Look Ahead..

The Song of Hope - Brides to be

2011-06-10T16:25:00.000-07:00

At 6, what do you remember of yourself- A pink frock, a lollypop, and unlimited dreams? Some moments caught in the frame, you and your mommy drenched in the rain, the corner ice-cream parlor where Dad would take you every Saturday, your brother and the comparisons, the tug of war for the toys and chocolates, gas balloons that never stayed on the ground, the pink and blue water-bottle you carried with pride, the new copies and books you covered with the paper brown and the night counting stars in the sky. At 8, things would have changed but not drastically. At 13, you would have thought about being beautiful and at 16, about a career. At 20, about college and life and may be at 22 about marriage.

Chronology of these events is not the same for all of us, at least not the same for girls in rural India, Yemen and parts of Afghanistan. The story of Nujood Ali had shaken the world in 2008. Nujood, 10 year old Yemini girl, walked into the court of a populous city of Yemen and demanded divorce from her husband. At 10, she had been married, had sexual intercourse, bled and lost her virginity to a man 3 times as old she was. With the help of media and law, Nujood got her divorce and is now living with her father’s family, who knowingly forced this marriage on her. There are 10,000 Nujoods who are born and married every month in the most urban and highly rural cities of Asia. Some are caught, some are not and some bleed their way to death.
In Yemen, Child brides are a part of the custom that is used to settle disputes, grant favors and flourish businesses. Girls of 8 and 5 are married with men as old as 30. I read an article some days ago in Times of India about the increasing cases of marriage of old Arabic with young poor Hyderabad local girls. It’s a means of providing security to the girl, who if not married at an early age can fall prey to some callous bastard’s sexual needs. However the concern here is - Is marriage between a 60 year old man and a 13 year old girl not a legal rape. How secure a girl is when she does not even know what is going to happen to her at the first night of the marriage? She doesn’t even understand when a new life starts breeding in her not so old body. Finally, she realizes something is wrong just before she bleeds to death producing more female offspring who carry on this tradition of security.

Scientifically, a girl attains puberty between 10 and 14. One of the main physical changes of puberty is the growth and development of the sex organs – the parts of the body that are used to have sex and make babies. But at 14 also there is no emotional and physical stability in most female’s body to give birth. The fact is - At 14, most of the girls married at 8, are a mother of 2 or 3 children. Pregnancy and childcare takes place in unhealthy and unhygienic environment for most of the girls, leading to the development of many diseases, prolong bleeding and repeated failures and miscarriages. All the more shocking is the fact that the girls shy away from telling anyone what they are going through because they feel shy. An utter neglect and lack of education forces many of these girls to continue bearing the torture till the time their bodies give up.

Can we feel sad or can we do something? I think we should and we must do something, as far as I can see education is the only medium, the only channel, the only path and the only hope. Even if each of us can educate 1 mother of each of those brides to be, I believe there will be a change, a subtle but significant in its own way.

The other day I was sitting and chatting with my mother who was again asking me about the same old question of marriage (I am 25 and hence I owe some explanation as to why I do not want to marry now). I smiled and said ‘I am not ready, and there are still some career commitments I need to fulfill’. She smiled back and said ‘your choice’.

‘Give her the right to choose, give her the right to decide
Give her the freedom to live and if needed fight.’

SAHAI - Helping Life

2011-06-07T03:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the CBSE declared the 12th board results. There were bright smiles and tears of joy, but there also were tears of fear and strain. The burden of not living up to expectations of family and self. Parents keeping an eye on their children so that they do not do anything wrong after the results. Hurt and depressed some students take the easier way.
These are moments in life when you feel the journey so far has been worthwhile but you do not want to continue any more. Those subtle moments when the will power breaks and shatters, moments when you feel the world is not a good enough place to be, moments of anxiety and anger, moments of sadness and dry laughter.
In these anxious moments when the only ray of hope is not be there anymore, are the ones when you need that warm hug, that affectionate smile and that pat on the back. You need the assurance that things will get fine. You need someone to say ‘They will get fine’. Some of us are lucky to have friends and family around in those shattered moments and we run through that rough phase emerging successfully at the end. Some of us are not so lucky.
Today, SAHAI is helping to make each child, each Parent, each woman and each man lucky.

HISTORY THE SAHAI WAY: HOW AND WHAT

Activity: Started on 2nd Oct 2002, SAHAI is Bangalore's telephone helpline for people in emotional distress. Our dedicated, trained volunteer counselors are available to answer your calls between 10.00 a.m. & 6.00 p.m., from Monday through to Saturday.

All calls are confidential and privacy is assured.

Whether it is facing problems with your family, in school, at work or with your friends,Sahai Counselors will give you their undivided attention and will guide you. And, when you're ready, SAHAI will help you find a long-term solution to your problems, through telephone counseling. Sahai volunteers will help and equip you with the skills, needed to cope with distressing situations of life like loss, failure, broken relationships or the ever-increasing demands of today's fast-paced life.

SAHAI volunteers are homemakers, professionals and college students - people from all walks of life who are committed to saving lives. SAHAI volunteers undergo 30 hours of suicide prevention training conducted by professionals from NIMHANS and the Medico Pastoral Association, along with Rotary Bangalore East, three of the help line's founding partners.

Volunteers are trained to help each caller ventilate, to respond without judging, and to guide the caller to address their problem. Volunteers learn how to listen pro-actively, and to recognize and assess signs of stress and depression.

Details: India’s first suicide prevention helpline we are pioneers in telephone counseling in Bangalore.

Support: Suicide prevention and emotional distress telephone helpline.

Note: Public awareness, more volunteers and funds to raise awareness.

