DARSHAN MONDKAR | 6 JANUARY, 2017
2 FB Posts That Struck a Chord With All But Politicos, Cops and Goons
FACEBOOK: Editors Note: There has been an outcry on the social media against the sexual assault on girls by mobs in Bengaluru (and now it turns out Delhi as well) on New Years Eve. Unfortunately the anger and disappointment is reflected in government. A particularly poignant and hard hitting post on FB by Darshan Mondkar has gone viral. The Citizen reproduces it along with a new post by Mondkar #NotAllMen
So, I went out with my girlfriends to party on the crowded streets of a Metropolitan city, they came out in large numbers and molested us...... But my safety is my responsibility so...
The next time I went to a discotheque, it was enclosed and had bouncers, they came into the place and beat us up and ripped our clothes off.......But my safety is my responsibility so....
I went to a movie with a Male friend for company, they pushed me into a bus and shoved an iron rod inside my privates.......But my safety is my responsibility, so......
I went for my job trying to earn my living, they stopped my cab in the middle of the road and took turns in raping me.......But my safety is my responsibility, so.......
I went to my college, fully clad in a "decent" salwaar kameez, they caught me around a corner and squeezed my bum......But my safety is my responsibility, so......
I decided to stay at home in the comfort of my own house, they broke down the door, tied me up and videotaped the things they made me do with them.......But my safety is my responsibility, so......
I went back to live with my family feeling safe and secure with them, they were my uncles but they didn't think of me as their niece when they made me take off my clothes and have their way with me.......But my safety is my responsibility, so.......
These days I sit in the bathroom, locked tight, not coming out at all. They stand on the terrace opposite to it peeking in through the bathroom window, but I don't take a bath.......because my safety is my responsibility.......
Now, they have me exactly where they have always wanted me, my spirit broken, my ability to fight back gone, my will to do something destroyed.....at their mercy.....still stuck in the bathroom.....dreading the time when the knocking starts on the door as they come to get me here too.
I am that Indian Woman who can excel at sports, win medals for the Country, join the Army, become a CEO, go to the outer space and be the talk of the world.....only if I can come out of this bathroom......But my safety is my responsibility, so....
Disclaimer: Girls wearing wearing short clothes and drinking and partying are copying the Western Culture. Boys who molest them are copying the Indian Culture????
Courtesy: Sanitary Panels (FB)
#NotAllMen ----- The Other Side of the LookinGlass (NoTallMen)
He was 3 years old as I walked him home, from his kindergarten. His tiny sister craddling in my arms. We passed a rickshawala arguing with his wife on the street. The man slapped her, snatched the money out of her hand, pushed her to the ground. I hastily pulled my son with me and made him cross the road, his eyes looking at me questioningly. I patted him on his tiny head and smiled, "Not All Men, my baby, Not All Men"
He was 8 years old when he came back from school to see our maid crying in our house. My wife listening attentively to her tales, of her drunk husband beating her every night for no reason. He looked at his Mother and then at me. I kept my newspaper aside and told him, "Not All Men, my dear boy, Not All Men"
He was 15 years old when he came back from his Jr. College, obviously disturbed. He told me about one of his Teachers who had spent her entire afternoon crying in their classroom because the Director of their college had made an inappropriate pass at her. I gave him a soothing look, to calm him down, "Not All Men, my son, Not All Men"
He was 20 years old. He came back from college, very angry. A few guys outside his college were eve teasing the girls from his batch. He wanted to give it back to them and was looking for his hockey stick. I gave him a stern look and pointed to his books instead saying, "Not All Men, Young Man, Not All Men"
He was 31 now, as I stood sipping my evening tea, watching him walk down the tiny lane leading to our house. A strapping young man with a fantastic job.
I saw him look away from the girl in her pink salwar suit, being surrounded by a bunch of hooligans in our lane. I turned away, waiting for the door to open and him to arrive.
I looked questioningly at him as he entered the house. I wanted to ask him why he didnt stop those hooligans. He closed the door, my query quite obvious to him, sat down and calmly replied .... "Not All Men, Dad, Not All Men"
An insistent banging on our door continued, even as my Son, rushed to open it. He staggered back, as if struck by a lightening bolt. My eyes fell on the 20 something girl standing in the doorway, fear and panic written all over her face, the sleeve of her pink salwaar torn, her dupatta missing.
"Dad.....", she said, as my eyes went blur, the cup of tea crashing down to the floor, as I glanced to see my Son sitting on the floor with his head buried in his hands.
In all my years of defending the "Men"..... I completely forgot to raise a "MAN".
Disclaimer: This post is a work of fiction. I dont have a daughter (unfortunately...always wished I had one). But I do have two sons and they will never hide behind the excuse of #NotAllMen ... Not if I can help it !!!