Oppression is the birthright of impotence and greed.

May 11th, 2015

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” — Maya Angelou

Lakshmi Vardhan Rajagopal,

I decided to publish my open letter after much vacillation. While the wise words of Lao Tzu and the Dalai Lama held me back, the growing violence against voiceless, dependent, and vulnerable children compel me to speak forcefully and boldly for the restoration of humanity.

For a while, albeit a brief time, I assumed you were compassionate, but your tarred mind quickly established its darkness. You went from a concerned woman procuring personal information to a vulnerability vulture who engaged in attacking the wounded. Only weak, miserable, and jealous people (of whom I have experienced plenty) derive delusions of superiority from humiliating and dominating the weak while catering to the conveniences extended by patriarchy.

When one fails to develop their mental faculties, one languishes. In this minuscule world, the framework of sickness forces one to behave the way you do. You dismiss the horrific suffering of children, claiming children forget their abuse and yenjai [enjoy] themselves in play. You believe children and women who are raped attract violence thanks to their past lives as insects, that the poor deserve to be poor as it is their vidhi [fate], and that specific “educated” people are incapable of committing crimes. Your ignorance and cruelty continued, and you pummeled my loss and agony, repeatedly stating that my abandonment and trauma are my vidhi (that of which I am deserving). You dissuaded me from writing my memoir telling me you would spit on me, minimized and dismissed my expansive knowledge of psychology, belittled my agony, and mockingly asked me to yenjai and be happy with my loss.

Watching you relish my abuse and pain while humiliating and ostracizing me, I know with certainty that had a child come to you for help you would have turned against the child. You would have shamed and labeled her a liar.

Apathy silences children, forcing them into a downward spiral and a lifetime of deterioration.

Until the day I take my last breath, I will think of you each time I hear of a child’s destruction—with broken bones and maggot infested insides; stripped naked and tortured; groomed to be her mother’s sex slave; forced to suicide by bullies (for being queer); sodomized by his father and strangers; flogged and burned; sold into slavery; forcefully sealed with the low caste stamp and ostracized; ridiculed for being disabled; thrown into an institution; or starving while caring for another child. This legacy is your vidhi.

I would have liked to invest my precious time explaining the ramifications of childhood abuse, brain development, complex comorbidity of personality disorders, physical manifestations of internal psychological scarring, and much more. But how does one do the undoable? Can one fly a plane without an engine? By attempting to educate you, I would have insulted my intelligence while dignifying your willful ignorance and cruelty.

As far as being happy is concerned, my concept of happiness is aligned with Gandhi’s thoughts—“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” For you, happiness is synonymous with dissonance. You speak of God but practice violence; speak of Gandhi but practice corruption; complain about the deplorable condition of politics, but (allegedly) get on the roster of a political party; claim piety but vomit vulgar madisar [a style of tying a saree] jokes; talk condescendingly about young women in India but encourage your daughter to practice duplicity; criticize the civic sense in India but act as a catalyst that creates kilos of feces (rats to squirrels and pigeons) each day; and you label India as oppressive but exist as the poster child for oppression. With such an existence, Gandhi’s high thinking is a distant dream. To think high, one must first dare to dream boldly.

Those who practice boldness are aware of the consequences of their words and actions. For my part, I will take the most advanced polygraph on live television to corroborate my story and your role within it. I invite you to own your face and violent words and to spit on me while sharing my stage. I do not enjoy being spat upon, but perhaps spitting on me will make you realize you blew your one chance at realizing your human potential. Maybe you will finally put “your metaphysics” to proper use and link the lack of a single expression of compassion on your grimacing face, along with migraines, vomiting, diarrhea, cramps, and a plethora of diseases you suffer, to your inflictive thinking.

Whatever the case I will never spit at you. I possess a degree of worthiness. I will clap for you and request the audience to give you a standing ovation. I extend this invitation to your schoolteacher sister (who according to you taught you these high thoughts). You sisters can enlighten us on the fundamentals of corruption, violence, and duplicity. I can only imagine what Nobel Laureate Professor Muhammad Yunus and Former Union Cabinet Minister Subramanian Swamy will make of your thoughts on corruption and your entitlement that is the poor’s vidhi.

Poverty and violence are sweeping across the world. Millions are left abandoned and uncared. Babies are gang-raped, and human beings are facing humiliation, hardships, and violence each second of their lives. This abysmal poverty and horrific destruction of humanity are thanks to individuals like you. A mind governed by corruption and violence resists growth and enforces the suffocation of the human spirit.

Reform and restoration of humanity does not come from silence and protecting violent elements. It comes from exposing the violent who steal from the world, relish suffering, and enable violence.

By being your weakest, poorest, and worst, you have not only earned this moment of glory, but you have fueled me further. You have made me my strongest and best. And you have taught me an invaluable life lesson—I will never kneel down to the level of a substandard person—they are incapable of receiving respect and dignity.

In conclusion, I would like to say that if indeed the scale of abuse I have endured and the agony I carry is my vidhi, so be it. What I know is that I will not dare ask you, or others like you, to walk a mile in my shoes. You are denied the capacity to slip into them, let alone crawl in its shadow. You were born for corruption. To paraphrase Robert Byrne, “The purpose of life is a life of purpose,” but when your purpose is corruption, what life can you have?



“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” — Maya Angelou