Through The Mind's Eye

Suffering

2013-06-17T11:18:00.002+05:30

Somethings in life are certain.
Death, separation, disappointment, failure, deceit, misunderstandings, and many such words in the vocabulary of a literate person would describe suffering according to their own perspectives. For me, the synonym is "Certainty". 'Pain in life' is as sure as 'death', and sometimes the latter seems an easier choice.

Ah! Have I started again? I know, with all my hopeless philosophies of life that won't lead me anywhere, I have the damned notebook again in my hand. But blame it on the rain, it's the first rain of the season, the weather outside is pleasant, and I'm blue. The rains affect my senses, clouding my vision for happiness, leaving only suffering behind. Well, that brings me back to the "omnipresent" suffering.

picture: paula smith

It's been almost a year since this happened, but I've not been able to erase those few minutes from my mind. I was standing in front of a shopping mall, waiting for my friends to return when I saw a little boy about five years of age, wailing, begging for money. His loud cries made me turn my gaze towards him. Beggars here in Lucknow cry a lot, trust me, they'll fool you to perfection, and before you realize, you're robbed completely with your own consent. But for the first time, his tears were genuine. I looked at him now, with more concentration, he was covered with wounds from head to toe. There was pus oozing out from his immensely swollen knee, (not blood, so I could assume that the wound was real, blood no longer attracts my sympathy, I've been fooled by fake blood enough times already). His forehead was disfigured, a lot of red and greenish-yellow something was stuck above his right eye. This little guy was badly hurt.

It's still pouring outside, I can hear the rain drops splashing on the window glass behind me. But, the tears in those eyes were thicker than these water droplets. I was watching that little boy, and instinctively I reached for my wallet, but to my disappointment I just had 42 bucks in it, exactly the amount I needed to reach home, not even a penny more, (imagine and I was thinking, if I had enough money I'd take him to a doctor, after the reality check, I could do with some of those thick salty tears as well). I turned my back towards him to continue with the most interesting task of merely waiting.. but, in my mind, I was thinking of one reason why should he NOT grow up to become a thief and kill me for money.

Today, I was walking among the extravagant in Hazratganj, when a tiny fist approached me for money,. The palm of that little girl was so little that it was almost fully occupied with the 2 rupee coin I put in it. She must've been barely three or four, and had memorized her 'begging speech' so well. I could not recall if I was even properly toilet trained at that age.
While returning back home, I could feel the rains approaching, the winds were pleasantly cool and smelled of gloom, and now the rains roar outside with all their might. I wonder what the tiny toddler, living inside the huge concrete pipe outside my locality, would be doing now. I saw her playing with a scary looking one-eyed doll beside a heap of garbage, yesterday, while her father enjoyed a nap on the comfortable pipe-floor. Trust me, the doll looked scary, it reminded me of the one I had received for my 10th birthday, one with large blue eyes, they did not stay open when the doll lay down flat, and this irritated me so much that I plucked out both the eyes and then the hollow sockets had given me a fright. (Don't know why, I was never given a doll again.)

Now I'll stop worrying about the drainage-pipe-girl, as long as I finish the bowl-full of tasty Sewaiyyaan.
Courtesy: My mother.

The Angered Humanity

2013-04-29T20:34:00.000+05:30

The roots of anguish that run into the depths of my existence will not be eradicated merely by a whiff of mirth.

The torment of murders inflicted on me, the vital red splashed on walls, drained on streets, the wails of Humanity will not be muffled, by the cries of Birth.

While you ate and drank gluttonously, I went sleepless with hunger,
While your victories you celebrate, I writhe in pain,
The party will be over when my anguish will need an answer.

When I looked up to the sky for Hope, to find a God, you dropped fire,
You sent destruction, you'll be repaid when my lost limb calls for an answer.

When you lived in palaces, I spent my nights in forbidden alleys,
You razed down my Haven, for it was a blot on beauty,
My questions would one day, doom you to depravity.

Dressed as angels, you ravaged me, you shattered my pride,
In the name of money you took away my dignity,
You'll soon be punished by my devastated Integrity.

When tragedy struck, I ran for help,
You embraced me with a promise, and took me to deceit.
When my decayed innocence will rise, you'll pay a price.

For your youth at sixty, I stooped at thirty,
Beneath the burden of my life,
You snatched, for your extravagance, my rice.

Despite my wounds, when I smiled, your lenses enslaved my smile,
along with my Hollow, Fear-filled eyes,
It fetched you millions, I still remained unknown,

Out of trash, when I picked up my food, I saw your dog in a car,
While I envied, it's kin took away my bread,
I was left again with a moan.

The day, my gags are undone,
The day my feeble hands attempt to rise,
The day my crutch is strong enough,
The day my stump hardens,
You power-ridden will pay,
For the wounds on my soul,
For my wailing infancy,
For my labour-ridden childhood,
For my ugly youth,
My lost limb,
My beheaded son,
My raped daughter,
My curtailed freedom.

The day my voice will be heard, It'll demand answers,
For your outrageous Laws,
For your insensitive Religion,
For your unresponsive God,
For my Anonymity,
For the Dreams, I lost.
For the Blood I coughed,
For my Tears,
For my Helplessness,
For my Life,
For my Death.

The Stranger In The Mirror

2013-03-09T20:25:00.000+05:30

Today, while she was being carried from her cell to the social area, she walked past a mirror, a huge mirror, a brand new one that she had never seen in the past five years. It was hanging on a blackened wall. She stopped for a while, to look at the three women in the mirror. Two were khakhi-clad and the one in the middle was a strange, sullen, dead looking woman. She could not bear the sight of her and moved ahead.

She was carried to the activity area for the morning prayers in the jail. She did not like Gods, like every day she went to stand there blankly. But today, her mind was not as empty; her own face from the mirror was staring at her. Her pain was unleashed through her eyes. The swimming tears were cleaning the distant hazy images from her past. This was not the woman she’d thought she’d be.

. . . . .

