Derived from the ancient Asian form of torture - “Lingchi”, “A Thousand Cuts” studies patterns of domestic abuse in the South Asian community. I have borrowed the metaphorical meaning of Lingchi toshowcase the cyclical nature of domestic abuse. The continuous act of chipping at the soul of the abused, is expressed by making cuts on the portrait of the participant. The paper used to print theportrait is a thin A4 sheet, depicting the fragility of her existence.The red colour underneath the portraits signifies not just martyrdom and strength but also the onset of a new beginning. I have kept the project at a domestic scale, using resources available within the home as a metaphorical reflection of violence occurring within the human space. The final artwork is photographed in a very closed, tightcrop so as to express a sense of suffocation and absence of room for movement.
My initial intent was to create a metaphorical “waiting room,” where strangers meet and talk to each other without any fear of judgement or hierarchies. An imaginary space where conversations aroundabusive lived experiences continue to happen. Where it is easy to come out. A room where you are heard, seen, understood and where you feel safe to leave your story behind. We started by creatingthat room as a real space. A space in a church in Hounslow, UK. Many of us met there, several times over. We held hands and spoke at length. No one interjected the other. No one left the roommidway. I am grateful to the UK-based charity Shewise, which facilitated my connection with the survivors and provided invaluable support by establishing appropriate mental health safeguards. Eachsurvivor who generously agreed to participate in this project is navigating a unique stage of trauma, making it essential for Shewise and me, to ensure that our engagement does not leave their woundsbleeding. These initial dialogues led to the creation of a vector of faith between myself and the participants in this project. We then moved on to private one-on-one conversations and me photographing eachsurvivor individually with their consent and their complete control on the way they want to be “seen.” Once I printed the images, the survivor then selected the image she wanted me to start making the cutson. The motifs made through these cuts are a metaphorical representation of the women’s own lived experiences. Here, I employ the technique of the South Asian art of paper cutting called Sanjhi Art.Historically Sanjhi art works were created by the Hindu god Krishna’s female consorts to attract his attention, showcasing an inherent power imbalance between genders. I wanted to create thesecontemplations of not just abusive lived experiences but also an inquiry into culture.Through individual narratives of the survivors we see how coercive control involves regulating the minutiae ofeveryday life including how women dress and do housework, whom they meet and talk to, and depriving them of or restricting their access to even the most basic necessities of life such as food,water and fresh air. Also, through the act of making cuts on the survivor's portrait, the artist embodies the entangled identities of the abuser and the abused. That helped me understand the perpetrator’s obsession withviolence and destruction. There is rhythm in violence. A form of meditation, even. This work is an effort to understand abuse from many different frames of references. The role of past in formulatingnarratives of the present and the future; locating the inter-relativity between childhood and adulthood. The long term intention is to bring narratives of abuse into public discourse, arts and humanspaces. In that sense, this work is an invitation for an open dialogue that allows both the survivor and society at large, to explore concepts such as trauma, suffering, cultural predispositions, gender andidentity politics without sacrificing their own vulnerability or risking confrontation. By making physical cuts on the survivor's portrait, the endeavour is to showcase the juxtaposition of many energies and realms of individual and systemic consciousnesses, in the act of normalisingabuse. The focus is on narratives of the South Asian subject. One finds in there, a certain similitude of hegemonic masculinity and a history of colonization that then helps us sketch out broad patterns that mightprovide useful lines of inquiry. This series also studies the journey of abuse from the private, intimate space where violence occurs; to its place in the public domain, whether it be in terms of how theprivate reality is subverted; decorated in public or that initial disclosure process when the survivor breaks their silence and speaks out to family, friends, neighbors, colleagues or even absolute strangers. This photographic study draws on interviews with over 35 South Asian women (it is an ongoing project) and analyses the interactional and emotional processes of the first public disclosure of their privatereality.
“िकतनी िगरह?” (How many more Knots?):
还有多少结
I married 2 people in my life. 1st marriage was because we were 7 daughters and 4 sons. Anyone who came in through the door, my father would give our hand to them in marriage. My 2nd marriage was because of “honour.” Both men were the same. Both let me
be abused by other men. It brought shame to my family. They locked me in a room for 3 months. I tried killing myself several times. These people pushed me to kill myself.
