14/04/2018
Hi India,
This is nirbhaya typing.
Remember me? Ofcourse you do? I was r***d in a moving bus. That's what it takes for you to remember a r**e case. Because a r**e isn't bad enough, it has to involve an iron rod, a moving bus and multiple men. India, your standards are high!
So, I made a friend here in heaven, her name's Asifa. She's new here, she keeps really quite. What did you do to her? I've heard she was gangr***d in a temple, is it? A new way of worshipping, India?
A police officer r***d her, well they r***d me as well, but not literally.
India, now that we're dead, your sisters are in perepetual terror again, now that we're dead, you can pretend to care. Our names have become political agendas, haven't they? Have you not done the 'cute' candle march yet? But make sure candle march is over at 8 P.M., because the women must go home, or else they might be r***d there as well?
Remember, I died in Singapore, when I was flown for treatment? I am so thankful I didn't die in India. I've heard your men r**e corpses too?
I just wanted to let you know, that your ignorance haunts me, that your men scare me, and not only me, every woman in this country. Your teachers teach girls to wear longer skirts in schools, your priests r**e children, your fathers r**e daughters, your police asks how the victim was r***d, in detail, your men ma******te at women in public transport, your women lack unity, your law lacks seriousness. You lack empathy.
India, I hope you wake up. It's late, I know.
But please wake up. It's overcrowded here up in the sky, with little girls with torn clothes, puffed eyes and traumatised minds. And when it's full, I'll have to send some of them back, as your daughters, as your sisters and as your mothers. And maybe when they are r***d again, infront of your eyes by multiple men with an iron rod in a moving bus. Maybe then, you'll realise, that you need to change.