This post is a part of BlogAdda's Bloggers Social Responsibility (BSR) initiative. I am exercising my BSR. You can too with three simple steps. Visit http://www.blogadda.com/bsr/ and support the NGO's.

‘Giving you the help to play, to live, to swing, to way
Making your life colorful red and blue, but not grey
A better life awaits you and your tomorrow
Dont give up ever, SAHAI will end the sorrow.’

She is beautiful - Winner of Blog Junta's Editor Choice Award

2011-05-21T06:58:00.000-07:00

For most of the girls, beauty defines and personifies an elegant face, chiseled features, sharp nose, a curvy smile, batty eyelashes and lustrous hairs. It is right to say that the inner appearance and the outer appearance that complement each other is the most beautiful pair in the world.

But there is more to life and its beauty …

Rationally being burnt is the last way anyone will consider to end his or her life, even the small light brown mark on your right face where your mother immediately applies Burnol causes you to weep and worry about dimming prospects of marriage and career. Many a times we see on road a woman or a girl who becomes the object of our glares, our blinks, our frowns and our tears and by doing so we think that we have done our duty for someone who is unlike us. For someone whose face and body have been burnt badly beauty can have little or no meaning. To live with it for the rest of their lives becomes a bane or a life that we sitting in our house and thinking about a beautiful tomorrow cannot even imagine. But Saira has proved this wrong, for me beauty is she.

Before I write anything further on this I would like to mention that I haven’t met Saira and haven’t even talked to her, all I know about her is from her story which I came across several times while I was searching for some Burn Victims documentaries for a recent awareness campaign in our locality.

Saira, was burnt callously by her fiancé, when she wanted to complete her education before moving in with him. Saira lost all her hope in life and was left with a marked face and partial vision.

(Saira with her photograph, after and before)

But who you see today is not the Saira, who was shattered by the atrocities of her own life partner who had beseeched her. Nor is she the one who sits at home to shy away from the eyes of relatives and neighbors smirking at her face. She joined a beauty salon and started her training and work there. Covered with mirrors all around, the confidence and inner power one need to face the world and help others look beautiful is not what can be put into words.

(Saira working as a beautician)

There are many Sairas, whom we do not know, who have faced the wrath of the society and their dear ones and still have risen strong showing us what beauty really means.

The will power and the strength to fight against all odds, the unlimited courage to change your life, the effort to glow outside keeping your inner self pure - is what defines a beauty for me. Women are god’s most beautiful creation.

‘Your soul, your heart,

The smile you bring,

The courage in life that you have shown,

Always smiling and not a single frown

The beauty that is above the skin

And also there inside the self

Standing strong a day and long,

Even if things went very wrong’

(Many illustrations, links and mentions in the article below are from a series of videos and knowledge I attained on the internet – the back links for the same are provided at the end. Irrespective of the instances, my views are indicative of the opinion I have on what beauty is)

Links and references:

http://felixfeatures.photoshelter.com/gallery-image/Pakistan-Burn-Victims-by-Katherine-Kiviat/G0000s0KkMpLDn5Q/I0000nNBUodqkivs

http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/5019/will-you-help-acid-burn-victims-smile-again/

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=8277584966&v=wall

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/3114323.stm

Check out : yahoo real beauty

Too old to be 16

2011-05-05T02:58:00.000-07:00

I had just read a collection of short stories by Khushwant Singh, and was too much inspired to buy another one of his charming descriptions of life, when I walked into Crosswords the other day. Crosswords or be it any decent book store is my favorite stop for writing, having coffee and reliving myself. I took a checkered red stool and dragged the lousy thing to the end of the Indian fiction gallery. I sat down, and started to flip through the ‘To be bought Next’ books before I actually went for the ones I had to buy that day. I got 2 of KS, side by side – ‘Burial at the sea’ and ‘The company of women’, the others seem to have been bought by others. I had read the former longtime back, and so picked up the latter. It is my habit to read at least 20% of the book before I decide to purchase it, and this habit is simply not a reflection of my money mindedness but an activity which I engulf in for the joy of witnessing things at these particular book shops. While I was reading KS with his most vivid and utmost livid encounters, a girl of about 16 came near the rack where these books are piled up. She looked at me disdainfully (yes disdainfully is what I mean) and then knocked by my long and confused stare went away to the other part of the shop. I gave pride to myself that she will not be able to understand the story anyways, unlike me. Focusing my attention back on the book, I decided to purchase it without fulfilling my 20% reader thumb rule, there was only one copy on the stack and I had no desire to go home empty handed. While I was just giving a final look to the future buys, she came again; This time with a sleeky, kinky, and the –ky adjectives guy (‘I am the Dude, and I can puke’) , the guy looked like Leonardo Dicaprio did in Man in the Iron mask(Physique wise). He was wearing jeans that couldn’t be shredded more, I believe he would have wrapped the denim around himself and asked the tailor to stich it. How the hell does the skin breathe in that THING- I thought, The Dude had spikes, no not spikes but hair resembling to ‘Kroor Singh’ one of the fascinating Villains of a famous Hindi Tele Soap in 90s(Chandrakanta), wore some shoes equipped with pencil heels ( I used to wear those as a Kid and I am still not Old) and the T-short he wore said it all ‘ F*** the Shit out’. I thought for a moment that he could not mean it literally but then who knows. He smelled of Red Bull or some higher version of it, I had to make way and so I did. He stared at the book I was reading, a long stare.

They both sat at some distance from me, on the floor, and started searching for some magazines. I do not need to mention what kind of magazines they were reading together but I couldn’t stop myself from telling them ‘You could find all this on the internet, really no need to come here all the way’. The girl replied ‘And so can you’. I was not flabbergasted, I WAS ANGRY. Khushwant Singh is known for his candid works, and wrote very openly about Life and its stages but nowhere the acclaimed books and their very close relations to life were similar to the magazine content these guys were reading.

