And what is it in a car that I see that reminds me of a woman?
And what is it in an alcohol brand that I see that reminds me of a woman?
And what is it in the lyrics of a song that I hear that remind me of a woman?
And I am neither a feminist nor a party to the pink brigade or a member of the LGBT community.
But I definitely am dented and like to paint myself often.
I have even gyrated to Honey Singhâ€™s songs and misogynic lyrics.
And I am a mother of a teenager who likes to watch TV and go to the movies.
And I am a mother who has stopped feeling embarrassed every time popular icons are thrusting their pelvises in overt gestures that leave little to imagination.
And I am a mother who knows that her child is imbibing through her developing sensory perceptions, images of a woman.
A woman being compared to a car, a bottle of alcohol or an object of desire for the MAN.
And I am equally at blame.
So I decide to put pen to paper. And vent my feelings of frustration.
From the time I rode a bus with perverts pressing themselves on to me.
From the time when a co-worker spoke to my breasts instead of me.
From the time eyes on the street left me feeling dirty.
And I want to be vocal so that he canâ€™t strip me.
From his eyes or his bloody paws.
And I want to protect my child from this and more.
And I donâ€™t want to rob her of her innocence.
By teaching her techniques to avoid unsolicited attention outdoors
Or friendly hugs from known people indoors.
And I want her to grow naturally and beautifully from a child to a young lady.
Dhai Sau graam Aurat ab mujhe nahi banna