my post from the Bell Bajao blogalso reposted at S.I.T.A Sena
in a little village, there was a little girl called dinky,
when she would blush and the world would go pinky.
the innocent beauty came but with a price,
she was bartered for a field of rice.
she dint know what was going on,
just happy she was as papa confirmed he would visit her in her new playground.
she sat there in her wedding sari, all decked in red and fawn,
until night approached and reality dawned.
her body was touched, she was entered, she was strained, she was stained,
ripped off her innocence she was maimed.
morning sun and battered she,
life was not what it once seemed to be.
she continued living , she made pain her friend,
in hope of her papa to return, she lived in pretence.
until one day, daddy died, and her hopes were untied.
dinky cried, and then with vengeance her pen took a ride…
“pinky dinky ponky
father had a donkey,
donkey tied, father died,
now dingy rangy lanky dinky donkey”
Donkey! yes you heard it right… I did state the fact that little girls are traded today, exchanged -as goods were once upon a time. Like how people trade donkeys and cattle. A fact that many English speaking, ravenously vocal urbanites are blissfully unaware of… it’s a reality that many minds are closed to. For us it is still THAT INDIA we see in arty movies.
Child Marriage is equivalent to child sex abuse, much worse than the umbrella term RAPE or MOLESTATION. A shameful part of the glorious India that we boast of often… where the child woman spends her life in distress, pain and darkness.
What can we do about it??? Well, we could talk, blog and tweet. Our voices can definitely make a difference. yes, not all differences that you make could be quantified… the effects of your words would not be often tangible. But needed is the belief of the mind that things would change, with the positive vibes packaged in words and verses. Or I have another option… we could be resigned and cynical that things will be so and nothing can change it and sit on our cozy chairs with wrinkled expressions and whine “O Pity My My”. Or are we waiting for a story of courage in distress to infuse in us the energy and enthusiasm to realize the necessity of change in THAT India? Or are we still just too busy debating cattle class virtual reality tweets when in reality women is traded as cattle?
...That child woman in THAT India, who goes through it… without a whimper!