Rajtantra

Maut, ek esa sach jisse duniya jhoot ke bhes me dekh rahi hai, aur jeevan ek isa jhoot jisse duniya sach maan bethi hai. Kyu hai yeh bhram, kyun is mayajaal me hazaro log tabha ho jate hai. The wind blows as goosebumps arise on my figure; the thunder growls, mocking me, telling me that I still exist. I feel sting pain on the side of my neck, as a needle pierces through my skin, breaking some fragile parts of mine which were only left to be broken. A lowlife cunt hovered over me looking at me as if a predator looked at his prey. “Papa,” I called out with a shine of hope, but he didn't come, why would he? Wasn't I the one who killed him? “Shut the fuck up I hate when you all shout.” He reaches out of his pocket and pulls out a knife. He runs the blade down my chest, cutting along the front of my shirt. I hold my breath in fear that the blade would cut my skin. He moves the knife to my stomach, and I can feel him cutting my skin. Like he's carving into me as if he is writing something. My back arched backward on the concrete floor as he strangled me under him. He started unbuckling his belt, his hands moving up and down my chest. You know what's worse than dying…feeling helpless because that tells you that you are not even sufficient for yourself. My eyes blurred in as tears welled up in them; I knew what was coming; this was my end, and I would end up like this. The irony is that this is not just me alone; thousands of girls suffer from this, who strangle themselves in darkness because they know no one's there for them…except themselves. From a month-old child to a ninety-year-old woman, from a doctor to a house helper, from a rich urban girl to a girl living in a slum. No one is safe, not even at home. We are our protectors. I screamed, today I screamed again, not for me, but for every girl who feels unsafe in the dark, for every girl who suppresses her voice, because no one will fight for them. And that day, again, a 15-year-old screamed, which was expectantly unheard; her screams were muffled, suppressed, but she screamed, she screamed, she screamed in search of a Krishna in this kalyug. But did he come? He did not. Because he was busy bawling his eyes in his guilt, guilt of creating a vicious creature; Men. Are these even considered men? My head jerked to the left as I stared at my mother, tied with chains, torn clothes, and blood trickling down her forehead. Her satisfactory smirk flattered me as soon as her eyes met mine. Is this what we call Maa? “Agar dar ki aakho me dekhoge, dar tumse darega.” These were the last lines of my father. Jaate jaate bhi bhut kuch sikha gaye. Even if this is how I die, I don't deserve an unworthy death like this. I refuse to die because the day I close my eyes, I will be doing it willingly. My hand stumbled upon Aruval; either this would be the end of me or him. Taking it in my hand, I hit it on his neck with all the energy I could summon up. His head jerked up in half as it landed just beside my mom’s feet. His blood splashed over me giving me a sense of relief, tears shone in my eyes. Har asur ke vinash ke liye ek Krishna janam leta hai par is baar kali janamegi. Vinash toh tay hai ya uska ya Mera. “Toh likho laal kalam se, Gita ka unisva adhyay, Devraj Singh Chauhan ki maut mere hatho hi hogi.” And this was the rise of satan in the world of Rajtantra. Yeh tha ek ant: ka prarambh. A war between Dharm and Karma.