This is a Rant. With a Capital 'R'.

Good day. Today I shall rant.
This is applicable to more than one of you so read well. Understand. Weep.
Or maybe not. But you'll be hit by a large moving automobile in the next three days. Yes that's right. I'm talking about you.
And I'm really, truly sorry that I couldn't resist doing this. But this sits and festers and putrefies, it's time it goes out of my system.

--

Hey you there, yes you, the one with the mask on. Does it bother you that your cover is blown? Of all the years of pretending and putting a show on, does it bother you that now someone besides you knows the truth about you?

It’s easy to spout ideas and ideals, easy to talk but not so easy to act, now is it? The challenge is to actually act on what you pretend to believe in. But what I don’t understand is why you do it. So let’s examine that, shall we?

If I were petty (well, any more than I am already) I would launch into a detailed description of just what you did but honestly, that’s not the part that shattered everything I thought about you into tiny fragments. Much like when my phone fell out of my hand and the screen cracked. It’s quite pretty actually, my broken screen that is, not you.

Keeping the actual event aside, let me just say, your mask never was perfect. There was something that you said one afternoon that made me realize that you were not as open-minded as you seemed. Now back on topic.

What I don’t understand is why you have to pretend to be someone you’re not. Maybe it’s not easy to be honest with yourself. Or is it just not easy to be honest with others. Does all of you know what the real you is like, or do you lie to yourself even when it’s just you in a dark room with no place to go and no place to be and no one to impress.

Now that I know the face behind the mask when I meet people who think you’re oh-so-funny or maybe even oh-so-smart I wonder how it’d feel for them when at some point they figure out who you really are. It’d break their hearts, you know. They really look up to you.

What you like and what you don’t is honestly up to you, no amount of arguing or ranting is going to change that and I don't even want to attempt to change your beliefs because I wouldn't want someone to do that to me. However try (for the sake of those who still believe your mask is your true face) to face the consequences when you make a decision instead of deleting accounts and running away because that’s a sure-fire way that they’ll know you for the wuss you really are.

---

Thank you. I have ranted.

Boxed Belongings

Natalie opened her eyes sleepily. For a few seconds she couldn't figure out where exactly she was. She felt an arm around her waist and then she remembered. She focused her gaze on the pale blue curtains, and the light filtering through the crack. She crawled out from under the thick comforter, only glancing behind her for a second at the figure hidden in the sheets. The glimpse suffices, she’s filled with a rush of affection. Her partner, her love, the only one she’s wanted as much as she did right then.

She hummed Emily’s favorite song as she stepped out of the washroom. She pats her face dry with the worn out towel hanging by the door. ‘I really ought to redecorate, now that I've moved in officially,’ she thinks, eyeing her boxes piled by the door, making plans to go shopping later in the day.

She went into their room with steaming mugs of coffee, filling the tiny room with the scent, “Emily, sweetie, wake up.”

“Em. Come on, you've slept enough, love.” Natalie sets the mugs of coffee down on the dresser and pulls apart the curtains. She stands there for a bit, basking in the sunlight. She watched their neighbor cross the street, checking the time on his watch, in a rush to get to work maybe.

She smiled. She felt so calm now. Now that everything was decided, now that they were finally going to begin their life together. 

“So I was thinking we ought to go shopping later? Maybe get a few towels. Do you have milk somewhere else besides the fridge? I threw out the empty cartons.”

She turned around from where she was folding her clothes to find Emily still wrapped up in the sheets. She giggled as she crept up to the foot of the bed, her mind filled with almost childish delight at what she was about to do. She grasped the comforter firmly and with a quick tug pulled it off Emily’s body, expecting to hear a slew of curses and whining. Emily didn't move.

‘Wow she must really be fast asleep.’

All she could see from where she stood was Emily’s long dark hair all over the pillow, it was only when she walked over to the side of the bed that she saw.

Emily’s eyes were frozen wide open, her mouth slack, something that looked like dried spittle all over the edge of her mouth and pillow, and her lips the grey-blue color of death.