I got up before my mouth could blurt out some more unnecessary advices to them.

The first thing I did after coming out of the shop without the book was to call my younger brother , ‘ Can you send me the snaps of your latest tees, also any recent snap of yours will be fine’.He said ‘Are you nuts, I am in the middle of a test’ and hung up.

I just stood there asking myself whether I was nuts. I had forgotten my house keys at the store and the sun was on its way reminding me of the dawn.

One afternnon At washroom

2011-04-25T04:24:00.000-07:00

Frustrated, I waited for things to get worse. It was one of those particularly bad Fridays when even the feeling of the next 2 favorite days does not give any solace. I raked the leftover of my brains, “what else”, “why else”, how” and “what not”. They had given up on me since the past 2 hours and gave the wide indication of redness on my forehead that if I pond on them longer than this then they will burst out.

I got up and dragged myself to the bay area thinking that a cup of coffee will help. For some reason the coffee was bitter and nauseating that day, it felt like it was made of raw black pepper and sweet corn pulp. Lifelessly I dumped the cup, and with a moronic speed thought of the next alternative. Not by intention but by chance absent mindfully I followed Mrs. X, who also works in my office, to the washroom area. Inside I realized I had no need at that time to be there, but having come and already thinking of where else to go, I sat on one of the many washroom sink slabs. Constant voice of flushes and taps were playing a rhythmic song and variety smells of deodorants and expensive perfumes were doing their regular work. Amidst all this, there were few ‘Hey’, ‘Hi’, ‘Long time’, ‘What else’ –s going on. The central mirror was the King of the jungle called washroom, everyone paid it the last visit before going out to the City a.k.a working area. Apart from few stacks of tissues and soaps there was only I, who was left behind within a few minutes of all the hustle bustle activity. Absentmindedly, I took a tissue and blew my nose; the sound that came out was one that anyone is habitual of tolerating alone but not in the presence of the civil society members. One of doors opened and a woman, whom I had seen before but was not familiar with, came out. I thought ‘Congratulations, this reminds you that you were wrong in thinking the worst was over when you decided to kick out some substance from your nose’. She was some years elder to me, and passed on a friendly washroom smile (we call it ‘washroom smile’ the term indicates ‘partner how are the things kicking you or the other way’), I returned the not so habitual one. This was not intentional, with things going so bad that day, the lips and gums had refused to leave each other, best friends in crime they were inseparable even by nano of the inches. Whether she sensed something wrong or her sisterly instincts were so strong is not what I know, but what happened next is what made me write this article.

‘For whom’, she said. ‘What’ is what I popped out. ‘For whom have you made your face look like that of a Penguin and are not even aware that the only pair of spectacles you may have now are lying in the sink amidst some not to mention colorful substances. I looked at the spectacles and then at her, ‘It’s not someone but its many things. One of the days when I can feel the earth is rotating and casting on me the curse of the black pearl. She smiled, looked at her watch and then sat on the sink beside me after shedding her sandals. ‘I do not want to ask what went wrong, just tell me do you like cola?’, ’Hain’, I couldn’t myself wondering about the absurdity of it all. She kept glaring at me, ‘yes, I love Coke’. What else you like ‘Which TV shows’ , I said ‘ HIMYM- Barney ‘ , ‘Lovely’, ‘Dosa or Pav Bhaji’ ‘I licked my tongue and let the familiar taste of my favorite Pav Bhaji wala Bhaiya- Sreenath Pav Bhaji, sink in. ‘Drink’, I smiled a little before saying Mango Shake, with a look at my tummy we both shared our first laugh. ‘Denim or Khadi?’, ‘Denims anyday and Khadi on Gandhi Ji’s Birthday’ (No laughs about that I do wear Khadi on special occasions, its cooler on skin). ‘Pani Puri on road or at restaurant’, ‘on road, with lots of Aloo, masalewala’. Another laugh. ‘Cosmetics?’,’MAC is what I desire rest is what I got’. And we started laughing like kids do when they learn their first Santa Banta joke.

I suddenly felt the moments were gone, the tensed, nerve racking, headache causing moments which had caused me a mini migraine some time back. All that remained was a light smile and heart to thank her. I looked at my new washroom pal, she was smiling the same smile, ‘happens’ is what she told before she went to her already late meeting, and I caught her hand to say ‘ You are simply awesome Tiger’. Tiger Balm is my favorite headache removal balm and Tiger is also my favorite animal, somehow she bought me relief with some words and actions ending the dark round. After this incident took place, we acknowledge whenever we meet but we talk and pour our hearts out only at one place. Washroom is not the place where only I found my solace that day but it’s an Endroit préféré (preferred place in French) for most women at work today.

I thank whosoever first thought of the idea of constructing this piece of architecture.

If you fell and still falling in Love

2011-04-13T03:32:00.001-07:00

Is it all in vain that I care for you?
Is it all in my eyes that you wait to see?
Will there be lies that you will say
Or rather I will wait, and say it myself?
Will there be a moment, when I will feel special
When you will hold my little finger and say
“So far in Life , this is the best day”.

Pray for Japan

2011-04-12T01:27:00.001-07:00

I am a child looking for the divines

Of chocolates, of colors, of rhymes

My house was at the center of the kit

Where the newspapers said the quake hit

There was movement all around

I was searching for my dog all day round

But there is only water and mud and pieces

Of things that were mine and my niece’s

My Mama says it will be fine

And I am waiting for the sun to shine

Sorry I can't give up my dreams !

