The Mother's cry for change

I am a Mother; a mother of children who are as alike as they are different from each other. My children are spread all across from north to south and east to west. My children are the citizens of India; I am Mother India.

They dress me in spotless white and hold me in high regards. Then why does my heart weep? Why is my gleaming white attire soaked in tears of blood for my daughters? I grieve at the plight of my female progeny as they are molested; tortured and exploited right here in my bosom. My children pledge never-ending love for me and claim to save me from harm whatever the cost but don’t they see with the degradation of their morals and their treatments towards my daughters I die a silent death each day?

‘Vande Mataram’ they sing. I bow to thee, Mother they say. But they realize not that their mother will one day disappear; crushed under the burden of their sins.

What sins you ask? Sins that makes me loathe the children I bore; sins that demean me as a mother; sins that even put the devil to shame; sins that make the air toxic and the water venomous; sins that cause the decay of a nation!

Look towards my bosom in the city of Nashik my 14 year old daughter is being gang raped. She is crying for mercy; pleading but are they listening? Every scratch on her body becomes a wound on my heart but my children seem to be unaware. Their mother bleeds as they take the innocence out of a child. She is scarred for life and I am drenched in her tears and gasps!

I bleed through my arms in my beautiful desert state of Rajasthan which boasts of beautiful palaces and forts. My eight month pregnant daughter is being tormented by a hot iron rod by none other than her husband and in-laws. Oh the inhumanity; she is with child! She tries to protect her baby but she is unable to. She is being punished for they fear her bearing a girl child. I see the terror in her eyes. I feel the burn in my skin; I feel the heat sinking within. I feel plagued by Female Feticide and apathy towards girl child. I die a little with each touch of rod on her body; yes I die a little!

My heart skips beats and I feel nauseous as my shoulders bleed in my own city of Guwahati as my teenage daughter gets molested in wide public view. She is hurled around by her hair and her clothes pulled apart. Why again you ask? Because she dared to protest against lewd remarks passed at her. As she begs for help from one onlooker to another; I feel her helplessness. As she tirelessly tries to escape the monsters; I feel the fear in her. I fall down as does she. I lose the faith in life and the goodness of people as does she! I feel feeble and vulnerable as I look around and see grotesque realities exposed; as I see horrific true faces of those!

Look at my favourite south, my legs feel numb as I witness a heinous act in the city of Bangalore. My son poisons his infant daughter as what he wanted was a son. He laces her milk with poison and feeds her. She flutters her eyelashes and gives an innocent doting smile as she drinks the poison out of her father’s hand. Oh the shame! As the poison starts to affect her organs she gradually slips away to eternal oblivion; I feel impaired and paralyzed. I feel violated as she is killed within days of opening her eyes.

I hear their silent cries; I feel their pain; my daughters are suffering in vain. In the guise of my daughters being liberated; biases are still nurtured. If nothing else, my daughters are forced to move heaven and earth for the husband’s family leaving their very own. When they do that silently, they live in regret and sadness lifelong. If they don’t, they are touted as bane to society all along. All this; these very acts of prejudice against my daughters are cancerous growths and with each passing day I move a step closer to my fall.

Stop! Look Around and Wake up! I don’t want to soak anymore in such brutalities. Enough is enough! Stop the blatant crimes against women for I, your mother, am one of them. The girl being raped is I; the woman being thrashed for bearing a girl child is I; the girl being beaten to death is I; the bride being burnt for dowry is I; the girl being eve-teased is I and the woman who works nonstop for you at home is I too. When you hurt even one of my daughters you push me towards my end; you pave way for your Nation to die!

My Daughters, rise and soak no more in the torture and the pain you have forever bore. If none change; you do and say yourself ‘I shall soak no more’!

Some Statistics:

In India, 1 crime is committed against women every 3 minutes.
1 Molestation case every 15 minutes
1 Sexual Harassment Case every 53 minutes
4 out of 10 women have experienced violence at home


I urge all women to speak up and stop tolerating any form of non-sense even if it with regards to how you should dress or if you are forced to cover your head and sometimes face in the name of respecting elders. It can be anything from a tiny speck to a huge concern but unless you stop enduring; your plight and the predicaments of your daughters shall never change. We women often chose to ignore issues as they seem too small to rake up a storm for; change that and you shall change the course of the way women are treated in the long run. Say it loud and clear ‘SOAK NO MORE in FEAR’.

This post is for The Surf Excel Matic #SoakNoMore Contest by Indiblogger.

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