The Bandit Queens

by Parini Shroff

the necklace men tied to them, it was no prettier than the rope tying a goat to a tree, depriving it of freedom.

In a world where her vagina was a liability, was there even room for petty things like love?

she was capable of anything because everything had already happened to her. She’d been beaten up and raped and betrayed so many times by so many. She was fearless because she’d already suffered what the rest of us live in fear of.

“The darker the henna, the stronger the love.” Gross.

She resented being put in a position where those were her choices: violence or violation. She didn’t want to be built to endure, a long-suffering saint tossed by the whims of men. She wanted, for once, not to be handed the short end of the stick by a system that expected gratitude in return.

When a man had a baby girl put in his arms, he saw his name and legacy disappear, to be swallowed by another man.

Though

she was a mere woman, she had the benefit of being privileged and wellborn, which Geeta likened to being the best player on a losing team