Delhi -- We Rape Because We CAN (R.I.P Damini)



 

Here we meet again. If you have forgotten me, let me rekindle your hopeless memory. I'm the radio jockey girl {Aashima Talwar} who drinks, smokes, parties till 3am, wears short dresses, dances with boys, have had 5 odd boyfriends & no, I'm not a virgin. And I'm smokin HOT.

 

I'm the perfect girlfriend material - and the worst marriage material. That's what the boys say.

 

It is 9.47pm by the wall-clock. I've just woken up after sleeping for 19 hours {21 hours is my personal record}. I'm sitting on the floor drinking black coffee. Coffee sucks. But my roommate Farheen {she's virgin...ha ha} says i gotta drink this. Shitty black coffee (no sugar) works miracles on a head spinning with Hangover.

 

So how did I achieve the 21st hangover of my life? Here's how:

 

Y'day I was sitting at home bored to death watching the re-runs of 'How I Met Your Mother'. So, I called my best friend Rahil, asked him to get off his ass & meet me at Saket Malls. He obliged. We haven't met in over a year. A tragedy happened to him a year ago. Her name is Ridhi Khurana. She's his creepy {frickin creepy} girlfriend.

 

He suggested Mocha. I punched him. And took him to Hard Rock Cafe. That's where we had Tequila & other nonsense shots & bitched about his psychopath girlfriend & recalled our good old days of freedom. Ridhi doesn't allow him to meet me. I told ya I'm smokin HOT.

 

At around 8.30pm we went out for some fresh air {and smokes}. I saw a girl approaching from far. I thought I knew her. I accosted her (I'm totally shameless) & asked her if we knew each other. She looked at the guy with her & politely said to me "No".

 

As she was walking away I noticed her hair. They were something else. I yelled "You got sexy hair"

She turned, flushed with embarrassment. "Thank you" she said with a shy smile & walked off.  

 

"I'm not drunk enough Rahil, lets rock back into Hard Rock Cafe". We did.

 

3 hours later I was so frickin drunk that I couldn't differentiate between a wall & a ceiling. No, I didn't fall or injure myself {I did almost kill a baby in a pram, almost}. As we were walking out, Rahil's phone rang. Damn Ridhi. After 2 odd minutes of torturous (for me) conversation, he hung up & looked at me. He wasn't nearly as drunk as me but drunk.

 

"Ridhi wants me to come see her now"

"Why" I said irritated

"She says she had a bad dream where someone stole me away from her"

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. That bitch is such a drama queen"

"I'm sorry I gotta go" he said, sadly. I gave him thumbs up. {I hate that bitch}

 

Rahil called up Easy Cab & gave them my number. "They'll pick you up from here in 15 to 20 minutes. Hang tight"

"Don't ya worry about me. Off you go, chop-chop" I gave him the marching orders. He left with a sad face. I can understand his dilemma. Poor lad is torn between his creepy girlfriend & asshole best friend.

 

But I couldn't sit still for long. I got up in about 3 minutes & started walking. Within few minutes I was on the road, walking on the sidewalk singing some terrible {Hooka Bar} song. In winters it gets kinda dark outside the protected environment of the malls. I kept walking. My phone rang, I picked it & started laughing like a dumbass {that I'm}. After trying his best the driver from the Easy Cabs gave up & hung up. I kept walking. It got really dark. I was on a mission to Neverland. I was out to find my Johnny Depp. And then I found him. He almost crushed me under his bus. On the bright yellow exterior of the bus was painted: St. Anthony's Primary School.

 

I barked "Hey! Asshole, where the fuck did ya sell your fucking eyes" He did not understand much English but he got the point. He hopped off the driver's seat & stood next to me. It was a barren road. Just me & my Johnny Depp. Except he was black & chewing tobacco.

"Madam, are you drunk?" He asked in terrible Hindi. He was Haryanvi.

"Of course not, you moron"

"I think you are" he seemed convinced.

"Alright may be little bit" I said leaning on the front of the bus. I was gonna fall down any moment. Then I did. I recall him trying to shake me to life but I was all but unconscious. He placed his hand inside my pockets. I could feel his hands but was too smashed to react. He turned me a bit, I think he touched my ass. But for only a second I think. He then turned me back & I could see stars in the air. Beautiful twinkling stars.

 

He opened my purse. Fiddled with it, pulled out my phone. Ransacked it. And about a minute later he grabbed me. Lifted me like a sack of grains & dumped me in the driver's cabin. He kick started the engine & off we went. I knew I was being kidnapped. Damn, i still couldn't move. He made a phone call. I don't know what he said in his thick haryanvi accent. But I reckon he was calling a friend of his to share the loot. I was doomed.

