A Pear A Day (and other proverbial truths)

My town was a dusty, dull small town known for nothing before the Big Rape happened. Rapes, of course happen in every small town in India, all the time. I am fifty years-old and I do not remember a time when I was not afraid of Rape. Even before I knew the meaning of Rape, I was afraid. Of the terrible things that can befall a woman; it is the worst. Worse than death even. That is why it is our duty to take due precautions against Rape. But that is only when you look at it from individual point of view. From the societal point of view, Rape is Routine. It happens to others. It is means to an end. Normally Rapes are reported, if at all, in side margins of page five of big newspapers. Everyone knows newspapers are in the business of bad news. No one takes them seriously. 

I used to be Virgin-Mother-Goddess-of-Cool and had temples to myself all over these parts. Myself, Manju, I am named for Goddess Parvati, you see. But I am just another housewife. Every morning I meditate on a shloka from Bhagwad Geeta. I do ten Surya Namaskars and visit Ram temple for keertan. Twice, I have sung devotional songs on All India Radio, Haspur. They say I have the Third Eye and the Inside Story on everything. And all kinds of feelings. Contradictory. I love Girl Child. I want to save her. I love my daughter even though she has this condition. Autism, they call it. I have duty towards my husband, Rajesh Pannu, also. He has been kind to me even though I have not borne him any sons. I am having only black tea for last four days and it makes my head ache. Forgive me, I ramble.

Let me tell you right at onset -- I am patriotic Indian. My ring tone is “Jai Ho”! I go to the women’s shelter every Saturday to impart to homeless, abandoned girls instruction on personal hygiene and useful crafts. I was the star campaigner of Clean India Campaign. Our ward was cleanest in the whole town and I received a badge from the honorable MLA himself. “Filth Free Haspur” was our slogan. Some big newspapers have been calling it ironic. I don’t know what that means. 

I am having breathing trouble these days. Otherwise I was much more active. I used to walk two miles daily and never had weight problems. But so much pollution everywhere, anything can happen. One thing after another. That is how I knew the little girl. She and her mother came to deliver milk. Goat’s milk. Doctor said that cow’s milk is not so good if you have asthma. Could be allergy, cows eat rubbish, polyethylene and all. I told her to be quiet for howcanyousaylikethis about cowmother? But I listened to her for my good. 

Raziya and her mother started coming to my house every evening with the goat’s milk and no more headaches. No more breathing troubles. No more rashes. I would give the little girl Parle-G biscuits and a cup of tea to her mother. Of course, I made her tea from normal dairy milk as goat’s milk is much more expensive. They would sit in the backyard under a banyan tree. She was nice. My daughter Minny, poor girl, stays mostly silent, unsmiling, aloof. But with Raziya, she smiled. Laughed even. They played. Why would I mind it? The mother always remembered to wash her tumbler and keep it on the ledge outside the kitchen. So you can see I have only good feelings for fellow Muslim people. People say these people will give the evil eye. But I am modern and educated. I never believed in that nonsense.

As Rapes go, this one was standard. Rape as a Lesson and warning to Muslim shepherds who stole Hindu lands. Even if Muslims claimed to have paid for it, everyone knows that they are foreigners and can have no claim over town lands. Land is such an emotive issue, you see. It is only fear for their women which can make them give up land. My husband says how these people breed! They will soon grow so many in number that we Hindus will be refugees in our own homeland. This urge to secure our lands led to the whole unfortunate incident. Now people are using that one thing to tarnish the glorious image of Hinduism. My husband’s uncle knows someone in the police department, so he knows. First duty in such situations is to ensure that things are kept under control.  Communal fires are not fanned.  Allegations by one community against the other tend to get out of hand.  Hence, for the sake of the larger good, the police were playing it low.  Things went out of hand when foreign media fed by paid Delhi journalists and hyper activist types from JNU leaked unnecessary details, leading to court orders to release the charge-sheet!  Allegations!  Based on false complaints!  By some greenhorn policewoman!  Concocted. The noxious details, that any seasoned administration would have kept a lid on, were let out mischievously and everybody got hurt. It was a media conspiracy, everyone knows.   So unnecessary!  For nothing!  All the righteous anger!  

As my husband says, context is everything. Eight year-old. Raped in temple. Four days. Four men. Said in that sensational way -- makes it horrific. This is not how it is from societal point of view. It is about historical wrongs. About who started it first. About teaching them a lesson. Because if you don’t teach them they will teach you. Of course when I think about her face -- her eyes -- tears come to my eyes also. What to do? But that is not the main point.

Now my unknown town is known to everybody. Branded as the only town on earth to rally massive support for a gang of rapists. Put in this alarmist way, it sounds so crude. It is like one of those Horror stories that I like watching. Out of nowhere, black gelatinous alien spiders jump on you and suck out your lifeblood, little by little. Listen, we are good, God-fearing, law-abiding people. You cannot tarnish us like this. What can you expect from Foreign Media after all? Can they even understand the Hindu-Muslim nuances and the just anger of the majority on being deprived of their rights? Can they ever get that fanning of communal fires is far bigger danger than random lustful acts of some men?

My husband says it is only negative incidents like this that are deliberately highlighted in national and international media. When was there any positive news? Always it is made out Muslims are having problems whereas they never had any problems here.  They are living like Kings!  The Foreign Media wants to derail the progress we are making by causing social divides. Our beloved country is being stabbed from all quarters by external forces! 

I can say with hand on my heart that the men who did it are not known to us. My husband; however, had no choice, but to stand up and protest against their arrest because ‘til the courts decide and charges are proved, everything is an allegation and will you not stand up for a fellow Hindu if he is in trouble? They, the Muslims, always stand behind one another. Us Hindus are always divided. As you can already see, even now, it is the citified Hindus in Delhi, who are organizing all the candle marches and bleeding their hearts in manufactured anguish. I tell you. These are bad times. I am totally drained. Not eaten for eight hours. Stood in the sun for five. It is the fourth day without Goat’s Milk and my migraine and asthma is worse. It is not as if we too have not suffered enough because of all this. Still I bear it all stoically. 

As a mother I have another thing to say. What kind of mother, which parents, would leave their daughter alone and let her roam all over the town? Even if she is eight years-old? I never leave my daughter alone. If I have to, I lock her in. Then padlock the front gate also. 

I lock her in everyday to sit on fast in support of my husband’s friends.

I agree, of course, that the whole things was unfortunate.  Badly managed.  Ill-conceived.  They should have known better.  Picked up a grown-up woman.  And found a better location!  Reduced the number of days! I don’t know why they had to confess that they raped her dead body. So unnecessary! It’s not as if the eight years-old could feed their lust!  They were only doing it as a duty to their dharm bhais.  Now I am sitting in fast in support of my husband, as it is important to show him we are not alone.

I lock my daughter in and go from nine am to five pm daily to dharma in front of the police station.

She is nine, but in Class 1, as she is slow in mind. Teacher does not understand that. She has sent me a note saying that when told to write “pear,” she wrote “Rape” all over the page. I keep telling Minny how she must never write or speak dirty words. Everyday, I tell her. Rape Dirty. Chee. We never use that word. Write “pear” now. OK?

Only problem is, my daughter, she shits in her pants when I leave her alone these days. We can afford diapers, we are well-off by God’s Grace. But the devil has gotten into her! Maybe from playing with that Muslim girl.  She cries out her name every time the television is switched on and takes out her diaper and flings it onto the walls. Wailing. She is so disturbed! When I open the lock, the stench makes me faint.  

I really think they should have left the temple alone.

Varsha Tiwary