Ma,

I wish I was beaten black and blue.

For a hurt is never an offence for you

for a taunt doesn't even count,

for the words never leave a wound

to show the hatred bound.

 

You say, I have to bear with the insult hurled

for I am an Indian girl.

 

Remember the day you slapped me, Ma?

We cried together, for it was love.

I see no remorse in his eyes though

You say "but he loves you",

I wondered through and through.

 

You say I have to bear with the insult hurled

for I am an Indian girl.

 

When I was pushed, I was surprised;

When I was slapped I wanted to shout;

And when I am pinned down to the bed

I close my eyes and remember you say that

I have to bear with the insult hurled

for I am an Indian girl.

 

You ask me show where he hit you?

But, what do I show you Ma?

A slap on my face doesn't cut my lips

a push to the wall doesn't leave a bruise

a hit of elbow on my breast

hurts... but doesn't leave me blue.

 

I wait endlessly to be beated black and blue

all these years

I have waited through.

 

I suffer, because I am not yet burned

I suffer, because I have no bruise to show

I suffer because for the world

the piercing of the soul matters not

I suffer because I am not beaten black and blue,

I suffer because I am not beaten black and blue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Restless Mind is an Indian woman, a mother, a professional and a citizen. She blogs at My World – My Perceptions.

She says: ‘Indian women traditionally don't step out of marriage unless they are forced to. Physical abuse is often sympathized with, but emotional abuse is rarely recognised or addressed. The woman suffers in pain but cannot show any mark of abuse on her body, so often she just confides to her mother.’