Abuses will soon become facts

Disclaimer: Please read with an open mind. Healthy debate is acceptable, feud and disrespect is not.

Girl

Day After day, we keep hearing new stories about men abusing, raping, torturing and killing women in India. The extent of frustration is so high that anything, any damn thing with a vagina works for them. Sensationalizing news has now become routine. That which once was considered shameful, obnoxious and inhuman is today so commonplace that we don’t blink an eyelid anymore.

Every rape gets its share of primetime in news channels and print media and these days, online news sites, for a couple of days and vanishes into the throes of dark oblivion.

Every single scream curdles my blood. How do i hear it? Can’t you?

Can’t you hear the screams emerging from the depths of these news stories? How can you not hear them?

A goat? A g.o.a.t?

How in God’s name can the beast hurt a goat like that?

There has to be a line drawn somewhere. Somewhere, by somebody. Law died a shameful death the day Vishakha died. Government never did have a conscience anyways… Neither this one, nor the erstwhile one.

My concern is not that a goat lost her life too. My concern is that it doesn’t matter who it is, Vishakha, Asifa, the numerous infants put to brutal deaths after being “had”, it just doesn’t matter who it is.

IT DOESN’T MATTER TO THEM.

They will push stuff for pleasure into anything and everything. One day will come when the MCs and BCs will no more be called abuses.

The way we are headed, it’s only gloom for the female community in India. As long as lawyers defend perpetrators, we are headed for the gallows.

As long as juveniles get away with adult-like crimes citing their age, we are headed for the gallows.

As long as we don’t legalize prostitution, men will keep forcing themselves on women and robbing them of their modesty.

Prostitution was illegalized by prejudiced minds that couldn’t see dignity in consensual sex. By minds who had no idea that this would unleash horny savage beasts on the roads, in buses, in temples and animal shelters, with uncontrollably raging hormones that will destroy everything to bits, and kill their prey so that there is no voice against them.

Recently, Sonu Nigam came out in the open and put forth his PoV that prostitution should be legalized and there should be compulsory sex education in schools. I finally found a reason to respect him!!

I seriously believe that is part answer to this problem. India has mostly been a conservative country and people are still living in old age days, where women are forced to cover their faces, where honor killing still exists and women are looked upon as submissive creatures in a patriarchic society.

Looking down upon prostitution is sadly a very orthodox way of deeming it an undignified profession. Why? Why can’t we change our mindsets and see it as a profession which involves a great deal of hard work and give it the dignity it deserves? Trafficking is crime – prostitution is just another job.

I am aware of the sensitivity of this subject – however, someone needs to raise a voice. Someone needs to start talking somewhere.

How will these rapes end?

The Nightingale and her Flame

She lit me.. I was very little.

Hardly visible. Hardly there.

I loved to dance from the moment i was born

And then i heard her sweet voice.

She sang in my Father’s praise.

And she sang and sang, like a nightingale in love

My heart flew and grew. My heart leapt as i heard her

She continued as if she had no care in the world.

And i danced in glory, i danced in ecstacy.

I swayed from one direction to another

I was replete with love

I was engrossed, entrapped, enslaved.

I didn’t want to stop

I couldn’t.

My father stood behind me, looking at her, singing in His glory.

And He smiled.

His grace on Her.

PS: This was inspired by the dancing flame that swayed in sync to the song of this lady.

Diaries of the Hechicera: Clash

She did enough to conceal herself. She had no interest in herself. All she knew was to work, work and work. She had clung on to work to make minutes pass in her life – so that those thoughts wouldn’t come back and torment her. She was always walking around with puffy face, dragging her feet exactly the same way that she was dragging her life.

He was a workaholic. Night, day, weekday, weekend – he’d be at work. Did he ever sleep? Did he ever do what normal people do – like going to the movies?? Did he not have friends? Did he not network? What and who is he?? Arrogant, haughty and detestable.

She entered the office, dark because it was a Saturday and there was no one. From the corner of her eye, the cabin at the corner seemed to be lit. Well, someone must have forgotten to switch it off on Friday. She headed towards the cabin to switch that light off. And there he was, working on his Mac.

Ridiculous!!! There are other people who are MAD like me???

