I Am Scared Of Feeling Nothing

The whole day I avoided reading anything about the recent rape controversy. The moment I saw or heard the name Asifa, I turned off my TV channel, scrolled through my timeline until a piece of Bollywood gossip appeared, or left conversations with my colleagues midway. Basically, I did everything to avoid it. I knew what happened but I didn’t want to know the details. I was scared. No, not scared of reading the news, but scared of what comments or opinions other people might have about this heinous and brutal crime. I was scared I would punch someone in the face if they tried to justify it by using whataboutery, I was scared of pushing their heads into whatever they were eating till they stopped breathing if they even tried to bring religion as an excuse to justify this, but most of all, I was scared of feeling nothing at all.

What if my blood didn’t boil the way it should? What if I had already given up on anything good our society has to offer and the apathy had overrode my indignation? I am afraid of a day like this. A day when we stop feeling anything, the day when a rape case becomes just another news, the right-left-hindu-muslim-whatabouththis-whataboutthat arguments becomes an obvious part of any coverage, the day when anything we see or feel is politicised to an extent where the suffocation which we feel now becomes the new way of breathing.

It feels like some of us have already given up. How can anyone explain to any of these people that no matter what religion or caste, rape will always be a terrible crime? How do so many of you have the patience to keep writing or voicing your opinions just in the hope that that one guy who defends this heinous activity, has a change of heart? If this act can’t boil that guy’s blood, how are so many of us thinking that our words will? Is there any solution to any of this? I don’t know. Maybe let’s just not read the news. But right now, it feels like I can’t help it. I will let my blood boil for a few hours until something else occurs on my timeline. Sometimes, it’s important to be independent and feel suffocated at the same time. Dear blood, please boil. I haven’t become that weak. Yet.


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