Sunday, September 29, 2013

Shadows

It took me full five minutes to realise I was in my bedroom, face down on my bed. The pillow was freshly cried into. I had mastered the art of muffling nightly screams and sobs into my abused pillow, aware that my brother sleeping in the next room would be worried sick and that my sister-in-law would start a week-long lecture on the importance of bedtime prayer.

This was the fifth episode this week, and I was not surprised. I climbed out of the bed and managed the distance to bathroom where I nearly collapsed on the floor. The mirror reflected back dishevelled hair, crazy, out-of-focus, wide eyes and parched lips on a face wet with tears and sweat. The face has changed, but the eyes have been the same for the past eighteen years. I splashed cold water and let it run down the length of me. The tears kept coming and the breathing refused to steady. The images started playing in front of my eyes as I struggled back to my room. The clock said it was just past four in the morning. I had to go. Now.

I stuffed a scarf in my mouth to quieten the uncontrollable sobs and changed as fast as I could. Half blinded by tears, I felt what I was doing, more than seeing. I threw the scarf back on the bed and tip-toed out of my room. It was dark and silent. I stopped as a stair squeaked under my weight. The snoring from my brother’s room stopped for a few seconds and I stood frozen midway to the ground floor. Five minutes later I was out the back door. I climbed the wall to avoid moving the rusty gate and landed on all fours on the other side. There was an endless stretch of tarred road disappearing in the shadows.

The trembling started again and my leaden legs started protesting. The images hovered in front of me and I started running – haphazard, almost drunken strides. My running nose forced me to breathe through my mouth and each breath was a painful onslaught of chilled air that traveled down my spine as I pounded the road.

I was inside a cupboard which had a tiny crack of light coming through an opening. My knees were drawn tight and I was smiling. Daddy was in a good mood today.
            “Angel, come here sweetheart, drink your milk while it’s hot.”
This was my favourite time of the day, the time when daddy would come back from office and spent time with me. If he was in a good mood, we would even play for a while and he would show me mom’s pictures and talk about the time when he and mom had been on a road trip.

The road took a sharp turn but I kept going straight, into the woods, into the shadows. My breathing was evenly strained now. The tears had left dry salt lines that stretched my face. The woods were silent, too silent, as if the world waited with bated breath to hear my heart’s mad beating and the un-rhythmic crunch of leaves under my strides.

He was smiling and humming a familiar tune.
            “Come to daddy Angel. Where are you?”
He looked about the room once and then his eyes rested on the cupboard. His smile widened. I suppressed a giggle and closed my mouth with both hands. He looked away.
“Oh dear, where is my Angel? Now daddy will have to look everywhere!”
He started humming the tune again, placed the glass of milk on the side table and started searching. He moved in and out of my vision.

The wood was uphill now. My lungs were burning but I kept going. The distance was getting shorter but the shadows were getting longer. I had to keep running. I must not stop. I could not stop. I looked back and saw nothing but hostile trees and twisted shrubs, all mocking at me. Something moved at my right. I knew there was something behind me. A stifled scream escaped my lungs, echoing in the woods. I was panting quite audibly, tears came down faster. It was dark, the darkest hour.

“How will daddy find his Angel?”
He went out of my vision again. I could see his shadow on the floor. Then I saw another shadow behind him. Daddy would call me and I would come out and surprise him the very next time he called. Daddy shadow was bent down humming a tune. The other shadow lifted his hand and I heard a dull thud. Both shadows went down. The glass of milk fell down and broke. I heard the thud again, and again, and again. Was something wrong? Was it another game? Should I sit tight?
The milk had travelled in a white line till the cupboard door, now a crimson line was covering the white line, spreading all the way, so much of it. I should wait for daddy to call me. Tears ran down my face and I stuffed both my hands inside my mouth to stifle my sobs, but I was shaking now. The cupboard rattled a little. A shadow moved again. The other shadow. Where was daddy? I was biting into my fists but my sobs wouldn’t stop. The shadow grew bigger.

There were shadows all around me. The woods thinned. I had to fight it, I had to keep going, I had to keep running. There were screams, and rhythmic dull sounds and it was close, getting closer. I pushed myself forward.

The shadow of one hand was longer. I saw the longer hand. It was a crowbar at the end which was dripping sticky red. He stepped on the crimson-white pool and started walking towards the cupboard. He raised his crowbar hand as he slowly walked towards me. I forgot how to breathe. I saw him, I saw his face. He looked directly at me. I was still not breathing and slowly, he started to float in my vision. He looked confused. He started moving backwards. His shadow grew smaller. My eyes closed and there was loud screaming, not me, not within me. Thankfully, I fell silent – not breathing, not sobbing, soundless.

