She does not know. She may feel it, but she does not show. Her skin is scarred, angry rashes litter the once pristine and fresh texture it had, created by wounds from the incessant gouging and abuse. If domestic abuse is what a woman suffers at home, is wild abuse what she suffers outside? By any standards the abuse she is being put through is wild, the man digs into her skin, cuts her features, drills into her innards and injects poison into the gaping wounds – rubbing salt into them sounds so much the better.
Her hair, which was once long, dense and lush is now frayed, barren patches of the scalp making her look shockingly ugly. The man snips away at them, every so often, sometimes he burns them and sometimes sprays chemicals that make the hair fall out. She was unlike any woman I knew, she liked the creepy-crawlies in her hair, she was benevolent, she believed in living and letting live. She knew that these creepy crawlies had a lifetime far less than her own and that they played an important role in keeping the dense mane from becoming a compost pit – much like cows tolerate fleas on their coat. She did not obsess with washing her hair at every twitch; occasionally she did wash patches of it, but only to keep the roots strong.
The man was very nosy, he loved to explore her, touch her, poke her, pinch her and reach into the most inaccessible parts of her body. It was almost as he could claim to know her only if there was no patch of skin, no strand of hair, no fold of muscle, no crevice anywhere that he had not seen or touched. If it was out of love, she would not have minded, but this was not love. At least, his activities after he had uncovered each new part of her did not lead her to think so, for they were as vicious as they had been anywhere else.
She was like every woman, she loved to laugh, she also cried at times – for joy or otherwise. It is what kept her sane, but her man hated the independence she had. He had to control her, he could not stop her from crying – he inflicted so much torture that he induced it, he could not stop her from laughing either, but he would deface her in hardly successful attempts at controlling her expression. In the beginning she would shrug it away as a fetish that would pass, but his obsession was now getting to her.
When a fit of rage gripped her, she would let some steam out, sometimes in deep heaving sobs, sometimes in a flood of tears, sometimes spewing venomous saliva, but never too much, never too loud. What could she do, she was a person too, and emotions were only natural. In the early days her bursts of temper were not even noticed by the man, so self-obsessed he was or so far away toying with his own fantasies. However, in recent days the man had devised ways to monitor her, intruding into her private space, her personal time and this exposed him to her anger more often. Instead of realizing that he was trespassing on her space, the man set about attempting to control her.
Were all men like this, she wondered. Does it really matter whether only one man treated her this way? Could law help her? Would any man pay heed to her troubles, or was she doomed to wither away, resigned to a gruesome fate? Would anyone stand up for her, or perhaps at least a woman? There did seem to be some kindly souls even among the human species.
All these and more were the thoughts that would run through her mind – Mother Earth, if she were a thinking living being. I, as one of the members of this human species which has put her through this ordeal, consider it my responsibility to do everything within my power to stop this rapacious greed that has wrecked the delicate balance of nature and now threatens to upset the ecological processes that sustain life on this unique planet.
My way is a response to the state that the planet is in, today. Environment conscious, green activist, eco-friendly are some adjectives that a contemporary person or company toil to brand themselves as, my way is not an exercise in branding, it is not to claim “Holier than thou” at social gatherings. It is an honest assertion of my concern for the planet I live in, the planet my kind has defiled for ages, with exponentially increasing pace. In itself, my way may not change much, for, what is a solitary drop of water in an ocean of more than 7 billion drops of poison, especially when the contributor of the single water droplet is also a contributor of poison? As an individual I consciously attempt to reduce my carbon footprint, minimize energy consumption, conserve natural resources such as water and use eco-friendly products at every possible opportunity. More importantly, I hope that I can plant these thoughts in the minds of my fellow beings by setting an example as well as indulging in blatant evangelizing, for I believe that this is a cause which is worth being shamelessly evangelistic about.
I was not always the environment conscious person that I am and I have had my share of reckless abuse of natural resources and pollution, but over the past few years I have attempted to atone for my sins and instigate a revolution in spreading awareness about the need to be environment-friendly. This mission is not necessarily youth oriented, but in a country such as India, which has a very high percentage of its population below the age of 30, a green-friendly revolution would have to be a ‘Yuvolution’ – youth revolution. As a member of this youth brigade, my Yuvaluation is that this is a scenario that offers plenty of scope for imbibing eco-friendly values and helping reverse the grave harm that has been caused to our planet and by publishing this article I hope I can send the message across to a few more of my clan.
