The alphabet of the day is D
D stands for : Domestic Violence
A piece of fiction on Domestic Violence –“Bitiya Rani”
(from the eyes of an infant)
I was just one week old . Resting in my mother’s lap , I would often see her feeling happy just looking at me , she would cuddle me, kiss me , bless me with her lullaby which started like “ Bitiya Rani ….” Listening to it always gave me a comforting effect. The words through Mommy’s mouth felt divine and relaxed me quickly . But then in the next moment all of a sudden I would see tears in her eyes. My little mind would wonder why she was crying. Was I the cause of her tears ? But the next moment what I would see is that she wipes her tears , again kisses me on forehead , cheeks and hugs me tight . I just couldn’t understand my Mommy. Daily, she used to offer prayers in front of the little Maa Durga idol at home, light a diya and murmur few words which I just couldn’t understand rather not even hear. But few instances were there when she carried me in her lap and just stood in front of Maa Durga idol , not lighting diya , just standing and her eyes becoming wet in the next few seconds , as if she was silently complaining to her Lord , I don’t know what .
Today , Mommy was looking happy. Was it some occasion? My mind doubted if she was actually happy. She dressed me in a beautiful white coloured frock with red ribbon work on it, which she had herself stitched for me. Dabbed me with some fragrant powder , applied little pink lotion on my cheeks and arms and finally a black teeka behind my ear, saying smilingly “ Mere mithu ko nazar na lage “. She felt proud holding me high up in air and saying in a kiddish twittering tone “ Aaj kaun aane wala hai ? Aaj mithu ke papa ayenge ….” I could feel excitement in her singsong voice. Then she fed me milk and laid me in my cot to sleep. And she got busy in kitchen , making Papa’s favourite dishes- Black dal, sarson ka saag and sweet halwa. Papa was posted out of station and he couldn’t get leave on my birth. I was to meet him today for the first time. “I am sure Papa must be even more excited than me to meet his daughter. “ my heart was talking in an eager wait . Like Mommy calls me Mithu , Papa also must have thought of some loving name for me . Gudiya / Lado/ Sweetheart or Durga ???
Thinking of all this I went into the world of dreams where I was flying on a horse with my Papa . U know Papa took the horse in a beautiful garden of coloured flowers and toffees. After few hours I felt like someone was on me in my cot itself, hugging me tight and making my cheeks wet . Had papa arrived ? Couldn’t he control his loving emotions seeing me ? But ! O No ! What was it ? When I fully got conscious from my dreamy world , I saw Mommy on me , hugging me , rather guarding me . I could hear a raucous voice in the background. For one moment I couldn’t understand what was happening. Mommy was crying intensely , repeating “ Na Na Isko mat maaro , Isko mat maaro, Aap meri jaan le lo “ I saw a man in a very aggressive mood , with a rod in his hand. I was shocked to hear Mommy saying “ Koi Baap aisa karta hai kya ?” My mind just got numb , heart clenched “ This is my Papa ????”
Papa was heavily drunk today and just wanted to kill me as he had ordered Mommy to bring a boy in this world and I was a girl. He hustled Mommy aside , picked me up and went outside the room. Mommy even tried to beg at his feet but he dragged her along, banged me on the kitchen wall. Few glasses and plates were shattered , dishes scattered and just one bang was enough for a soft one week old child’s soul to part with the body . I (my soul) could see myself (my body) on the floor bleeding , my white frock slushed with the Dal mommy had prepared. The Black Teeka behind my ear was still visible but just couldn’t save me from the evil eyes of a Demon.
After I (my body ) got silent , That Demon had his dinner especially the sweet Halwa . Mommy was helplessly serving with tears . After having food, that Demon forced himself on her in the bed. I (my soul) could feel her pain when she was lying down like a lifeless instrument . Satisfied in half an hour, My so called Papa quickly went into a deep sleep ,snoring high.
In the mid of night , Mommy got up, Unkempt, carried me (my body) in her arms and once again stood in front of her Maa Durga idol . In her thick voice she again murmured few prayers , laid me softly in my cot and blessed me with her sweet kisses on my forehead , my nose, my cheeks, my lips, all over the body. I did feel her heart racing. Then she went to the toilet and drank some black coloured liquid from a bottle. After few vomits , that poison was ultimately able to relax her within an hour ,as her soul got out of her body and we both got together. We both were in tears seeing each other and we quickly ran towards each other for tight warm hugs. Tears kept flowing endlessly as she blessed me today once again with her divine lullaby “ Bitiya Rani……” , which was really divine today .
My thoughts on “Domestic Violence”
Above post is very close to my heart . I have really felt its each and every word while writing . Should I title it just domestic violence or Rape or Murder ? I am shaken . Domestic Violence is a very shameful crime on the women . I mean , within one’s home , the family is abusing , hitting , assaulting a woman . What do they want to show ? Their supremacy ? Their ego ? Their terror ? Why is a man given a supreme status ?And this has been given since the start of human life . What do you think ? He is allowed to do just anything – Love her or Abuse her or penetrate her ? All his choice ? Why ? The question is how does a female’s different body structure make her inferior so that the male considers it as a right to use her ? I think inferiority is there in the brains of such men .
Today’s modern woman , the educated woman, the one reading this blog , just doesn’t allow herself to be a victim of such intense violence as written in the above story . But somewhere or other , she does face Domestic Violence , if not thrashing, then may be the abusing words of the man , or the other threatenings . And if we talk of poor or uneducated women like our maids or garbage collectors , I think they do have to face intense Domestic Violence at their homes . One day , I got to talk with my woman garbage collector . She and her husband come together to collect garbage door to door . That day she was upset and grumbling . On my asking , all she said was “Bas Didi karo bhi maro bhi or maar bhi khao , iska kaam to bas pina hai chahe bachhe bhi mar jayen ” I think the complete violence was depicted in these words . How can we be of help ? In what way can we try to reduce such crimes on women ?