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!!! 

Punishment

I wanted the punishment.  I was upset about the punishment and wondered what it wud be like going through it but I was even more upset about having lost the precious little thing.  And it was not the first time I had lost similarly nor the punishment period.  Which invigorated me even more.  This time it has to be the final time.  So the punishment had to be equally severe and long so I will remember it enough to not lose again.

He was even more sad.  That I was punishing myself and he needs to just stand by and watch or even assist in the punishment by not letting me out of it.  I had begged and cried that he wud just stand by mute and watching while I go through it.

He was restless.  Every once in a while he wud try to bring up the conversation about 'enough' and try to slip me a relief. Sometimes he wud tempt me with one and test me.  After almost relishing the relief I wud quietly slip back into my resolve and go back to what I felt I needed.  May be for just some more time I wud tell myself when I really get tempted by his offers.

Then the day and the opportunity came... He had had enough.  He wanted me to shed my celibacy and have some fun.  He knew I liked what I was restraining myself from.  Once I forgot, got carried away with distraction and lost it.  Ok many times... So what life is short.  Yes he was angry too the last time.  After all it was quite something that I had lost.  But how long this state of isolation?

So when he got the replacements, it was surplus and he had a good reason to not carry it around with him now as he used to.  So he preferred the other and forced me to take this.  This time it was easier for him to convince me.  May be I was weak.  May be I had had enough.  May be it looked too beautiful to resist.  And the promise it had even as I gazed at it.

I knew this time I wud be more careful.  May be I wud guard it too much.  

So hesitantly I put on this white and new design of a earphones that he gave me.  Took a deep breath and pressed clicked on play without going to the music app.  I js wanted to feel the rush of whatever it played... After all it was after so long...

Rahman's one of the most simple and beautiful composition played through --- maanooththu mandaiyila maangutti petha maiyile --- it filled me up... as the song filled my heart through my ears!!!

The wonderful voice and almost acting modulation sand emote of SPB brought a smile and I did not care that I was in the bus.

It was worth it! And thank you Suresh for tempting me to take it.  It was worth the sinful way my heart rejoiced in the song!!! 

P.S.  I couldn't help the exaggeration. :P Been long since took to the pen so forgive me... ;)

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! 

தவறு செய்யத்தூண்டும்

மறுமுறை தவறு செய்யத்தூண்டும் உன் மன்னிப்பு முத்தங்கள்...

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...