SHOTS - HUMAN TRAFFICKING

Note: Again, a long pending draft... When I reread these even I felt horrible... Don't ask me how or why I came up with these things.  And the truth is I do not know anyway that writing this could actually help anyone?!
How can common people stop any of this, or contribute in some way to stopping any of these things?
One thing we can promise ourselves is to make sure that the next generation is inspired to be good.


She tried to contain her excitement! She felt proud to be doing this, joining work on her 16th birthday...!!
Not many girls from her elementary school had survived unmarried and NOW she would work to support herself and her family!
She would be the son her parents had always wanted...until her little baby brothers were born that is but they are little and sick, so she could be like an elder son! 
She held on to her little sister with more resolve, the puny 12 year old hands gripping her tight in response.
They walked into the "firm" and were happy to see many girls of their own age or lesser.  She was glad her sister had someone to play with.
She was not sure why Chacha did not look proud or excited for them.  He smiled with resignation and relief as he pocketed the amount carefully and patted her head saying "we will save your little brothers don't worry"





Twins were such a rare thing as it is and both boys meant definitely good things to come.  She had seen it in happening in the past year.
Two of her sisters getting married to the old station master and his helper on the same day!  Even Arasi said everyone in the village were jealous of her family.
Then her father refused to give her away in marriage though she turned 13 last month...
AND NOW she was being allowed to go work out of town.
Kumar mama had made them see the possibility of her and latchumi supporting her family.  Of course dad got drunk silently and mom moved her big bellied frame as silently out of the house as she could with almost inaudible sobs.
She would take latchumi to a movie with their first salary.  They will eat one meal less to make up for the ticket.
The memories kept repeating themselves as it did almost every morning.
She tried to be strong as she walk to the dormitory where girls her sister's age lived and worked - cleaning and sewing for them - unless someone rich asked for one of them specifically. 
Or like her sister today, turned 12. 
May be she could bribe auto Ravi with a free round to help sneaking them out to a movie and back...




With this one, it added up to Rs.10000.  That would be more than enough to pay for everything.
She would need to hurry to send the money order in before evening - it was Friday, the busiest nights mostly.
Her calculations were interrupted by the discomfort of the mundane routine.
This one was always quiet and dissociated she recalled. 
She almost thanked him for the respite he gave her. 
Then she remembered and then it hurt. 
She swallowed her pride and shame.  Like everything else...




The 10 volunteers were all young men and women arranging the boxes all around for them all to pick one each when they left.
So she stood up trying not to shout at these "know it all" bunch of youngsters that had decided to educate the poor prostitutes!
Of course, one of the educated customers, or a TV ad, or a stray commoner uses one.
But they knew the reality even better.  Even the chatty Sekar had beaten her when she asked him to wear it once.
"We can suffer the disease than go through the beating everyday", she tried to maintain her tone.
She was angry that these young men and women who have probably never had sex yet, came to show them how they could be safe. 
After everything that had happened to them, why do they think AIDS was a big deal! 
She probably already had it anyway.




His friends had played a dare on him for his 20th birthday and he was not sure anymore why he agreed!
He was not sure if he was ashamed or horrified.
The experienced hands that were promised to initiate him belonged to that of an almost pretty 15 year old girl...
She did not even show any surprise at the sight of him.
He said "I don't want anything from you" but I will stay here for an hour so they pay you.
Her sly smile both teased him and thanked him.  He had his first crush and heart break at the same time. 
The NGO and the police received an anonymous tip that night.

Oh get lost! But take my love with you!

Oh get lost!
But take my love with you!
when you walk all over me and leave me on the floor
I hate you from my heart, from inside my soul.
All that anger flowing and drowning me foul.
And that's when I lose it and let you go through the door
Oh go to hell!
And there trotts my heart, with a wagging tail...
That's when I decide to drown deeper but with my heart gone...
And the burden of my love for you following you out...
Leaves me so light that I float back right up...
The bouyancy of this ironic life...
And again my zombie mind shouts...

Oh get lost!
And still there goes...my life and love with you...!

Morning Potty Philosophies

Morning Potty has always been a time for thought... I have always found them to be my most creative and imaginative thought process time... It's almost as if you are asleep and dreaming solutions to your everyday problems or searching for an inner meaning to even the smallest of things in life that you wud usually ignore...

Right from my childhood days of indian commode habits I remember using this time to experiment with my various muscles and joints, in my legs, trying to see how long they hold still, when exactly do they start hurting, how much water I am using and how efficiently can I use the water while I also keep a constant flow to keep the commode from drying up...

Recently facebook, whatsapp and ebook readers (and some games too yes) have stolen this precious time from my brain exercise schedule I realise...sadly... 

Potty in this era of smartphones, has changed from being 'an extremely private and intimate time spent by a person completely inside their head and body, pushing out creative thoughts and 'not so creative' (some may disagree) body excrements' to a time when we connect with family and friends... 

It is not even funny anymore and in many cases true even, if you were to imagine your friend on their respective bathrooms and replying to your messages and watching the videos you shared...which is sad... Not just because it's not funny...

That said, try as I may, my hand automatically picks up my smartphone the minute I feel my bladder full or my rectum signal...

Times when I realize my battery is dead but I need to potty are almost emergencies where I borrow Suresh's phone shamefacedly (for the fact that I forgot to charge it).

From a girl who never opened her mouth to respond to any questions/conversations or provocations from outside the door while at potty to one who utilises her time on the potty connecting with people vie e-media is quite a (still quiet) transformation that I believe many women of my age and era wud agree...