我一生中结过两次婚。
第一次结婚，是因为我们家有 7 个女儿、4 个儿子。
只要有人来提亲，我父亲就会把我们嫁出去。
第二次结婚，是为了所谓的“家族荣誉”。
两个男人都一样。
他们都任由别人来伤害我。
这给我家带来“羞耻”，
他们把我关在房间里 3 个月。
我多次尝试自杀。
是这些人逼我想死。
“िमट्टी के दायरे” (Circles in Sand):
沙上的圆圈
My mother's womb. ItÕs from there that I started witnessing the
violence. I remember the sound the cemented floor made when
she was dragged by her hair through it. I was three. I have grown up learning that to be the only sound of music.
我母亲的子宫——从那里起，我就开始目睹暴力。
我记得她被拖着头发在水泥地上拖行，
地板摩擦发出的声音。
那年我才三岁。
我的成长，就是把那声音当成音乐。
“मेरी हद्द” (The premise of my existence):
我存在的前提
My parents brought me up with a lot of love. Someone brought a
marriage proposal and the family liked me. The boy came to visit.When I saw him I started to cry because he was much older than me. He was 22 years older. But my family told me “It is ok. You will have a lavish life. You always had the craze to go abroad and live.He will keep you well. If he is older then he will obviously love and respect you.” Now his family has the custody of my children. I only get to see them for a few hours every week.
父母一直很爱我。后来有人上门提亲，家里很满意。 第一次见到他时，我忍不住哭了—— 他比我大 22 岁。 家里却安慰我： “没关系，你会过得很好。你不是一直想出国吗？他年长，会更懂得照顾你。” 如今，孩子的监护权在他家， 我每周只能见他们几个小时。
“मुझसे मुलाकात” (Finding Me):
遇见我
One day my father said “I have fixed your marriage. If you refuse, Iwill divorce your mother.” When the abuse got too much, he said
"In our family no one has ever got divorced. So if you choose
divorce, I will divorce your mother too." But my mother said “what is happening to me … let it happen. Don’t take it on your soul. I
wasn’t able to help you earlier but I cannot let you die like this.
Don’t return to that man for my sake.” And so I left.
有一天父亲说：
“我已经替你定了婚。
如果你拒绝，我就休掉你母亲。”
当虐待变得太严重时，他又说：
“我们家从来没有人离婚。
如果你要离婚，我就休掉你母亲。”
但我母亲对我说：
“发生在我身上的，就让它发生吧。
别把它放在心上。
我以前帮不了你，但我不能看着你死。
不要为了我回到那个男人身边。”
于是，我离开了。
“सपनों िक सािज़श” (Conspiracy of Dreams):
梦想的阴谋
The wedding happened. Honeymoon was like the dream she haddreamt … but then it all changed.
They had a family business for which they needed free labour. Theboy’s mother suggested that a girl from back home would be ideal.
“One day I refused to work without payment. ” That is when the
verbal abuse became physical. He mauled her as his mother pulledher with her hair. She bled.
Then they broke her phone.
Locked her up.
She was under vigilance at all hours, including toilet breaks.
Calls to her family were only allowed in his presence.
When no one was home, she was locked up.
Each night she was beaten.
One day by mistake someone left the door unhinged.
She fled …
婚礼办了。
蜜月像她一直梦想的那样美好……
然后，一切改变了。
他们家有家族生意，需要免费的劳力。
婆婆提议从家乡找个女孩来干活。
“一天，我拒绝无偿劳动。”
从那以后，语言暴力变成了殴打。
他撕扯她，婆婆揪着她的头发拖她。
她流血了。
随后，他们砸了她的手机。
把她关起来。
她的一举一动都被监控，连上厕所都是。
只有丈夫在场时才允许给家里打电话。
家里没人时就把她锁起来。
每天晚上，她都被殴打。
直到有一天，有人忘记插门。
她逃了出来……
“क़ैद-ए-क़फ़स ” (Prisoner of the prison):
牢笼中的囚徒
It was a happy childhood. My father protected us. We did
everything he said. He said "I dream of you growing up to be
happily married." I made that my dream too. He said to me "Marry." Imarried. My parter abused me and asked me to leave. He won't
take me back now. I have no dream left.
我的童年很快乐。
父亲保护我们。
我们总是听他的话。
他说：“我希望你们都能幸福地结婚。”
我也把那当成自己的梦想。
后来，我的丈夫虐待我，还把我赶走。
他现在也不愿让我回去。
我再也没有梦想了。
“पंख” (Pinion):
羽翼
My partner hit me in front of his entire family and left the room in rage. My mother-in-law summoned her other son to go offer water or juice to my angry husband, while I stood there staring at her.
