When I walk down the road
the man across
strips me naked with his eyes
he rapes me...
when the cycle-wala whistles
a tune
from the latest box office hit
when the truck driver smiles meaningfully
and the chowkidaar gawks
I feel raped
I dress provokingly, you say?
Yesterday I wore
a salwar kameez
pulled the dupatta
close to my breasts
but men still stared
still grinned, still nudged
but justifications are irrelevant...
and I wonder why private parts are called private
what makes them so private?
They're constantly stared at
poked at, pinched at
they seem quite public to me
as if my body was not my own
I may be untouched
but I still feel raped,
raped at every corner
every street
every road in every area...
men mentally undressing you
their voices caressing you
and rape is but a perception
it may not be physical
perhaps not biological
but psychological
I feel my mind has been raped
the space of a woman is as private as her body
this space is violated every day
I feel I've been raped every day
Every woman is subjected to visual rape nowadays.they can't escape the hungry, lustful glances of those manly beasts who are polluting true human relationship....so realistic is your poem, Ishika..thanks for sharing....carry on...I would request you to read my poems available on Boloji......
