Justice for Jisha

Once upon a time, a baby was born. The baby was a girl. Everyone rejoiced at her arrival. Her parents embraced her in gratitude to the almighty. They started building a dome of dreams around her. She cried in high screeches. That sweet voice, those cheerful giggles , it all just added to the bundle of joy she already was.

Her parents named her Jisha. She grew up in the most normal way possible. I say normal because, in kerala or rather our beautiful nation “normal” could have a connotation different from the normal use of the word. A girl in kerala, grows up normally to many DONT’s. DONT shout. DONT scream. DONT speak loudly to elders. DONT disrespect others. DONT talk rude to boys. DONT go out alone. DONT wear tight clothes. DONT DONT DONT!!! So she continued to live, listening to way too many DONT’s.

Jisha became a young lady. It could be because of the various kinds of sundry news that she grew up listening to that she decided to become some one who could bring about a change in the way our red tape – a nickname so apt given to the bureaucracy functions. She took up the vocation of being a lawyer. As she studied, those tales of molests afflicted on girls as tiny as a week old to women who were about seventy continued to buzz in her ears. She might have had immense vigour in her at that time, of how she would bring about a change in the way the culprits were punished. In a nation where moral and spiritual guru’s blame the victims to be the real culprits, she would have had real passion to uplift those victims to claim justice for themselves or better still to stop these kind of atrocities. When some say ,it is the kind of dresses girls wear nowadays and some say when a girl is in the scenario of being raped to just call out to the rapist “bhaiyya”, she could have been the one person to effect a complete turnover. And so she continued to study her subject. Sometimes , sitting up late till night under the light of a small candle or maybe the kerosene lamp, she should have dreamt of herself wearing the black coat capable of penalizing those dirty scoundrels who destroyed women once and for all.

She gave her exams with utmost enthusiasm. Meanwhile she was working for a hospital for a better living since herself and her mother were the only earning members of the family. Her father had deserted them a while back. It was on April 28th 2016, that life took a complete round for her or it could be said that there was no life left for her. She , like many other women whom she heard about was brutally killed. Molested and assaulted! She was raped. She was beaten to her own death. And do you know where? Not outside. Not in her college. Not in the train. Not in a lonely lane when she was out with her boyfriend. But inside her own house!  A place where women feel safe and secure, a place where women are entitled to be, a place where women are enclosed in. She was found dead and motionless in a pool of blood, red as anybody else’s would be. She was killed in the most pathetic and painful way possible.

Her dreams were shattered. The dream her parents had about her were all broken like the pieces of a broken mirror. She was broken and burnt to death. Her soul was stabbed. And now she is no more.

In a country where we pledge all our fellow beings to be brothers and sisters, we see a brother destroying the chastity of his own sister! A nation where there are goddesses, we see such disrespect towards a girl. She was not wearing clothes to “provoke” men, if that be the reason for an act called rape. She wasn’t out in the streets wandering about with a boy if that could have been the most vulnerable situation in which a woman is raped. She was in her own house, in her own private space. And yet she was prey to such a traumatizing death.

Well, just a thought, the most random one- could the reason for any rape, be it of a week old baby or of an old woman actually turn out to be the weak libido of man? By weak I do not mean , literally weak, but to put it in a still better way an uncontrollable libido? Well who cares anyway right! Jisha wasn’t your sister , though she was an Indian and all Indians are supposed to be your brothers and sisters. She wasn’t your neighbour. She wasn’t even someone whom you had seen. So what if her rightful justice is stuck in the red tape. So who cares if she is no more?

Get it into your heads. You would care if it was your daughter, your sister, your friend, your neighbour. You would feel vulnerable. Yes the next one could be you or any one dear to you.

Why all this hype? For what reason are we watching news channels being flooded with the brutal rape of Jisha. Why should the culprit be caught? He is not going to repent over what he has done. He is only going to get a bit chubbier in the luxurious rooms that we call prisons. He is only going to remain behind the bars, where no one can reach. He is going to enjoy the daily meals he would have otherwise struggled to have!

Why is everyone being so apologetic about this incident? Why are they blaming the politicians? They never promised she wouldn’t be raped! Why should we boycott elections? We are the ones to be blamed! We are the ones who let that being who molested and killed her in such an atrocious way, do it. We have,  from the beginning kept our so called values high about the Indian culture where a woman is always under the veil and behind her clothes. Those films we promoted which showed a woman being abused. Those songs called “item numbers”  we all cheered for, when the heroine took off her clothes. Those nude pictures we all shared in the numerous groups of different messengers, all these made him grow into the so called culprit. We fed him. And we ourselves are the reason for all this. We should be called the slaves of a non existent but an existent patriarchy.

Stop restricting your thoughts. Stop telling your girl child to remain quiet. Tell her to speak up. To report any act of abuse to her. Stop behaving like sex is something bad. It is divine. But only when it unites the right people. Open up! Because the cocoons you all are enclosed in could be broken by some stranger and hence could be the end of you.


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