And in fact this blog and the thoughts for it started this morning while at potty... 

Now what prompted me to write was a little insect I killed because I couldn't watch it buzzing around me... All I had to do was pour a few drops of water over it and it fell down twitching.  Then I couldn't watch it die nor accept that I did something that bad that I was torn between letting it go and ending its suffering (yes mahatma's words - or so I have been told - echoed in my mind) and I poured more water on it swearing (for the thousandth time in my life) that I wud never do that again...

So I was going to post on FB at once of my 

Morning Potty realisation #10000 or something...

One who controls the urge to kill an insect just because it's buzzing around or in sight is a person of supreme self control! 

One who does not feel the need in the first place to kill an insect just because it's buzzing around or in sight is a saint!

One who tries to get the insect out or find a way to let it out without harming it is a supreme being!

This does not include non veg food. I am talking about killing insects just because you see them or because they are flying around (and again you see them)...

(Based on the famous padayappa lyrics of the song 'vetrikkodikattu')

(Lines of the song)

இன்னொர் உயிரைக் கொன்று புசிப்பது மிருகமடா!

இன்னொர் உயிரைக் கொன்று ரசிப்பது அரக்கனடா!

யாருக்கும் தீங்கின்றி வாழ்பவன் மனிதன்...

ஊருக்கே வாழ்ந்து உயர்பவன் புனிதன்!!

(Lines of the song transliterated)

Innor uyiraikkondru pusippadu mirugamada!

Innor uyiraikkondru rasippadu arakkanada!!

Yaarukkum theengindri vaazhbavan manidan!

Oorukkae vaazhnthuyarbavan punidan!!

(Lines of the song translated)

Who kills another life (form) to eat is an animal!

Who kills another life (form) and enjoys is a demon!

Who lives without harming another life (form) is a human...

Who lives for (the good of) other life (forms) is divine!

But then it also occurred to me that even this has an exception.  Two... No some exceptions... Or may be I am just not a person of supreme self control.

And in my mind the exceptions are:

Mosquitos 

Cockroaches

Rats/Some viscious spiders and poisonous insects where it's either that dead, or you!!

Definitely in that order...

Definitely won't add lizards to the list...they are NOT harmful usually...

Thankfully though, for now I don't suffer the exceptions... But I know this is a global problem... Like poverty and illiteracy... 

So there goes my Morning Potty Realisation for the day number #ohsomanythatidontkeeptrack

Personally I don't like India! But you could visit...

I am not sure why we are this way, but I see a lot if this around me in this country.  May be this is prevalent across the world but I don't know about that.  I wouldn't since I have travelled nowhere outside of my country.  Not even out to many other states within India let alone go out of the country.  But that being said I have, yes, have seen this complex.  A sort of superiority inbred inferiority complex.  Or may be the other way around?! We go around bitching about the country even though we live here, earn our money and not just survive but live here.  Some of us who do this may have travelled outside of the country, may have lived there a few years but that doesn't warrant this sort of bitching about the country to foreign nationals in the name of being friendly!!! Why do we do this?! I don't know.  It's alright when we do it among ourselves but not to outsiders.  Or is it? Is it alright, this basic thought, this shame of belonging to or living in this nation?  

I do not believe in taking pride in just the ancient history and keep talking about it all the time to all visitors.  Atleast not anymore.  But that doesn't mean you say this is one of the worst places to live in.  

It is a basic right or rather a responsibility to feel proud of the good things in ones country.  Note 'the good things'.   Why not? 

I have a few around me who travel frequently, extensively and/or regularly to different parts of the world and from all that I have read/heard I know that we are bad in some things but also good in some.  As always with any place isn't it? 

But I do think it should be ingrained in us to not bitch about the country to others let alone feel proud and share it.  It should be one of the morals taught at home along with 'stealing is wrong' or something as basic as that.  

I am not saying that we should not involve in intelligent discussion (or even as someone put it armchair debates) but please have a basic sense of patriotism or atleast hospitality.  Yes hospitality, for hospitality is not just making the guest comfortable but also feeling a sense of accountability/responsibility and/or pride towards ones place wherein the hospitality is offered.

I wish I had the guts and enough knowledge to make a sane conversation and make this co passenger in my train understand that your fake accent and half baked command over the language and the conformity that you seek by making yourself an outsider from all the bad things in your country is only going to make you be valued at much less and your country even worse (or may be the other way around) than if you behaved a good host and not bitch about your country unnecessarily even when the guest  insisted your place was good.  Or better keep quiet.  I have this strong urge or impulse to show this script to this co passenger but being a young woman traveling alone in train I do not want to risk my safety.  Yes I know this is probably making me a coward and may be even as bad as what I just wrote about but could I help it? Probably not! Time will tell.  If I act on this impulse will update this blog.

Being friendly and personally showing off (supposedly) as an outsider is an INGNOMINY and NOT a thing of pride!!! 

The little old lady that made me happy!

It's after a long time that I have been moved and overwhelmed in real life, in person; not one of those videos or those blogs or those news articles or those tweets or Facebook uploads...

Today I met an old lady. She cud have been anywhere between 75 and a 100 years old.  She was going about her life with so much acceptance, such innocense (and even a sense of humour I later saw) inspite of all the worldly problems of health, wealth and well, life as such.

