I love you so much...
When I was in my mother’s womb,
I was killed by my maternal parents.
I was killed by my maternal aunty.
I didn’t even know why they killed me.
I asked Jesus Christ in Heaven.
He told me your father was an untouchable Christian.
But your mother is a Hindu. -Kapu
As a result, your maternal parents and aunty murdered you.
He said they tried to kill your father.
But he escaped, and they caught your mother.
They eliminated you from your mother's womb.
When you were four months old, baby,
Killing a human being is a sin in most countries, but not in India.
It is a culture.
Everyone loves the Indian culture in Christian societies.
I asked Jesus why many of your children are killing life.
He said, "not many, but
Millions
They are radicals.
They are feminists.
Their slogan is "my body, my choice."
They are free to kill life.
Are they "social elites"?
Yeah, exactly. They are "social elites."
But your case is different.
In your case, your mother never applied
"My body, my choice."
But forced death from your Hindu grandparents and aunty
Yours is an honour killing.
In which hatred, hostility
Purity, impurity, caste, untouchability, honour, shame.
Respect and family honor
Religious honor, caste honor
Animosity, ideology, intolerance
Fanaticism, anger, emotion, abhorrence
Detestation, antagonism, racism, casteism,
Prejudice, Abomination, Loathing, Misogyny
Envy, Murderousness, Violence
Bigotry, resentment, and fanaticism
Bitterness, extremism, ignorance
Rage, incitement, sectarianism, cynicism
Paranoia, injustice, xenophobia
Humiliation, Insults, Despair
Nationalism, misanthropy, arrogance
Radicalism, hate crime, ugliness
Despising, execration, mental disorder
Social class, terrorism, misology, misoneism
Despisal, inciting, etc. involved
Social elites like feminists, Marxists, leftists, human rights activists, etc., never express their thoughts on honor killing.
Because they are the ones who are practicing honour killing.
Their families, castes, races, ethnicities, and religious groups
Their tribes carry on this honour killing.
This isn't just an Indian phenomenon; it's sweeping the Middle East and North Africa as well.
MENA is the same as India in honour killing, lynching, and stone-to-death.
Marrying the same blood, raping, killing female children and women, and sexual minorities
Yazidies, but my Christian children are politically correct ideologues.
They do not like to talk about "social evils" alone.
They love political words like "refugee," "asylum," "child labor," "conflict," and "refugee." War, poverty, etc.
They are politically correct ideologues.
They love Indian ideology.
They love Buddhist ideology.
They love Hindu ideology.
They love Islamic ideology.
Most of my children married terrorists and became part of their holistic movements.
My country has millions of jihadi children.
They love "jihadis".
They are becoming members of jihadi ideologies.
I lost my place in their hearts.
Everything is political.
You speak of life, but you are conservative in my country.
Jesus is weeping.
Jesus is crying.
He is bleeding again, just like my Madiga untouchable father.
If you talk about jihadi ideologies,
They brand you as a "hate speaker or writer" in my society.
I started observing my untouchable father from heaven.
He has been crying and crying because of his helplessness.
He has been feeling guilty about his helplessness.
I have witnessed tens of thousands of killings of children.
Born to untouchables and Hindus,
Jesus told me that in India, they kill untouchables in the name of honour.
I understand it is an honour killing.
I am a victim of honour killing.
My Hindu mother loves me so much.
But her parents and her younger sister abused her physically.
Without giving her food for weakness,
Without giving her medicine for her pits,
My mother is a pit patient.
I observed my untouchable father.
Even after my death, his heart is broken and bleeding.
I was killed in 2011.
My father never slept.
He never stopped thinking of me.
He is bleeding.
He is traumatized.
He is ontologically wounded.
He lost his unborn baby.
He is dying every moment.
He never forgot me.
There is no single day that passes without thinking of me.
He loves me so much.
He hated himself for his helplessness.
He is guilty of his inability to save me from my Hindu grandparents.
He curses Hindus every day.
I know my mother will never forget me.
I am her first child.
Like I am my father's first child,
My parents were revolutionaries.
But they are untouchables and Hindus.
Caste killed me.
Untouchability killed me.
I want to see the world.
Like anyone
I have dreams.
I want to become a great scholar.
writer
Critic
poet,
Thinker
Reader
Tailor
Activist
Like my untouchable father,
But my dreams were killed by my Hindu grandparents and aunty.
They killed me.
They cut my body into pieces.
A Hindu doctor involved in my murder
The lawyer involved in my honour killing
They did not allow me to see the world.
My father does not know when they murdered me.
My mother never informed him.
He does not even know when the honour killing took place.
My mother was at a distance of 2000 km from my father.
She never compromised to kill me.
But my Hindu grandparents and their younger daughter did.
Killed me.
We want to live.
We want life.
We want to survive.
I am not lucky enough to survive an honour killing.
My father and mother love me so much.
My Hindu mother has forgotten me.
But my untouchable father loves me so much.
I was his idea.
I am his love.
I am his angel.
My father apologized to me for my death.
What can my untouchable father do when he is untouchable?
Don’t feel guilty, Dad.
Take care of my brother now.
I am speaking from Heaven.
Dr. Suryaraju Mattimalla B.A.,M.A.,M.Phil.,Ph.D(History)
Blog: DALIT ACADEMIC MAFIA,
Blog: TIGRAY GENOCIDE IN ETHIOPIA (dejazamtchnegussebezabih.blogspot.com),
Twitter: Dr Suryaraju Mattimalla (@DrMattimalla) / Twitter,
Facebook: Surya Raju Mattimalla | Facebook
Author of unpublished autobiography:
"Why I Am Not Indian: The Untouchable Rejecting India's Citizenship"
E-mail:suryarajumattimalla1977@gmail.com
Published poems by Dr.Suryaraju Mattimalla at My poetic side
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