2011-04-07T00:48:00.001-07:00

The more you pull me down
the more I will rise up
the agony you give me
the happier smile you will get back
the more you block my dreams
the more free they will be
the more you want me to loose
the more I will gain from it
the more you push me aside
the more center stage I will take

I am a woman destined to live
not to cry and not to weep
I am a girl with wonders in her mind
The one I say who 'He' cant bind
I love , I work , I respect , I rise
with vigor and strength forever mine.

Go for your dreams

2011-04-01T03:26:00.000-07:00

Every step I take, the moment is a wake
Bringing the known knowledge
to me , my body and my mind
In the face of the sapphire
it cannot be forgotten - The Aim
For this is what I want from life
For this I must do, I must thrive
For this is what counts to the top
The dreams I have cannot be lost
For me this is more than anything today
and if its just not something for me
I will never give my second best shot
To gain the Sapphire I will put my energies
Never loose hope Never loose shine
For I believe that tomorrow is mine !!

Giving in India

2011-03-23T09:57:00.000-07:00

The topic on the Twestival page read “Volunteering as an option of Giving - Giving time, energy and efforts”, but for me it was “Giving Time, Hope and Money”. I have been working in a school part time as a part of a Hyderabad based NGO. We aim at teaching the Basic English to junior classes, apart from career mentoring and evoking interest in computers.

When I started working for this organization (one day a week), I was not sure whether I would be able to make an impact and there will be sufficient time to take this into my busy schedule. A lot of us in Hyderabad are IT and Consulting professionals with life running round the clock. Heavy schedule and cut throat competition makes us inept to think like humans some time i.e. beyond 3 AM in night and with family life coming into picture it’s all the more difficult. Still a try was not bad and so I did.

I was dumbstruck at the ground work which is being done by Indian NGOs for the children. I met a lot of people here- those who were being taught, the ones who were teaching and those who were silent spectators. Of the many I have met the common point among them was their determination to bring about a positive change. Radhika- a house wife and a feminist, is devoted to the school totally, she does all the works from teaching to sometimes cleaning. Radika comes from a rich family; she wore short flowing skirts and was Angrezi to the core. I had to ask her and so I did, “It just feels that you don’t belong here, what’s the reason?” I was candid because that’s how I am. She said “If you mean my clothes, my red hair and accent then they are the last things you should look for at least in me; I resigned from the Top American Advertising firm and came back here. And No this is not the only thing I do, nor I have plans to enter politics but yes, this is what I look forward to when I wake up in the morning. This is essentially what gives me the strength to stand proudly for the country which is undergoing the fastest change in the world; Anitha – when I looked at her there she was, as small as she could be and as poor as I could see. She said “madam, this is what helped me to pass my 12th board and I want to extend it to whatever level I can.” ; and then there was Begum Madam, I don’t know her exact name because that’s what she is called in the school. She has not done her schooling, has always lived in an arena of 4 kms around her house and spent most of her time inside the 4 walls. She is 73 years of age and the happiest living creature I have ever seen. Madam sits with the kids in the class and learns with them. After her morning class of English she cooks the midday meal served to the children by the school and sweeps the arena for children to play. Her petite figure, growing age and educational background are no hindrances to her routine. She says “I did not know the meaning of life before I came here, the learning is mutual and I was so happy when I came to know that we call an elephant - an elephant in English. It’s very important for girls to learn about their rights and hygiene, I want them to know that this country has a system called court and yes, we have the right to go to court”. These are simply awesome people whom I have met; I have no word other than awesome. Volunteering today is not limited to status, money and show off, it’s become a responsibility. To give back to the people and country who somehow have contributed to our success, the AC car, the Versace dress, the visits to restaurants and everything else.

On the donation aspect, it would be rightful to thank the Indian Media be it any mode of communication-Advertising, Bollywood, Blogs, Radios. In the past few years there have been many social events with mass scale advertising for fund raising and people have gone out and supported the cause. The striking element here is that these events don’t portray the donation as the main activity but the involvement of people ate grass root level with social causes. Once you are ready to spend time, the affordable money comes from the pocket to donate. Donations have reached a level where people will not hesitate before giving 100 Rs. thinking it’s a small amount. The notion “Every penny counts” is flowing through the country. It is a mutual symbiosis to lessen the gap between rich and poor, literate and illiterate, females and males.

And as Santa Singh said to Banta Singh “ Hain, you never told me that you donated money to charity. I always thought the Paisa from our bet went to the buttenchicken’s treat. Tabhi main Kenda, Ki chicken da accident kab hua?”

I am a blogger and initiatives such as below are helping me do my share, Will you want to do the same. THANKS Twestival India for conducting this, it is not an event it’s a gesture.

For what it is: My Twestival, My Chance

For Twestival Guys: I want the grant from this blogpost to be donated to ‘Aashayein Foundation’.

Reuse, Reduce, Recycle

2011-03-12T10:05:00.000-08:00

There can be 2 worlds where our children or their or their .. children can find themselves in, one in a land of rocks without water and air, plants and animals, all hot and all cold OR the world where we were born and bought up by our parents.

As the saying goes “What goes around, comes around”.

An introspection that made me do my bit for the environment. I was so shocked to see when I sat and wrote this that in how many ways I can help mother Earth.

