Dark grey stained sheet,
Red Lipstick on a pale yellow face,
Trying to survive and forgive,
“You’re no less than a son,”
her Baba had said one day
The first words of affection he had ever conveyed,
Brothel became Sargun’s playground since then
Days of poverty for her Baba were allayed
Coerced. Objectified. Sold. Deceived.
Blindly following the age old social disease,
“Behave nicely in your deflowering ceremony,”
Mahalaxmi’s mother reminded displeased,
The eight year old studied her new dress with grace,
Goddess Yellamma was gifted that night,
Sizzling iron stamped the tender breasts,
Innocence was auctioned with her virginity,
Another ‘Devdasi’ was born to villager’s delight
Abandoned. Misguided. Dedicated. Benighted.
‘Ta thai tat tat thai’
“I’ll be the best dancer of the town one day”,
But destiny mocked her in a ruthless way
Forced to dance in front of dead bodies,
Sex toy of villagers, a Harijan,
Labelled as the ‘Jogin’ of Karimnagar
Her soul died, so did her dreams,
She was the best dancer of the temple indeed
Shattered. Harassed. Exploited. Thrashed.
While ten year olds played with Barbies,
Neha was the toy for the tourists,
They played with her body as they willed,
the risk of AIDS was too high for the sadists,
The days were filled with darkness,
Nights caught up in fear,
One day she finally fell numb,
Goa indeed offers various indulgences to succumb
Astrided. Wrecked. Violated. Lashed.
‘I’ll shower Sagar. You can go to office”,
his uncle assured his parents,
Disregarding Sagar’s protests, as an excuse not to bathe,
His parents left him with a beast,
Uncle’s friends were invited too for the feast ,
Howls of anguish filled the room
Water slowly turned red,
As helpless Sagar kept bleeding.
Mistreated. Neglected. Threatened. Betrayed.
“Take off your hand,
the right breast is not properly visible,” he shouted,
Standing before the camera,
On the streets of Mudh Land one day,
Asha had accepted candies from a couple so affable
From Traffic Light to Red Light,
her destiny got planned that May.
Forced. Whipped. Allured. Tormented.
He kissed Shikha goodnight on forehead,
His touch is so pure, she thought,
Later at night, kissing her thighs he said,
“Come, I’ll show you an interesting game sister,
But it has to be our little secret,” he added later,
Despite her protests he continued playing the game,
Confused, when she told her mother,
She said, “Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone about the same”
Hushed. Subjugated. Tricked. Misinformed.
Aakash delighted seeing her cry,
Inducing pain to her gave him solace,
“I am also powerful, I can dominate”,
He kept telling himself always,
Boosting his ego became a necessary evil,
Victim of sexual abuse himself too,
Assertion of control over someone,
helped him to get through.
Molested. Scarred. Enraged. Maligned.
The time has come for the lambs to break their silence,
To rise up like lions against such tyrants,
To take out the pretentious cloak of family’s dignity ,
To help the children develop mentally, physically and morally,
To help the Sarguns, Nehas, Ashas and Akashs grow,
To protect them now for a better tomorrow
To regard the abused as ‘oppressed’ and not ‘vulnerable’
To regard the act as ‘intolerable’ yet ‘recoverable’
Guided. Liberated. Empowered. Transformed.
Lovisha Aggarwal is a lawyer based out of Delhi whose articles/research papers on socio-political issues have been published in various print and online publications. Through ‘Mournings of a Silent Lamb’ she tries her hand at poetry. It is an attempt to sensitize maximum people about the various forms of Child Sexual Abuse still shackling the society.