She was almost hunch backed, about 3ft tall, had the early spurt of hair growth on her head, that follows a tonsure, a dirty gown on that covered her dutifully from neck to ankle, a dirty cloth bag of her few belongings or may be those that she needed for her business whatever it was. She walked a straight path on the busy main road, her eyes on the ground, not the slightest intention on her (evident from her body language) to even seek physical help, let alone stretch her small puny arms for alms, to the plenty of people walking around her, definitely in a much better state in life.

As I crossed her, I cud barely control the reflex to turn around and look at her properly, not just the outline I caught as I overtook her in pace.  My angel and demon were swiftly engaged in the battle of morality, of dharma and the practicality of my real life.

As I reached the bus stop to take the connecting bus, I (like the child we all are within) told myself that I wud wait and see if she wud head my way and if so I would give her a small sum that wud appease both the angel and the demon or atleast strike a compromise while they found new arguments as to wanting and not wanting the lady to head my way and debating over how useful or laughable the sum I had decided upon to give away was.

I had already extracted the money from the attic of a bag I had and was ready when the angel's wish won. The lady walked right into my way.

As I approached her she broke into such an innocent and infectious smile that I was surprised.  The battles that were waging inside me until that very moment I approached her were quelled, more like the demon was dumbstruck.

As I inserted the currency notes into her ( really small) palm she paused to squint at the notes and then gave it back to me with a half mute vocabulary and said 'kapde' (clothes). She tried showing me something with 5 of her fingers that I initially did not understand.  I told her to keep the money, mustered a warm and guilty smile and walked away.  To my surprise she walked to the bus stop and approached me.  She again tried giving the money back and explaining that she needed clothes making the 5 finger gesture.  Then it stuck me, or atleast the most I cud make out of it - I extracted some more from my purse hastily and gave her a relatively larger sum.  I told her not 'Khana milega' (you'll get food with this) this time but 'kapde milenge' (you'll get cloth with this), with a reltively less guiltier heart and a more satisfied smile.  I rushed towards the bus that approached while I felt all the eyes that were earlier watching us, slowly leave and the woman followed and got into the bus too.

For a second I thought she was following me but realised that she actually was travelling in the same direction.  I was not sure if my heart was happy or my ego unhappy.  I even thought may be I just got fooled and I wanted to walk away, into a corner, not wanting to look at anyone that might recognise me from the curious exchange or especially the lady.  For I was sad to leave her clinging to the support pole while a young fellow gave me the 'ladies seat' that he was occupying until then.

As the driver and conductor started laughing and having a jovial conversation with/about her or probably js couldn't help smiling at the innocent expressions of the sorry little creature to whom they tried demanding the ticket fare while she half mutely joked back giving them imaginary coins from thin her.  I was watching every word uttered with a beating heart, every eye on her that was curious or mocking, made me want to get up and pay the ticket fare.  But the demon had had enough. Angel was making feeble attempts.  As I realised that the diver and conductor were merely having good natured fun and did not expect to get anything from her, I relaxed and let go of the idealist in me that had decided to hail the conductor (as inconspicuously as possible) and pay him her bus fare.

When I saw her alight from the bus on her own accord at her destination, I breathed a sigh of relief
and told myself that she is going to walk 'home' as safely as she had travelled so far.


Then I started marvelling in earnest at the astonishing strength and happiness showed by this frail child of an old lady.

I wished I had given her a hug, that I had taken her home with me, given her good shelter for the night, a square meal of food and the love of a daughter or granddaughter; like the scores of people who are currently doing this for thousands of people across various cities everyday without expecting anything in return.

I wished I had given her the big bar of chocolate in my bag and as I thought this it also crossed me that it cud even have been adverse to her if she had diabetes.  Then the irony stuck me. The irony and cynicism of human nature that doesn't really let us move beyond our limits as a 'practical person'.

Well this was a small portion of just what I cud do.  May be one random day when I cud.
If I were asked to spend all of my earnings in such deeds or even just a significant amount monthly for these people (as those many many noble hearts are doing), I wouldn't be able to.

This was just a lucky day for me, probably a celebration for a dear ones birthday that wud be here in one day.

But this also saddened me, for this was also the dark irony. For I had expected people to have noticed.  This consciousness had embarrassed me causing me to seat myself into a corner.  I had thought about how they wud have perceived me.  May be I am js a pious Muslim doing her duty during the month of ramzan (for I did have a costume similar on) - though a duty no less nobler - but still done because you are supposed to.

I was saddened at these thoughts that had crossed my mind.  I tried to dispel it by thinking how nothing  matters - how people perceived,  whether or not they even noticed.  At the end of the day it made me happy, moved me and made me smile.  Then it was touché, the angel smiled at the demon.
I recalled phoebe and F.R.I.E.N.D.S.  Accepting this innate human pride or whatever that was was more graceful than I had thought. All that mattered was I have done something to help someone and in the process made atleast two people - the lady and myself.

I walked the rest of the way home with a slight spring in  my steps, blessing the little lady's soul.

Hard Love...

Love is a lot of hard work made to look easy... with a smile or a touch or a word or a thought be it real or imagined! 

ஆங்கிலத்தூசுப்படிந்து

நீலக்கடலாம் வானம் அதன் அழகு தேக்கும் கடற்கரை மணலாம் சேர்ந்துநிறக்கும் சீர்மேகம்...
இவை இருந்தும் நல்லதொரு கவிதைத் தொடுக்கவில்லை...