Getting ready for office I was,

Flowing bath tap without pause

The room I went to, was left behind,

with lights and fans, running combined

The mosquito killer goodnight mat pays

Paradoxes its name by running even in days

Breakfast is breaking the fast with a quick bite

Even with coffee machine heating left and right

The geyser which heats runs for hours

“I forgot to switch off, there was no power”

The lunch being cooked by the cook of the house

Is blackening the roof, blacker than the attic mouse

A chimney to buy, he says: “is too costly”

Costlier than the life it’s affecting poorly

Off to office, driving on the roads

Playing the music harsher than toad’s

The sound rustling so high, no one bothers

Music it is for me, headache for others

Reaching the office, climbing through lift

No hurry, but the ladder is just not swift

Using the Gym, I will also be

Walking in the park, Let it be

Fresh air and walk are much healthier

Gym is more IN, till I am wealthier

My laptop and my PC are always working

Even when I am out, they are lurking

Forgot to give water to the money plant

Which rests on my desk and is going slant

A little of water, a little of care,

will give me more O2 to share

I drink from 10 paper cups, 10 times a day

Forgetting for a cup a tree is slay

Using a Mug will make more sense

Making the greenery ever so dense

Coming back from office, I bring the packs

Of grocery and eatables, laying on the racks

Using the paper instead of polybag

Lessening the plastics in the house to sag

Bulbs we use, are easier to choose

Making the ozone ever so loose

Chloro Floro carbons that they ooze out

Hampers the climate without any doubt

A little change here, a little effort there

Let’s show Mother Earth that we do care.

How we can, What do we do ??

Who can help you out ?

Delhi - A story (Part 1)

2011-03-10T06:39:00.000-08:00

Just stepping out of the train, the familiar voice came crashing into my ears “ Hain ji, bade din hue Mrs. Khanna…Sada munda kina bada ho gaya hai.. Hai..”.

No I did not know Mrs. Khanna or Mrs. Mehra for that matter but I knew the voice of Delhi. Yes I had entered Saddi Dilli, with its magical aura, love and long history.

Delhi had and will always be a sweetheart for me; I tasted its colors at an early age and still relish the taste of Dum Aloo and Tadke wali Dal. The familiar faces of Aunties, the vendors, Loud music, hot summer, and even colder winter, Chat ka chatka and pani ka matka. Visits to IIT campus or AIMS ka canteen, Nescafe ki shop ya Autowalon ke khwab- There is no limit to the dreams Delhi weaves into you.

When I was young, the most I knew about the capital of world’s largest democracy was that it has a tall tower called Qutub Minar where even the birds can’t reach. From the Tomb of Qutub to IndiaGate, From the Disco and pubs to Gajra and Mujra, From the slinky lanes to the broad highways, anything and everything about this city is enigmatic.

...................................

Zeenat's story (one of the Winner of BlogAdda Too Busy to Care Contest)

2011-03-08T09:16:00.000-08:00

I have to work also
My friends will be waiting
Have to catch up MTV show
Its time to study
I need to attend my best friend's Birthday bash
This new dance class at the center hall
Pizza time everything else can wait
I want to go out of India
I am tired of the population in this country
poverty and pollution

Yes, i can go on writing and the limit to this page will finish..

We can always invent our own reasons for not doing something we should have especially concerning others. I am too busy to care, but want to do something. Jaago Re and BlogAdda.com are helping me do my bit for the society.

Zeenat in the class.

Here's what happened:

And I looked back again, “Should I”, I thought. “Darn it all, I am getting late. Next Monday for sure.” I turned over and started walking at a fast pace towards the auto rickshaw. I postponed the thought that I had been procrastinating for a long time, again.

I am a software engineer, and as the name suggests my life revolves around my laptop with the exception of the times when I am teaching in a school where I go on Mondays. Each week those 2 hours of my life gives me both happiness and tension. No I am not a mean creature, but getting up at 6 AM in the morning was never my cup of tea. I drag myself out just for the reason that I may end up educating the ones who might follow this chain and hence contribute my portion to the making of a better society. The bigger reason is that I love to see the joy on their faces when I walk in the class. 40 pairs of eyes looking deeply in to mine, wanting to learn new things and enjoying the ‘JOIE DE VIVRE’.

Among these children who are mainly 7-8 years old there are some who have made their place in my heart. They have hit the spot and touched me with their efforts to learn despite social and economic obstacles. Especially a girl named ‘Zeenat’, 12 years of age, elder than most of my 3^rd class students. She is accompanied by her 2 year old sister whom she takes care of even during the classes. There is a certain attraction which she commands and all the time I wonder whether she wants to talk about something. She never expressed that she wanted to talk to me but I always knew she had. There was something about her. Everytime I entered the class she sat in the corner of the last row, did all her assignments with the tiniest of tiny pencil and was always the first one to know an answer but never answered in the class. I knew I had to talk to her about something that was wrong and did not seem to be in place. I decided that I would do that after the Monday class as I had no meeting that day in office (I go to office directly after school on Mondays). I finished teaching at 9:45 that day; I called Zeenat and asked her if she can come to the school gate with me. She looked at her sister who was playing with her pencil now, and asked me if she could take her along. I agreed. My phone rang, Boss calling, , reach early!

“Zeenat, I will talk to you next Monday”.

I did not go to the class the next week; I was visiting my Parents in central India. I should have visited the school another day but I did not. I was busy. That’s what I thought.

I reached the class early the next week; I waited for her to come. She walked in without her sister and her bag on the other hand. I gave the class a test to write and then turned my attention to her. I noticed something, something that was not there before, something that looked out of place and reason. She had covered her head with red Scarf and her eyes were bleeding with kajal. Her lips seemed too red to speak anything. No, it’s not abnormal for a girl to do any of these but it looked like she did not do any of this herself.

After the class I called another student, and asked about Zeenat. I said “Hey, where is Zeenat’s sister, is she ill?” She said “No, Zeenat got married and her sister now lives with Zeenat’s brother who is in 2^nd grade. Zeenat will go to her husband’s house next month.”

I did not say anything. I could not. I went to Zeenat and congratulated her. She looked at me with vacant eyes.

I was late; I had been busy, very busy!

“It hurts to see the blackness in her eyes,

the redness of her lips, the sadness in her voice.

I had my reason – I was busy, working, occupied

With the same answer again I had lied. “

I made a promise that day to myself, to give a hand to the one who needs it. To stop by for some minutes, the work can wait. To accomplish a meaning in life greater than filling an excel at office.

