Shakti

Trigger Warning: This article contains mentions of assault and may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with caution.

She is Shakti.  The mother, the bearer, the nurturer. The epitome of courage, selflessness, and love. She fiercely and furiously fights to protect you all. She grows additional arms, loads them with weapons to annihilate the demons that come to enslave you, torture you, and slay you. You welcome her into your lives with bells and conch shells. You worship her with flowers and fire. You bow down to her in obeisance. You fast for nine days, not once but twice a year, in an effort to please her, so she blesses you with prosperity and keeps you safe.

She is Jyoti, the light, the illuminator of lives, the dispeller of darkness. But Jyoti, in flesh and blood, cannot dispel the darkness that engulfs her on a cold December night in 2012 in the capital city of India. You are supposed to take her home safely in that public bus. But you gang rape her, brutally assault her, violate her in ways even beasts would call ghastly, and push her off the bus to her death. The nation cries and cries out. A few laws change. A fund is earmarked so all women can move fearlessly in this country. Are things any different then on?

She is Priya, the loving one, the loved one. She takes care of animals all day. She says animals are trusting and trustworthy. So are humans, she assumes. On a disastrous November night in 2019, she trusts you when you tell her that her scooter has a flat tire at that toll plaza near Hyderabad. Animals are so much better than men – probably her last thought when all air runs out of her body as you smother her after gangraping her in those bushes.

She is Asha, the beacon of hope. It is 2020 and the Dalits of Hathras dare to hope that casteism is a relic of the past. But you crush their hope. You drag her by her dupatta, strangling her and breaking her spine while having your way with her. Her mother finds her at the door of death and rushes her to the hospital. You even burn her dead body in haste, lest the dead limbs cry out for justice!

Momota or Moumita – say these names fast enough, and they morph into the same sound. But while Momota is the only lady chief minister of India, you rape, break, and kill Doctor Moumita in her own seminar hall in her own college in her own city, Kolkata. In Momota’s own capital city, Kolkata. All because a doctor wants a bit of rest after that gruelling 24-hour shift. You warp facts and vandalize the college. Is it to destroy evidence?

Jyoti, Priya, Asha, Moumita, and countless others – all embodiments of Shakti. Shakti, whom you bow to and seek blessings from, yet demean to feel powerful. Shakti, whom you pray to for safety, yet make feel unsafe in her own surroundings. Shakti, whom you worship in mud and stone, yet abuse when she manifests in flesh and blood.

As you commemorate 77 years of Independent India, empower the Shakti around you to truly embrace her freedom. Let her voice be heard, let her explore the world on her own terms, and let her stroll confidently with both earphones in and without a pepper spray in her bag, unafraid and unrestrained. May the world rejoice in her freedom and honour her strength!