ஒற்றை மரம் ஒன்று போதிக்கக்காத்திருந்தும், செவிமடுக்க அங்கொரு புத்தனில்லாதது போல் -
கற்பனைகள் தீர்ந்துபோன வெள்ளைக்காகிதக்குப்பையென என் பழைய கவிமனம் ...
காகிதங்கள் நிரப்பா... மரம்வெட்டா..., சீர்த்திருத்தமாய் மறியல் செய்யும் என் சொற்க்கூட்டம்...

பாரதியவன் தமிழ்நேசமும் அதை வாழவைக்கும் அவன் ஆசையும் சொன்னக்  கவிஞர் சிற்பியவரின் கரகோஷத்திற்குறிய கவிதைப்புத்தகம்...
                                                                                                      கைப்பைக்குள்... -      அது

தமிழ்மறியும் அவலத்தை அவர்கள் அழகாய்ச் சொன்னதை, வண்டியின் குலுங்கலில் மிதமாய் என் கையிடித்து குத்திக்காட்டியது...

பாரதியின் புதுமைப்பெண்ணாய் நான் பெருமைக்கொண்டிருந்தக் காலம் மாறுதல் கொண்டது சரி...

அவன் பாடல்கள் போலில்லாவிடிலும் தமிழ் ரசிக்கக்கூட வார்த்தைகள் வற்றிப்போன இந்தக்காலமும் நோக்கிட நேரிற்றே...

காதல் வந்ததில் சிலக்காலம் கவிதை அலைகள் அடித்துபுரண்டோடியது...
ஆனால் காலப்போக்கில் கண்ட வாழ்க்கைச்சஞ்சலங்களில் சாதல் கண்டதே என் இனியத்தமிழ்...

மீண்டும் பெருவேனோ அந்த முக்கனிக்காலங்கள், தமிழ்ப்பழகிய இளமைக்காலங்கள்...!?

யாதுமறியாத பண்ணிரண்டில் யாப்புமறியாது எழுதத்தொடங்கிய என் சின்னப்பிள்ளை மிட்டாய்த்தமிழ்...
மிடுக்காய் உடுத்தியப்பட்டுச்சொக்காய்ப்போல் சோக்காய் அணிந்து ஊர்வலம் வந்த என் செல்லத்தமிழ்...

மழலையாய் மலர்ந்த, பிழையிருந்தும் மாசில்லாத்தமிழ்...

                ஆங்கிலத்தூசுப்படிந்து மூலையில் ஒதுங்கிய என் பிள்ளைத்தமிழ்...

இப்பொழுது வெளுக்க முயற்சித்துக்கொண்டிருக்கிறேன்...

                                                                                                                            வருவாயோ?

முழுத்தூய்மையுடன் இல்லாவிடிலும் எனை வளர்த்தத்தத்தாய்மையுடன்....
             
                                                                                                         என் தாய்த்தமிழே...!!!

Note: I wrote as usual on a bus ride back from my native that I was recently on a visit to.  The scenic dryness usually brings forth some thoughts and words as id this time but i realized how little I write both in terms of frequency as well as the quality.  To top it, as mentioned had just done with the book - பாரதி, கைதி எண் 253 - by kavignyar Sirpi an of course had elements of influence from there both in the content as well as the style.

Disclaimer:
"ஆங்கிலத்தூசுப்படிந்து" is not intended to belittle English as a language, but merely to say that it has so seeped into crevices of the mother tongue that we have forgotten a lot of Tamil words and only know the English counterparts for daily use.

#DelhiGangRape

This question was haunting me the whole time I was following the news about the Delhi Gangrape Victim's condition but I never really came across an answer untill just now.

Why were her intestines removed? What could have led her to such huge amounts of infection?  I found the first clue when I read the iron rods used in the brutality is suspected to have caused the infection.  

But it did not answer how internal injuries/infection could have been caused by this - may be cuts and scratches came in contact.  Still how the intestines in particular? It did not add up.

And I was not surprised and nor should you be when I say I did not really imagine the answer though when I found it, it was obvious.  Of course!  But also, of course I did not imagine the answer!!! For it was the unthinkable!  Not even my lady-colleague who I called to show the article had imagined the answer.

I am not sure if this is being dumb or naive or what but that is probably how most of us felt - because this is unthinkable!

I found the answer here:

http://health.india.com/diseases-conditions/delhi-rape-case-why-such-brutality/

"Picture this – A 23-year-old girl with dreams of a great future shifts to Delhi from her hometown for further studies. She’s travelling in a bus with a friend when four men assault the duo with an iron rod and proceed to rape the girl with such unspeakable brutality that would make you shudder.

The girl is now in such a ‘critical’ condition that she needs a ventilator to breathe. The men not only raped her repeatedly but also beat her with a blunt object and shoved it into her vagina leading to multiple injuries all over.

Dr B. D. Athani, medical superintendent at the Safdarjung Hospital in Delhi said ‘She has sustained serious abdominal and genital injuries. It seems she was repeatedly hit with a blunt object on her abdomen or an object was shoved into her private parts. She has several injury marks on her body but the injury to the intestines has created a life-threatening condition. The girl has been operated on and large portions of her intestines were removed. She has lost a lot of blood but has regained consciousness."

I don't care about the fact that I am at office and I am welling up but now I fully comprehend the meaning of the description/compliment/admiration - A very brave girl - that is being rained on the victim.  

Even without the knowledge of the "how" the girl's intestines were damaged I already understood when they called her brave.

But this, this is enormous!!! I Salute her and I sincerely hope no one else gets is put in a spot as this which would require them to be so "brave".