Child marriage - A system's irony.

Child marriage is common in many parts opf the world, claiming millions of victims annually--and hundreds of thousands of injuries or death resulting from abuse or complications from pregnancy and childbirth. Child marriage has many causes: cultural, social, economic and religious. In many cases, a mixture of these causes results in the imprisonment of children in marriages without their consent.

Poverty, “Protecting" the girl's sexuality, Gender discrimination, Trafficking ...

Child marriages are illegal in India and we can stop them. Please refer to details of the 1929 act that prevents marriage of a girl below 18 years of age.

How to help

Also

Jaago Re is helping me out, join the hand.....

For the Women at work

2011-02-24T20:08:00.000-08:00

I am happy today that I have a place (my blog) where I write and I can write what I feel about anything and everything. The views presented in the below article may not coincide with the general view or it may also , but for me it was essential to write down and resolve an issue as we say in software language that is persisting in the system for a long time now. Here’s for all women employees who work hard to manage both ends and are sometimes criticized for something they have no intentions of doing.

“You are good …. You are awesome … “ She blushed expecting it to be a remark for her project work which she recently completed ( working late nights even when her child was suffering through malaria and her mother in law out on a trip). He removed the pin from the board where one of her painting was clipped. ‘Oh it was the sketch he was referring to .. ..’ she thought , smiling she took the compliment hoping that he will talk something about the assignment she had worked on. As he did not extend the dialogue further she went and sat down at her desk. Then he went down with a friend to the coffee machine, “I guess she knows only how to paint.. “ a long laugh. She was still at her desk thinking she will be praised for her work which was evidently better than the ones the others had done on her team; they were praised.

A female at work is always voiced to be equal to a male at work. But is it so actually, I don’t know. We live in a world where the good even if it is good is outshined by the general bad (the good and bad are very relative sections- purely dependent upon our mindset) at some point or the other.

A female with the list of social responsibilities also has a gift of other unknown medical aids from God; in addition to being the child bearer she is the one keeping the family under a tree all the time. The basic question is that if there is a willingness to accept the advantages (if they think it’s any advantage that is provided in policies for women and not for a man at work) for the mother, for the wife then why not for your cubicle neighbor ‘She’. There are few who will accept these facts and behave in a way as to make you fell competent and at the same time giving you time to balance the acts of a mother, wife and a worker. The other few who do not abstain a moment on cracking a bad joke behind the back (the ones who talk on front are much appreciative than the ones who do behind the back) do not realize that the same would be happening to or happened to their own ones at same time or the other. How many times I have felt that my mother should have been home when I came from school just like my other classmates had their moms waiting for them and shading them in umbrellas in scorching summer; today we have a range of options in our work culture that provide this option to us, but there is a feeling, a thin layer of mockery and general subdued idea that these options are overly used by the gaining party. God has made us in a way so we can multiuse our abilities, we are house makers, we are hard workers, we complete it in time and ‘yes’-we are creative. We love, we believe, we dream, we give .. And for all this we need time.

A scene with my friend - He said “How many offs you take, you are always falling sick … “She said with a smile “No Dude .. I am not medically defected .. I am medically gifted J “.

I am lucky not to have gone through these situations ever J, but there is a need for someone who did at some point in life.

I would consider myself useful today if after reading this there is a change, a subtle change in the then and today attitude of any one individual to the cubicle next door ‘She’.

NOTE : This entry is a part of the Indusladies 'Women's day contest' , for more details on how to contribute and also write your own blog post on this visit : Indusladies

That Diwali ...(Part of Fire and Freeze Indivine Contest)

2011-01-31T10:44:00.001-08:00

Yet I could not cry and I so much wanted to
I could not scream and I would have in silence
I just stared in those eyes which were not meeting mines..

Sometimes there are stories that are remembered more often than the incidences that strike us in real life. We have a tendency to remember stories that are fictitious and inculcate them in our lives .Reality always loses its taste in this world of virtual desires and never ending artificial wants. But this one did not and will not ever.

This is something on paper which is very close to my heart, happened long time back.

I always have lived in a nuclear family and in terms of places my family has shifted a lot of times across Indian cities. A few years back, we were living in Bareilly, one of the famous cities in the state of U.P in India. Our house which we had taken on rent was situated a little outside the city, in the suburbs. The reason behind the location was as always the comparisons of the distances of their respective offices between my parents, often landing in a location midway between both. The house was part of a pseudo colony not occupied fully at that time. Beside our colony or rather at the backside of it was a ramshackle Basti which was occupied by workers of the colony: the maids, the cleaners, the sweepers and other household helpers.

I personally am based out of Hyderabad owing to my work and hence going home for Diwali is a much awaited event. I was going to Bareilly for the first time that year; my parents had shifted just a few days back to that city. As I entered the colony from the backside (the front side was blocked due to some road construction work), my first words were "Where have you guys taken the house, this Basti is just aligned to the rear side of the house: anyone can jump over the cliff and climb over the backside". My father said "The workers are trustworthy" , I totally ignored the comment, keeping in mind the same notion which many of us carry about anything that creates in us a sense of fear or insecurity.

Then came the day of celebrations- Diwali brings an essence which has so many flavors in it, cleaning our house, decorating it, shopping and more shopping and the joy of burning those little firecrackers, the sweets and the tooth aches after that, the rides to market forgetting to buy a pooja item, the rangoli and the best part is the time spent with your family.

Over the years I have become more environment friendly and hence on that Diwali we purchased fewer crackers than we had over the past Diwalis. But the joy was the same, after the rituals we lighted them and took several photographs binding them for the years to come. My mother asked me to put Diyas on the upper floor of the house. After completing the work I peeped over the wall in the Basti, it was also lit with some bulbs, and children were outside their houses playing. But not all huts looked like celebrating the festival of joy.