My eyes were closed now and I was sprinting. A few more strides and I can save him. I will save him from the dull thud and shrill screeching sounds. I had to do this. The shadows were receding. The sky was lightening. I had reached. I collapsed with the cheek pressed to the cold marble.  My hands were fisted around the grass that I had pulled halfway off the ground.  I lay there as my breathing calmed down.
He was humming that tune again and he stopped in front of the cupboard.
He opened the cupboard and we both laughed in joy. He took me piggyback and ran around the room and every time he stopped, I’d say “One more daddy”, and he would go around once more.

I lay there on the cold marble, relaxed now. I had won. I had conquered the shadows. A hand caressed my hair and rubbed my shoulders. My brother had known I would be there. He knew my jogs ended here. He didn't know about the woods or the shadows. He walked me to the parking area. The morning mass was over and a few people stood socialising in the parking area. My brother was dressed in his best suit.
“You came for the mass?”
“No, I came for you.” He paused. “Today’s the day Angel, he will get what he deserved.
Today was the verdict. Eighteen years after the incident, the other man had been tried. The case was presented and the prosecution was very strong, especially with my witness account. After today, there would not be any more shadows, I had promised myself.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

MORE FEMALE INFANTICIDES/ FOETICIDES THAN EVER

With improving levels of education and awareness, one would assume that social evils like female infanticide and female foeticide will be washed off our society. With a number of women campaigns and laws favoring women, a girl child should not be threatened anymore. However, statistics speak otherwise.

According to Census 2011, the number of girls per 1000 boys between age is 914. In 2001, the number was 927 girls for 1000 boys and in 1991, there were 945 girls per 1000 boys. The sharp decline in the number of girls can be attributed to several gender and stereotypical roles assigned by the society.

Some of the beliefs that favor a boy child:
- A boy carries on the family name.
- A boy will marry and bring additional help to the household (the wife).
- A boy will bring dowry to the house and help economically, whereas a family will have to pay dowry for a girl.
- Many religious practices like burning a funeral pyre should be performed by the son.

These beliefs are the main reason behind dismal sex ratio and gender inequality in our society. Millions of girls are killed because the society prefers a boy child over a girl child. In spite of laws that favor women in our country, there has been no change in the condition of women. Education an modernisation has only changed the form of subjugation of women.

To overcome this situation, we have to change as a society, and as individual members of the society, we have to start respecting women, we need to create equal space for women in the society so that no family feels ashamed or burdened at the birth of a girl child, so that there are no evils in the society targeting women.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Bangalore Police, What Do You Want From Me?

And B'lore police goes berserk again!

For the lack of a better thing to do, my most-revered Bangalore Police Officers have started hounding Cafes in the city, harassing coffee-lovers. After a long day in office, I and my colleague decided to hit a cafe and Mocha being the closest option with less crowd, we zeroed in on it - BIG MISTAKE!

We had barely settled with chocolate shakes when the waiter came and said, "Sir, the Police is here with a camera. Please don't bother, they will check for evidences of hookah and leave." I said ok, thinking it's not a problem as THERE WAS NO HOOKAH.

Who knew they would come in with a big-ass video camera and an annoying light to make you feel like you killed someone. So there we were, drinking CHOCOLATE SHAKES, not even sitting side-by-side, wearing the 'decentest' attire in Bangalore - in focus of some lunatic camera guy from God knows which channel. That's when I realized - we were the only "COUPLE" there (and how is that related to hookah, man?) and I thought – SHIT!
Of course, for them it doesn't matter if your are 2 or 22, you are friends or couple, you are in a cafe or in a pub....You are just THERE, your existence there becomes a crime, and you become the next scapegoat of some loser-of-a-police operation. And they wonder why people don't trust the Police. Thoda toh sharm karo Mamu!

Some time in near future, I expect to see my video live on some channel with some fancy, shocking caption. Then, I wonder if I will be as relaxed as I am now, or if I will have an answer. The scene is playing again and again and I wish I would have had the courage to just go and tell that idiot camera-person that he was an ANNOYING SCUM and to get the bloody camera off my face. I feel sad for my colleague who was in Mocha for the first time AND OUTRAGED at the camera guy. If he was a journalist, he was way beyond his journalistic ethics!
After I reached back, I called a friend who knows much about laws and Police and she gave me some gyan. So in all, I LEARNT THIS:
  • Mocha lost two very good customers.
  • More than the society, it's the Police who needs classes on "Stop Stereotyping".
  • If someone (even if it's the PM) is video-taping you, you have all rights to deny as it's your fundamental right to have privacy. It's none of their business who you roam about with.
  • You can walk away without being questioned as you are a customer.
  • You can protest and ask them to videotape the staff in stead of you.
  • You can AND SHOULD take pictures of those buggers and post it on social media.
  • You can ask which channel they are taking the video for.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Women - Time to Think?