And then, when not knowing the whole of the gory details I was already chanting - 'castration and may be even let to bleed to death' ----- not just for these bastards but for that matter any of the species roaming this planet violating from little children to adult women (sometimes even Men).  And now, knowing what I do..... 'death by castration' - fully justified...

Why be kind to the beasts by doing it chemically which is not only painless but also temporary?!

And how naive had I been when I thought I saw shame, guilt, fear, embarrassment in the eyes of a couple of guys who happened to unknowingly stand too close to me in a busy bus stop and I turned - with all that fear and vigilance of a woman on her own at a bus stop "as late as" 8.30 PM - to stare at them and 'shoo them away'.

That was a day after the #DelhiGangRape news-rage and I thought, 'this protest and coverage is probably reaching people'.  

But it is not about this message reaching the already educated and gentle men having enough humility to feel sorry and ashamed for what some of their gender did (are still doing in many parts).

This is about it reaching those who are not in a position to understand what is going and what it could all mean - may be under the influence of drugs - or without education or brought up that would have taught them, women are no lesser than themselves and they are in fact inferior if they thought they could wield "power" by committing any degree of violation of a woman.

Can we really teach them? May be not, may be only fear of the law and consequences would keep them at bay - which at this moment is apparently too frail to lift a finger, too slow to catch the bastards or too blind to see the harsh reality when there is no "sufficient evidence".

But how do we make sure we do not have more and more of this in future?
Catch them young! Reach out to the schools - no not just to the girls in the school to tell them how to be vigilant and safe - but to the boys in various schools from govt institutions to international ones - talk to the young ones and teach them to respect the girls as their equals and not take advantage of the others' (usually) relative frailty.

More importantly let us not make the mistake of even jokingly show our own sons and daughters any partiality/inequality that would be the first seed in their hearts that would grow into the tree of unintended but culturally imbibed/inherited dominance and chauvinism.   

Let us not become the grandmothers/fathers who used to wait to offer the one chocolate left, to the beloved grandson and hide it from the granddaughter sitting right there.

And I was avoiding writing on this for so long because I know this might not really contribute towards the change but the article I mentioned above just broke my restraint. 

I am atleast voicing my opinion and I hope it reaches atleast a couple of people and propagates through the infinite and all pervading social network towards "Action" somewhere, may be even in the smallest of small ways.

I wish I could physically join the protesters at India Gate and was not aware of the protests that happened here in bangalore when it did. And I am sorry I did not.

And it was not too long ago when I was sharing my opinion - India would probably never come together in a grand scale for anything - when I was discussing the situation in Egypt.

Today it has, and I am proud of my fellow countrymen/women making the government stagger back a few steps and pause and think before they spoke a jumble of stupid consolation that they would otherwise throw at all too knowing population - that which knew the list of diplomatic government responses byheart and did not care to see which one was being used at that instance.

I hope that we do not stop at this protest and that we followup untill solid action is taken - in terms of amended bills, safer roads, more equal and educated society; in the reality of seeing these and other such bastards castrated/hung for their unspeakable crimes.

For this and other victims of such brutalities, the survivors and the eternally struggling... Support and salutes, good thoughts and prayers!

P.S: I wrote this last morning and now the victim is even more critical than she was then.  And there has probably more of this inhumane act occured around the world.  

I am not sure this piece is all coherent nor enough to have a title that would make it look nice.  This is just my shame, outrage and anger.

The more I think about the fact that I am unable to do anything about this and am comfortably going on with my routine - with only a conscience to quieten, no doubt with the help of the villainous cynic labelled 'the practical' of the two that live inside my all too accommodating/adjusting Indian mind - the more I am agitated about what has happened to the once hot blooded young feminist fighting in every little chance I used to get for the "little" rights and freedom of women!  Oh of course! I grew up... grew old more like...

What would happen if I (read: a woman with Social Responsibilities) abandoned it all and went in search of enlightenment at 25 (if I get stupid enough to do that?!)...!?

Back in secondary school at KV - Syllabus A, we had a poem called Yashodhara ka Vilaap (forgive any speling mistakes) - about which I remember the feeling expressed than any of the lines.

It was a beautiful poetry about this character called Yashodara who is none othr than Buddha's very own wife queen; about her sorrow that her beloved left her and their only son in search of "enlightenment". 

It was a poem that touched me deeply.  I couldn't find it onilne right now (though I would like that very much), else I would share here.

So just imagine a rich king, abandons his wife and young child, goes off in the search of some peace or knowledge or God, however one may interpret - all vey noble and grea on his part but what about his wife and child. 

In the case of Rama, he abandons his wife (and unborn child(ren) as it turns out), for keeping with the thoughts of his people and upholding so called "King's duties to his people".

Now let us pause and see what is expected of these women or rather what do they end up doing? Worship their beloved husbands; Not giving in to their personal feelings and respecting them still.  And th worst part is - these apparently, not out of any compulsion...

They may be big hearted, but I am not.  I do not think the same would have happened if the roles were reversed...

Thes husbands  respecting their wives, understanding the causes that led them to act like that if they did much less worship them...!? Nien!  I do not know what is root cause - society, chauvenism, inert human nature... Whatever it may be, I do not know nor want to get into those...

Well, am I happy to be in this century of modern household and understanding and Gamma men...?!  Yeah Baby, definitely. :) 

I know even now they would not really apprecate if I left my house/family/"responsibilities" and went in search of "enlightenment" but atleast they are adjusting enough and understanding enough when need arises for an onsite... :)

Letter to the Bastards.....

