The thing I noticed first was your feet; round fingers: clean, almost translucent nails as if nothing could be more delicate, and the perfect curve. It reminded me of Laxmi: the goddess of wealth.

Dangling bangles in your hands were chiming like the morning bells in the temple: turning heads around. They all wanted a glimpse of you, like me. I offered you a sweet: seeing you gulping down the laddoos when no one was looking. That’s how I initiated the conversation.

You told me: you love getting dressed up on every occasion and besides watching television; swimming is your favorite thing in the world. You were smart with an infectious laugh and I felt like staring at you. You talked a lot. I remember you were adjusting your braided hair; not that comfortable, I suppose. I offered to help, to which you politely refused. The red bindi seemed bigger on your small forehead covered by the fringes left from the braid. It reminded me of the sun just after dawn; beautiful and bold.

Today, you look the same; in this newspaper. I just keep going back to the same page to cumulate, every tiny thing related to you. I don’t want to miss any or maybe, I hope for a change. I remember that day after you ate the sweet, my friend called you to sit in, probably, the most dangerous place. I was smiling while they were washing your feet, put another tika on your forehead before taking out the arti. I looked at the idol sitting behind you: couldn’t find a difference.

Everyone was amused when 7 years old, you: gave blessings in words to my 30 years old friend: who was worshipping you.

‘IN A LAND WHERE WOMEN ARE WORSHIPPED, A MINOR GETS RAPED!’

The headlines above your picture felt like a punch in my heart. It is not the first time when I have come across such terrible news. Feeling agitated and angry is also not new. There have been several times when I have cursed the culprits, the government, or the public. But I have never felt guilty. And, today, I do. Because I compared you with; Laxmi, Durga, Kali, or any other goddess. You are no God! God does not speak, does not feel. People treat God: however, they want to and leave. We expect God to be forgiving.

You can’t be a human when you are entirely something else. I dissolved your existence when I put the burden of being a ‘Devi’ on you. We forgot that you are just a girl and so, did the culprits. We would love to label a girl with many things in her entire life; but, not a human.

Looking at my 6-month-old daughter, I made a promise: that I will never worship her. She will be a person above all.