 
 Cruelty towards women is not a brainchild of the modern era. Over ages women have been subjected to crime, deprivation and ridicule, seen as the lesser of the two sexes. With renewed persuasion from the Human Rights organizations, the condition of women have come to the front pages of the world dailies.

With media raking up the issue of gender equality and crime against women, there has been a phenomenal increase in the number of cases uncovered and reported. One such case that caught my attention was the stoning of Soraya M. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Stoning_of_Soraya_M.)

Like countless women who lost a lot more than just their lives for standing up against atrocities, Soraya suffered betrayal and murder at the hands of her own husband and sons. To every woman who wants to make a place for herself in this world, Soraya shouldn't be a warning, she must be an inspiration. Incidences like Soraya occur to knock at your door, to wake you up, and to tell you that there are people fighting, there are people setting examples for you to follow.

Our society is a complicated network of powerplay where people enjoy superiority over the "weak". The question is whether you as a woman see yourself as weak or not, whether you advocate the safety of women as being covered up, hidden and sacrificial and as an endowement of a scoeity that feasts on women as a property to be protected and owned, or as a change to be incorporated in the society.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

I Won't be There this Christmas Too.




All around me, people are in wake of a bitter winter, all in their own different ways. The rich throng the malls and try expensive, ridiculous winter collections. The poor cover their houses with more sacks, look for more twigs and branches in this concrete jungle. The IT people count the vouchers they get for winter shopping, the college people look forward to the Christmas break.

They say winter is the season of preparation, of love. Winter teaches the lesson of closeness and belongingness, of reveling in what and who you have - against what you would want to have. Winter is ancient because it freezes everything except time. Winter is hard and strong.

Winter reminds me of my dad, and every single time that he asks me - My dearest, it's Christmas time! I wish to see your lovely face next to the holy infant in the manger. I want to see you put up the star, I want to dance with you once again on merry carols...
Every time I plan and fail, I fall prey to one temptation after the other. This year too, I won't go. I will not be there to see the dancing light in his eyes. I will not kiss his weather-toughened skin and say Merry Christmas Daddy!" All I will say is -

Dad, I won't be back this Christmas too
Don't wait for me, I'm not coming to you
Put up the star on big old tree again
Place the holy Infant, say my name.
Think I am with you, holding your hand
Waltzing to tunes of the Christian band
Gather the street kids, give them my love
Send them a Santa cake and a pair of gloves
Beat your best drum like we always did
Tap your foot as the merry kids sing
As you sit in the chapel at the first bell gong
Close your eyes, remember Mom's song
Let the tears fall, let them wash away
But for me dear Daddy, smile and say - Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Poltics - Frustrated: Wha's Going on Today?


I just clicked on Google News tab and this is what I get-
Trinamool withdraws support to UPA; Mamata says ministers will resign on Friday


MNS supports FDI in retail: Raj Thackeray


BJP accuses JPC chairman of bias, threatens to quit

And it’s the same story over and over again, everyday.
The list of scams is endless. I read about these scams and all the blame-game these people play – and I think, well, why should I bother voting for any of these cartons? Why should I pay my taxes when most of it goes into their bottomless pits?
I am frustrated with politics. They eat into my meagre earnings, the few resources I earn; they enjoy life and I pay for them - toiling 11 hour everyday; I see my future slip through my fingers and they go to lush parties with the best cuisine in the country to discuss the next policy to frisk more money. I suffer under the laws they make and see them enjoy themselves above it.
Some people will see this post and say – why don’t you go into politics and change, be in system and change the system….blah blah. Why should I? I am not the leader type. I am a people manager, and good at my job. They are there to do their job – to manage the country. If they are not good enough. e should have the authority to throw them away.
Why is a minster asked to resign only after he is caught in a scam or if he abuses someone? Why isn’t a minister fired when he or she is found incompetent? Why do we have to tolerate so much? What does a country like our which has a majority of its population under 35 years bracket listen to a bunch of old fools whose major concern is what a cartoonist drew about his governance, rather than why or what made him do that. All ego – money – power business.
Perhaps, politics in India should also have a training course and test – on Human values, truth, honesty and moral uprightness, on “how to understand that people are frustrated”, on “how to identify the real issue/ problem areas in a situation”, on tolerance and importance of giving a thought on what you have to do and not on what you have achieved (selfish achievements).
I strongly believe, a large section of youngsters have no faith in politics – they neither understand nor care how this country is run and by whom, as long as they can go abroad, earn well, or start their own business and interact with government only where official consent is needed (or you can always bribe them). i am surprised they even worry about the turn-outs. What have they done to make people feel good about the government they choose? Which was the last great law/ rule brought out aiming at the development of the country, of the youth India? Are the youngsters today they new neglected class?