You sickening bastards,

What the fcuk do you guys get from that?  It totally slips me...

I do not understand the joy of a fleeting second of your hand/body touching/hitting skin/dress?

Why cannot we enjoy a moment of let down guard?  Why should we be vigilant all the time?  Why is it our fault if we walk down a road enjoying the scenary instead of watching out for the sicko in every person we walk past. . .

Nobody is going to bother if you go to your fcuking corners at your homes and do sick things imagining random people you see on the road...  Atleast we wouldn't know. . .

Do you even know how humiliating it is, those few seconds/minutes?  Well, do you even care. .

There is almost no girl that does not have a flashback of having been abused.  Beginning right from childhood...  I really don't want to start on child abusers.  There would be no end, the sickest of you all. . .

And all those educated bastards... These are the decent ones - with their friends and aquaintances - but walk to the Pubs/Coffee Bars/Dance Floors or any place that has crowd/drink/smoke/dance/music - where women would want to let the hair down - and start showing their ugly side just because women are "out and bold enough to have our share of fun" . . .  They have the face to even say that to their friends -"well what are such places for... After all the women come there to have their drinks!"

Just because a woman drinks or goes out with her friends doesn't make her "easy"...

The things you do in public, range from flashing to brushing past to shagging to groping and pinching... What sickening joy?!!!!

Well, get this, I know it probably doesn't hit you at all, but in the weakest of your moments, where your inflated egos and disguised insecurities are exposed, remember this!  You are the most despised, hated beings that could ever live on earth. . .

Agony... Sweet!!

My eyelids close, my heartbeat slows . . .
I feel myself in rhythm with the silence around me . . .

It takes me high, stoops me low
I now not where I am, nor where I was ,
                              let alone where I should be
For I know not who I am, nor what!

Deafening silence bellows into my eardrums,
I keep my pace and lower my face
Burying myself into the deepest of crevices I find inside my darkened soul . . .

I see but there's no light and I see that there's no light
For darkened is this tunnel, this tunnel of void . . .

Moving through the fog and mist,
My body growing numb with cold . . .

Cold sweat breaks down my spine
And I find myself abandoned . . .
Naked fear my only wrapping . .

I see your face dawning close to mine
Like beckoning into more of pain
More of agony, sweet!!

And there I groan my last wish
Whisper my last kiss into your sinful lips. . .
                                My illusion . . .!!

And it all fades into more darkness
Irony, there was no light to begin with . . .!!!

An evolution of the dying . . .

There are just too many dead around me for me to care for one loss

There are just too many hurt around me for me to tend to one wound

There are just too many crying around me for me to wipe one tear

There is just too much sorrow for me to sympathize

There is just too much emotion in the around for me to empathise

This is my world

This is my life

And I am a walking corpse

And I look around once to realize I am one in a herd

And I pause and let the crowd go and realize it is not a small herd but a whole population

A civilization of dead

An evolution of the dying

I won't stay around happiness for long . . .

Don't keep me too happy,
'Coz I won't stay long then. . .

A soul that seeks the pleasures of sadness
that seeks the little points of light that leak in the crevices of darkness
I won't stay long around happiness. . .

Blessed with the curse of gloom and melancholy,
The joy of pity and the grace of sorrow,
The pride of shame and suffering insult -
Keep my sparce soul drugged. . .
So I won't stay long around happiness. . .

Thoughts of bitterness and memories of disgust
Keep me alive and remind me of my existence
N I won't stay long around happiness. . .

So don't try my love, to give me the joy of your heart. . .
Don't try my love, to keep me drunk -
drunk on your innocent love's insistance on laughter and sweetness
For I won't stay drunk for long my love...
I won't stick around happiness for long...

Let go of me I tell you,
For all I would do is hurt you
and hurt myself in the process
For I am drugged on sorrow my love

Clinging to the sheer pain of life
I draw you near to my weeping heart
Make you go through all that turmoil
For that is all I can hear in my head in the eternal silence of life

I live in a world of grey
where you are pricked and poked in different levels of pain
just so you would know that you are...

Which is why I tell you

I won't stay long around happiness...
For I am a soul that seeks the infinite bliss of killing one's own soul just so as to say "C you are alive"...!
- the ecstacy of slow death, a privilege of the mortals. . .

Whack!!

Heart is a pros***ute and the mind is the pimp!

Writing is like love, you can't decide to write even if you feel like you want to... It has to happen!

People lie because they're scared, either of telling "you" the truth or of the "truth itself"!

Theirs. . .

It was her.  He picked the ringing fone softly flashing her name to her fav song.  Her voice melodious as always, tugged at the depth of his heart. He could hear the excitement - of a secret about to be shared - in her voice, as she invited him to their fav meeting spot to tell him about something important, "for a special surprise" as she put it.  His eyes were softening at the sound of her voice, but also had the pain they always bore, whenever he heard her.  He smiled, so she could hear it in his voice and said he'll be there, for after all, he had been expecting this call.  He went about his day of work, without any visible distraction, but a neat undercurrent of memories, wishes, hopes, disappointments, love, misery.

He was there, 15 mins ahead in time and stood at the shore and let the lapping waves soothe his tired body while his heart raced.  But he exuded calm and cool, as always.  He sensed her and turned, she walked to the spot beside him and stood enjoying the soothing waves and the beautiful scenery, emanating soft beauty, as always.  The beach was mostly deserted at this late twilight hour.  They walked to their fav bench, she entwined her hand through his elbow on the way and he responded with a reassuring smile.