The act of normalising abuse was so subtle. On most days I did
not even notice it. On other days I ignored it. Then there were days when I justified it.
丈夫当着全家人的面打我，然后怒气冲冲离开房间。
婆婆叫另一个儿子去给我丈夫倒水或果汁，
而我就站在那里，看着她。
这种“正常化暴力”的行为非常隐蔽。
很多日子我完全没有察觉；
有些日子，我刻意忽略；
还有一些日子，我甚至替他找理由。
“अवरोध की उड़ान”(Fenced Flight):
被围栏的飞行
He came to the kitchen.
I gave him tea.
He took one sip.
Threw the cup.
Slapped me.
Said “sorry” later.
I said “fine” … every single time …
In the early days … well! Life was beautiful then. Atleast that iswhat everyone told me, “you are wearing fine jewellery … niceclothes … going for dinners. It is all very beautiful.”
他走进厨房。
我递给他茶。
他喝了一口。
把杯子摔了。
甩了我一巴掌。
后来又说“对不起”。
我每次都说“没事”……
早些时候……生活被大家描述得很美好。
“你戴着好首饰、穿着好衣服、出去吃饭，多好啊。”
“काग़ज़ का ल” (Paper Flower):
纸花
It was an arranged marriage. I tried to resist because I had just
graduated. But because my family was going through a bad time...My father was critically ill. We were struggling financially and you know that social pressure … So my mother said “look this is a very good option and you won’t get this again. You are getting to go to London.” As a girl in South Asian background, you are always
raised to be submissive. You cannot have your own say. “A good girl always says yes.”
这是包办婚姻。
我试图反抗，因为我刚毕业。
但家里情况不好——
父亲重病，我们经济困难，
再加上社会压力……
母亲说：
“这是难得的好机会，你不会再遇到了，你还能去伦敦。”
作为南亚背景的女孩，
从小就被教导要顺从，
不能自己做主。
“乖女孩要说‘好’。”
“एक अदभुत पिरंदा” (Phoenix):
涅槃
One of the recurring dreams I have is that I am on the edge of a
cliff and I can see the storm rising. So I was always foreseeing
danger. I would see my house becoming my jail and on the other side of it I could see panthers walking around. He almost killed me and my children several times. Once he set fire to the house.
There were days when I would stuff a cloth in my mouth while crying so my children couldn’t hear me because living was so painful.
我反复做同一个梦——
我站在悬崖边，看着暴风雨逼近。
我总是在预感危险。
我看到家变成了牢笼，
窗外则有如豹子般的威胁潜伏着。
他多次差点杀了我和孩子。
有一次，他把房子点着了。
有些夜晚，我哭得撕心裂肺，
但为了不让孩子听见，
我把布塞进自己的嘴里。
活着太痛苦了。
“सर पे छत”
(A place to call home):
一处可称为家的地方
My parents were my perpetrators. I wish I had a mother like
myself. Then I wouldn't be here. When you live with abuse all of your life, "love" means "abuse" to you. After years of abusive
relationships, now I have a loving partner but it is strange for mebecause I am not used to anyone being nice to me.
我的父母就是虐待者。
我希望我能有一个像我这样的母亲；
那我就不会落到今天这样。
你一直在暴力中长大，
“爱”就等同于“伤害”。
经历多段虐待后，
我现在有了一个温柔的伴侣——
但这对我来说很陌生，
我不习惯有人对我好。
“अल्ला िक गाँए” (GodÕs Cow):
上帝的牛
I was a simple, quiet girl who always did what her family asked of her. I was “God's cow.” The abuse was so intense. Self harm was my only weapon. But one day I don't know how I got the strength inmeÉ that when he raised his hand on me in front the childrenÉ Idon't know where the strength came fromÉ I lifted a stick and I
didnÕt hit him but I started hitting the door and I hit it so much thatthe door almost brokeÉ From that day he did not raise his hand on me.
我曾是一个乖巧、安静、事事听话的女孩，
大家叫我“上帝的牛”。
虐待非常严重。
自残成了我唯一的武器。
但有一天，不知哪来的力量——
当着孩子们的面，他又举手要打我时，
我抄起一根棍子，
不是打他，而是拼命打门，
一直打到门快裂开……
从那天起，他再也不敢动我。
“मोम का पुतला” - (Statue):
蜡像
I am not able to understand anything. Nothing. I am not even
getting any dreams. I don’t feel like doing anything. I don’t feel like doing anything. I am not feeling like doing anything. I am not
feeling angry with anyone. I am not able to understand what is
happening. I am not able to understand what to do and what not to do. I am neither feeling sad nor happy, I just keep living like this. Iam not able to understand anything right now. I am not able to
understand anything. I am saying the same thing, I am not able to think of anything. The doctor has given me medicine. I am not able to feel like doing anything. I am not able to understand anything. Iam saying this again and again.
