Letter To An Unknown Friend…

ಸಂವರ್ಥ ಸಾಹಿಲ್

Dear unknown friend,

When my mother would fall at my father’s feet and I thought that was the norm and hence normal, I did not know I was somewhere being party to your murder. When my mother would wait for my father to return home and have dinner only after he had and I believed there was nothing wrong in it, I did not know I was somewhere being party to your murder. When my parents would ask my sister to be back home before sunset and I thought they were right, I did not know somewhere I was being party to your murder. When my parents would tell me that my sister would not come to the temple on some of ‘those’ days, without telling me why, I accepted that in the name of God without knowing I was somewhere becoming party to your murder. When my parents bought a toy car for me and a playing kitchen set for my sister and I did not allow her to touch the car and asked her to play with the kitchen set ONLY, I did not know somewhere I was being party to your murder. When teacher, in class, while teaching basics of language construction taught from textbook the lessons that read “Ram plays cricket, Rama helps her mother in the kitchen,” and I did not find anything wrong in it, I did not know I was somewhere being party to your murder. When a relative made his daughter- my cousin- discontinue her studies after class 10 and I did not question his decision, I did not know I was being party to your murder. When I saw Urmila’s transparent dress in the song “tanha tanha” with jaws dropped and fancying her and beyond her clothes, I did not know I was somewhere being party to your murder. While in teenage when with friends I discussed women’s bodies as though it was an object of desire, I did not know I was somewhere being party to your murder. When I laughed when some friends would refer to some girl as “maal,” “bomb,” “item,” “figure” or “pathaaka”, I did not know my silence was making me a party to your murder. When once I saw two men whack a girl’s ass as they drove next to her and I just smiled while the girl was screaming, I did not know I was somewhere being party to your murder. When market brought to us many products in containers in the shape of women’s body and I accepted it without questioning, I did not know I was actually becoming party to your murder. Once when a friend was upset with me and not speaking to me and I burst out in anger saying, “Why is she acting as though I raped her,” I did not know I was somewhere being a party to your murder. When after tough exams I declared “I am raped,” I did not know that somewhere I was being party to your murder . When I went with my cousin to “see” a girl for him and I did not raise objection to the so called custom of “seeing” the girl, I did not know I was somewhere being party to your murder. When Hindu fundamentalists or Muslim fundamentalists attacked “their girl” and “other boy” I thought it was only communalism and not gender, I did not know somewhere I was being party to your murder. When I used, without second thoughts, abuse words in Kannada equivalent to “mother fu****” or “Sister fu****” I did not know I was being party to your murder.

Years after all this, when my friends have helped me unburden myself, to a great extent, of patriarchy and misogyny, you have been brutally murdered. You were murdered because the world we inherited had murdered our sensibilities and our humanity to some extent and also because we passed on the world without correcting it, to those who arrived after us. While many of my friends, out of fear and disgust say, “It could have been me,” I must say that had I not met those beautiful friends and mentors who unburdened me, to a great extent, may be it could have been me, given the structure I was born into which saw women and girls as lesser humans. Though its not me, I know that I have been party to your murder and the murder of several other sisters who I do not know. I can see the blood in my hand and I know that not even all of the Neptune’s ocean can wash this hand clean.

No, I write this letter not to apologize. I know to say sorry is inadequate. Why do I write then? I dont know. I feel guilty hence I write though its not an act of sin cleansing. I write this also because I need to tell you that I see many of my unknown brothers, awakened after what happened with you, are unburdening themselves of patriarchy and misogyny. But it hurts as this cost your life and the life of other unknown sisters too. I know things will not change soon. It will take time. May be it will take many more lives too. But hope, someday…

An ashamed friend

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