 

My eyes were open. He stopped. He looked at me. 30 odd seconds later he drove again. I swear I was feeling this massive rush of blood. And I still couldn't move. I had downed 23 shots of Tequila & other crap.

 

It was sometime past midnight. I was dark & bumpy inside the driver's cabin. It was me & my hero. I knew I will be killed soon.

 

Few minutes later he parked the bus outside a residential area. It looked like some place I had been to. It was Gurgaon: The platinum city where women get raped in daylight. It is also the place where I've been living for the past 1 year with Farheen.

 

He came near me. It was time to say my final goodbye. He lifted me like he had before & de-boarded the plush bus. I heard a door bell. I heard a scream. Someone grabbed at me with full force. My time had come. It was time to slaughter me. 

 

Farheen's shrilling voice almost smashed my eardrums. "What did you do to her asshole?"

"Madam, it is not what you think"

"Get lost before I call the police you sick man" I heard the door shut. It made a thundering noise, worse than Farheen's voice. I heard the bus leave. I heard my Johnny Depp leave.

 

That was my story of how I got drunk & then almost killed myself as I tried to cross a road on a red signal. The man in the bus hit the emergency breaks & saved me from being road kill. He then looked through my pockets & my purse as I lay almost unconscious. He found my home address printed on the back of cellphone {my ex-boyfriend had got that engraved for emergency like this}. He then drove me back to my place. In between he called his wife to tell her that he'll be late. And for all this humanitarian work he did, he got called names in return. Because he was a driver, a haryanvi. He got called a "sick man". I can't feel what he must have felt at that moment but it made me sad. Bigtime. 

 

We stereotype people, We label people. We say we know it all. But we do not know shit.

 

And then Farheen turned on the television. It was filled with the news of a brutal rape in a moving bus. A 23-yr-old {my age} girl was inhumanly gang-raped by 6 men, beaten with rods & flung out of the bus, left to die. She was fighting for life, a fight she was unlikely to win. Then they showed a photo of hers. One before she was brutally raped.

 

I knew that girl. It made me shiver. I started to tremble. She was the girl I had met at the Saket Malls. She was the girl with the "sexy hair". My eyes welled up, tears wouldn't stop rolling down. My heart skipped a beat. Something died in me in that moment.

 

She wasn't drunk. She wasn't an idiot like me trying to cross on a red light. It wasn't almost midnight like in my case. It was not even frickin 9pm. She didn't even live in Gurgaon, the rape national champion. She was in posh South Delhi. She was not even alone. She was with a guy. But the worst of all atrocities happened to her. And I the drunken dumbass was saved by a haryanvi angel. The irony is that her main assailant's name is Ram.

 

There will be a parliament debate, protests, candle light vigils, demand for law changes, public anger, mudslinging on the cops, and men will be compared to animals & lose out. Culprits will be hanged till death. Women will demand castration. And yet, before we blink, there will be another rape.

 

Police cannot stop a rape. Capital punishment cannot stop rape. Stricter laws cannot stop rape. Angry protests cannot stop rape. Even castration cannot stop rape.

 

Big Question: So who can stop rape?

 

The only person who can stop rape before its inception is our "mothers". Yes, our holy mothers. It is our mothers who sow the seeds. Our mothers must stop making rapists.

 

The day she gives birth to a boy. The first word she must teach him is not Mother, not Mummy, not Maa. The first word taught to the boy must be: Respect.

 

Then gradually explain its meaning.

 

When he's old enough to go to school, she shouldn't worry if he's going to become an engineer, doctor, a rockstar or a frickin rickshaw puller. She must worry about one thing, one thing only - that is - he should not become a rapist. Here are a few radical steps to ensure that:

 

Stop forgiving him for all the mistakes he makes. Stop giving him all the love for free. Stop telling him he's the chirag of the family, who'll carry their family name forward. And for fuck sake, stop treating him like God coz it is not enough to name him Ram & hope he turns out to be Godlike.

 

And most of all, women gotta "genuinely" start respecting women.

 

Stop bitching about how short her skirt is. Stop bitching about who she's sleeping with. Stop bitching about how much she drinks & smokes. Stop bitching about how you are more beautiful than her. 

 

Stop calling someone else for help. Wake up from the slumber & stand up for yourself {learn Taekwondo}. Even God doesn't stand up for cowards.

 

Start to believe the change lies within, in conscience, in heart. Make 'yourself' change; you'll see the world change around you.

 

Big Question: Can you be the change you want to see in the world you live in?

 

Note: Not all is lost. There are still some Haryanvi Johnny Depp's around to save the day. All we need is tons {& tons} more of them. Our future, our next generation is like clay. Let's mold them the right way.

 

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