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

"No Evidence Against 62 Accused in Gujarat Riots." Who is surprised?




Gujarat Godhara riots – latest developments : the SIT has found no evidence against Narendra Modi, he is safe. (http://www.hindustantimes.com/India-news/Gujarat/Narendra-Modi-had-no-hand-in-Jafri-killing-says-SIT/Article1-838214.aspx)
Rakesh Sharma’s documentary film “Final Solution”, based on 2002 Gujarat riots in India is one of the most stimulating pieces of information I have come across in some time. Though the movie takes a stance critical of the BJP government; it sheds light on a lot of parameters that determine the game of power.
A decade later, watching documentaries and reading cases make us feel very intelligent and more sensitive to human rights, more sensible and aware of political gimmick. I cannot speak for people or times a decade ago but I can definitely put forward a question in the face of millions of people who exercise their voting rights (those who don’t, they do not exist for me). How can you possibly justify electing someone as your leader when he or she has a criminal record, or for a fact you know that the person has been accused of it and is capable of it, when the person makes open speeches about violence and takes pride in it. Those speeches are good on a battlefield but not in a communally agitated zone. It beats me, whom are you trying to agitate, and why?
Then there are some places where people keep electing and re-electing thugs and crooks infamous for fraud, corruption, murder, and with a shameless record of rape and violence tagged to all male members of the family (I did not say I was referring to Jharkhand). People staying in the neighborhood are scared most of their days, on the others they are just grieving their condition.
If you see “Final Solution” and listen to those speeches made by the leaders, you will notice how gullible people are, how easily they can be manipulated. The best fire to be fed is hatred, it just keeps roaring higher. 58 passengers were burnt alive in Sabarmati Express and in reply, thousands of Muslims were murdered. Statistics say some 1100 were murdered and lakhs displaced, but that is government statistics. Noteworthy scholars have even termed it as genocide. So, congratulations, we are on par with the western world, at least in violence. At least it saved us the cost of making gas chambers and fire pits (or whatever those places they used to burn people alive). More modernized and immune to trivial feelings like humanness, we used kerosene to light human torches.
Listening to the speeches made by Mr. Modi himself, you feel like laughing at him. He was glorifying Gujarat for being a place perfectly safe (when thousands were murdered, chased away, killed, displaced), he used Pakistan and Gen. Musharraf as causes for internal insurgencies in India, and worse, there were people clapping for whatever ridiculous thoughts he put into words. I would like him to come to a sensible college now and give a speech to youngsters who care a damn about who the leader is, as far as they stay out of our way and do not enforce laws that prevent us from doing what we want. He would probably hang himself with shame (with the response he gets) or we would be learning about another terrorist attack in that college campus.
People are saying he is a very strong candidate for PM’s seat. I do not know him personally; I do not understand his politics. He may be a very dynamic person driven by the motive of growth of this nation; but I sure do understand and believe that more that dynamic economic growth, I need safety, I need assurance that if in any case I have to depend on the authorities to protect my life, they will not disappoint me, that if and when I call them to save me from a mob of madmen throwing kerosene at me and my family and burning us, they will not laugh at my face and say “You number is up.”
The supreme court appointed Special Investigation Team failed to find evidences against the 62 accused in the killing of a Muslim congress leader (62 : 1, that alone speaks a lot!). Including Modi, all others stand innocent until proven guilty. I do not know who murdered these people, someone did, and that too after the Godhara train incident. And it is not a coincidence that these people of Naroda, Patiya, Gulbarg society and other regions were all Muslims.
Well, they say youngsters are reckless and hormone-driven; they need to listen to their elders. I like that option at times. I take to the Rule Book of Elders when nothing else works. My elders have always told me, those who get away with wrong now, they will have God to answer to (though that is a desperate statement, it helps during helplessness, and I am helpless in this case). And as I see it from here concerning Godhara, a lot of people will have a lot of answering to do.