That night was chilly; “Diwali eve” celebrations were already over. I was in bed warming my hands while rubbing and puffing at the same time. Half of the household was already asleep, the rest drooling half way through sleep. I heard some whispers. Not sure if it was the breeze or something else, I ignored them and kept sitting with the blanket around me. Again there were faint noises and footsteps that I could hear this time clearly. The sound came again and this time there was no doubt that it involved a human. With a mixed feeling of anxiety and fright, anger and braveness, I decided to go to the roof, with a stick clasped in my hand (the other sweating profusely) I went upstairs. Walking towards the staircase my heart and mind was full of anger and rage, ' must be those idiotic Basti wallas, want to steal some money on Diwali, cheap people, losers, think that stealing is their birth right'. I was so angry that I could feel my blood running super-fast in my veins and at the tip of oozing out at the same time. This has to be tackled, I thought.

What I saw, I will remember till the end of anything I remember ever.

There was a child as thin as one ever could be, initially I presumed him to be a ghost going by the body he had.The body or the skeleton was covered with rags and I had to light the roof bulb to actually see that the rags were also limited to bare essentials. I was everything at that moment that he was not and still I was angry for his intruding into our place to steal must be to steal - I was convinced.

Yes he was stealing, in his mud covered hands he was holding what were the...

Humanity had lost its path, never had I felt more ashamed of my existence, than that day. He told me he wasn’t a thief and he was just picking up the BURNT FIRECRACKERS, for his sister and that he promised to pay me 50 paisa amount when his dad sold the peanuts his mother was frying on the other street across the colony.

I wasn’t listening, I wanted to but could not, I wanted to scream 'Go Away, you cheater' but I could not; I myself did not know when the anger, the shame, the sympathy, the guilt, the fear and everything came and went.

PS: This story or reality bite is a part of Indiblogger Fire and Freeze contest powered by Close-Up, under the theme of mixed emotions.

Please vote for it on Indivine if you like it!!

Also visit the close up facebook page and share your story or drop in a comment here at the blog : closeup and smile

Hope you liked this and will remember this one any day you see a kid with the crackers :) .

IndiVine Closeup

IndiRank's Talk

2011-01-24T21:02:00.000-08:00

Showing Seventy and Nine
like the oldest of the wine
it glared from the page
like a bird free of cage
I opened a tab : facebook
posted it for everyone to look
Like a naughty second grader she said
" At 79, I should have been more paid"
I did not know what it meant
"Post more , increase my tent"
"oh " I said , "Sure , why not"
"good" , next time I will be more than you got".

PS : For my newly increased Indirank which hid somewhere for almost 2 months and has come home glorified and with achievement.

You and Me

2011-01-20T09:09:00.000-08:00

I have never meant wrong
I have never ever not thought
Never forgotten any moment
Not even a single favorite
Neither have I left behind anything
Nor I will leave behind something
It's you who I think about

Standing with a coffee by the window that opens up to the view of the place where we first sat and said .." Someday we will live here..."....

This Post has been Published as a part of

She and Her Story

2011-01-09T07:47:00.000-08:00

To say less
To do more
To show less
To pour more
To hate less
To love more
To want less
To give more
is the essence
of 'WOMAN' to the core.

Love for Him

2011-01-05T11:54:00.000-08:00

A man sees the sailor sailing his empty boat , waiting for a customer to sail , to earn money to take to his wife . To the one the man can never take any gift now anymore for she died in an accident long ago in the same water.He wants to embrace the water today, to leave this world and go away to the woman he loves, to his boat in life.

A ray of hope comes and goes
an empty boat he sometimes rows
the sailor and He, have to go by
Empty hollowed the boat and his heart

But he feels, still he feels

To stop the time, to go away

Is a tick in his hand?

To go away from this place where

‘She’ left him without solace

The sailor though will have to row

He still had his ‘her’ to go

Even with an empty boat and a stomach so sore

He is richer than the ’ man’ standing ashore

For there was no poor, poorer than this ‘man’

Lost her in the same water, the boat today ran.

Dedicated to my bed

2010-12-27T02:05:00.000-08:00

Those are the moments

When I see horns on her head

With blood shot eyes all going red

The stickiness is much to feel

Feels like an envelope to seal

Thousand visions under one

I curse the yellow ball, they call Sun

With each tick tock, they fade away

Remember the holidays of summer in May

When 8, 9, 10, 11 were all the same

Getting up early, was a forgotten game

I feel the pull of my bed much tighter

Ignoring her words ‘the day is brighter’

I wonder when she was a kid

Letting me sleep, she never did

Bargaining for time 30, 20,10,5

From the pool of sleep, out I dive

Sad face and Sadder body

It’s time again, to get ready.

Promising of returning again, to my dearest bed

There is much more to this trauma then I just said.

Old days Part 2

2010-12-27T00:50:00.000-08:00

Yes and as I promised this is the part of my list where I remember my old days, really nostalgic.

(PS: please do not copy these images , and if you do please post a link to my blog for reference , this has happened before so I wanted to give a note this time :) )

Old days- A must see

2010-12-23T06:53:00.001-08:00

Just thought of collecting old memories and hence this. I don't have words to write further.

