Posts Tagged ‘Rape’

I am unfortunately once again holding the post of Editor in a newspaper. Unfortunate. Very unfortunate. Because I am a quintessential escapist. And I love my escape plans. I hatch plans. Follow some pointers, like not buying a cell phone, etc, just so that I can plan my physical escape some day.

It’s not an honorable thing to do for a responsible journalist who’s worked 20 years in hardcore news media, done sting operations, investigative journalism, sat at the helm of a desk, judging others’ copies and designed how to produce them on the next day’s edition. I mean, it’s a deadly job! You are making a promise to millions.

But that’s exactly¬†why I¬†was becoming more and more determined to escape.

This char. This burn. It singes¬†me everyday. The news I am exposed to¬†grills¬†me slowly till I get roasted. It’s a torture to me to hold a responsible position at a newspaper. But, unfortunately I am once again doing so.

And timely too, for the Nibhaya BBC Documentary to come up.

You know how life is when you aren’t a journalist? You smell flowers, you design kitchen gardens, watch “food food” channel and make lovely dishes at home, Ekta Kapoor is a perfect friend then and her serials make me ignorant, blissful and happy.

But sometimes I become an Editor. And then, all that luxury is over and once again I am¬†set on¬†medium rare for¬†slow roast. “Burn for the world, come on!” is my unwritten instruction.

I don’t know how many of you got to see that documentary. Congrats Leslee Udeen, who perhaps had a personal shot to be cleared¬†when she interviewed the rapist: She had been¬†herself raped.

I remembered in college days one of my very concerned male friend had told¬†me, “If you get raped, don’t resist, Enjoy it.”

I didn’t exactly get raped, but molested on public buses, streets… many a times. Someone even asked me “How much?” when I was waiting for a bus at a bustop coming back from the University.

I beat up a few, ran away in fear and did nothing at times. Beating came a lot later, when I realized I could physically overpower at least one puny man (one lucky outcome of my good build).

But enjoy a rape?

Let’s get to the basics here. We ¬†are all adults. A person approaches you, you balk in fear, you run under cover, you throw things at him, he becomes wilder. And then he decides to pin you down. Imagine the scene. You have a complete stranger trying to pull down your pants. With all his strength. There is no one around. His face is in grimace. He¬†tears off you blouse, and digs one hand right into your vagina. Now one thing here. Our vagina’s are not hollow pipes. They are a closed soft organs. Much as you men forget that you were brought into the world by your loving mothers through that kind of¬†vagina. But that opened like petals only for a few minutes, giving excruciating pain to the mother, so that “flowers” like you can bloom and get a life. Otherwise, the vagina remains¬†usually closed. It gets lubricated when she gets aroused by a man she loves, or she has given permission to possess her body, and then someone can¬†enter her at her consent.

So why were you thrusting your hand in there? What were you looking for?  Maybe you should have had your penis pushed in there instead. You may have had more fun.

And maybe that would have been less painful for the girl, and not taken Nibhaya’s¬†intestine out! She may have lived.

By the way, my dear college¬†friend, tell me, which part of me¬†would¬†be able to enjoy this attack.. can you explain? I’ve never been raped, so I can’t really say I tried to follow whatever you said. I’m sorry I am not YET been raped.

But¬†yesterday, 30 years later, during¬†a long debate with a man, a Canadian man, (Indian born) a family man with a wife at home, told me the same thing. “When you get raped, try to enjoy it”.

Goosebumps ran¬†down my spine: Didn’t the rapist Mukesh Singh just say¬†the same thing¬†on BBC?


I know I’ll probably lose a lot of friends with this post, since¬†I am technically in that age group when I’m supposed to be religious.

But I am not. That’s besides the point. But I never stepped onto the zones of those who are religious (Hindus, this time) and post numerous photos of gods and goddesses on their¬†social media, whatsapp, etc and have ignored them. I don’t respect the ardent public display of affection¬†about their choice of religion and their way of worship. But never spoke about it. I have seen hardcore realists and journalists by the night, murmur a few inane Sanskrit word which ¬†they do not comprehend, by the day, during worship at home.

It was all fine. I was having a gala time watching all that. Till today.

When I saw someone share a picture of Kamakhya Goddess’s ‘Yoni’ and asked everyone to share that so that they can see a miracle in their lives in a few days. (I never share, and I never have any miracles. That’s again another topic.)

But what is ‘Yoni’?

Do you know what is ‘Yoni’?

I didn’t know what is ‘Yoni’.

On research I learned it’s not just the female organ in its complete form, it’s a ‘bleeding female organ’!! Look at the picture. It’s a female organ, with blood-like things running down like a river.

