Rape !

I shiver from inside when I think of the torture she endured before she died. And then people blame the Govt, the system, the law. They ask for punishment. People post their anger, their disappointment on facebook. And every time I see such a post, I wish to tell them to start at home. I wish to tell all the men, treat you wife as your equal. Don't take decisions for her. Help her decide for herself and respect the decision she takes for herself. I wish to tell the women to learn to respect themselves and instead of pampering their sons, teach them that their sisters are equally important. I wish to tell every parent, that stop giving dowry, and stop accepting it. Send your daughters to a place where they will be judged by the qualities she has, and not by the amount of money she is bringing.

You know what, the thing that bothers me the most is dowry. Because that is where the evil starts. You are sending your daughter to a home where she is supposed to be a family, where she is supposed to be loved. Why does she have to take money with her? I don't get the concept. How does money decide the amount of love she is going to get. And the funniest part is, women take part in it. The mother-in-law will give costlier gifts to the daughter-in-law who bought in more dowry.

And then comes the children. Girls are taught to endure, to adjust, to accept, ever since they are a kid. The brother is given the larger piece of cake. The girl is taught to wait till the men in the family have eaten properly. Whatever is left out, the girl manages with that. And the father is not even bothered. It somehow becomes the responsibility of the mother to decide. And the mother teaches the daughter to let go. Dont get me wrong. I am not asking the mother/ father to teach you daughter to revolt. I am asking to teach both your children to let go sometimes. I am asking you to teach your son and daughter to sacrifice for each other. I am asking you to teach both your sons and daughters to learn to give the other an equal share of what you have. And instead of making yourself proud that your son is manly, be proud that you have made him human. Be proud that you have taught him to respect his sister. Be proud that you have taught him not be a part of the male chauvinist world.

I have seen people commenting it was the fault of the girl and her parents alone. Why was she allowed to go out at night. Why do women wear provocative clothes? I have a question for all of these people. Whatever the situation be, why were those guys not taught to be "Not Animals"? Why did no body refrain them from doing something that was wrong?
For arguments sake, it was the girl who was out at night, or maybe it was the girl who was wearing provocative clothes. But did she spoil your life? Did she kill someone with her actions? No, she did not. What kind of clothes are to be worn by a woman is not your problem, not your business. You are free to wear anything you want. And so was she. But your actions killed a person. You hurt her. You raped her. Your actions harmed someone else. You don't have the right to harm someone else. Please go ahead and harm yourself. Nobody would come to inquire !

I sometimes feel so angry. No, not with the system. Not with the Govt. But with you my friend. Because, you dont do anything except light candles and shout using posts on facebook. Make a difference to the life of the woman you have in your life. Learn to treat her as a person and not as an object of your pleasure. World will automatically be a good place to live in !

The Blind Man

I was out of office, walking down the street to a small ice cream stall. Manish was with me. As we walked on the pavement, we heard a man say, "Dada, ektu bus stop e pouchhe deben? " ( Brother, Could you take me to the bus stop?).

Both of us looked back. There he was. Standing right in front of a huge banyan tree. He was facing the tree. A small middle aged man, hair white around the corners and bald on the top, a little plump, blind. He held a small bag in his left hand and a stick in his right. He stood there saying the same sentence over and over again. People passed by him. Manish walked back and held his left arm. The man made a weird sort of a grateful noise and walked alongside Manish. I followed them behind.

All my life, I have hated being helpless amidst people I didn't know. Even if I had been scared and tired, I have always put up a brave and strong front. And I imagined myself blind, standing, facing a tree and calling out to strangers to help me walk down to the bus stop. Being blind didn't hurt. What hurt me was his helplessness and his loneliness. I wondered,if he had no one at home, who could have walked with him. Or maybe they were too busy and this man had to come down all by himself. I don't know what could have been a perfect explanation and I do not want to judge anybody. I do not have such a life. I am not blind and I have nobody in my family or friends who is blind. So, I am not the right person to judge what was right or wrong.
As I watched the man trod along in front of me, holding Manish's hand, it seemed so sad, so cruel. I am sure if I am being dramatic, but for some reason it didn't feel good.

A few days back, I was waiting for the metro train at Garia (Kavi Nazrul) Station. There was rush. As we saw the train approach the platform, people waited ready to board. And that's when it happened. A man jumped on the tracks right in from of the train. The train ran over him. I didn't see the man. I did not see him jump either. I was talking on the phone and had looked the other side right at that time. People shrieked and moved away. The train came to a halt and waited at the platform for the next twenty minutes. People curiously tried to find out what happened to the man. Through the window, he could be seen. People said, he had jumped too far. He missed the track. The train did not kill him. It ran over his legs. People who had looked out of the window to see, said his body was thrashing. He was a man not very old.

I wondered what made him jump. I wondered, how painful his life could have been, that he wanted to end his life this way. That day on, everyday I watch the train approach the station, it reminded me of that day. And I realized, that jumping on the tracks in front of an approaching train would take a lot of courage and however hard I had seen life, it was always easier to live. Life must have been real cruel to him.

And what surprised me the most was how people move on in life. How people gathered together on the same platform every day and travelled. How people had discussed, that the idiot should have chosen some other time because the train was 20 mins late and we all were 20 mins late for office. And I realised, that even I did not bother. I did not bother to know what happened to the man. All I could do was wonder.

Life just moves on. Players on stage. Play your part and get out of the stage. Re-appear when you need to. Seems like a proper explanation. And the worst part is, right now I am not liking my part in the play.