As they sat at the bench, she took his hand in hers and smiled, eyes widened, he understood her question and pretended a "no guesses" shrug of his shoulders but with enough enthusiasm to egg her on.  She placed his palm on her abdomen and he heard the faint but racing pulse as his own rose to match.  He searched her eyes and she replied with her twinkle eyed smile, cracking a dimple at one cheek.  He fell in love, all over again, as always.

"I did it", she said, almost trembling with passionate enthusiasm, "Artificial Insemination, State sperm Bank, they did not reveal the donor, not even to me, rules, and am only glad.  Called mom and dad and gave them the news.  They cut, not just the call."  He could see her swallowing the bitterness and disappointment gracefully and bring back her charming smile.  He wanted to engulf her in a hug.  "It's ok", she said as his care and worry for her showed in his eyes, "this heartbeat cures more than I imagined it would", she looked at her abdomen fondly.

He did not take his hand off her pulsing abdomen till they parted for the evening.  He dropped her at her door, a cozy little house where she lived alone, refused her offer to go inside with a whispered goodnight kiss on her forehead which she returned with a warm bear hug.

He left after she walked in and waved a good bye from inside the chain locked door.  He reached home, called up the doctors, the sperm bank and his confidente, the friend who pulled the strings.  Thanked them all  for her safety and for keeping his identity a secret, as a tear drop streaked his one cheek.

Your silken fingers with their roughened skin, gracefully wrap around my Jugular again…

Your knees pressing  hard against my ribcage
Your strong hands suffocating me more with each breath I take

I’m blacking out,
I’m seeing stars,
Losing my senses and fading fast
Present tense a pretense, the darkness of my past, Moving like shadows cast, in the night…

You change your mind, release a bit, the rush of air, disorienting me more,
You relent your grip, I try to get up and trip, face down…
You turn me on my back, run your fingers across my neck, resting your knees on my chest again…

I do not have the strength to be scared, nor the sense to surrender
I take rattling breaths, battling to stay alive, to feel you against me for some more time

Your silken fingers with their roughened skin,  gracefully wrap around my Jugular again…

I snuggle closer to you, you respond with a harder press of your knees on my chest…
I put my shivering hand, cold, around your waist, Your body hot from the exertion…


You place a delicious kiss on my charred lips, dry from the silent exhaution, making me long for more
You lovingly wipe my forehead, my panic sweat, making me yearn for more of that comfort…


I mutter and sputter, you lean in close, to listen to my death wish
I pull you close to me, my last remaining ounce (of energy) exerted, your hot breath on my face,
  moving a strand of stray hair, disheveled by my struggle.


Your grip not strong enough by the distraction now, I take that (the) chance to crane my neck to reach higher
I catch your lips with mine and you grant me my parting gift
And at that moment, in your eyes, I saw my imminent death…


I felt love, in your last strangle at my throat,
Your beautiful face was the last thing inhaled…
While your sensuous, lingering kiss, leveraged me into a final orgasm - Death…

I feel like some sci-fi movie clone that's in an identity crisis...

Don't you all, all you out there, working for a big brand company (IT industry), probably campus placement, that everybody recognises ur organisation back home but not doing anything unique... Well...

came up with the line (title) wen i wanted to comment on:

Brand Factory

nice blogs he's got there...

Disclaimer: no this is not a promotion, i do not know this guy apart from following his blogs...;P

22 Jan, 2009... onwards...

I am not a person who remembers birth dates of friends and family, not at all a thing to boast I agree, but one dear friend of mine is Durgha Murugesan and her birthday falls on the 22nd January.  I am talking about this day because this date, of the year 2009, happened to be one memorable day of my life, not in a good way I tell you.

The morning felt nice and good.  I, as I used to at that time, reached office early in the morning, around  7.45 AM.  As I walked out of the rest room to my ODC, I realized my dear little mobile, that was just a 2 yr old toddler, was not in its usual cozy cradle, a little side zip in my hand bag. Though I am known for my clumsiness and carelessness, I have lost really valuable possessions only once before, in that case, a pair of floaters from lotto, and that was a theft, nothing much I could do about it you see.

So this came as an unbelievable shock.  I knew these things happen but never really thought it would happen to me.  EVER.  I mean, losing a mobile, is NOT a joke, even though it was always a subject of my friends' joke that I never bought any of those fancy and/or costly mobiles, you see, it was a 2600 Nokia basic phone, an improvement relatively (I used a Nokia 6530 earlier, the blue screen one, an object of sentiment for it was the first mobile phone in my family, my bro used it before me, a service of 5 years, before I Reluctantly replaced it, only when it's battery died, even then after having a huge debate in my head as to whether I should try and fix it but gave up at the end - blame the peer pressure...)

So I thought the day was bad, adding to the uncertainty and mental chaos, for I had been tagged to a new account and was to be interviewed and monitored for a while to be given a roles in a project (basically about to be given work) . As I went here and there around the campus and on the immediate roads off the campus of my company, to try and find my mobile, in vain, trying out various theories and canceling them constantly, I was quite exhausted mentally and of course, you guessed it, UPSET.  Still I tried hard, called up the bus depot, tried to trace the bus and in fact dropped in to the office and inquired, if there was some miraculous way I could retrieve my little one (what was I even thinking, I used to commute by Govt. Transport).

This was followed by my blocking my SIM card and obtaining a Duplicate SIM, no problems here.