Image result for Kamakhya Yoni

The Kamakhya temple is dedicated to the tantric goddesses. Apart from the deity Kamakhya Devi, compound of the temple houses 10 other avatars of Kali namely Dhumavati, Matangi, Bagola, Tara, Kamala, Bhairavi, Chinnamasta, Bhuvaneshwari and Tripuara Sundari. There is no statue, idol or image of Devi in the temple, but in the corner of the cave in the temple, there is sculptured image of the yoni or Vagina of the goddess, which is the object of worship and reverence. (Source: Kamakhya is supposed to be a very ‘jagrata devi’ (Living, and listens to all your problems, grants you your desire.)


Goddess sculpture in the Kamakhya temple

The last I heard was about Shiv Ling. Hindus had forever worshipped Shiv Ling (The penis of God Shiv in an intercourse state with a female Goddess’s Yoni) for a very long time.

Image result for Shiv Ling

Why Shiva is Worshiped in His Phallic Form:

Once Brahma and Vishnu, two deities of the holy Trinity, had an argument. Brahma being the Creator of the world declared himself to be revered, while Vishnu, the Preserver, argued that he commanded more respect. A colossal Lingam which was the Jyotirlinga appeared before them. Both were awestruck by its increasing size. They both forgot the quarrel and decided to determine its size. Vishnu took the form of a boar and went to netherworld and Brahma swan flew to skies. Both the deities failed to accomplish the task. Then, Shiva appeared out of the Lingam and stated that he was the progenitor and should be worship in his phallic form and not in his anthropomorphic form. Shiva Lingas are made of stone and are carved or naturally existing. They are made of metal, gems, wood, precious stones and transitory materials such as ice.


My fingers shake to type this… but dear Hindus. Do you really have a dearth of Gods that you now have to worship their sexual organs? You don’t consider it abnormal, bordering on perversion, to apply vermilion on the above statue’s vagina??? And how long have you been doing this? And how many of you KNOW what you were worshiping??

We blame the Muslims for their tyrannical ways. We blame Christians for being too fundamentalists. And we Hindus are just a culture, a harmless way of life, that many, many people are adopting. I had been in splits once when a Muslim friend asked me as I related the tales of Goddess Durga to him: “Aaap saap ko bhi pujte hain? Kamaaal hain!” (You worship snakes too? Terrific!)

But this shakes me up. Where are we going with our Hindu religion? Who told you you could worship a woman’s vagina, a blood-filled vagina. Who gave you the right to do so? And do you know, that a real woman who is having her periods is not allowed to visit the temple?

The temple of Kamakhya as in all Hindu ‘Mythology’ has a very interesting bed-time story of its origin. It is one of the 108 Shakti peeths. The story of the Shakti peeths goes like this; once Sati fought with her husband Shiva to attend her father’s great yagna. Despite her husband Lord Shiva‚Äôs disapproval, Sati had gone to attend the universal ‚Äėyajna‚Äô organised by her father Daksha. Shiva was not invited, and was also abused by Daksha. Unable to bear the insult, Sati committed suicide. When Shiva came to know that his beloved wife had committed suicide, he went insane with rage. He placed Sati’s dead body on his shoulders and did the Tandav or dance of destruction.

To calm him down, Vishnu cut the dead body with his chakra. The 108 places where Sati’s body parts fell are called Shakti peeths. Kamakhya temple is special because Sati’s uterus¬†and vagina fell here.

Okay. That’s a mythology, and interesting story to tell to children. Even I had heard about it. But, are you serious? I mean, do you even think what you are doing in your adult days? You are BELIEVING in that child’s bed-time tale!

Who told you that a part of Goddess Kamakhya fell wherever it did and that happened to be her vagina? Who gave you the right to worship a vagina when you’ve been raping them for years? If not on the road, in your bedroom. At parties, in public vehicles, fingering her vagina without her consent.

Moreover, if Goddess Kamakhya had been really existing, do you think, as a woman she would have liked this? Her vagina on display?

Think, darlings think. Before blindly following what these maniacal tantriks tell you to do. For Islam, we blame the jihadists to corrupt their minds. For  other religions we blame on the fundamentalists. What do you think these purohits and tantriks are doing to you?

Wake up, Hindus.

And one more thing. I am speaking from first-hand experience. I had¬†had experience with a tantrik for some time. I have done my share of planchette and talked with ghosts (whatever…). I’ve been to scores of astrologers to know they only talk to¬†your weak mind. And I have walked away strong knowing that our destiny is what we make it, with perhaps the aid of science, technology, our skills, money and hard work, in that order. We reach exactly where we want to. God may be there… I haven’t turned an atheist yet, but he’s certainly not looking into why Sam pulled Tommy’s hair yesterday and trying to spew a new punishment on¬†Sam. He has a Universe to run. We are just a microscopic dust in a tiny, blue,¬†juvenile ball, that has been very luckily placed in the Goldilocks Zone. The Man/Woman’s a busy guy.

