The Acid Test


That’s incredible, pretty amazing, but I’m not sure I’d want to visit, I thought to myself putting down the paper and pondering over the article I’d just read.

The headlines read ‘Acid attack victims join hands, open cafe near Taj Mahal in Agra’

I’d be too overwhelmed by the horrific nature of such violence. It would be frightening to see someone living through such an ordeal with her nose melted away and her eyes burned shut. By her having to smell her flesh burn and feel so helpless and all she can do is wait it out. And then live through that.

Here in the Asian subcontinent, acid attacks are not very uncommon. From my limited understanding, a lot of these attacks are by spurned lovers looking to avenge their rejection. The sole aim of this kind of brutal crime is to disfigure the woman and turn her into some kind of monster that all of mankind would ostracize. For her to feel the shame and rejection they felt when they were turned down. We must shoot those retarded bastards!

Barely any of the criminals are convicted while the woman has pretty much lost everything but her life. Imagine not being able to muster enough courage to look at ones face let alone walk around without a veil. Loss of vision. Acid thrown on genitals. And that’s only the physical, the psychological damage is tremendous. I shudder even as I think about it.

I look at the photo of the victims again. I force myself to not look away. The women in those pictures could have been my sister, my mother, my girlfriend. ­­

I can see them trying hard to smile. Brave women, trying to get by. Despite everything, trying to move on and get on with their life. Trying to come to terms with the ugly truth and deal with the pain.

I take another sip of my coffee, the least I could do was muster the courage to visit their cafe and deal with the harsh realities of this world, and congratulate them on being so courageous.

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