The Girl In Us

Wake up and prevent it,

Help deal with it.

Own it, accept it, live it.

Brutality over the dignity, over the confidence, over the soul, and over the materialistic body. It doesn't only pollute one's body but also their mind their society and their life. You think it is an overnight activity? It leaves scars for a lifetime and more. It changes everything they ever knew and sets things in a different order- for the worse. Instead of Making plans and living their life by their ideals goals and hopes- they try putting one foot in front of the other and yearn to keep breathing. That is not exactly how God planned it to be- that isn't how anyone should have their life, as a punishment. Murder can be forgiven but to make one live like a corpse- unforgivable.

What are we referring to?

An act which overpowers the word and sentence by itself - no. Overpowers the brain and outtakes the physical restraint of the victim. A heinous act which doesn't prove manliness but violates it. Violation of the human self and much more. It doesn't make one superior but feasts on the dignity, respect, confidence and human body- rape. We have one such respectful individual

who remains standing no matter what and what goes down when she takes things in her own hand. It's about a writer living on the second floor of her apartment in Bombay.

One gloomy day she doesn't get her morning milk delivered or her hot newspaper detailing the crimes around her town and more importantly the day and date. Burning the midnight oil more often than not, she had lost track of all concepts of time. Unaware of her immediate surroundings but being a regular columnist on the daily newspaper with weddings being her specialty after despising the concept since childhood, she paid her bills. She checks her doormat and of the locked door of her neighbors- no sign of sunrise for the vendors and no sign of edible food dropped by. Sighing with hunger and regret of not shopping groceries the previous night, she checks the window and her eyebrows hit the roof. She sees what she can't unsee and with the image of her neighbor covered in blood and police all over- she wakes up to more darkness.

BLAM! Rang her salmon-colored alarm since red would be too Cliche and the second-hand shop didn't have a better piece. She woke up in a jolt and ran to her door to check. There lay her bottled milk and cringe worth state of a newspaper soaked in milk and puddled water. She gave a sigh of relief and patted the rock on her neighbors door. They would've left early morning for their day jobs she thought. With her dream fiddling with her mind, with games being played by her brain she sat in the comfort of cornflakes.

Curiosity to be blamed, she wanted to check her dream one last time. Being proven wrong all through merely kindled her senses. There she rose to peep out of her window into the sun rise which she rarely was home to witness- she saw what one can't unsee. Her nightmare under the sun. Pun intended. Her neighbor covered in blood and while cloth barely covering the corpse. She forgot to breathe. Lungs let out a cry and so did the rest of her body. She sank to the floor weeping without tears cause of due fear of the unknown.

With police engulfing the oxygen down there and the milk vendors pointing to her neighboring apartment while giving their statements- she didn't know what to make out of the sight.

What could one have done? Who would've thought the dreams dreamt early in the morning, indeed does come true? The writer stood there at the loss of words.

Police at her doorsteps, she knew was inevitable. The Brahmin pandit bloodline in her rose giving her panic attacks. She was trying really hard to remember the breathing fancy techniques- in and out. One might refer to that as survival or existence. She called it war and victory.

Isn't life a series of such ups and downs? Nothing more than a spiral staircase with high heels and overflowing gown on a drunk day. Easy peasy. There was a sharp knock on her door with the dutiful officer accompanied by the tea shop sidekick aiding the navigation. Seeing her pale face they expressions tightened further for the officer and the kid let out a giggle making things worse.

She was asked about her whereabouts for the previous night and the background of her missing neighbors. She stood there having no memory of speech and digging her own grave. The officer made a stern noise that involved his stick and the door, awaking the already pale writer. She quickly then filled him with the details and a little extra with fear. She was then asked to identify the body led by the office with a satisfied smirk on his face. Round face and thick mustache curled upwards to fit the description of a man of the law- round belly was however pending.

Today she collected her trophy for the best novel of 2017 while she recollected her terror and nightmare to a cheerful crowd applauding at her every word waiting to get their hands on the book- of a witness, the survivor. The officer took the front seat as not the man of law but the man of the house- her better half. Crime remaining unsolved, she found her match in him- the bigger mystery of love was solved. They had their day as a controversial couple and media favourites- now for the better, as an award-winning novelist- a true-crime writer.

A true crime writer - needs talent to write about his own experience- here a little too true to the statement. Not being the mere witness but having played a lesser known part of the and "most wanted"; as well, the written falls short of the reality. Millions unaware of what was untold, ran behind her told stories. While she sipped her expensive wine in her penthouse with the love of her life, she sighed with tiredness in her eyes- deceiving the crowd wasn't the worry but what made it worth was the one sleeping next to her- that made the story complete and gave her the will to keep spinning the yarn. The one mattered and the others were additional gains. Prison never scared her, but losing him did. She was indeed talented- maybe a little more than her profession required.

She made the rapist look like a victim and herself the pitiful neighbor. On a rainy night one drunkard might have got what he wanted but a year later everyone got what they deserved.

Justice.

This is the true kahaani of a woman on a mission. Like every dog has its day, now a psychopath did. Little did she know that he was aware of it all and stayed mum commuting a bigger sin- professionally and personally. But is not everything fair in love and war?

The wine tasted a little too sweet combined with the win they just had.

Of a lifetime together- Karma, their newborn child smiled.

To be honest, violence isn't the prescribed form of reply to such a cruel act or anything more or less. It is an inspiration. But when one party gets away with it not everyone is left with several options of rebuttal. Society will have to step in and uplift such souls. Martial arts can be taught to all the girls out there. Pepper spray can be a mandatory companion. People can be made aware of the effects, made socially aware of the dos and don's. Sons can be taught respect and daughters self help. Not many can deal with the after effects let alone the painful memory that accompanies such unlawful act of ignoring one's boundaries. Violence is never the answer to justice. But what is the expected justice in such cases?

Ever answered that truthful to the law and to your conscience? In olden days, they used to get the couple married for one has sinned and the other lost their purity. However that wasn't and isn't the fool-proof way to deal with it. Being taken for granted, cannot be seen as a matrimonial proposal. Even today in certain countries they destroy the already hurt soul in the name

of cleansing the society. They stone the rape victims. Talk about knocking down those who are already bent down. Sinners were pushed out of their livelihood and then gradually they started imprisoning those who break such moral. Over time certain communities indulged in heinous punishments to do right when wronged. But does that un-do what's already been done? Does

that make it alright to inflict pain on others? Didn't we learn that even if you commit a crime to undo another one, it doesn't right the wrong? In real life- what is justice to such cases? How can one ever be satisfied? How does one answer their conscience?

This is the case where no act of remorse can undo what is done or right the wrong. The only solution to such immoral behavior is Prevention. Prevention is the only solution. Only consolation. Only way towards mental health. One way out. To not let them in. To be ourselves and simply teach the others to let us be. To not change, to not indulge in self-blame game and to spread awareness.