Unidentified

Everyone stared at her because rarely anyone could resist her charm. The slender waist and the ghaghra wore dangerously low, the ample bosom and the non-existent choli. She knew they all stared but she was past the point of caring for the world. The world that had abandoned her and showered hostility in abundance. At a very young age, she knew the weapon that her body was, especially after that brief incident in the dumpster when that ugly smelling police inspector “punished” her. Initially she wondered why and then she concluded men need it all the time. People called her a randi, whore, dyan and she laughed out loud when she heard it. Dogs drool over meat when they are hungry. Then why blame the meat? She haughtily decided that logic does not work with people. So be it. She dressed to scandalize, walked to seduce and used her mouth but rarely for speaking.

She had been sensing the change in the city for a while now. The goras were supposed to leave and the people seem to have heated discussion about partition, whatever that meant. The nights were all the same anyway. The landlord’s son had been patronizing her for a while. She did not mind that. He was one of those idiots who drooled after her but at least he was rich and that always helped. But the problem was she was growing to like him. He barely spoke, he came and went as he wished, did not ask her questions and there was rarely conversation. It was clear he drooled over her as the evidence was the surprising number of jewellery she had started to wear. She loved this arrangement and the rich idiot did not seem to mind either.Yesterday was a particularly disturbing night. She dreamt of human carcass, pool of blood and blood thirsty men. The dream was like the scene she had seen in the marketplace the week before and the week before that. When she woke up in cold sweat, she heard screams. She went out and saw men bawling on the streets. Drunken idiots she thought. Next morning, while enjoying the lustful stares, she also heard the latest. Ram colony has been burnt down. That news sent shivers down her spine. The rich idiot. He must be fine. No, he has to be fine. But he did not come last night. She crashed into someone or was it an electric pole? How does it matter? The rich idiot. That’s what matters.

In a numbing haze she found herself in front of a sprawling mansion in shambles. A part of the mansion has been burnt down. She marched inside. What was his name again? Rajeev? Rajesh? Oh god. There is deathly silence and the unmistakeable stench of kerosene. She stepped on something. Burnt wood? Oh wait. It has fingers. She held the nearest wall for support and stifled the rising scream. He lay there. Yes that is him. She ran and checked for breathing. Yes he was breathing. She shook him awake. He could barely open his eyes. He murmured something. “Save her” he said and pointed his finger towards a room. “Save her please” and the angst did not betray his weak voice. She ran inside the room inwardly cursing herself. Why was she saving “her”? She decided this is the last favour she was giving the rich idiot. Inside the room lay Her. Her had her hands tied back and mouth gagged. She hurriedly untied Her and thought she would immediately leave with the rich idiot. He was fine after all.

A stone shattered the remnants of the glass on the window. Then followed a shower of stones. Big ones. Small ones. She had to escape with the rich idiot. She decided he will make it out alive. She could see that was he was struggling to stand. A bunch of men were walking inside the compound all drenched in blood, theirs and others. Unsheathed swords and weapons of destruction were their accompaniments. This did not look good. The air was heavy with the intent to kill. “Don’t worry about them, I will handle those men and you escape with Her. I will follow you later”. She did not wait for his answer and walked out.  Because she knew men needed it all the time. She cannot quite explain what followed next expect that the dumpster incident was being repeated with quite a few number of policemen.

The local newspaper reported this incident the following day:
“Rajeev Singh, the son of landlord Manmohan Singh showed immense bravery by saving his young sister Vimla Singh despite suffering major second and third degree burns. The entire Singh family has been rescued and relocated to an undisclosed location and are rumoured to stay there till the riots are subdued. Two individuals have been reported to be dead. One of them is their loyal servant Ghansyam and an unidentified body.”

The Special One

People, people, people. They are everywhere. The ones you like, the ones you don’t, some you tolerate, some you wish were dead. While you are busy hating mankind, a person comes along who makes you happy, gives you joy and makes you smile. With each passing day, you learn a lesson. A lesson in humility, a lesson in forgiveness. You are learning all of this not because the person loves to preach but rather you see it being practised. Then slowly you start to realize that the world is not as bad as your cynical mind perceived it to be. I have been lucky in this lifetime to meet one such person. The person I have been referring to is Vidya Mary George. If you ever have to find her in a crowd, look for a person who is jumping up and down. She does this not because she is excited, but that is the only way she can get others to notice her. Yeah, she is short!

What do you do when you are mad and frustrated at someone or everyone? I do not know about you but I would probably yell or snap at people. Even the most patient person shows signs of frustration. But in the two years that I have met her, I have not seen her raise her voice even once or express any signs of anger. Even if the person who is giving her the toughest of times bumps in to her, she will smile, talk to the person like everything is all right. Once when she was doing this I asked her that how does she manage to tolerate? Her reply was very simple. She said that she is trying to understand why the person is behaving in that manner and if there is anyway she can help. I was shocked beyond words.

