Inner voice of Woman

Oh nonononono. Don’t say you know it. Because you don’t know. You don’t know how it feels when people grab your breasts in a crowded place. You don’t know how it feels when they stare straight at your cleavage. When you suddenly realize that someone is rubbing himself against your buttocks in a bus or a metro. When they peep into your phone’s screen. When they pass by you in their superfast vehicles hitting your breasts or buttocks, whistling at you, and telling you all that they want to do with you. You don’t know when a man riding a motorcycle passes by you telling you that he will fuck you till you cry, and die. You don’t know when somebody takes his tongue out and licks his lips to tell you that he would do the same with you, then climbs onto a bus and goes away.

You don’t know how it feels when your friend comes to you and tells you that she was hit and slapped by two bikers on a busy road of a busy afternoon. When you see your girl-friends not being allowed by their families to leave their hometowns for their future studies. When a friend tells you how an auto-wala stared at her in his rear-view mirror, drove slow on normal roads, and speeded it up near a speed breaker to assert his masculinity over a female sitting behind him. When guys ask their girlfriends to take certain pictures off Facebook, and not talk to certain men.

You do not know how it feels when your parents ask your brother to accompany you wherever you go; no matter he is younger than or older to you. When you have to seek your parents’ permission a hundred times before you could go out in a ‘group’ to celebrate a friend’s birthday. When your mother scrutinizes you before you could leave your home. When your parents call you every evening just to ensure that their daughter is back to her hostel safely. When you can’t go somewhere all alone because you are simply too scared of nothing but humans.

The Mukherjis, the Asarams, the always-have-been-protected women, the government-vehicle users, the Khaps, the chauvinistic blinds, or the simple unaware men, you don’t know—anything. You must not talk. You must shut up.

– By a female fan (She don’t want her name to be disclosed. Hope, you understand the reasons)