The Language of Rape

Tahiba Khan

Picasso:The Rape of Sabine Women

The language of Rape,

Is invading forcefully

Not conquering!

Symbol of alienation,

It is frustration

Becomes Communal

It is violence

Subject of Power

It is racist

With patriarchy

It is a norm

With Marriage

It is subtle

In home

It is hiding lust

With caste system

It is Doli Pratha

In Occupation

It is never questioned!

Lost in the history

Slave had no agency!!

In wars, 

It was abduction!

At high level

It is trade...

With Masculinity

it is liberating!

The language of Rape, 

Is the language of  worst oppression!

It is cowardice 

which needs resistance!! 

Who is Responsible?

     
On December 13( Three days after which The Delhi Rape happened), a teenage girl had been raped by 16 boys, of whom nine were minor, six were 18 and one was 19 years old in Meghalaya. Meghalaya is one of the seven sisters in the Indian Territory. I didn’t hear about the incident earlier and read about this in a story titled ‘A cry in the dark’[i] (The Indian Express, 7 April, 2013). On the night when she walked, her Vagina was mutilated, her body was attacked, and her thoughts were harmed. Who is responsible? Was she responsible when she asked her parents to visit the show supposed to end by 8:30pm, which she wanted to see with her two friends? Was she responsible when she decided to walk without any her male relatives? On  19th April a five years old girl was raped, and the neighbour who raped her inserted objects into her body. Who is responsible? A poem in dialogue form sprouted out my hand, to ask, who is responsible?   

He raped her,

They raped her,

Who was responsible?

Who was guilty?

The teenage who raped?

Or the adults who tried to escape?

Or walking in the night raped her?[ii]

Or walking without a veil raped her?

Or questioning to your authority raped her?

Or did saying NO rape her?

Or did saying hey!! stop beating my friend rape her?

Who is responsible?

They say,

Be ‘NOT ‘adventurous to walk at night,

It might have saved her…

Be ‘NOT’ modest in her dress

It might have saved her…

Oh seriously, here is where the problem lies?

But I do have a question,

Who is responsible then,

When a five years old is raped?

I have another question,

Are they watching and waiting, and lusting

When She will be out at night

Or alone at her house,

Or trapped in a non-consensual marriage

Or will be unveiled…

Seriously I’m asking who is responsible,

You pathetic man minded feudal world?

Then who is to Culture and who is to Nature?

Who is responsible for the death of a bird?

Flying in her world of skies and clouds…

The hunter or the bird?

Who is responsible?

When a man excretes urine on the road,

And a woman waits for the same to reach her home!

Is it man’s anatomy or his privilege to express himself.

Who is responsible 

When FIR is not made?

Who is responsible,

When protesters against rape culture are detained?

Who was responsible, 

When Asiya-Nilophar was raped?
Who was responsible 

When Soni Sori went through custodial rape?

Who is responsible?

---

[i] The Indian Express: A Cry in the Dark: http://www.indianexpress.com/news/a-cry-in-the-dark/1098688/0

[ii] http://kafila.org/2012/12/23/rape-cultures-in-india-pratiksha-baxi/

It Was Dream or Hallucination?

Tahiba Khan

In a deep dream, in a half sleep

I hallucinated

A man with a bald head,

With a light beard

Came to me, lying perpendicular to my body’s position.

Don’t remember what he was wearing

He began showering his love,smiling,winking

And then he vanished…

"Where is he?"

He came again

And scared me,

With his long scary teeth

Feeling scared I closed my eyes…

And tried hard to let him go….

After a while I realized it was in dream…

It was a dream… only dream.

After a while, with my half opened eyes

I saw another man in a white lungi,

Running to the kitchen,

I saw his half naked leg and the fluttering of his lungi

I stood up to look for this intruder

Arey! Nobody was here? The gate was closed..

"How he made his way into my house…"

Again I lied down…

After a while I watched some kids coming and going out

Laughing and chatting…

What?

I again got up…and looked... 

Nobody was there.

I lied down again…

Then I thought I'd get up and study…

I went to the bathroom and felt something in my hand

A soap case, with soap in it…

"How did it come to my hand..?"

Oh! I was still in my bed... lying…

"Oh shit! What the hell is happening!" I thought

I thought to get up

But left with no energy

I pulled myself while holding the bed side table.

