It is 8:30 at night. After a dreadful day at work, you can't wait to get home and relax to shake off workplace harassment.
When you get on a bus, you feel touches all over your body that make you feel patronised.Or when crossing through a relatively empty street, you get cornered by the dementors.
Yet, you gather your strength to face them all tomorrow, knowing that raising your voice will incur further harassment. This is not an isolated story of a heroic survivor. This is the story of thousands of young women in Bangladesh every day.
Moshari, a highly celebrated horror short film by Nuhash Humayun, boldly hinted at the pervasiveness of sexual predators in our society. It also exhibited a feminist resilience to the stinging invasions by them.
The story narrates a tale of two orphaned sisters in a post-apocalyptic world who must confine themselves within a 'Moshari,' a mosquito net, to protect themselves from the claws of blood-sucking vampires.
The vampires start their hunt after sunset and insidiously draw out their prey, primarily young females. Multiple references from the movie indicate the ongoing issue of pedophilia and child rape in Bangladesh.
In fact, the sisters were seen staying inside the mosquito net even within their asylum, just like many women feel unsafe even in their homes. A poignant rage will swirl inside when you see the desperate attempts of Ayra, a young girl, to thwart the vampire from violating her personal space and bodily autonomy.
In reality, a shocking number of rape cases are reported yearly in Bangladesh. The frequency of child rape is even more horrifying, as an excruciating 818 such incidents happened across the country in 2021. Unfortunately, the judicial and institutional response to such a disturbing crisis is anything but adequate, with many assaulters still waking free while the victims are left traumatised.
Another stigma this horror masterpiece tried to dispel was society's hypocritical and heinous taboos regarding women's menstrual health.
However, the short film underscored the strong resilience women show daily.
Surah Binte Kamal, playing the role of a protector, is always alert to safeguard her naive little sister. Despite having a thorny path, she marched forward to rescue Ayra at any cost, symbolising the solidarity Bangladeshi women share to fight back against all the evil power. Despite the apparent tension, the two sisters were connected by a string of affection.
The baton is now in the hands of the audience. Will the dementors of night continue to shackle our women within the confines of a safe haven?
Or are we humane enough to drive the predators away collectively and light the streets? The choice should be a no-brainer.