Untitled

As you glide through life, you change. As you soar up high, you look ahead and you dream. You dream to touch the clouds above. And you flap your wings hard, and harder to reach that place. You thrive with all your might to touch that fluffy little piece of cloud. But one little moment when you look down to feel the pride in your heart to have soared so high, you see the ground. You see the little houses, where men live. You see the green and the line of blue cutting through it. You see the stream, but fail to hear the gurgle which was so clear when you were sitting on a rock by it. And then you realize, maybe it was not the clouds that you sought for. Maybe, you had it all wrong. And you longed to get back there, sit on that rock and close your eyes and listen to the water gurgle by your side, to God knows where. And you feel, life might be about achieving. It might be about dying proud. But it also means to be happy, to be free, to be lazy, and to die peaceful. And when you look deep into your heart, you might find a feeling whispering to you, that you don't want to die proud and meaningful. You just want to die smiling and peaceful.

So, you decide, that you touch that piece of cloud, and turn back as fast as you can, to return back to that place where you heart belonged. So, you try harder, you tire our wings more, you flap them faster. As thousands of thoughts zoom through your head, you miss that place on the earth, you miss the green and the stream, and the noises. And then you ask yourself, "What the hell am I doing? I need to get back there." Yeah, you realize that you are a lot impatient. So, you turn back and with a smile on your face, you fly back to the place that sits down there.

Your dreams change.

But then one day, you wish you could have flown a little more. And maybe you could have let your feet rest on the clouds. And maybe you would have liked that. But now you will never know. Time doesn't come back to you. And it doesn't leave you enough time to retrace those paths.

So, you sit by the favorite stream of yours, listen to all the noises around it. You feel peaceful. You feel happy. Life has been good to you. But you die with that one dream unfulfilled. Do you regret? No, you don't. It was a choice you made out of all the dreams you had. And the unfulfilled dream, you can always come back for that. Ask Him, to send you back, so that you can fly away on your dreams over again.

Insomnia makes philosophers

Last night I couldn't sleep for a long time! I tried breathing in and out, did not work. I tried to count, started at 1, went upto 490 and then decided that I couldnt be so pathetic to go any further. And then I thought about a hundred things, till I could go back to sleep and decided that life is all about companionship.

Insomnia (Just as a one night stand... I am not a patient) can make philosophers, I guess. I thought about hundreds of things, about people, friends, crushes, mom n dad. Memories breezed by as I kept counting. Sometimes I did find loneliness standing around the corner.

I remembered one winter afternoon under Naini bridge, sharing choclates, and later photographing birds in Company Bag, the same evening.

I remembered a late evening, fourteen girls, a hostel corrider, no electricity and laughter.

I remembered one long drive down the Barasat-Barrackpore road, street lights and black silhouttes of trees, a cup of tea from the roadside dhaba and butterflies in the stomach.

I remembered a day when mom slapped, rolling tears and a hug just 5 minutes later, and a nap with my head on mom's lap.

One evening when I cried on the phone and the friend explained how special I could be.

The college quadrangle, a bunch of friends, where we loved to listen to the music on the mouth organ.

Long letters to a best friend, I wonder how I wrote those pages after pages without tiring myself.

Early morning, 7.30 am, 14 girls, tears rolling down sleepy eyes, seniors and ragging.

Pictures of a carraige, and a blue long flowing gown, the fiction of a first date.

A little poem, scribbled into paper, and loving it all the way.

And the most, I remembered a few promises made to me, and a pair of eyes That I hurt just because I was so damn tired to fight back.

Hundreds of thoughts went by and I wondered... we met, we parted, what remained was memories. Some of them had been so painful, yet when I think of them today, I smile. With every memory exists a person. A wonderful person in his/her own special way. Sometimes these memories hurt not because they happened, but because they ceased to exist. But everytime I stopped at the lonely corners, I wiped off a tear. Corners deviod of people, devoid of company... what existed was void. People say I am strong, emotionally. I handle the mental downphases well by myself. But you know what I am really scared of? Being alone... that is what scares me the most. I need to talk, to listen, to know that I have people around me to whom I mean at least something if not a lot.

P.S. : Please dont take this post very seriously... This was written by a philosopher made by an insomniac sleepless night ! Sometimes you are allowed to get a little emotional.... *wink*

Happy Diwali

A Diwali night.
By the open window,
I stand.
On the flyover
Cars sped... Noisy!


My pair of eyes
Graze the sky.
Diwali crackers
Glitters in the dark.
Beautiful.
And my lips part
into a smile.
The pair of eyes
Watched...
for hours.

On the table
Lay my phone.
Silent...
Drowned into the noise
Of passing cars
And firecrackers.

From the Diary of a daily Passenger : The Abrupt End

After this long break.. I thought of writing the next chapter of the series... but I realised that I have lost a big part of the things that I had in mind. And I am at loss of words right now... So, here comes the end of it... I feel sorry to end it this way...

Maybe someday I would add up another chapter to it... But for the time being.. this is it.

At Bangalore!

I had been waiting to get down to bangalore and join the company I was placed in. And finally when I am here, I am actually trying to like the things that I am doing. I am trying to like my training sessions, my weekends and my evenings at the PG. Don't get me wrong! I am not miserable. I am simply not able to be myself. The self that I loved being. Confusing right ??? *grin* Even I am in a similar state of mind. I will give you an example. I hate cooking and yet yesterday I spent my whole morning walking down the streets of Shivajinagar market buying utensils to cook in. I spent more than Rs. 2000 on all of it. And this morning I got up early to cook and hated the procedure all along. But still I did it and I promise I am going to continue and I have absolutely no idea why.

The only thing that I am actually excited about is my new laptop and the soon to have an internet connection. Then I could come back to the world I love... reading and writing. Till then!