It was her birthday; Ratna was sixteen years old today. She woke up, looked at the watch, it was 6’o clock.

“Happy Birthday, Ratna!” Her mother came in. She smiled. Ratna smiled back. “Come on now, get up quickly, help me prepare the breakfast, come, come get up, your father has to leave early today, it’s your brother’s Parent Teacher Meeting today. Get up and come to the kitchen soon.”

She got up and started her daily schedule of work. Nothing was special.

“Happy Birthday, Didi!” Rajeev, her brother, a year younger, wished her while she was serving the breakfast. She smiled at him and gave a quick glance towards her father, whose expression remained unchanged.

“So what would they do in your school today, at my school, they give cards to us on birthdays and cakes too.” said Rajeev.

“Oh! Nothing grand, they’ll just sing me songs. It’s not a big school like yours; they don’t give gifts to students”, said Ratna, in an indifferent voice.

“Stop it, stop sulking about everything. How could you be sent to a big school, don’t you know the family conditions, we can afford only one kid in that fancy school, and how can you not see that your brother’s education is far more important. He’ll be the breadwinner of the family; you’ll just cook and raise kids why do you need a fancy school?”

“Come on son, let’s go, we’re getting late”, said the father.

The father and son left, Ratna suppressed a sob.

. . . . .

“Mummy, where are you? I’m home?”

“Oh! Ratna, what took you so long? Come, come in quick, I need you to be dressed up quickly, I’ve kept the saree for you on your bed, wear it, I’ll just come in a while.”

“But, mummy, what is the need of wearing a saree? What is special?”

“Did I not tell you? Your groom and his family are coming to see their bride, you’re getting married.”

“What would I do in front of them? They’ll be strangers; I don’t like strangers’ mummy.”

. . . . .

Ratna was on a bed of flowers, waiting for the unknown man who was now her husband, her new master.

Her heart was throbbing, mind was swarming with questions.

What is he going to do to me?

She was sacred.

Sex! Her throat went dry;

Mother told me about it. But I did not like it; I am not ready for it. Naked with a stranger, how could I do that?

Ratna was shivering. Strangers scared her.

I’ll try to ask him not to do it. I will talk. After all husbands are humans.

But she had never talked to a boy, her mother asked her not to, she was uncomfortable with boys, and this was a full grown twenty five-year-old man.

“God please help me!” her whispering prayers might not have reached God when the doors opened.

. . . . .

“Mummy please, I can’t stay there please, please I’ll die. I don’t want to go back please, please don’t send me please mummy please... please… please….”

Ratna was begging in front of her mother.

“But, why Ratna, why do you not want to go? Tomorrow is the muhurtam, he’ll come to take you back, and he’s your husband.”

“He’s not good mummy…”

“Shut up Ratna, Husbands should be respected; he’s your master, your God, you shouldn’t say anything against him, that’s adharma for a lawful wife.”

“No mummy I don’t like him…”

“You refuse to tell me the reason, and I cannot do anything you have to like him, you have to spend your life with him.”

“Mummy he raped me…”

“Shut up you fool, don’t say that aloud ever! Sex is a husband’s right and a wife’s duty. He can’t rape you, stranger rapes, husband has sex. Besides, you have to give him what he demands. That’s what wives are for. Do not argue anymore. Pack your clothes. Get ready to go tomorrow.”

Her mother turned and went back.

“But he is a stranger mummy, I don’t know him”, said Ratna in a muffled tearful voice.

. . . . .

“Mummy, daddy has come. He is very angry. ” said a little girl.

“Don’t worry baby, you go out and play with your brother, I’ll go and have a look.”

Ratna left the kitchen and went to the bed room.

He was in a bad state.

“You’re drunk again, after all those promises last week, you’re drunk again? You never care about the kids, do you?”

“You’ll teach me how to live in my own house you whore! I know what you need.”

He stood up; staggering went up to Ratna and slapped her.

“You’re a demon!” shouted Ratna, she was neither shocked, nor tearful, this was routine.

“Do you think I’m scared of this? No I’m not, you’ll have to stop all this else…”

“What, else you bitch, you’re scaring me? You live on the money I earn, I’m your husband.”

As soon as Ratna opened her mouth, she was slapped again, and again and again, and she fell, a kick, she screamed, he pulled her hair and she screamed, he banged her face on the wall. She screamed, and her head was banged again. She fell, and her husband was walking back to the bed.

Her head was bursting with pain. But, she was not losing her consciousness, strangely enough she had a courage building up inside her, she stood up and picked up the vase from the corner table and struck him with all her might and strength.

The vase broke, and the room was filled with the screams of the demon. He fell with a thud.

. . . . .

The prayer songs were over and the prisoners were being sent to their cells, two constables again came to her, to take her away to her cell. Unlike the others she never said anything, never reacted to anything.

Today again she was sitting in the corner.

As she saw the guards she stood up, hiding a stone in her saree. She went with them, on her way back. She again went past that mirror she had seen. She stood there again, watched her reflection for a while and then with a scream, threw the stone towards the mirror. It shattered with a loud noise. The guards pulled her back with a jerk.

Ratna still did not like strangers.

Breaking News- Indians exposed! India Ashamed!

2012-12-31T20:07:00.003+05:30

After thirteen days of pain, strife and struggle another unnamed life finally came to an end, and was reduces to ashes. The entire country is out on the streets demanding castration or capitation of the rapists. Women and men, young and old, all united, are demanding justice for that innocent girl and many others like her.
But somehow, this is not the feeling that is making me restless these days. Not that I am not in favor of harsh punishments for those demons, (people demand chemical castration, I hope for a physical castration) the trouble is that I see the roots of the problem spread far and wide in the people of our society. The social structure has been raping girls in our country for centuries. We are a society with wrong ideals, wrong morals and a set-up that is decayed from the roots itself. In simpler words, our culture is rotten, as rotten as bad eggs. Some one would slap me for this statement and say that India has a rich cultural cultural heritage and is enriched with moral values. I spit on the face of this horrific hypocrisy, the failed culture of this failed nation. Yes, this is the true face of India, the brutal assault on the 23 year old girl in a bus in Delhi, has exposed the devil hidden between the layers of misogynistic culture. A country where half the population is under a constant threat must cease to exist.