A conversation with her rings clearly in my head. There was a waste management rally and I asked her why she is not coming. She told me, “I am not the rally kind of a person. If something has fallen on the ground I pick it up and throw it and that is how I manage waste”. These words had a strange impact on me. There are very few people who have been able to inspire me with their honesty, clarity of thoughts, ability to forgive and Vidya easily tops that list. But her charm lies in her smile. It can disarm anyone and make you abandon all your thoughts. Her smile speaks a thousand words and it is with that smile she will win over you and me and make sure that we carry her in our hearts for a long long time!

On Christmas Eve

While letters to Santa Claus are secure under our pillow, the state of anxious sleepiness prevails tonight. A movement near the windows or footsteps outside the door, signifies the much waited arrival of the only individual who has the capability to fulfill all your wishes and also read your not-so-legitimate handwriting. Then you slowly start to grow up and you find stark similarities between your Santa and your father, like Santa using the same pen which your father owns to write you a note.

Then finally when you are all grown up and ready to take on the world, this idea of Santa Claus reveals certain startling truths. There are certain people in the world who will go to any extent just to make you happy and put a smile on your face. There are also people in the world who will want to you to believe in the world of fairies and pixies just so that you can find your mundane life magical. Just when you had started to grow cynical about everything under the sun, these are the same people who will not want your innocence to be lost so soon.

Christmas is the time of giving and receiving, caring and sharing. Stop and think about all the people who have made you want to believe in magic again and keep them in your Christmas prayers and wishes. And tomorrow when you go out with all the Christmas spirit running high, remember to give smiles to be able to receive many more! MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Short Clothes: Freedom of Expression

Let us assume for a second that wearing short clothes is a violation of public decency. So the natural reaction to wearing short clothes would be eve teasing, ogling,, disapproving glances and so forth.  Now I have faced all of these reactions not when I was wearing short clothes but was fully clothed in a salwar kammez and returning home by a bus at seven in the evening. Hence proved, that wearing short clothes is not a violation of public decency. As per our country’s standards, girls who are going out of their houses to earn a living are a violation of public decency. Because when we say public we generally mean “men” and men being the slaves to their carnal urges will even jump on another man wearing prosthetics.

In the largest democracy of the world, and a country with deep rooted problems such as poverty, unemployment, corruption to name a few, ministers and public are busy taking notice whether girls are fully clothed or are dressed in “indecent” clothes. Clearly proving what is on the mind of these important people who are busy working to the greater good of the nation.  Freedom of expression is a term which has become a subject of mockery in our country.  Whenever any snide comments are made regarding “indecent” clothing it is conveniently put on the Freedom of expression. Hence, short clothes are in a way is freedom of expression. It allows every man in this country, the freedom to express how the women of this country are becoming “maryadaheen”. That is also allows moral policing is also an interesting fact because women have such wavering morals. If not for the men we would become absolutely “charitraheen” for men have absolutely unwavering morality.  Hence, it can be rightly said that short clothing is indeed a freedom of expression.

Growing Up Bin Laden

Osama bin Laden, the name itself strikes terror in the bravest of hearts. But his personal life has always been fiercely guarded. Recently, his personal life came under public scrutiny when “Growing Up Bin Laden” was released. It has been authored by Jean Sasson and has been co-authored by Osama’s fourth son Omar Bin Laden and his senior wife Najwa  Bin Laden.

As the book progressed, it came as a shock to learn that Osama, in his early life had been shy and laid back but it was with his silence that he commanded attention. Deeply religious, he was a nature lover and considered nature to be God’s greatest gift to humankind. Jean Sasson said that, “People are not born terrorists. Nor do they become terrorists in a single stroke..And so it was with Osama Bin Laden. And the man, men and events that planted the seed faded away. But the seed grew and the terrorist walked. And this man before, became the terrorist thereafter.” [Growing Up Bin Laden, Jean Sasson, xiv].

Jean Sasson rightly justifies the fact Osama Bin Laden was not a born terrorist and as a reader you will probably be compelled to agree.  Then what lead him to spread so much of terror, loss of innocent blood of human beings? The reason was that it angered him that he was denied a chance to serve his own country Saudi Arabia, when Iraq attacked Kuwait. Instead of taking help from the Mujahedeen, Saudi Arabia took the assistance of United States and the first seed of antagonism was planted.