For my silent friends

2010-12-23T00:41:00.000-08:00

“Speaking with me were the eyes

The corners of which were dry

Nobody had listened to their cries

Mother Lion killed and the baby just sighs

Today the King of the jungle, the heir to the throne

Walks in the cage, silent and so alone”

- Written, while coming back from the Hyderabad Zoological Park

For years I have not taken a unique and an achievable New Year’s resolution. A New Year’s resolution has always meant serious business to me and something that requires maturity. This time around I have decided to take an oath about something different, something I love, something which is fun and something which is worth spending my time on. I love animals and have always loved spending time with them! It may sound a little unusual, but this year my New Year’s resolution is to visit a zoological park or a sanctuary to photograph the wildlife and popularize the issue of cruelty with pets and illegal hunting and trade of wild animals through my articles. I have zeroed upon this resolution because recently I came across an article published in National Geographic that revealed a broader picture of the atrocities being committed on our speechless friends. It’s time I give back to the old dog I once had, to the parrot that called out my name, and the animals I had enjoyed seeing in the zoo as a child. I am committed to give my best, plan to make it a measurable task and do exactly as I plan :) ..

Oops I did it again with Black!!

2010-12-20T11:34:00.000-08:00

When I was 5, I fell in love, completely, head over heels with myself. This is one of the incidences which made me doubt my sanity and lose my love for me a little.

I like to dress well and over the years I have from the comments and feedback realized that I do dress well. But that’s neither here nor there because one’s habits and one’s rabbits are not always on the same side. It’s very important for a single, good looking (every girl I believe is born good looking, smart and not so intelligent but we develop the later over time the former never leaving us) and well-educated girl to spend 20% of her monthly income on shopping for her Company’s Annual Year End party, in fact it’s essential for her to check out at least 10 brands and shops before settling on the dress.

So keeping in lieu all the above and many more La Femme points I prepared for days for our Annual party in 2008. I had kept in mind everything before settling on what to wear, what else to wear and what not to wear but it was not my day after all(I think I can’t say anything else now having gone through the whole incident again and again in my head and Baah I don’t feel sad).

I checked in mirror twice, my beautician had done a good job with my hair (all red looking bled), my dress was fine and infectious (I like it that way J ) and I was looking good with minimum accessories and maximum tattoos. Now coming to tattoos, I like having temporary tattoos majorly in black and silver. Today I decided to do something different, I had bought or actually being smashed by a sales girl with a water proof XXX brand hi fi eye liner which had qualities like it contained some gelatinous substance that was supposedly non sticky to eyes and it had I think some geographical advantages that it moved only in one stroke or something like that and that it had visible dark double toned color (What does that actually mean!!!). As this liner was worth Rs. 1000 and in addition the pain it had caused to a shopper’s heart on being bought made me use it as a tattoo ink. I designed a very lovely flower chain, with small petals on the left side of right knee; to beautify the tattoo further I added shine to the flowers. After I was done, with a confident smile and no second thoughts I jumped into the car and was off to the venue in no time.

As is the habit of every girl to check herself in mirror just before entering the venue, I did too. Satisfied, and not noting that the mirror wasn’t a full length one. I entered the hall and in no more than 15 minutes the party was in full swing, eating and roaming and chirping here and there I went to washroom again after an hour or so to touch up things. I was met with a rather ‘Is it fashion for you youngsters’ stare by an elderly female. I was taken aback, nothing I had done could cause such a bland stare, I thought, but then remembering my Mom’s comments I started checking my bag to get a comb. Stare no. 2 from a kid half my height, she said to her mom ‘ Baba baba black sheep’ and pointed at me. I was so annoyed; in fact I was taken aback again. I was confused was it black or was it sheep that I was being called because in my most sensible senses I did not resemble any. Then I met a friend who had coincidentally chosen the same time to brush her hair(I love her for that now).To my pain, to my agony, to my dismay and to my surprise my super XXX brand liner tattoo had turned into a big black infinite looking leg that belonged to me. People thought it was fashion and nobody told me till the time I had made a complete fool of myself. I was confused whether to clean it or let it be, as people may notice the missing patch and then understand the story behind it. I ended up going home after 10 minutes of knowing this fact and missing most of the wonderful party.

When I remember that day, some lines come to my mind:

“The girl who sold to me

The black liner

Tarnished my knee

Looking utmost finer

Meant it was to be

A waterproof one

*Buy before see*-

Sorry I am done”

From year's of experience or bad experience, a list of bad fashion points that are avoidable :

:( Do not wear all white in a dark party, you end up becoming the meeting point in the big party hall for all couples and lost children " Beta woh White wale uncle ke pass milna.. khane ke baad" !!

:( 70s is in right now, but people in the reach for looking totally 70teish go back all the more into 30s or 40s and end up wearing clothes of their Mom and Dad.Avoid that!!

:( Blue eyes, green lipstick, pink cheeks and creme chin ?? People would prefer seeing rainbow.

Stay yourself and stay glamy.

NOTE : This entry is written as a part of Brandmile "Bad Fashion" day contest.If you like it then please vote for this on indiblogger.com and do leave a comment for me :).

About BrandMile : Brandmile is an exclusive shopping club in India. Membership is free and by invitation only. It has exclusive offers offering bigger than the biggest discounts on retails.

For membership : http://www.brandmile.com/invite/request/

For my mother

2010-12-17T23:37:00.000-08:00

I learned to stand today

Ma I rushed to you

I learned to write today

Ma I wrote your name

I learned to say ‘I love you ‘today

Ma I said it to you

I got my first, first rank today

Ma it’s all because of you

I had my first fight today

Ma I complained to you

I went away to college that day

Ma I am so missing you

You did not pick up my phone today

Ma I am thinking of you

I liked a guy for the first time today

Ma I so wish to talk to you

I have learnt not to trust today

Ma I remember your words

It’s my first job interview today

Ma thanks for the luck charm

I got the Best Employee Award today

Ma this one is for you

I am getting married today

Ma I am scared, where are you.

I am holding the chubbiest baby girl

Ma, she looks exactly like you.

It feels I am more a part of you then any other day

Ma, I am your daughter just like you.