So, where did this failure begin?
Oh! we'll need to look back in time. As I said, we have wrong ideals. Remember Lord Rama? yes the same God that Hindus worship so piously, the God who banished his pregnant wife Sita because of a rumor amongst his subjects that she was no longer pure, not worthy enough to be their queen. Sita was banished and Rama became the symbol of righteousness, he kept his ideals ahead of his innocent wife, who had already suffered abduction. Ha!
This is what 80% of Indians, the Hindus consider the Ideal Man, the Purushottama. This is not the only proof of Misogyny in Hinduism.
The Manusmriti or Manava-Dharmashashtra, says that the only God for a woman is her Husband. The woman who does not speak unless told, respects and worships her husband, gets the highest honor she deserves, i.e to be with the same husband in her next birth.
This is the root cause that a woman is a second grade citizen in our nation. I'd be a fool to expect anything apart from brutal rapes from a society where this is the default situation of a woman. Here the purity and sanctity and modesty of a woman lies not in her heart, not in her brains, neither in her kind words, nor in her good behavior, but it lies in her vagina.
A nation that pretends that sex does not exist. You can not kiss in public, you can not show sex on television or in a movie because it is "dirty". You don't teach your kids sex because you deem it immoral. Such an immorality out of which you were born Indian, you are destined to be immoral.
But on the contrary we are so acceptable to molestation, assaults whether verbal, happening daily each second on the roads, or rapes. The girls are taught that such things are a part of life and should be ignored. What a pathetic attitude!
Today, why is no one questioning our culture, our social norms? Why is every body blaming clothes, alcohol, westernization, films, night, etc. etc. for a rape? Closing our eyes towards the real trouble is a habit deeply ingrained in we the Indians, we are filthy hypocrites.
How do you expect your sons to know that raping is wrong not only by the law but also by humanity standards, until you teach them this? You tell them not to kill, not to steal, then why do you not teach them not to rape?
Why do you teach your daughter to be subservient to their husbands, is she a born servant? Why do you not allow her to wear all she wants, go wherever, whenever she wants? You never prevent your sons? Why? Why must a girl be kept in?
Alas! I am tired of questioning! Half the country would have warned their daughters not to go out at night, but I'm afraid to ask, how many told their sons that they should learn that this is not how things are done?

Nobody seems to care, and why would we? Nobody wants a girl, parents kill them in the wombs, brothers deem them weaker, husbands beat them up and the others rape them. I wish girls are never born in this country. India should be a girl-free zone.
Today I'm ashamed of this country I live in. I curse that moment, when, due to an unwanted twist of luck I was born here.
My head hangs down in shame and sadness. I failed to change anyone.

Rest my case.

Happy Birthday to me..

2012-08-09T21:22:00.003+05:30

22 years of life... Wasted.. I realized today, when everybody wished me. Nothing made me feel better, probably I have stopped feeling anything special in me. Making it impossible for anybody to make me feel special on any day. I have lost myself somewhere, somewhere on the road I traveled through years, I picked up a lot but left myself somewhere. This world indeed is a cruel place to live in.. or probably it is my perspective today, the world is as you see it... Yes i think, my eyesight that saw the wonders and beauty of this planet has been blinded.. I am suffering from "beauty-blindness".
On second thoughts, i have nothing to be proud of and to actually look at and be happy.. What did i achieve in these 22 long years? Naught..!!
For the first 20 years, i had Hope, this demon, kept me inflated.. Made me think things that made me feel on the top of the world, but it had to end, the little pinch of reality today deflated me.. I'd no longer cling to the feeble thread of Hope. I'll rather fill my glass with a peg of hopelessness and pessimism, maybe that'll help...!!

Suddenly, the song from the Rajesh Khanna's Blockbuster, Amar Prem is being played in my mind,

"Humne jo, dekha tha suna tha, kya batayein wo kya tha,
Sapna salona tha, Khatm to hona tha, Hua..."

A dream that ended today..

An apt date i think, 9th of August.. A day when thousands were killed in the city of Nagasaki in Japan. Probably, I should not feel happy anymore on my birthday, a day of sadness should remain so... I'd make sure that i do not celebrate this day from now onward.. That'll be my homage to the innocent souls that were ripped apart from their bodies on this black day....!!!!

So Good bye birthday celebrations....!! For the last time in my life i'd wish myself "Happy Birthday to ME."

The Rain and The Smoke

2012-08-03T13:01:00.000+05:30

It was rising slowly, curling in a perfect circle, spreading its arms wide, dancing, swirling its way up as if in a trance, then twisting with all its might and disappearing into the thin air as if it was never there, in a second.
The constantly rising smoke from the cigarette kept in the ash tray was impatient.
The rain outside the room was splashing on the window panes. The grey day was ominous, the skies were crying it seemed. Each tear that dropped added to the pain of lonely hearts, and the love sick ones cried along. The pang of separation, the pain of loneliness, the irrevocable loss, all the emotions that churn the oceans of expression and yet stand wordless, were all lying bare today, under the wailing heavens.
And inside the room, the situation was inexplicable.
The room was a circular library, bookshelves all around reaching up to the ceiling. It was dim, all of the little light that came was from the dying fire in the fireplace. The red carpet on the floor looked redder in the reddish light.
By the fire, two lovers sat opposite to each other with an elaborately carved wooden table between them. "Lovers" belittles what they once were, and is inappropriate for what they now were.
What would you call two people who were once inseparable, but parted ways, the journey through the realms of life changed their relationship and has now brought them together again, but as enemies.
The clouds thundered, and the smoke shuddered, as the silence was broken.
"So Lisa, What is it that you've got to say?", said the deep masculine voice.

"Why?" was the whisper.

"You already know."

"No!! I don't understand Ben!!!", shrieked the feminine roar.