But my troubles had just started, I realized soon.  I had to withdraw some 6K for I was going out of town and had some things to settle and some big expenses.  I went to the ICICI ATM, at my office cafeteria (while I had an account with HDFC, not an unusal thing).  As my luck would have it, I only got a receipt for the transaction and a poorer bank account, but NO Cash!  When I saw the money refill guys, whatever they are called, my exhausted mind illusioned me into a moment of joy and relief (refused to let my reason be heard) and led me to them, asking if they could somehow just verify that the money was still there and hence just give it to me, nice and smooth.  SOMEHOW! For I really needed that cash, else why would I choose to take it right there, from a different ATM? (Just across the road, a few meters, I had the HDFC ATM, for you see, the amount of running around and procedures involved in reverting the cash becomes exponentially reduced when it is an intra bank problem than in an inter bank issue). 

And so it began, a series of running around (for about a month or more), not to mention the nice soothing advices I had to hear from the ever caring and ever doting Family, for my carelessness.  Grrr!

This was followed by getting caught dozing in the room where we were supposed to be learning and interacting - after a tummy full of lunch and a sore mind!!!  Oh, ya and the new duplicate that SIM I had got - it wouldn't get activated due to server issues, for the next two weeks when I was away, usually done in less than 24 hours.  HA!

Well well well... So on the 22nd Jan 2010, I thought that once I get to office, I would observe two minutes of silence for my beloved mobile (I took a real long time to get over my sweetheart) and to thank my life for not giving more days from hell, like that one.  A little nag that started two days before "the day"as to what if I lost something this time too, peeked its meek head with a glint of mischief in its eyes, and I shhssd it clutching my mobile tight in my palm. 

But well, I lost my new ear phones, much to the delight of the little phantom and my dismay, in the very same fashion! - Left behind in the bus.  I couldn't believe it.  This time I knew the sequence of events that led to it and cursed myself even worse, for I had been on the improving scale for the past few months when it came to my carelessness.  And that the pair was new! (Oh, did I not mention that I had lost the ones of my new mobile (in the bus!) just about a couple of months back? Looks like this new phone has not found its soul mate earphones - blame the Paulo Coelho books-thoughts in my head, they seem to have influenced my little mobile that interacts a lot with, well, my head)
So after a lot of cursing, muttering, running out of and into, the office, in just a space of 5 minutes, being called back by the boss, I was only grateful that it was not something worse (I was determined that I would not take my laptop to office, for earlier, the little evil phantom in my head kept stealing looks at it when it thought I did not notice, but you see I had noticed, and till that morning acted like I had not and at the last minute - much to its disappointment, left it back at home.  HA! Will fight till death, you little rut...)



So that is the legend of the 22nd January.  Hope it doesn't continue, at least, doesn't worsen... I believe it will not, for you see, I seem to have lost my ear phones and done such careless things even on the other days... :P I shouldn't have added these lines, it actually nullifies the whole object the earlier paragraphs, but couldn't resist... :P

Declaration: I am not suffering from Schizophrenia... :P

A few lines I wrote when I thought what would I say when I actually meet... May be this, may be not...

When I thought my life had drained out
       When I felt like a saint in an emotional turmoil

When I thought I had lost my last chance
       When I felt like a lost wanderer

I found you...

When I resigned to the fact that I'm alone
       When I had finally settled (for a) into a single skin

When I reserved my romances aside
       When I had decided to give up trying

I found you...

When I thought I'm probably better off on my own
       When I felt like I'm better when left alone

When I wished the world away
       When I drowned my soul in the shadow of my self

I found you...

When I had found the courage to run the road all alone
       When I had got around the idea of me, myself for eternity

When I convinced my heart to confide in none
       When I talked my tears into giving in to gravity (read: not expecting to be caught...)

I found you...

The bridge, the cliff and the gorge...

I was scared too... there was the cliff in front of me...  A narrow gorge...
A slender pane of wooden bridge connecting the two...
The depth below was appalling
I had to walk there without any support or railing...
I was standing there and looking at it with all my concentration trying to swallow my alto phobia and vertigo...
There was a rush and enthusiasm which was helping me, for I knew I had traveled far and wide to get here.
A journey no less taxing than the one I am faced with, may be even more...
There was the land I had wanted to reach, stretching vast, just across the cliff... My destination and may be even destiny, I hoped... For if it was the latter I am sure I would reach it, no matter what I believed...
But then, the crowd behind me were catcalling and jeering...
In the hopes of making me stay back, and not take this risk, they could not afford to lose me... The irony of it, for the means they were employing were not good, not good at all...
I had to take a deep breath... Before going on... But in all that stillness and silence, I could hear their taunts clearly...
The land across is foreign, ur mission inappropriate for a person of your potential, you would never succeed in accomplishing it, let alone crossing the bridge...
You don't even have a walking stick to balance you just in case, let alone a railing on the bridge...

That made me pause... The words were slowly trickling in, percolating into the gaps called self doubt in my made up mind...
I started to have second thoughts... Damn, I thought...
I should have bought a stick on my way here, like all those people who did...

Slowly I looked at them... They were threatening, pleading, staring, but always keeping a distance... But I was blind then, blind to have noted that distance, that give away... I could have done it... Damn those little gaps...

Now, I have turned back and traveled far... Traveled parallel to that cliff... I still see it... There are so many such bridges here and there... Waiting for me to take it one day... Still I have not bought myself a walking stick... But I know, it doesn't matter... I could have done it without it...

May be one day... May be not...