I’m sad beyond measures. I’m trying to overcome my grief, but, my courage seems to be failing me.
I always believed that life was a bed of roses, until that day…
Why didn’t you warn me of the dangers, ma? Why?
Why wasn’t I told that our lives were about being objects of mere fantasy for the other gender?
Why wasn’t I told that my feelings would be trampled; my soul, sold?
Seven of them, ma…
They waylaid me in the middle of the night, and in spite of my wails, went inside me …
How can I explain the trauma of that moment?
You know what, ma?
I’m now pregnant, but, who’s the father?
It should be the seven … But, who?
The world is deaf to my cries of anguish.
After all, these practices are so entrenched in the system that those who criticize it will be considered wrong no, ma?
But, a time will come when the world would turn around and wake up to the injustice meted out to us… We’ll make an effort to end this, ma…
We will, together…
Even the humans, who call us “bitches” should stop saying so the way they do, you know?
We’ll carve out the respect for ourselves, ma…
After all, we have feelings too…
[The above is a dog’s letter to ‘her’ mother, describing ‘her’ emotions. This is a piece of fiction with a purpose: We use a certain word in a certain context, often. What if there was a certain emotion, unknown to human beings, associated with it?]
I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 1st – 7th September 2013.