God only helps those who help themselves… why, because YOU ARE GOD! You have the power, and you just realized it after encountering an orange-vermilion-dumped tree-trunk which you thought looked like Hanuman. And you thought you experienced¬†a miracle. You prayed because you were weak, or you wanted something more and more from life. And then when you became stronger, with time and external support, you owed it all to God, or blamed Him for everything.

I was a believer at 20. Was doubtful at 30. Clutched onto my runny beliefs¬†at 40. And swaying more the atheism way at 50. I don’t think I’ll meet any God when I die. I’m too inconsequential. I’ll just burn, and vanish. We all will. Like plants. Like ants. Like ant-eaters. Even if I do meet the Supreme, I have a few questions to ask Him/Her, that’s besides the point.

It all fell into place. You mean to say that the thousands of refugees in Syria and the children never prayed in whichever God they believed?  You mean the victims of mass rape in Syria and sex-slaves never prayed when they were repeatedly used for sex and burnt in cages for not complying? What was God doing?

You mean Nirbhaya never prayed?

Just shut up! You morons! Just shut up! You blame everything on God and go to worship her bleeding vagina not even knowing what it is! You pour barrels of milk on Shiva’s penis not even knowing why you do it! You feed stone idols of Ganesha milk just because some moron spread the news. GAWD! That was surface tension that was pulling the liquid up and out of the spoon, before gravity caused it to run down the front of the statue! Science! Basic.

I know I’ll lose a lot of friends overnight, as I am in that age when I should be singing hymns, chanting slokas, performing Karwa Chauth, downloading the ‘Shakti’ app so that my progeny too learns the difference between songs and ‘bhajans‘. But I am slowly turning an atheist.And I can’t go into that realm. … Maybe I’ll be boiled in hot oil when I reach heaven. And tell them I wasn’t boiled here enough.

But till then, I care for you friends. Please don’t post Goddesses’ vagina photos on Facebook to show how little your faith you have in yourself. Please don’t share God’s ¬†Phallic Form as a PDA.

Do whatever you do, even Black Magic, in your little secrecy. The world need not know. Because these things are like drugs and pornography. Public display should be banned immediately.

My son says I am over 45, fat, and married. Hence….

But after not heeding to alarming media threats of India being a “Rape country”, and romping¬†off to the beautiful state of Rajasthan “alone”, with my 18-year-old son, a muscular man revelling in his newly-acquired adulthood, tucked along; of course him having no inkling of the tricky ways in which business operates in India, I have come to the conclusion that women are anything but unsafe in this country.

Thank you, India. Thank you beautiful and handsome men all along my journey, along the entire breadth of the country, from West Bengal in the East to Rajasthan in the West, who took care of me and my son, calling me “Madam”, “Madamji”, calling my son, “Sir”, “Sirji”; often wrongly placing the food bill in front of him, wondering who was paying for whom… who was in charge.

Right after my take-off in the Rajdhani Express train, there were invisible saints along the way. The moment they realized I was a lone woman traveling with my son, instead of taking advantage of the situation, they took extra care. The hotel boy knocked our door and asked us to specially attend the complimentary breakfast. The camel man took extra care of me asking me to sit in front, as that was a better seat. The men in the train were holding doors when I went out of the compartment for the washroom and bringing down things I couldn’t reach without me even asking for help. (I remember in Canada, once, my bag of vegetables rolled off and were strewn all over the bus floor, when the vehicle took a speedy turn. Not ONE passenger got up from their seat to help me pick up the vegetables…. Just saying. )

Just for information, my clothing weren’t tent-like. I was in an experimenting mode, and wore whatever I got my hands on… or whatever my meaty body could wriggle into. But I never got one disapproving look from any man. No, not one I can remember. They were just too respectful, too protective, going into a flurry whenever I said I wanted to¬†stop for a washroom.

My son says I am overage, overweight and over the hills and that’s why men were not interested. Maybe. But even then I want to assure you all over the world, that men in this country don’t deserve to be generalized. Please do not brand beautiful India with that ugly name. It’s an angelic country with delightfully helpful people (Read: MEN). I am proud to hail it as my motherland.

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The camel man, Tej Singh, in Khuri village, Rajasthan


Protected, reassured. (Not SURROUNDED! ) Know the difference,


Our camel rider, Harish


Our guide, Sunil, in Jaisalmer, Shonar Kella



Great Guide Anil in Jaipur, Amber Palace