You can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world where my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death.” 
― Laurell K. Hamilton

This post is dedicated to the Delhi gang-rape, the girl who lost her life & started a revolution. Although faceless, she reformed laws, caused protests & the most important of all, she started people thinking. I am nothing but a mere observer. I was not a protester, or a politician but I grieved. We do not know the exact horrors perpetrated, we could all only imagine. 

I was on holiday, yet the news made me sit down. I pored over all the available articles on the internet. I couldn't wrap my head around 'Why?' Rape isn't about sexual experiences, it's about power & domination. There is a fine line between power & domination to pure evil without conscience. 

I can't do anything, I can't bring her back, & I can't help her family. All I can do is remember her & her throughly terrible sacrifice was by flowers. I chose a simple design, something none too complicated.


  1. I'm ashamed to admit that when I first heard this story - via Facebook - whilst being horrified at the idea of it, I thought it was yet another Facebook hoax, a spammer wanting to get as many shares as possible. Then it reached the news and I realised it was true and I was saddened by my own cynicism caused by the digital age and horrified by the brutal reality of the story. Beautiful post.

    1. I thought it was spam too. When I read the news, I hoped that wasn't the real details. When I realized it was the truth, I wept. Thank you so much.


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