Mera Wokeism Aur Us Chamar Ka Lund
ACTIVISMFEATURED
Mera name is An . 21 saal ki. Delhi University mein Sociology padhti hoon. Aapne dekhe honge mere jaise ladkiyon ko Twitter par—#SmashBrahminicalPatriarchy, #DalitLivesMatter, har protest mein sabse aage. Main apne Brahmin hone par sharminda thi. Mujhe lagta tha main sab jaanti hoon, ki main in दबे-कुचले (dabe-kuchle) logon ki awaaz ban sakti hoon.
Kitni badi chutiya thi main.
Yeh sab tab badla jab main garmiyon mein apne 'ancestral village' Uttar Pradesh gayi. Ek pooja thi. Main apni Audi se utri, haath mein Mineral Water ki bottle, aankhon par Ray-Ban, aur dil mein ajeeb si superiority. Main aayi thi in 'gawaaron' ko gyaan dene.
Wahin maine use dekha. Suraj.
Woh hamare khet mein kaam karta tha. Umar yahi 28-29 hogi. Dark skin, suraj ki garmi se paki hui. Body aisi ki gym jaane waale launde uske saamne paani bharein. Chup chaap kaam karta tha, lekin uski aankhon mein ek aag thi. Ek nafrat. Mere jaise logon ke liye.
Ek din main bewaqoofon ki tarah khet mein chali gayi, usse 'caste dynamics' par baat karne. "Aap logon ko apne rights ke liye ladna chahiye," main usko lecture de rahi thi.
Woh ruka. Apne haath se paseena pocha aur meri aankhon mein dekha. Uski nazar mere chehre se neeche, mere branded top par, meri tight jeans par gayi. Usne kuch nahi kaha, bas halka sa muskuraya. Woh muskaan... usmein respect nahi, mazaak tha. Aisa mazaak jo seedha aapki rooh ko nanga kar de. "Dilli se aayi ho, Bitiya?" usne poocha. Awaaz mein itnadum tha ki meri bolti band ho gayi.
Ussi sham main hawa khaane thoda door nikal gayi. Wahan sunsaan tha. Achanak woh mere saamne aa gaya. Andhera ho raha tha.
"Bitiya, rights ki baat kar rahi thi na?" usne kaha, dheere se meri taraf badhte hue.
Main ghabra gayi. "Dekho, main..."
"Chup." usne sirf ek shabd kaha. Aur main sach mein chup ho gayi. Meri saari feminism, saari ideology uss ek shabd mein beh gayi. Usne mera haath pakda. Uske haath sakht the, mitti aur mehnat se bane hue. Unmein ek ajeeb si power thi.
"Bade ghar ki ho. Badi jaat ki. Brahmin..." usne dheere se kaha, jaise koi gaali de raha ho. "Aur main? Chamar."
Usne yeh shabd aise bola jaise koi bomb ho. Usne mujhe kheencha aur ek ped se sata diya. Mere protest karne se pehle usne mere hothon ko apne hothon se band kar diya. Kiss nahi tha woh. Ek jung thi. Woh meri city-wali nazaakat ko apni ganwaar taaqat se kuchal raha tha.
Usne meri jeans ka button khola. Main kaanp rahi thi—darr se, aur ek ajeeb se excitement se jise main aaj tak accept nahi kar paayi hoon. "Nahi... please..." meri awaaz nikli.
"Ab kyun nahi nikal rahi awaaz? Kahan gaya tera protest?" usne meri kaan mein kaha. Usne meri jeans neeche kheenchi aur meri panty phaad di. Sab kuch itni tezi se hua.
Usne mujhe jhukaya, ped ke tanne par. Aur bina kisi warning ke, usne apna lund meri choot mein ghusa diya. Main cheekh padi. Yeh meri pehli baar nahi tha, par aisa pehli baar tha. Dard tha, humiliation thi... aur ek ajeeb sa sukoon tha. Jaise main yahi deserve karti thi.
Har dhakke ke saath woh kuch bol raha tha. "Bol... tu kaun hai?"
"An...jali..."
"Nahi! Jaat bol apni! Bol, main Brahmin ki bachchi hoon!"
Aansuon ke beech mere munh se nikla, "Main... Brahmin ki bachchi hoon..."
"Aur main?" usne ek zordaar dhakka maara. "Bol main kaun hoon?"
"Tum..."
"Bol! Chamar! Bol, ek Chamar ek Brahmin ko chod raha hai!"
Maine rote hue bola, "Ek Chamar... ek Brahmin ko chod raha hai..."
Woh shabd sunte hi woh janwar ban gaya. Usne mujhe uss khet ki mitti mein ragad diya. Usne meri har uss ideology ko chod diya jiska main dikhawa karti thi. Mera saara 'wokeism' uske lund se behte paani ke saath meri jaanghon se beh gaya. Jab woh jhada, toh usne apna veerya meri peeth par nahi, mere munh par aa kar lagaya. "Yeh hai asliyat, Dilli-wali. Yeh hai power."
Woh chala gaya. Main wahin mitti mein padi roti rahi. Par aansu dukh ke nahi the. Main toot chuki thi. Mera jhootha ghamand, meri fake personality, sab kuch uss aadhe ghante mein khatam ho gaya tha.
Main Delhi wapas aa gayi. Ab main Twitter par post nahi karti. Protest mein nahi jaati. Ab jab bhi koi 'caste equality' ki baat karta hai, mujhe ghin aati hai. Kyunki mujhe ab sach pata hai. Sach lafzon mein nahi, taaqat mein hota hai.
Aur sach yeh hai... ki main har raat uss dard, uss humiliation ko yaad karti hoon. Main uss Chamar ke lund ko miss karti hoon. Main uski nafrat ko miss karti hoon. Agli chuttiyon ka intezaar hai. Main wapas jaaungi. Is baar gyaan dene nahi, gyaan lene. Usi khet mein, usi mitti mein. Apni asli aukaat pehchanne.
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