Hear me now, as I scream from heaven
You did not hear my pleas of mercy, or the clank of iron, ravaging the insides of my body. Hear me now.
I, Nirbhaya Damini, have left my earthly abode. After fighting hard for two weeks, my mortal body has surrendered to grievous injuries, inflicted on it, by six human beasts.
I must confide to you that I am happy in heaven as angels have sung beautiful songs on my arrival and have taken me on a round of green pastures and pristine blue lakes. I am also happy to escape the hallmarks of human existence on earth - pain, illness and injustice - and achieve eternal salvation.
I must also tell you that as I had lived an ordinary, uneventful life for all of my 23 years, I found the sorrow and anguish of people all over the world on my death, as well as the homage paid to me by horror-struck people of India - bewildering.
But I must say that tributes have humbled me. So in this moment of anguish, I request people mourning my death to channel their anger and grief to speak out against violence unleashed on women, not only in India but other parts of the world too.
Listen to these words:
That day you didn’t hear,
My stilled screams,
Echoing on a chilly dark night.
My pleas of mercy,
In the corners of a moving bus,
The clank of iron,
Ravaging the insides of my body.
And my shudders of pain,
On an icy, black roadside.
You appeared deaf to all.
As you failed to hear me,
That day,
At least speak for me now.
Say loudly:
Utter empathetically:
Read more by Sameera here.
I must confide to you that I am happy in heaven as angels have sung beautiful songs on my arrival and have taken me on a round of green pastures and pristine blue lakes. I am also happy to escape the hallmarks of human existence on earth - pain, illness and injustice - and achieve eternal salvation.
I must also tell you that as I had lived an ordinary, uneventful life for all of my 23 years, I found the sorrow and anguish of people all over the world on my death, as well as the homage paid to me by horror-struck people of India - bewildering.
But I must say that tributes have humbled me. So in this moment of anguish, I request people mourning my death to channel their anger and grief to speak out against violence unleashed on women, not only in India but other parts of the world too.
Listen to these words:
That day you didn’t hear,
My stilled screams,
Echoing on a chilly dark night.
My pleas of mercy,
In the corners of a moving bus,
The clank of iron,
Ravaging the insides of my body.
And my shudders of pain,
On an icy, black roadside.
You appeared deaf to all.
As you failed to hear me,
That day,
At least speak for me now.
Say loudly:
“I am the pro-creator,
Of the human race,
And not an object of lust,
Lechery,
And a plaything.”
Utter empathetically:
“I am the nurturer,
Of mankind,
And not an object of derision,
Contempt,
And mindless violence.
The procreator, the nurturer,
Is the Creator’s agent,
Who men cannot beat into submission,
Molest on baser instincts,
As it portents the death,
Moral conscience and sanity,
Of the human race.”
Read more by Sameera here.