Her hair, which was once long, dense and lush is now frayed, barren patches of the scalp making her look shockingly ugly. The man snips away at them, every so often, sometimes he burns them and sometimes sprays chemicals that make the hair fall out. She was unlike any woman I knew, she liked the creepy-crawlies in her hair, she was benevolent, she believed in living and letting live. She knew that these creepy crawlies had a lifetime far less than her own and that they played an important role in keeping the dense mane from becoming a compost pit – much like cows tolerate fleas on their coat. She did not obsess with washing her hair at every twitch; occasionally she did wash patches of it, but only to keep the roots strong.
The man was very nosy, he loved to explore her, touch her, poke her, pinch her and reach into the most inaccessible parts of her body. It was almost as he could claim to know her only if there was no patch of skin, no strand of hair, no fold of muscle, no crevice anywhere that he had not seen or touched. If it was out of love, she would not have minded, but this was not love. At least, his activities after he had uncovered each new part of her did not lead her to think so, for they were as vicious as they had been anywhere else.
She was like every woman, she loved to laugh, she also cried at times – for joy or otherwise. It is what kept her sane, but her man hated the independence she had. He had to control her, he could not stop her from crying – he inflicted so much torture that he induced it, he could not stop her from laughing either, but he would deface her in hardly successful attempts at controlling her expression. In the beginning she would shrug it away as a fetish that would pass, but his obsession was now getting to her.
When a fit of rage gripped her, she would let some steam out, sometimes in deep heaving sobs, sometimes in a flood of tears, sometimes spewing venomous saliva, but never too much, never too loud. What could she do, she was a person too, and emotions were only natural. In the early days her bursts of temper were not even noticed by the man, so self-obsessed he was or so far away toying with his own fantasies. However, in recent days the man had devised ways to monitor her, intruding into her private space, her personal time and this exposed him to her anger more often. Instead of realizing that he was trespassing on her space, the man set about attempting to control her.
Were all men like this, she wondered. Does it really matter whether only one man treated her this way? Could law help her? Would any man pay heed to her troubles, or was she doomed to wither away, resigned to a gruesome fate? Would anyone stand up for her, or perhaps at least a woman? There did seem to be some kindly souls even among the human species.
All these and more were the thoughts that would run through her mind – Mother Earth, if she were a thinking living being. I, as one of the members of this human species which has put her through this ordeal, consider it my responsibility to do everything within my power to stop this rapacious greed that has wrecked the delicate balance of nature and now threatens to upset the ecological processes that sustain life on this unique planet.
My way is a response to the state that the planet is in, today. Environment conscious, green activist, eco-friendly are some adjectives that a contemporary person or company toil to brand themselves as, my way is not an exercise in branding, it is not to claim “Holier than thou” at social gatherings. It is an honest assertion of my concern for the planet I live in, the planet my kind has defiled for ages, with exponentially increasing pace. In itself, my way may not change much, for, what is a solitary drop of water in an ocean of more than 7 billion drops of poison, especially when the contributor of the single water droplet is also a contributor of poison? As an individual I consciously attempt to reduce my carbon footprint, minimize energy consumption, conserve natural resources such as water and use eco-friendly products at every possible opportunity. More importantly, I hope that I can plant these thoughts in the minds of my fellow beings by setting an example as well as indulging in blatant evangelizing, for I believe that this is a cause which is worth being shamelessly evangelistic about.
I was not always the environment conscious person that I am and I have had my share of reckless abuse of natural resources and pollution, but over the past few years I have attempted to atone for my sins and instigate a revolution in spreading awareness about the need to be environment-friendly. This mission is not necessarily youth oriented, but in a country such as India, which has a very high percentage of its population below the age of 30, a green-friendly revolution would have to be a ‘Yuvolution’ – youth revolution. As a member of this youth brigade, my Yuvaluation is that this is a scenario that offers plenty of scope for imbibing eco-friendly values and helping reverse the grave harm that has been caused to our planet and by publishing this article I hope I can send the message across to a few more of my clan.