Before she could retrace her steps, he lifted his eyes and caught her – greeted her, but in her mind, he caught her!! Oops. Okay, be civilised my dear. Greet him back. Where are your manners? She greeted him back and took her seat. She was aware of his presence all the while. Instead of the usual 3 hours, she just wrapped up in one, and sped off back home.

He wondered what was it about her that he felt like protecting? She exuded a very vulnerable vibe. Like a prey sitting ready for a predator to devour. And he looked around her. There were predators who he knew spoke really shabbily about her. Predators who thought she is a fool, who laughed behind her back at her sense (or lack of it) of fashion, the way she spoke, the way she worked – everything about her was a bad joke. Maybe that’s where the protective feeling came from. She was hurt. Very hurt. Her entire demeanour reflected that. Maybe not as hurt as him, but she was. He wondered what had happened in her life. He knew and recognised this work obsession of hers very well. He himself was part of the same boat.

Musical Monday: Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer”

I have developed a very great liking for piano classics. I would like to share this one tune that my neighbor was practicing during my short stay in Singapore. I took some time googling it, but I got to know that this is one of the toughest tunes to play and students learning piano who can actually pull off this one, are considered experts and stalwarts in Piano.

Do listen to it and let me know how you felt. I will share more of my favorites in subsequent posts.

Dear Grandpa

I miss you.

You had set the foundation for our comfortable life, having come here with nothing and building everything from the scratch.

I remember how I used to play with your hair as a little child. You were so possessive with your hair and yet, whenever I felt like, I would get so many rubber bands and make little ponytails all over. You would check yourself in the small hand-held mirror and laugh.

I remember you started giving me pocket money every month when I turned 13. 200 rupees. I used to spend it in Archies – and would look forward to the next month.

I remember  how you were concerned about my health and that I am too skinny. I used to tease you by showing my non-existent biceps and you would burst out in laughter.

I remember how you would bring cartons of Goldspot and ThumsUp because we all loved them. You would also bring Cadbury’s Crackle, Dairy Milk and Fruit & Nut – again, cartons with 10 pieces so that we could eat them to our heart’s content!!

When I ventured out, you would be so concerned and would ask my mum how I am doing, whether I am eating well or not. You were so proud of me when I told you my salary and you just smiled from ear to ear.

When I came home two weeks back, seeing you in the condition that you were, brought me down to tears. I couldn’t resist sitting by your side and caressing your head. You caught hold of my hand tightly, as if to say, thank you – don’t go. When you refused to eat food, I coaxed you into opening your mouth so that I could push the food in. You had given up on life. I had to force water down your throat as you opened your lips a bit – you weren’t even ready to drink water!!

I ran to my dad and cried and cried – asking him if something could be done, but he said, no beta, this is life. He will get more harassed if we shift him to the hospital. Wistfully, I left for my job that Monday, and by Saturday, you were gone.

I got the phone call from dad while I was in a meeting Saturday early morning. I rushed home and cried and cried, thinking and thanking for coming home the previous week. I booked my tickets and when I reached home, seeing you, lying so peacefully inside the ice box, with an angelic smile on your face, broke my heart. You looked as radiant as alive. I wanted to touch you – but everyone had to come. Your last rites broke my heart again. As I bid farewell, I prayed that you would always watch over us, and forgive us for anything that we would have not been able to fulfill.

Daddy (as we call you), I love you, I miss you.

I am sad that you are no more, but grateful too, that your suffering has ended.

Stay with us in our memories and be there, our guardian angel.

 

2018 and beyond 

It’s been a year to remember.

My makeover. 

My transformation. 

The lady who moved from insecurity to confidence. 

What is transformed can not be rolled back. And shouldn’t be either. 

The journey is an endless one. Climbing the stairs of knowledge and growth, and in the process, becoming the persona of my true identity… My mentor always saw it through me. He knew my true identity. 

As 2018 rings the bells, i see myself on the threshold of the new, the unknown and the challenging. Yet, i am not scared. I don’t fear anything anymore. I am me. 

I have become me. I recognize myself now. I respect me now. 

2018 is going to be the journey of me. 

My explorations, my quests, my energies.

Wish me the best. 

Happy 2018