Fury / Saga of Returning Home After 11pm
I returned home late tonight.
I have sinned.
Now I must face my father’s fury.
Doesn’t matter. I’m exhausted already.
I had informed him in advance.
I had informed him at every stage.
No answers such as How was the play? Or How was the meeting? were ever sought.
Like me 50 other women in the train compartment.
At least 30 in the rickshaw line.
I did not feel threatened.
I should have asked them, my friends to drop me home.
I should have asked them, my family to pick me up.
I should’ve gone for an afternoon show instead.
My being is a liability.
A one of dependency.
Not all auto drivers are Krishna Bhagwan.
I wonder sometimes if I can feel safe in any corner at all.
The lift. The stairs. The balcony. My room.
Who cares.
I wonder if the auto driver who raped was ever yelled at
with such fury which made me cry the painfullest cry,
a silent one
Damn you society.