"Ah!! I see, Bentley doesn't appeal much, does it?"

The heavens were raging, the smoke curled up as if ready to pounce upon a prey.

"For a woman of your caliber Lisa, it shouldn't be that difficult to know..."

"Shut up, will you!! Why do you have to make things difficult for me always?"

"What is difficult? I am a criminal, and a considerably serious one, you've to put me behind bars. You are the police, I am the thief. What do we expect from each other is quite clear. There is no 'Gripping Emotion' here, is it honey?"

The gripping emotion, Lisa thought, he will never change. This is the man I love from the depths of my soul and hate from the core of my heart.
Love, thought Ben, how bravely does it survive, from the first kiss till today, and hate, how strongly it grows and inflames you like love.

The clouds were weeping silently and the smoke was calm, an omen.

Lisa rose from her chair and gripped Ben's throat.
"You can't afford to be poetic Bentley, your life and death are upon my whim right now."

"They always were Lisa", said Ben with a mocking smile. Lisa gripped the arms of his chair.
"You remember the last time we were this close. The last kiss."

"The day you left me for drugs."
"And you left me because of them."

The smoke rose as Lisa's temper.

"How about another last kiss Lisa..!!"
Ben got up, held her arms and pulled her close.
"You know, some decisions just never leave you..." the sentence was left incomplete as he kissed Lisa with such swiftness that she barely had time to respond.

She pulled herself out of his grips and looked into his eyes, they were as convincing as they were ten years ago. Then with the agility of a tigress, she pulled her pistol out and shot Ben right in his heart.

The clouds gave a final roar and the rains broke free.

She bent and kissed the corpse with all desperation. The cigarette had burnt out. The smoke rose from the barrel of the pistol, smoothly, curled and danced to the song of victory, and vanished into the thin air.

Satyamev Jayate; The story of the "Indian Woman."

2012-05-06T15:58:00.000+05:30

I picked up the news paper, lazily, early in the morning. Yawning, i sat on the comfortable sofa, and started shuffling through the pages. As I moved on to the national news section of The Times of India, I read the Headlines,

"A Gang Rape in a Shopping Mall"
I was shocked out of my wits. Though, I'm used to reading news about rapes, yet, what shocked me was, that the heinous crime happened in a mall..!! If a place so full of people can not render safety to a woman, then where else in our country is safe?
I mean, rape in a damned mall!!!!!

The feminist in me was raging.
As the day move on, I switched on the T.V. and again saw another example of women-hatred, as I watched SATYAMEV JAYATE, (a new television series, hosted by Amir Khan). He showed us the truth of Female foeticide in our country. I was shaken by the revelations of those women. A doctor was forced to abort her twins and when she refused and her kids were born, her little daughter was kicked down the stairs by her mother-in-law, who is not an uneducated lady, but a retired vice-principal of a school. I was almost in tears..

This is the truth of our nation, I have started believing in Shobha De, that we are, indeed a Girl Hating Nation. A society that has not given women, humane treatment since centuries.
(Shobha De- The Death of a Baby Girl)

Each day, I see, in front of my very own eyes, how everybody demeans girls. A few stories are permanently imprinted on my mind, women who suffered through out their lives, the eternal pang of being a woman in India.

What happens in a normal middle class Indian family when a girl is born?
Well, iff, by the grace of her parents, if she is born, (female foetal killing rates are so high, it is a mischance that a girl is born.) she is shunned by her parents, the ones who have to raise her up, who should give her all their love, gift her abandonment. Seldom, is a girl child's birth celebrated in our country. Then she grows up to be a "no-one" who does not know how or what her life would be. But she still would be the world famous "Indian Woman".
Parents never prefer to invest much in the girls education, reasons;
*it is better, for sure, to save for the sons inheritance, the girl would be married to some one else, would neither carry the "family name" (which the Indians are so obsessed with), nor would she support the family financially, once married (because the in-laws do not wish that their daughters-in-law maintain any kind of healthy relationship with her own family members as that would deprive their son from having the upper hand, if the girl has support, she'll speak out, so better gag her.)
*the next reason being a difficulty to raise a daughter (the tagged goddess) in our nation. She can not roam about in the town alone, some one needs to accompany her wherever she goes, she can not help her ailing mother late at the night because if she steps out of her house during the night hours someone will surely rape her (in 9/10 cases). She can not wear what she wishes, can not talk as she wants, so many rules to be imposed, what a difficulty!! And if some miscreant rapes her, the society abuses her, no one would marry her and the parents will have to carry her as the result of their "misdeeds". Honestly, who would take such a risk...!!!!
The girl child in a normal Indian family is an unnecessary baggage.

And if by God's unexpected grace, the daughter grows up "Clean and Pure" and is married off to some "deserving guy", then starts another ordeal. The "Husband" the "God", expects the wife to subservient because in this part of the world, the male rules (an absolute Patriarchy). Female is meant just to do the odd jobs, give physical pleasures, serve, rear kids and remain an unknown name, and if she earns, then to deposit her income in her husband's lap.
She is not allowed to speak, neither against, nor for.
If she has any amount of "Self Respect" she is damned, for sure.
Her own parents and family are a no-one in her "Home Sweet Home", it is almost an injustice to expect the husband to accept the wife's part of family as his own.
Then the woman's life moves on, she gives birth to a son, who sees all going around him and grows up to be just the same, like his father.
She has a daughter, who has to suffer the same fate, as her mother never knew that daughters can have any different life, she is reared as per the rule book that her mother inherited.
The woman then grows old, whatever happened in her life, runs in her blood, she is ready to be the monstrous "mother-in-law" for her son's wife and in her daughter her fate relieved.
And so goes on the cycle...!!

The question is, how do we stop it?
Is there a way??

Yes, we can make laws, but since when did laws start changing the world??
What we need to do, is to dig into the foundations of the problem!!
All of this happens due to our social set up which is heavily patriarchal. What we need, is a radical change, a revolution to uproot this tradition.
A girl child too carries her mother and father in her genes just like the male child does. If she is biologically carrying the inheritance why is not she allowed to carry her identity in the physical world?
A family that is raised by the husband and wife, belongs to the man and, EQUALLY, to the woman. Then, why is she the property of her husband?? She is a separate individual, a separate identity, and the people must understand this.