Natalie's scream resonated through the apartment, filled with boxed belongings and dreams. She fell back and kicked herself away from the bed, collapsing against the walls, pushing apart a bookcase on her way, with soundless sobs escaping her shaking body.

Beyond The Veil

On child brides.

---

You are a 12 year old girl. Your eyes are closed but the sounds are so loud that you wish you could shut your ears and hide in the corner, but you can't. Oh no. It's your special day. You're scared, you're shaking but nobody notices. An aunt asks you to turn, you turn mechanically while you're draped in a heavy red and gold cloth. An older cousin sister combs out your hair, another drapes ornaments all over your face and body. Your mother sits in the corner, being comforted by your elder sister. You remember hiding behind your aunt and watching the same scene unfold just a year ago when she was married. She was 14 then. She was crying, sobbing, black tear tracks running down her face. You're not crying. You're confused. You don’t know.

---

One third of all the girls in the world are married before the age of 18. One in nine are married before the age of 15. India comes in at number 13 on a list of the countries most affected by child marriage, with 47% of its girls being married off before they're old enough to even fathom what being married entails.

Child marriage is banned in India, with the accused if convicted facing up to two years of imprisonment and a fine of Rs. 1,00,000. However in most of the communities where child marriage is the norm, the government and its laws are the enemy and are seen as attempts to inhibit 'the way things have always been.' In such communities, it's not easy to find someone who thinks differently or is willing to act to cause a change. And of course, this change needs to come from within.

Studies show that women who are married before they are 18 are twice more likely to experience domestic violence and sexual abuse than those married after 18. In a country where courts have ruled that marital rape is not 'really' rape, it's alarming and disheartening to know that in a lot of rural areas, there are parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles who set up their children to have to face violence and abuse against which they have no defences.

In many parts of India, female children are married at ages as young as 5 - sometimes to grooms who are a few years older, other times to grooms older by half a century or more. These children in some cases continue to live with their families until they hit puberty after which they're sent to their grooms. Although they live with their families until they are 12 or 14 have severe restrictions on their freedom, with most of them being denied education. Many child brides have stories of confusion, the transition from being a child a few months ago to having children now is not easy to adapt to. Some stories have brides so young they barely know how to take care of themselves when they're suddenly responsible for a family. Others recount being told to never deny their husband sex.

While most cases of child marriage are unreported, the few cases in which girls escape oppressive situations are given much deserved publicity. On examining the reasons behind the change in these cases, it is most often found to be education or employment. Cases where children start working to make themselves 'useful' to the family are heart breaking. In some cases, the presence of free secondary school education in the village provided an incentive to parents to permit their children to remain unmarried.

Modern day feminism focuses on the 'higher classes' of women. Women who have the opportunities to attain an education, women who have jobs. Somewhere out there, there's a terrified 10 year old who is raped on her wedding night. Thousands of voices echo to fight for the rights of women. No one hears the cries of this little girl. And no one will.

Not unless the self-proclaimed feminists of the world are willing to step out from behind their computer screens, take a break from ranting for a second to actually do something that could make a difference. NGOs operating in rural areas with high instances of child marriage have proven essential in convincing young girls to stand up to the community and demand education. It would take time for communities who've been living in figurative darkness for centuries to realize that a girl child is just as valuable as a boy, that women are capable of so much more than bearing children and rearing families. It's about time to fight for something far worse than the injustices we live through each day.

---

So who decides the freedom of the Indian woman? Her family and community who, in the 21st century, still find it acceptable to give up a 10 year old to marriage. Her husband, who is but a stranger until the wedding night to all Indian women who are married in the 'culturally acceptable manner'. And of course, that stranger or that neighbour we all have to impress by being 'normal.'

Of course it's not the woman herself. Preposterous. Who ever thought of such an abomination? The idea that a woman can be in control of her life, her body, her future - ridiculous. Welcome to reality, dear woman. You are but secondary.