Sapana ( Tale of a dream )

Tale of a dream, tale of unreported rape, tale of women, tale of betrayal, tale of pain

Tale of a dream, tale of unreported rape, tale of women, tale of betrayal, tale of pain

Published on JAN 06  in The Kathmandu Post Daily

She is going to the Mantri’s house. God has listened to us, finally. With her going to Kathmandu, our dreams will be fulfilled buda,” Ama had said to Buwa that day.

These days, I want to ask Aama—if she would ever desire to listen or if she could only listen: What was your sapana like Aama? I scream: It wasn’t my fault—I never dared change your beautiful sapana Aama…but can you hear me…it was just not me…

“She is coming here! Go away. Go away you bitch…”

“Give me some food, the thing inside is kicking, give us something to eat,” I demand.

They call me a bitch, they throw stones at me. One hit me right on my back. I fall down and cry out loud, give them some gaali and then curse at them slowly and silently. Ah! This stomach hurts. If I could sleep for sometime right here I would sleep soundly. But they call me a bitch.

“Go away! Don’t ever show your face again,” they shout.

I shut my ears and try to run away…Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! My belly, I run. I run. Ah! Hurts. Ammmmaaaa it hurts. Ammmaaaaaa it hurts, hurts, it hurts. Ammmmaaaaa….

“Don’t shout you bitch! You are disturbing us—get away from the road. You’re occupying it as if it’s yours. You will be kicked if you show up here again,” someone yells.

But then, what wrong have I done? This growing belly is not a choice, but an obligation. A severe, painful and disgusting obligation.


“Climb here, don’t leave my hand chori.” We are going to Kathmandu to the Mantri’s house today.

“Buwa, this box is moving, I am squeezed Buwa, I am dizzy Buwa, I am dizzy.”

“This is your first time in a bus chori. When you get to Kathmandu, you will have to ride many more of these.”

It was a bus…moving towards an unknown destination…clearing my little footprints…the wheels turned continuously—Kathmandu was waiting for us. Continue reading

How much do I fear of being Raped?

I had been avoiding this news of an Indian girl being raped –and now she is dead. It was hard but I was avoiding this because I could not even read the pain that girl went through– the word is so terrifying “Gang Rape”!! The word itself gives me goosebumps. But I could not avoid it too–when I read the news– I was like totally devastated, depressed, sad, angry, frustrated, I was trembling and was feeling horribly helpless. How much brutal can a human be? Can they ever realize what they did with that innocent girl? So many thoughts have been hovering in my mind. The dichotomy between Good and Evil, the process of being Evil and the choice of being Evil..

And, now I hear the news of 6 year old being raped? How insane I feel?

While hundreds of thousands of people throng to street in India because they could relate to the same feeling, they felt same pain, the same fear of being raped. Why do our parents always say come home on time, you are a daughter, you should be home on time, you should not go alone out at night? Yes, they fear it too. They fear that their daughters will suffer similar kind of tragedy in life. There is a proverb which my sister repeats time and again — “Din affno, Rat arkako”– (Day is ours and nights are of others). And, I have been a journalist for past four and half years..working during odd hours and especially doing the night duty and returning home late. Didn’t I fear the silent cold road and only few vehicles plying?…Does my working place care that I am scared of driving after 8 PM?? Yet I always drove back home –being scared ! My sister fears even if I am late by 5 minutes…But why? Whats the matter that scares me and her? The thing I don’t want even to think about it or feel it — it is not being robbed –it is being RAPED!!! Continue reading