To teach all this, the "warriors of change" need to wake up.
The mothers need to wake up, and stop differentiating between their kids. What your kids see, is what they imbibe. Teach your son, that the girls are as important as they are. Teach the daughters that they have equal rights as the boys do.
The fathers need to wake up, and start expecting from their daughters as much as they do from their sons. Stop telling them that they have to go to some one else's house and live. They are a part of you.
The young Girls need to wake up and educate themselves, stop thinking that someone somewhere is earning for them.
If you are getting married, choose a person who thinks you are a human and is proud of you, who doesn't try to overpower you. Keep your maiden names if you are married, that is something you were born with, your identity, your individuality. I know that it is symbolic, but for these symbolic keep-sakes, the people are killing girls. Do not expect a different and sympathetic treatment because you are a girl, be a "human" first, then a lady, that is when you'll get equality.
The young Boys need to wake up and know that a girl is equal to you. She is not dumb, she can do maths, neither is she powerless. She is as good as you and can be as bad as you.
The young men need to know, stop the chivalrous treatment, do not open the doors for your woman, neither do you have to pull the chairs or pay the bills always, the woman can do that, and empower her so that she is able to do that. Tell her that she drives better, tell her you'd be proud if she gets a promotion. If you are going to get married, then be ready to accept her whole family as your own, she too is doing it. Change a little yourself too, do not expect her to be the one adjusting, she already has do it.

And finally, to the parents,
Stop treating your girls like dolls, because Dolls are meant to be played with.
Neither make the girl a "Goddess", it is impossible for humans to raise a goddess, easy to raise a daughter.
Treat them like "humans first", that is where the reform begins.

Signing off...
Sriti...

Through the eye of the mountain..

2012-05-02T22:04:00.001+05:30

Ah!! what a day came by,

Before the sun rose high,

My snores were not yet silent,

My dreams were still fresh but violent,

When suddenly, I felt something hurt..

Raging with anger, I opened my eyes,

And saw the battle again with a sigh!!

Those little things fighting for me, lo!

All of them look alike, whether friend or foe..

What do they call them? Men, I think..

Ripping each others throats as I blink.

I was aghast!!

I looked above, on to the heavens vast,

Dropped a silent tear,

The birds around were screeching with fear.

What can I do to stop this madness??

The bloodshed, the canon blasts, were shattering..

I was sitting useless, whiling away the time,

And below me, they were dying..

Mournfully, I closed my eyes.

Then, I heard a voice by my side.

Running, panting, sweating, he came,

I knew not the name.

He sat down, resting against me.

Shivering vigorously, I could feel it,

Was it fear of death, or regret for life?

No!! They were sobs, I saw.

The tears trickling down his cheek.

Washing away the grime and gore.

I saw his eyes, they were blue.

Once, they were bright, it seemed,

But now they were hollow.

The man behind them, already dead.

He raised his head, up high,

And broke into a heart-rending cry.

I felt myself being ripped apart.

He cried endlessly, I wished I could comfort.

He threw the killing machine he carried,

With all his might.

Then from his boot, he took out a paper.

Unfolded it, and kissed it.

The woman in it, was old, I saw.

Then finally, I heard his voice,

"Mother! I now know, what father might have felt!!

I've killed eight of them, the enemies, they say.

They were all my age, sons of mothers,

Husbands of some beautiful wives,

I killed them mother, I made widows and orphans.

I saved my Country, should I be proud?

You'd be proud I know.

But I killed, mum, I killed.

When I come back, I'll hide myself in your bosom,

Your tears might wash this blood away,

Your love will help me be forgiven,

But if I never return....

Do tell Lucy, I loved her,

And I loved you too remember..."

Then there was a deafening noise,

The man was gone...

He lay in pieces in my lap.

The rage within me roared.

Why do they do this? I deplored.

He was his mother's Blue Eyed Boy,

He loved and was loved.

Why did he have to die so soon?

What purpose was he killed, for whom?

They're lies for what they die,

They're lies on what the autocrats survive.

They're lies on what the world, they divide.

They're lies for what the Humanity died

Nothing but Lies,

To you My son, They lied....

Death of Freedom

2012-03-15T13:20:00.001+05:30

How did it end?
Suddenly in one swoop?
Or was it slow poisoning?
Lethal but invisible, creeping slowly towards the edge?
How? I know not.
But I know she died, and terrible, was it.
Not easy, suffocating and brutal.

A cat hath nine, she had ten of them,
The Lives, but all lost.
I was there, cherishing its flight
Enjoying the ride of life, flying with her....!!
And, high she flew, not knowing the boundaries and horizons,
Her zenith was always untouched, she aspired for more.
I was so accustomed, thought life would
Be nurtured in her care.

But today, those iron hands gagged her, thrashed her,
Clipped her wings, clawed her feathers, ripped her throat.
Snatched life out of her body.

There she lay, in front of my eyes,
Bleeding, Lifeless....

I ran towards her, held her hand,
They were cold, I kissed them in desperation,
As to blow warmth into her, rekindle the flame.
But, Alas! the blow had struck with stark finality.
The End had come, nothing could resurrect her.
My tears were meaningless.
I could only moan and mewl.
I touched those eyes, green and empty.
The brilliance was dark.

I felt lost, I felt alone, I felt deserted.

How could the Truth be dead?

What will I do?
What could I do?
Life without her was never known, never did it exist..
I got up on my feet, shivering, unsteady,
Still I moved,
Finding the End, the way out.
I ran North, I found Chains,
I ran South, I had walls,
I ran East, I ran West,
No doors came, no windows seen.
The skies, though, stood clear above me,
but my flight lay dead.
I could see the sunlight but not feel it.
I was trapped within.
The sun set, the stars twinkled,
The sun rose, the birds chirped,
The rain splattered, the birds chirped,
Days came and went by and were made into Years.

