In the wee hours of this morning, Omkar Singh was carrying a sword soiled with blood in one hand and his 20 year old daughter’s severed head on the other, in the Charjuba area of Rajsmand district in Rajasthan. The horrified villagers took him to the police station along with the sword, and the head.
Singh, who has been arrested by the police said that his 20 year old daughter Manju has been having affairs with several men and he beheaded her after she ignored his order to “mend” her ways.
Manju’s body was found in the house.
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In Bangalore, a mother returns home, only to find her long standing fear come true. Her three and half year old daughter, the second of her three children that she had with the man they call their father, being raped by him. Sometimes having a diplomatic immunity can save you from the consequences of being an ass. After heated discussions and public uproar, the Indian Government ordered today to arrest the father, a french diplomat.
What will happen of this fair skinned, racially superior, blue blooded. . .well I wouldn’t prefer to continue . . .but a government who couldn’t prevent the extradition of greater culprits, will they be able to punish him? I know, in question is foreign relations and bi-lateral ties.Bull shit!
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And in the turn of all these events, in one of the heated discussions that we had in our office while one of my “female” colleagues mentioned about men getting raped, my another colleague, a very much “male” counterpart jumps at the thought saying “How can it be possible?”. The intrigued person googles and finds the case of two and a half year old Golu, who was sodomized and murdered. Suddenly my colleague laughs out, and then he says, “His name is Golu!” and then giggles throughout.
I don’t know what dawned on to me first, the insensitivity of being a journalist or the insensitivity of being a human. For about ten seconds I thought he is just trying to be funny. But at some point, I got the clue.
Some part of his male ego doesn’t allow him to realize that, even though in rather rare incidents when compared to females, men can get raped. My friend, would honor himself and value himself, for he is a man. He would claim himself to be the protector of women, and of course the supremo uno in anything when it comes to being in any comparison with a woman. When I felt the word chauvinist doesn’t capture the essence of what I felt then, I stopped arguing.
Earlier in the day, we came across one of our bosses arguing with “the girl got raped because she was a slut” philosophy. And somehow in my mind the image of one of my friends flashed through, she stood there in front of me screaming “No matter if I walk around naked, nobody has the right to touch me without my fucking permission”.
In the first case, why was there only one severed head in Omkar Singh’s village? What happened to the fathers of those alleged several lovers that Manju had? Why couldn’t they also roam around with their sons head in one hand and swords soiled with their blood on the other? What is so special about a woman that the families honor lies in the female? Even when the sons are free to do their will? Should I laugh? Or do I even have the liberty to cry?
And apart from all that bilateral shit, when I think of a father all I see is the man who still plays with me, stands by my wishes, brought me up to stand on my own, fighting against all the conventional notions the world had to suppress me. But the thought that tomorrow, when I have my baby, be it boy or girl, I will at least think twice before I leave the apple of my eye with the man they call their father is disturbing. Not that my father hasn’t been a powerful enough figure for me, but the world, with all its drudgery leaves you scars, nightmares.
And finally, why am I concerned? Well, everyday when I come back from work, I keep a track on shadows. No, not mine. But the shadows behind me. And when I feel like one among them is moving too close to merge into mine, then I freak out. Because my dears. . .
Even if we be post modern women of all times, even if we drink( which you are allowed to do), even if we smoke (which you love doing like hell!), even if we kiss you (when both of us feel like!), or have sex with you ( with your consent, of course!) the thought of a random person coming and forcing himself upon us, hurting us and sometimes killing us is as gruesome and shattering a thought as you have when that creepy looking bastard in the street comes and pushes you into some dark corner in the street and sodomize you!
I am not speaking about all of you, but the ones among you who laughs when you hear rape stories, give the creepy looking guy and the things he can do to you a thought just when you feel like bursting into a laughter. I know, you guys are awesome and stronger than us, but you certainly aren’t invincible.