My sisters,

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for all that you had to and will have to endure.

You were born into this world.

An auspicious day, a beacon of hope.

Your first cry, your eyes filled with curiosity and your face, a sight to behold.

And yet we tarnished it, we disgraced your beauty.

I’m sorry, for we are primitive beings. We don’t know how to appreciate something until we have lost it. And just like that, we tossed you away, not even giving you the slightest of glimpse of what lies ahead. We truly are worthless.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, for you were born to one such country, where we can’t even comprehend all that you’re capable of. We chose to believe that you’re weak and that you can’t take care of yourselves. Could we be more pathetic?

Locked and grounded, we taught you all that you needed to know. And yet we forgot to teach you one important thing. We forgot to teach you what freedom is and what it truly meant to be free.

You weren’t allowed to express your opinions. You weren’t given the choice to speak up. You had your decisions made for you. You had a male companion always looking over your shoulder, monitoring your actions. Just because we believed that you’re incapable of taking care of yourself.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, for we are narrow-minded as they come. We consider you to be a vessel. Just a vessel. A vessel with whose help we can procreate our successors. We need you, but not you entirely, just parts of your body and soul. And on top of that, we aren’t even ashamed of having such thoughts.

You’re young. You’re filled with curiosity. Like a bud, you too want to open up and explore the world around you. But we’re the gardeners here. For us, you’re not the flower, but rather just a weed, waiting to be thrown away. And we take action, not even taking your age into consideration, we decide that’s it’s better if we just throw you away.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, for you were born to a country where we worship goddesses. And yet it is at their feet where we tear you apart. Not even a hint of remorse in our souls. Not even regret our actions. And yet we believe that we’re pure and that souls aren’t tainted by your cry for help. Are we even human?

No one can clap with a single hand. There is involvement of both hands. A universal truth. And we try to apply this theory to all that happens in our society. No matter what happens to you, no matter how badly you’re injured, no matter if you end up somewhere, thrown away and forgotten, eventually, it is you who will be blamed, for no crime can occur without consent first. Right?

We blame your dressing sense. We blame your jeans, your crop tops and your shorts. And yet no matter what you wear, whether it’s a burka or a diaper, we will eventually hunt you down and kill you. And yet we can’t realize one truth. It’s not your fault, but ours.

A Letter to My Sisters

Our leaders justify rapes. Our leaders protect the culprit and justice, well justice turns a blind eye to all that happens to you. After all, how far can justice go for you?

I’m sorry

I’m sorry, for there was once a time when I would shout, with pride in my heart and hope in my soul, JAI HIND. But I was far too naïve. We can’t learn. Moreover, we won’t learn. It’s just like that.

There’s no use of blaming anyone. The fault is with me and me only. We’ve had far too many chances to learn. And yet we choose to ignore all that and stick to our primitive thinking.

There have been far too many candle marches and far too many hashtags. But do you feel any change? Can you see any change? No, no change, no matter what.

Our generation has screwed up. Just like our fathers had and our grandfathers had. If there’s even the slightest glimmer of hope, it lies within the upcoming generation. I know we disgraced you. And yet I’m not willing to lose hope. I believe that we can change.

So I promise, that I’ll do everything in my power to change, not only me but our country as well. And one day, somewhere in the future, you’ll be able to be able to breathe freely and live without the shackles that bind you now.

I promise.

A Letter to My Sisters