Monters, Them All!

Just watched a little bit of Deepa Mehta's Water last night on the telly last night, being telecast as a foreign film. The movie basically deals with the plight of Indian widows, and the terrible rules that bound them in the pre-independence era. I just watched the last half an hour, and I think that left me sleepless for the better part of the night.

Though there are absolutely no graphic displays or even anything remotely suggestive or titillating, but the portrayal shook me to the core. The main story line though, does not revolve around this, I think this part of the movie touched something too deep in the mother in me.


The little girl in the photo above (the photo is linked to the site from where I have picked it.) is a child widow, who goes by the name Chuhiya. She lives in a home for widows, where the oldest one is possibly more than ninety. A prevelant concept of the time says, that if a Brahmin man rapes sleeps/fornicates with a widow, it ensures salvation for them(the widows). Maybe that or the old woman gets a cut out of it, she fools the little Chuhiya, into believing she will be allowed to go home, but can have fun playing and having sweets before that, and sends her off with the devious eunuch to the old brahmin's house, to 'ensure her salvation'. They show the little girl bring brought back by the eunuch in a boat, lying down doubled up, possibly asleep or unconscious or even dead. It stirred something so primal and deep in the mother in me, that I cannot even put it in words. I just wanted to pick her up (the way Seema Biswas incidentally, does in the movie), hug her, console her, and atleast try and wash all the pain away. And once she was better, I would go and present the old B*#@#@d with the most horrific death he can imagine or maybe even worse.

Deepa Mehta must have done an amazing job here, because I don't remember the last time I felt that deeply after watching a movie. And the fact that it was not sensationalised either sexually or even violently, just makes me realise how well it must have been done, to affect me in the way it did. I think it has also a lot to do with the fact that I am a mother now, the instinct to protect and nurture somehow comes naturally. A boon and yet a curse of nature in its own right. The way a slight against a minor affects me now, never did even when I was a child myself. (I always believed myself to be invincible ofcourse, like every other child.) But now, something inside me just cannot handle it. The BB was asleep by the time I got down to watching the movie, else I would have been hugging him tight, just to soothe my nerves, and know that at least, my baby is safe. Needless to say, I was crying bucket loads, and the GP just kept reminding me its just fiction, and he could change the channel if it was bothering me so much.

But, what, and I literally mean what kind of a 'human being', would actually force himself on an innocent little child? Who and how, can anyone do that? They are just as bad, if not much much worse than murderers, killers and terrorists. I hope every pedophile in the world, is castrated, and left to bleed to death on streets, where people come and p#*s on their carcass. They deserve worse in my books. But more importantly, and more than killing them, I want to stop any innocent child from being hurt and abused. Knowing that some little kid, somewhere, in some corner of the world maybe facing sexual abuse, even as I sit and type this, is making me feel physically sick. And no wonder they say, being a mother is not easy, it really is not. I can never be what I was again, in this lifetime.

And after this terrible post, which can definitely not have made you feel good, here is something to soothe the nerves. I heard it on loop all morning to feel better. It helped, the mellifluous tune, played my most favourite instrumentalist of all time. I am simply an ardent fan of Ustaad Bismillah Khan. May his soul rest in peace.