When I learned how to walk, I complained

I am restricted of space.

When I learned how to dress,

I complained about that long duppatta

That strangled me sometimes.

When I first fell in love,

I complained my boundary is my religion.

When I started travelling alone,

I complained of getting raped

by those dirty looks and touches.

When I went to a new city,

I talked about that knife which

I kept in my bag;

instead of a lipstick or a chocolate.

I cried of my insecurity and my limits,

but when I saw her, I stopped complaining;

Instead …

I shouted about Rights, Liberty & Ambedkar,

because she was faceless and voiceless.

She was like those toys,

which work on battery.

I told her, ‘remove your purdah,

And let’s look into each other’s eyes’;

Then she talked about culture and tradition.

I told her, ‘let’s break it’.

Then she showed me those injury marks,

all over her body, which told me,

she is the property of her husband,

and  upper-caste men;

She said the only moment

she is not untouchable  is ,

when she gets raped.

I came back leaving her behind,

because I didn’t know the solution for

Culture of silence,

The culture of lakhs of  Rajasthani Dalit women.

Deepika Rose Alex


One thought on “A Culture of Silence

  1. heart touching poem about an untouchabe lady who is being used by the high caste but lower charactered community……

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