Silence

I was that silence 

The one which followed after the midwife uttered,

“It’s a girl”

I was the silence

Which was deafeningly clear, yet never approached

I was the silence of that little girl who was forced to sit 

Inside her home,

While her brothers tasted rebellion and life.

I was the silence

Of those bruises hidden behind six yards of sari

Of those swollen eyes complementary to burnt Rotis

Of those taunting which were never retorted.

I was the silence 

of that girl who was called a whore

Because she wore something that ‘showed’ more 

Skin than it should.

I was the silence 

Of the helpless cries of that girl who was stripped

Down by ravenous disgusting animals

On a lonely night.

I was the silence

Of those parents who could not do anything

But weep for their princess,

Because after all

“What would society say?”

I was the silence, 

Of those numerous women

Unwanted and unwelcome.

Undesired and unlucky.

Uncomfortable.

I was all that and more.