I didn’t make it…Not even inch of me was shifted

Though I tried hard…

Uff… It was still not real… It was in dream..!

I finally opened my eyes… 

Felt the real room,

Went to the bathroom 

Washed my troubled face…

And sat down to study…

मैंने देखा हैं उसको

Tahiba

Courtesy: www.nationalityforall.org

मैंने देखा हैं उसको
भट्टे की आग में जलते हुए,

सुबह से शाम,
और शाम से फिर
अगली सुबह तक,
अगले दिन की ज़ददोज़हद का
सोचते हुए

मैंने देखा है उसको
उठाते हुए
बदबू मारते गलते हुए जानवरों को,
अपनी उन्ही हाथो से
जिनसे वह बोता हैं
अन्न का दाना
जो तुम दबाये बैठे हो
अपने गोदामों में,

सदियों से थोपी हुई ‘चादर’ को
जो डाली थी गयी
उसके ऊपर
कई सालो पहले
ये बताकर
की तुम
हमेशा से ऐसे ही थे,
गंदे और भिन्न....

मैंने देखा हैं उसको
रहते हुए सुअरो के बीच,
सूअर की तरह,
जीते हुए,
लड़ते हुए,
लड़खड़ाते हुए,
बिलकते हुए,
आक्रोश में चीखते हुए  
छोटे-छोटे
एक बिलांद के अँधेरे कमरों में,
रौशनी को ढूँढ़ते हुए

मैंने देखा है उसको
अपनी बीवी को नशे में धुत्त,
सताते ,
अपने शोषण की झल्लाहट उतारते हुए ,
शोषण से शोषण करते हुए
मैंने देखा है उसकी बीवी को,
खेतो में
घास के बदले
अपने जिस्म का मोलतोल करते हुए, ...

मैंने देखा है उसी 'चादर' के जोर से
उसके अंश को जलते हुए
स्कूल में पढाई के बदले
मैदान के घास उखाड़ते हुए

मैंने देखा है उसके सालो से रहे कच्चे मकानों को
अध्-पक्का बनते हुए,
और उसके बी पी एल कार्ड को कटते हुए

मैंने देखा है उसके ऊपर
कई तंज़ कसते हुए,
"अरे कुत्ते की पूछ कभी सीधी थोड़े न होती है, टट्टी कभी फूल थोड़े ना बनती है "

मैंने देखा है उसकी
एक प्रतिरोध की आवाज़ पर
उसके छित्ड़े उड़ते हुए,
रेल की पटरी से

मैंने देखा है भालो से,
पिस्तौल से,
कुल्हाड़ी से
उसके मॉस को निकलते हुए

मैंने देखा है उसके नाम पर
राजनितिक घरो के साम्राज्य बनते ,
मैंने देखा है उनकी 
आरक्षित सीटो पर 
सुरक्षित राजनीति करते हुए,

मैंने देखा है कई भोतमांगे   
जैसे परिवारों को,
बठानी टोलो को,
आवाज़ लागते हुए,
इन्साफ की गुहार में ,
दरवाज़ा खटखटाते हुए,
कि शायद कोई सुन ले,
शायद लोकतंत्र का कुछ हिस्सा
वह भी देख ले,

खाली आया हमेशा,
वह अपने जैसो के बीच,
पुलिस और क़ानून 
बड़े लोगो की तीमारदारी में लगे हुए देखा उसने,
आज भी जहाँ पूंजी का केंद्र बनता है,
हमला तीखा हो जाता है
आज भी बाकी है मिलनी ,
आधी कीमत उसे,
खेतों में बहाए अपने खून पसीने की,

आज
जब में उससे पूछती हूँ,
इतने सालो में क्या बदला है,
" वो कहता है,
आज भी मैं दिहाड़ी करता हूँ,
मेरी पत्नि भी दिहाड़ी करती है,
मेरा बेटा भी दिहाड़ी करता है,
मेरी बेटी भी दिहाड़ी करती है,
फिर भी
कल पे मुझे भरोसा नहीं है
की कल मुझे खाना मिलेगा के नहीं,
इन्साफ मिलेगा की नहीं…
सुनता हूँ 
इलेक्शन आने वाले है...”