I stood till eternity,
Me and My dead Freedom.

CHOICE vs. REASON.

2012-01-18T20:05:00.000+05:30

"Tadbeer se bigdi huyi taqdeer bana le,
Apne pe bharosa hai to ye daanw laga le..."

A popular song of the black and white era stands completely justified in the era that I live in. Bedazzling, colorful and Blinding, Confusing....
The song symbolizes the spirit of risk taking..

A Poem that i read during school-

"If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss,
And lose and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss........
....
And which is more- you'll be a man my son...."

Amazingly similar words by Rudyard Kipling.

RISK is a risky word. If you risk all your earnings in one gamble, the possibilities are just two, either you win to double all your winnings or you lose, to be standing alone with nothing left but your hope, your nerve, and your spirit to build up everything yet again.

But to my fears, it isn't as simple as written. The eulogy of Risk isn't everybody's genre.

Is it easy to risk all you have, not necessarily monetary, but emotional, mental, spiritual or social?
To risk the ground underneath your feet to learn to spread your wings and fly, you may not cross the horizons on your first flight. The chances are as soon as you spread your wings and jump off a cliff you may fall into the unknown depths.... The ground you had beneath your feet, firm and strong would never be found again. Dire consequences waiting for you. Failure, standing with its arms wide open, the Gorgon Medusa, to engulf you, to devour you.

Dare devils do not fear the consequences, they say. Well, I do agree. The fear of what may come should have only a limited influence on my decisions.

But what if you need to risk your conviction?
or,
The belief of society, at large?

Just to find the answers of some rhetorical questions that arise contiguously out of a bubbling, boiling mind, then the dare devilry in me or you gives up.

A man is not as afraid to lose his money, or a dear one, as he is to lose his belief. To be proved wrong, to be told that all principles you grew up with, were wrong, would it be easy?
This is a risk that no one is ready to take.

But I face the same question, each time I step into something new. Because, I never accept things as they are, I need a reason for everything said and done.
Questions like a swarm of bees keep buzzing in my mind. At each step, I need to choose. One out of the two paths. I have no leads, except the arguing voices in my mind. One that stands for my whims and the other that seems to be the general right.
Philosophies state, "follow your heart till the end." (Though, I may not kill someone if my heart asks me to do so.;))
That is where logic has to play it's part. It is always CHOICE vs. REASON.
It is in my hand whether to risk my choice for my reason, or to risk my reason for my choice.
All I have learned throughout my life is,
If you have to fly, you need to shun all support, because all you learn by holding hands, is to totter.

Sriti.

I wish I could be lost for a while.......

2012-01-10T12:17:00.000+05:30

Sometimes when I stop and rest for a while, and
Breathe to inhale the scent of the surroundings,
not just to live....
Look around to adore the beauty of Life,
not just to gain....
Feel the happiness behind the smiling faces,
not just to pretend...
Listen to the rhythm of the gentle breeze,
not just the sounds of rush...
Adding to the sweetness of living,
not just crib about the tastelessness...
Then, I wish I could be lost for a while...

Loosen the ropes that gagged me for years,
bound me tight to the futile, my fears...
My feet, chained heavily........

The weight, I feel, nothing do I see..
The unseen boundaries, weakening me from within.
How I crave to stand free and run into the realms of solitude..!!
To embrace the soothing silence, to admire the beauty of it..
To jump off a cliff, into the depth of the Neptune's world.
To close my eyes and feel the water swirl..
To dance with the surf, to lift and curl...
To lose myself in the dazzling green.
To sleep with the fragrance, to sleep with sheen.
To wake up with the first ray of the Sun.
Feel each beat my heart spends, gift myself the everlasting fun....

To fly into the skies, and play with the clouds,
Into the quiets, out of the louds...

How I wish, Life gives me years enough to keep the promise I made..
To live, not to spend the days, she gave......

Half my youth, spent,
No messages, did I send...
My Life, was left to end...
And I ran after the reasons, that were never meant....

This moment I realize,
Why did I never open my eyes?
In the pursuit of Man's God,
I forgot, I was my Lord.
In the quest to learn the Good and Bad,
I lost my Cogitation...
Oh!! It was an agitation.....!!

Good is no where written.
Bad is no one's to teach.

I was blinded by the lies of the priests,
By the ubiquitous God's walking on the streets,

Now I know, I was always free..
The truth will always be,

I was born to be ME...

hinc illae lacrimae... Part 2:

2012-01-08T22:00:00.000+05:30

Though it had happened years ago, yet the images were crystal clear......

He sat on the floor and picked up the shards of glass, tightened his fist till the sharp edges cut into his flesh.
This pain relieved him of the pain in his heart. The memory of his past moved further.

He was sentenced to death and was behind bars. The judge had termed his deed as 'cruel', 'heartless' and 'gruesome' and had declared him mentally sick. But for him the murder was out of passion, out of pure love. Do they not say, "All is fair in Love and War." Still the world never understood him.
His death sentence was never executed, his imprisonment lasted barely four months. He escaped with one of his prison inmates. Josh Jones, now his boss, his guide and somewhat of a friend.
Leo was pulled out of his flashback by the doorbell which was ringing continuously further infuriating him.
He stood up and opened the door.
A timid man in a corduroy cap greeted him.
"Good morning, Sir!!!!"

Good, what was so good about the morning.. The hot sun blazing out of the dirty blue sky. The rays made Leo uncomfortable.
Leo gave him a brisk nod, and he continued,
"Josh, I mean Mr. Jones sent me, we need to leave, it's time."
Leo gave another stiff nod, turned around and walked back to his room. The door was left ajar behind him and the courier stood waiting. He went ahead to prepare for another assault.
. . . . . .

This was what Leo's been doing since his escape from prison. Committing murders for Josh. Kill all those who were harmful for his illegal arms' business. Today, it was an accidental victim. A man who had seen something he was not supposed to and was stupid enough to give evidence against them. It was him who would be set free today.
. . . . . .

