Phoolan Devi

Before I was married, I thought the sound of bangles jangling on my forearms would be delightful. I looked forward to being able to wear bells around my ankles and silver necklaces around my neck, but not any more, not since I had learned what they represented for the man who gave them. A necklace was no prettier than a piece of of rope that ties a goat to a tree, depriving it of freedom.

I decided I would go with them, but it would be at my father's house that I would eat. I would share his food, and his poverty.

I alone knew what I had suffered. I alone knew what it felt like to be alive but dead.