Here’s to each one of you who think that the world is your oyster, so you can paint blood anywhere you feel like.
You think you’re an army, positioning your soldiers in every neighbourhood as ‘uncles’ who wouldn’t blink while looking down a teenager’s crop-top but would narrow their eyes at the sight of James Bond kissing, and as ‘aunts’ who comfortably mute the next-door husband hurling drunk-abuses, but have their mouths wide open at a boy dropping off his girlfriend home.
In the name of culture, you become ashamed when two men say they are in love, and you become an audience when two men pull out knives to slay each other.
It’s the same culture that was home to the writing of world’s Bible on erotica – the “Kama Sutra”, but you say that it is tarnished when they call “sex”, sex. That’s right, don’t call a spade a spade but definitely use it to produce 15,000 babies per hour.
Your second largest population of 1.21 billion has its sentiments offended because of a condom advertisement on TV. Irony has never had a better laugh.
A woman thrown out on the street with torn clothes, bruised organs is an act of normalcy for your routine, but your eyes gauge out of their sockets at her bra-strap showing, thinking that Victoria should have guarded her secret better.
Your hand holds a gun to your sister’s head as she confesses love, and the other hand thrusts an iron rod in the vagina of someone else’s sister because her rejection shredded your ego to dust.
Lovers have to cover themselves underneath scarves and veils, while molesters grope with smug smiles in public places, in broad daylight.
If what happens behind closed doors in motel rooms is a blow to your morals, then rescue the hostages of trafficking, or fucking shout your lungs out when your neighbour beats his wife, in the motherland that your self-proclaimed vigilante is out to protect.
But do not – do not call love and freedom blasphemy to a God who began it all with temptation.