Leo reached the residence of Bentley W. Curry. It was what the name plate said. A modest house which was decorated giving an aura of festivities. He did not have to make any efforts to enter as the door was open. The insides were buzzing with people people moving in and out haphazardly. Random greetings were thrown at Leo by random passers-by. Everyone was happy. Leo was irritated. Smiling was ironical for the moment. No one knew, they had a few moments for smiles. Minutes from now they would be grieving at the death of one amongst them. Leo gazed at the decorations and suddenly, it struck him, it was someone's wedding.
An old memory flashed by, he heard some distant screams reverberating in the atmosphere. Screams of a girl he had known.
He walked towards the end of the corridor which opened into a field.
It was beautiful and fragrant. Decorated with beautiful white flowers and a marquee. The guests were seated on either side of an aisle covered with green carpet. At it's end was a priest reciting the vows. A beautiful girl in a lavender wedding gown stood besides his prey, Curry. The man whose death was approaching him.
His Death, who was trapped in the gun that Leo held.
Fidgeting inside, squirming, trying to find his way out, Death was growing restless...

Leo moved his heavy feet towards the end of the aisle, and grabbed the collar of the groom. Around, he sensed, all the guests had stood up. He pointed his gun at the groom's forehead.
Screams of horror were vagabonds.
Perplexing were the vagaries of situation.

Then two soft hands gripped Leo's arms. He looked upon the beautiful face. The girl was wailing, tears flowing out of her eyes, begging.
But somehow, her words did not reach Leo's ears. All he heard was, those distant screams, which now were clearer and louder. He gave a swift look at the man who was sentenced to death and then looked back at the girl again.
The time had slowed down.
Suddenly, the girl was Edwina, crying out loudly.
Horror had chained Leo's Heart.
He gave another look at the groom, Curry no longer stood there. It was Ted Harrison in his grip, sweating and panting.
Edwina dropped down on his knees and begged for Ted's life.
Suddenly the vengeance was lost and another strong emotion hit him like waves splashing on hard rock, eroding it.
Guilt.
Guilt embraced him for her own.
Leo trembled.
Guilt kicked him.
Leo fell down to the floor.
Guilt slapped him.
He cried like a helpless kid, bursting into tears.
Everything around stood still, Birds' chirping, wind's gushing had stopped.
Silence Froze.
Leo stood up. Bent to pick up his gun.Nothing moved apart from a few Gasps that escaped from a few mouths.
He put his gun on his own forehead and pulled the trigger. The gunshot broke the ice, and silence prevailed again........................................

hinc illae lacrimae... Part 1 The Story begins...!!

2012-01-08T12:15:00.000+05:30

He felt something warm within him... an emotion that did not belong to his heart.. He hated it. It wasn't needed at all. He did not deserve to feel human. But, out of nowhere, the voice within him was rising. After being gagged for years, it was questioning his motives. "Why?" was the question, but the answer was lost.
He walked slowly towards a magnificently carved shelf and picked up a small shield. I had a name inscribed on it.
'Lionel Adams'
That little thing had opened the doors to his long lost past. The past where he had a loving mother, a caring father and a lovely twin sister. Old faces started appearing again.. rising like lifeless ghosts...
Prissy, she was pretty, he remembered. Exactly like me, black eyes, pointed nose, elegant even when she was just eight. She did not live any further., died when they were eight. In the accident, after their annual day, the same day when the shield was won..
Anger swelled up in Leo's heart. He banged the shield with all his might on the glass table. The beautiful piece of furniture from some talented craftsmen shattered into pieces. The was somehow pleasing to his ears. Destruction soothed him.
Mother lost her brains after Prissy died. She thought she killed her own daughter. Couldn't even drive properly. Father worked too much to forget his dead daughter and forgot the ones who lived, his wife and son.... He snatched a photograph from the wall.. It had all the four Adams smiling. He threw it away and it hit the floor, another shattering noise cut across the dead silence.
Leo's thoughts moved further. He was sent to a residential school. That was month's after his sister died and he was happy after a long time. Glad, that he would no longer face his mother's outbursts and his father's absence.
A warm breeze entered the room from an open window but it seemed to freeze before it could reach the cold heart that was counting the number of nails, nailed by time in the the coffin of his dreams and happiness. The warmth outside never entered "The Rosalynd Mansion". It too hated the owner like half the world did.
Inside, Leo's thoughts inched further. After being sent to the boarding Leo turned into a recluse. A "dead man walking", who would not talk, but grunt, who would not smile but snarl, and study like a maniac. Always the topmost in his class. That was his obsession, for the world. But for him, he needed at least some reason to live. He finished school, with no friends. Then came the news of his mother's suicide. He didn't even cry, rather laughed. She was now free. Free of her guilt, her painful life.
Then came college and along came Edwina. A beautiful classmate of his. Leo fell in love with her instantly and his life changed. Her smile made him want to smile. The smell of her hair was a drug and Leo was the addict. He would sit behind her during the lectures and inhale as much of her as he could. During the nights he would dream. Edwina, his wife, he would scribble "Edwina Adams" in various pages of his diary. Look at it and his heart would swell with happiness. He would read it again and again, his dreams moved ahead, leaps and bounds.
Mine forever.........Edwina would change my life forever........
Leo topped his class. Edwina came to congratulate him. She shook his hands, and he knew she was his........
Graduation was over and Edwina was getting married...........
But he was not the groom....
How could that be??
She was marrying some freak called TED.
Some completely undeserving guy. How could he have let that happen??
She was his, Leo's Edwina....
He ran and stopped not till the destination was reached.
Panting out of breath, sweating profusely, he arrived at Edwina's place.
She was dressed up as a bride... As beautiful as beauty herself would be...
Leo held her wrist. Her face was astonished.
"What are you doing Lionel?? Leave me!!!"
She was screaming. But why?? Leo did not understand.
"Leave me you jerk!!! Stop pulling me!!"
"Edwina please don't scream love. Come along. We'll get married."
He pulled her out of the room. Edwina pushed him and let herself free.
"Have you completely lost it Lionel??"
"I love you Edwina, and i'll keep you happy."
She pulled him into her room and bolted the door from inside.
"Keep your voice low, will you? I am getting married today. The house is full of guests. I do not want my wedding spoilt. And everyone at college knew I loved Ted.."
"Please Edwina", he pleaded, "you are my life. That jerk Ted, he doesn't deserve you. I do."
"Shut up!! Just keep out of it, It's my life I'm the one who's got to decide!!!!"
Her face showed unmistaken signs of anger.
Leo was impatient.
"You will decide to marry me."
He pulled her close to him. His grip was strong this time. Her eyes widened with fear.
"W..W..Why... Why are you doing this?"
She stammered.
"Because I Love You"
His voice had malice. His voice had decisiveness.
"But I don't!! I love Ted and he loves me too. I'll marry him. You never existed for me. You never mattered!!!"
This was too much for him to bear. He released her wrist. She started backing up slowly.
"I don't exist!!"
He let out a fierce snarl,
"I-DO-NOT-EXIST?"
He emphasized on each word. The malice was gleaming in his eyes.
He pulled down the curtain.
Picked up the rod.
And before Edwina could unbolt the door, she was hit on the head.
Once.. She was screaming in pain..
Twice.. She cried and begged....
Thrice... Blood was oozing, the voices stopped...
He hit again.. and again.. and again..... till the silence gripped the surroundings... and he stood amidst a pool of blood. Edwina was barely recognizable. She would never belong to anyone else......

