When we think of a girl of 8, what one perceives the child as may be variable, she may be boyish, with short hair or shy or small with large almond shaped eyes. However one unifying quality which most individuals may picture a little girl, not without some slight nostalgic smile is a certain innocence, pristine and beautiful.
Hard it must be then to think of that very girl held hostage,
And brutally murdered.
The insult does not end there, Her parents had no place to bury her body because the burial land was owned by Hindu right wing youth.Such is the tragedy of a girl who we shall call Aisha (Wrong name), a Muslim girl who lived in the Rassana area of the . Kathua district of Jammu and Kashmir.
I narrate such a story to my audience not to draw out their sympathy which though touching is rather useless, this is neither to prove a point or paint my country, (which I still reserve hope for), in a negative light. I right because her story wont die with her and though you may not remember her name, you will hold a torch out in you heart for a girl who got what no child deserves.
I want you to not forget, even if the sensation dies down, the media packs up and the courts close their gates…. and even if there is no justice. What justice is there to give when the girl is cold in her grave or should I say, non existent grave?
But what unity is this?, this insufficient Plasticine molding over the pit of communal violence that boils in our country? Not to mention how we see two rival parties, unite over a cause such as this one, it this all mere insanity and in-humaneness or does it run deeper somehow?
Somewhere along the line, have we as individuals forgotten the intrinsic value each one of us have;to be loved, admired, respected and cared for. We are not mere numbers on a data sheet, votes on an electoral roll or statistical points on a graph, we are thinking, feeling creatures. I would argue that, our truest souls, even transcend race, religion, gender and caste- these, may be good when proper but also give people an excuse to behave in heinous ways. To the man who raped the girl and murdered her in cold blood, she was the representative of a despised nomadic clan. She was not regarded as a human but a thing, a tool used to punish.
But she is not a tool, she is a human being worthy of every care and respect. However, she was violated in the worst way possible by a group of malicious men, who disregarded the uniqueness of her soul. The family they were leaving devastated in their wake and two brothers who loved their little sister dearly. People often refer to these men as monsters but are they? They are still men. We refuse to call them men for fear of tainting the sanctity of the human race. However, no monster would be able to conceive a plot like this, only a man could.
According to Carl Rogers, every one of us is deserving of unconditional positive regard, merely by virtue of us being human. There is not even regard for the young girl,and that saddens me.
Politics becomes invariably involved; the concept of civil servant hood forgotten traded cheap success and petty power. They fail to perceive the real problem,which in this case is the fact that a girl was raped and murdered under their watch. An incident that they must ensure the issue is attended to and closed, but with the corruption and in fights, that reality seems vastly clouded.
But enough of that, enough of the facts which seem to clinical and the controversy and everything. I want to talk about the girl, the individual in this last section, dear reader this is what I leave you with,
Little girl I’m sorry.
As paltry as that sounds, an apology is all my lips can utter
But in the depths of my soul, much more resonates.
Even without knowing you, this is what I wish
That when you next grace the earth with your presence.
You will be able to traverse not only jungles and villages but the full world,
With the sureness that you will be loved.
That you will be safe.
Things may get tough as they generally seem to do
but you will tread this soil with dignity
For the exquisiteness of your spirit,
grace of you step,
and laughter in your smile.
This is my prayer.
Please share this story,