我什么都无法理解。
什么都不能做到。
我感觉不到，也不想做任何事。
我不生气，也不难过——
只是在“活着”，
但什么都不明白。
我反复说同一句话：
“我想不明白……”
医生给了我药。
但我依然做不到任何事。
我什么都不理解。
我不断重复这些话。
“अतीत का भिवष्य” (Makings of past):
过去的未来
One day I escaped with my children and I went and sat in the
middle of the road knowingly that I could be killed here but I saidno, I’m not going back to that house because that family will killme anyway.
Traffic was stopped.
Police came but did not help.
I was sent back.
My children grew up watching the abuse.
My son is 50 years old now.
He’s decided to not have children.
He doesn’t want to carry his father’s blood line forward.
But you know while I was going through all of this abuse, I startedto volunteer for women’s organisations … to empower other
women.
I had nobody there for me but they have me. So I tell them:
Learn English.
Get your driving license.
Become independent.
Don’t rely on anybody.
I encourage them.
No one encouraged me. I had to do it myself but now I am therefor other women.
一天，我带着孩子逃跑了。
我坐在马路中央，明知道可能会被撞死——
但我说，无论如何我不会回那所房子，
因为那家人总有一天会杀了我。
车流停下。
警察来了——
但没有帮我。
我被送回去。
孩子看着虐待长大。
我的儿子如今 50 岁了。
他决定不要孩子。
他说不想让父亲的血脉延续下去。
在经历所有这一切虐待的同时，
我开始为女性组织做志愿者……
去赋权其他女性。
我当时无人支持。
但她们有我。
所以我告诉她们：
“学英文。”
“考驾照。”
“独立。”
“不要依赖任何人。”
我鼓励她们。
没有人鼓励过我。
我必须靠自己。
但现在我可以陪伴其他女性。
“अंितम संस्कार” (Culture Death):
文化的死亡
I am 43 now, I still carry the trauma of my childhood like an
invisible limb. My mother has died. Her perpetrators remain alive.Not just the man. Neither all those men or women. Abuse exists within our culture, our genetic predisposition.. the gendered
narratives that are fed to us.
我 43 岁了，
仍然带着童年的创伤，就像一条“隐形的肢体”。
母亲已经去世。
施暴者仍在——
不只是那个男人，
也不只是那些男女。
暴力存在于我们的文化之中，
存在于我们的基因里……
存在于被灌输给我们的性别叙事里。
”किट पतंग”
(Unconfined or Unhinged):
脱线的风筝
In my head I created a calendar, in which every second day … amishap happened. Life kept going on.
But the biggest damage was how possessive he was. What I wore.What I did. Whom I spoke with. Where did I go. He dictated
everything. He told me what colour to wear and what not to wear.If I even went to my parents’ home he would call a 100 times.
Everything I did was monitored.
If I wore good clothes … he would just tear the clothes.
I used to love wearing black colour but because of him black
colour permanently got adorned in my life because he wouldn’t let me wear another colour.
He would speak lowly of me in front of other people to stifle my confidence.
I bore two daughters from this marriage. The abuse continued and this started impacting my children.
My youngest daughter became very quiet. Slowly she started losing her hair and she ended up with alopecia.
Ofcourse amidst all of this abuse life goes on. We eat food. We go on family holidays. We meet people … life has a way of staying
normal amidst all its abnormality.
我在心里创造了一个日历，
每隔一天——
就会发生一场灾难。
但最深的伤害是他的占有欲。
我穿什么、做什么、跟谁说话、去哪里……
全都由他决定。
他告诉我哪些颜色能穿、哪些不能。
我甚至去父母家，
他都会打 100 个电话追着我。
我穿漂亮衣服——
他就撕掉。
我喜欢黑色，
但由于他的控制，
黑色成了我生命的底色，
因为他不允许我穿别的颜色。
他在别人面前贬低我，压低我的自信。
我为他生了两个女儿。
虐待持续，
孩子们也被影响。
小女儿变得很安静，
后来开始掉头发，
最后被诊断为斑秃。
当然，在这些虐待之中，生活依旧继续：
我们吃饭、度假、见亲友……
生活总能在所有不正常中保持某种“正常”。