The entire world knows the brutality one man can inflict on the entire world. But this book is a glaring example of how overpowering hatred can numb all other emotions. Such was Osama’s hatred for the United States that he did not hesitate to ask his sons to put their names in the list of suicide bombers. Omar Bin Laden justifies this as, “My father hated his enemies more that he loved his sons”. It is rather interesting to note that just the way he terrorised the world his family was equally terrorized by him. He was a complete dictator and controlled everything with an iron hand. He was an egoist to such an extent that he led people to believe he was left handed but never accepted the fact that he was partially blind in the right eye.

Osama Bin Laden remained an enigma most of his life. His life, acts are now a part of history, which will be recounted for generations to come. Even though he has spread only hatred in this world, his sons did not follow his footsteps. They did not inherit the terrorist their father was. Omar Bin laden, when he was leaving Afghanistan saw a tall figure, his father, disappearing into the horizon. He knew that he was not running away from Afghanistan to look from happiness but to merely find peace.

Inspirations

March is far away in the horizon and the year end is almost knocking at our doors. Yes it has been that long since I wrote something. Why I did not write? It could be because of lack of self discipline. But on introspection I realized that it was the lack of inspiration. Lack of the need to sit up and type furiously till all that was clogging my mind has been expressed. Why did I feel the need to be inspired? Because without inspiration I feel one is dead! Like the famous saying goes existing is not enough but has to live, breath and take the best life can give. So to the next question. What did ultimately inspire me? The answer lies in death and a friend!

One morning a bunch of naively adventurous nearly adults set out to explore the cemeteries of Bangalore. I happened to be a part of them.  The cemeteries had graves which is expected. But what was different is how all the graves had a story to tell. The graves without tombstones told you that the individual buried had no money to shell for a fancy tombstone. The grave was decorated with flowers which was almost a consolation. The family may use that money to feed the living than care about the dead. The ones with tombstones clearly flaunted of affluence. One grave that particularly stood out was a big black grave and every individual in the graveyard knew that it belonged to the founder of Sagar Hospital.

One of the rituals that caught my fancy was mass burning. So if you are poor and cannot afford to burn the body and fulfill the last rites, what you do is find someone who is equally poor and in the same condition as you are. Then the cost of cremation is shared by all who cannot afford to individually burn the dead. Then mass burning takes place. Hard to believe, right?

All these stories were told to us by a worker in the graveyard who was reeking of alcohol. Most of us were drawn by the stories he had to tell and repulsed at the same time due to the unbearable stench of alcohol. But the reality of their lives is so deathly that remaining intoxicated is the only means of survival. The cemetery is a parallel world and it is hard to believe that is situated right opposite one of the busiest bus stops of Bangalore. So many people come and leave the bus stop everyday to get on with their lives not having a second to stare at place where time stands still because the graves have nowhere to go, but to lie still in the peace that death has to offer.

This became one of the inspirations. This was followed by another inspiration. This time it was the living. A friend, who has a brilliant sense of humour, good insight of human beings and a capability to inspire people around even from a considerable distance, like another city. Come to think of it a good dash of life and death can do wonders. 

The 'Right' Faith

John Lennon said that, “I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?” The debate of “What is the Right Faith?” has been raging since time immemorial. Faith is like a looking glass and it can colour the way we see the world. The world categorises faith in two broad categories: theists and atheists. But if you look into the everyday life of an individual, faith is the foundation of their lives. How many times have we heard the phrase, “Everything will be all right” and how many times has that made us feel good? Well, to be honest all the time, because that’s our faith in life, our faith for a better future.

There is a raging debate and we want our point to be heard. We go on and on arguing till we hear the triumph of victory. But when someone asks us how is to win we would probably say well victory was inevitable. To a layman this answer seems laced with pride and over confidence. But maybe to that individual it was the faith in knowledge. Faith that if one has the right intent and the right thought it always overpowers a wrong intent and a bad thought.

We all are aware that the world is not at its ideal best, well it never was. Then some incident happens and there is a nationwide uproar, revolts, protests, flash mobs in short they come together because they have faith in unity. With this faith they get together defying every barrier, and get themselves subject to atrocities by the police and politicians but they still don’t budge. The wise will say that the youth is stubborn and impulsive. But if any youth of this country is asked they would probably say that they have faith. Faith that what is wrong will be right. Faith, that the Government will listen to their voices. Faith, that the next generation of the youth will breathe in a better country, in a better system, a justice system where justice happens for a change.

We all hope and we all have faith. A faithless person is a person who is dead. Even a person on his death bed has faith that he will take another last breath followed by another last breath. An atheist has faith in knowledge, in individual self and that if something is wrong, he has to make it right. Theists have faith in God; “God will make everything all right” is what they would say even in the darkest days. Some people say that faith is the only factor that keeps us jumping from a railway track because we want to see another day and wait for that RIGHT DAY. So if the question is ever raised that “What is Right?” well, we could rightly say FAITH.