.....hinc illae lacrimae. The Prologue.

2011-11-19T21:48:00.000+05:30

Prologue:

It is difficult to keep half formed wishes in your heart. More difficult to keep yourself running after a motive that you know would remain unfulfilled. Hoping against hope. Something that human mind does again and again. Running after a lost cause,... The situation worsens when one refuses to move ahead, and chooses to remind oneself, "I never deserved what i dreamt of, I lost......"

Leo is good looking, is rich, is dangerous. is a defeated lover, a lost son, is hated by his own conscience and maybe a psychopath. He lives to kill and then to live with his guilt. To wake through the nights, horrified by the pain filled voices of the people he murdered. But then to murder again, to punish himself, he knew he deserved pain, he was not worth love.. his parents had left him the girl he loved chose to die rather than love him back....

What will his story be like....???

Things that my life post school taught me

2011-11-19T21:45:00.000+05:30

1. Never go out of your way to help some one. There is a good chance that you will we the one left helpless in the end.

2. It is highly important to possess the ability to say a bland "no", else you will not get time to remind yourself that you did not breathe for the last two seconds.

3. Never try to be humble. That is mistaken as stupidity.

4. Never try to correct some one, or tell some one some thing that you know to enrich their knowledge, because if you do so you are acting over smart.

5. Never say the truth. Even if you do you are a liar because every one has a version of the story that saves their neck.

6. Never trust the one looking the most trustworthy. Chances are that it is a very well used camouflage and you actually are the prey.

7. Never do some one a favor. It gives others a chance to people to say, " look how easily i made her do my work. Don't you see i am a genius!!"

8. Do not try to talk to some one with a broad smile. If the person is of the same gender then you are so very trying to use their company, and if of the opposite, then you are either flirting or are genuinely interested in getting into a relationship.

10. If some one cracks a joke on you you are acting so pricey to be furious over such a little thing. But if you do so you are ill mannered enough to be prosecuted.

The Curious Case of Missing Clothes.

2010-06-15T11:19:00.000+05:30

"Life is a tragedy for those who can feel but a comedy for those who can think.."
and that exactly is what, all conflict in the world is about, among those who "think" and those who "feel", though none completely belong to, exactly, one of the categories. One would always be a thinker for 'OTHERS' but when it comes to oneself all 'feelings' just come up to the brim... just to clarify what I exactly mean, here's another quote,

" A tragedy is when i cut my finger, and a comedy is when you fall into a gutter and die... ha"

But then the question arises of who is right and who is wrong?? For this is how we judge everything around us. This is what we divide the world into, THE "RIGHTS", and THE "WRONGS"...!!!

Recently, i heard about a death in my locality. One of the tenants in my neighborhood recently committed a suicide ( as they say ) but to me thing's don't seem that simple.. Though, i don't even know the poor lady's name, still her death made me uneasy. The reason might be that I've played with her kids. (The image of her three year old daughter bidding me goodbye innocently as i left for my college everyday is horrifying me now, she didn't get enough time to know her mother..)

Anyways, her family has left the city, so, coming back to my point, how can someone burn oneself alive, how drastic the situation might have been that forced her into such a decision, is something that eludes me... The other big question is, that how could the landlords, ( who live just below their floor), neither hear the screams of the dying lady, nor smell the burning flesh ( which i feel is a considerably harsh smell).

Her husband is completely unscathed, which means he didn't even try to save his wife.......!!!!

The police, who interrogated no one but believed that the lady died while lighting a 'diya' for the evening prayers??? How come???

Nothing of these seem to fit my stream of logic. Anyways, I'm not SHERLOCK HOLMES, as to investigate into the case but the thing i want to point out is the extremely eccentric behavior of the landlords..

How can someone be so unthinking as to not even save someone's life..?? ( i can not believe that they did not know that someone is burning right above their floor??)

They own a car, but that woman was carried to the hospital in an auto??

This, precisely, is where the thinking of people divide. For them the "Right" was to keep themselves and their family out of police case. (Which in our country is as good as being the criminal) but for me the right would have been to save a 3 year old girl's mother... Their right for me is a terrible "WRONG"......

Anyways the comedy here is that today morning the dead woman's domestic help came up to their place asking for her salary. She was told that her employer is no more, she refused to believe it considering it to be a lame excuse for not paying her. She stole the dead woman's clothes for compensation... FUNNY, isn't it??

Now just lemme know whether this is Right or Wrong???

Signing off..

Sriti!!