthems shall be played? Yet all days shamelessly the same.
Baney hain ahle hawas muddai bhi, munsif bhi
kise wakil karen, Kis se munsifi chahen? (Faiz Ahmad Faiz)
Farkhanda Ashfaq
ashfaq.farkhanda@gmail.com