Sunday, December 23, 2012

It was not the driver who raped girl...

It was not just the driver who raped her

It wasn’t just the driver and his accomplices. Such monsters are not raised in a day. It takes meticulous planning. The nation has chalked out plans for this incident for 60 years. The citizens have put intricate details in it which has led to this inevitable feat. We will keep planning. This is not the first time. This is not the end.

While they were raping her, India stood guard. We cheered them as we have cheered such psychopaths a hundred times before. We will cheer them in the future too. After all, we created them. 

Are you not finding it coherent? Let me indulge you.

Politicians
You are the real termites of this country. The fact that the country is completely hollow because of you does not deter you. You still prowl like a blood sucking vampire and won’t be satiated till you drink the last drop of blood of our motherland. You were given a task. You took an oath of nation building. You could have stopped what happened. Long time back. Had you looked away from your money mongering, your own chairs, you would have realised the pitiable state in which the women of this country live. You would have made laws to make their lives better. You would have enforced those laws. But then they were not your vote banks. They could not turn your chair over. And now you call a rape victim ‘Zinda Laash’ (alive corpse)? You are not helping here to make them feel normal and accepted. Stop using a raped woman to advance your political motives. Stop shedding crocodile tears. Sexual harassment law is lingering in the parliament since 2005. If there is an iota of shame in your soulless body, stop being a virus. You have done enough harm. Do we have to carry you like an albatross around our necks for the rest of our lives?

Law enforcers
Your job is not to scare citizens. Your job is not to harass a rape victim. Your job is not to pass comments on the morality of women when they come to you for help. You are no better than the politicians. The very people whom you should be protecting are scared to come to you. You think that the women who report rape eye monetary advancements out of it. You think they are of loose moral values. And sometimes you even rape an already raped woman who has come to you for help. It is because of law enforcers like you that we are in this state. It is because of you that these rapes happen unabated, because you lack the will to protect. Because you have no idea what your job entails. Because you treat your job as a money-making machine. That girl is fighting for her life in a hospital because of the shameful negligence with which you have carried out your responsibilities over the last 60 years.

Media
You have already pushed the news to page 4 after Narendra Modi’s win in Gujrat. It shows where your concern lie. A story is masala for a few days till a bigger one washes it away. You would have kept the candle burning. You would have encouraged the people to bring the outcry to a logical end. But like the law enforcers, you have sold yourself to the termites.

And Bollywood – Congratulations for providing the much-needed objectifying of a woman’s body through the media. Yes, that is exactly what this sexually oppressed nation wants for entertainment. With all your Chikni Chamelis and Halkat Jawanis, you have done the harm. So, do us a favour. Do not shed crocodile tears for that girl lying in the hospital because you are equally responsible for raising those monsters that night. You have been brainwashing this country since decades – propagating sexual harassment euphemistically as eve-teasing. You have so menacingly raised those street-side Romeos who then splash acid on a girl because they could not differentiate between reality and cinema. Knowing very well that this is a powerful media, you could have changed the course, taken up responsibility. But you too, like the rest, turned things to your advantage. You kicked an already regressive society into the pit of regression in the name of masala entertainment.

And stop portraying rape victims as unwanted and shunned by society. Grow up and snap out of that money-making brain of yours.

We, the Citizens
Yes, we are the worse offenders. The citizens of this nation. Every time we treat our mothers, sisters, daughters and wives as secondary, we contribute towards this choking patriarchal society which then acts as an umbilical chord that feed those monsters. Every time we tell our daughters that they are weaker than boys, we stomp their mind with self-doubts. Every time we stop the education of our daughters because our son has to study, we help those monsters grow manifold. Putting our daughter-in-laws in place, killing girls in the womb, putting restrictions on women, not allowing them to follow their dreams – all these acts have fuelled the events to culminate to the mess we are in right now. We even have the audacity to question the morals and circumstances of a victim since she is not related to us. We have turned into selfish creeps who stand and stare at acts of crime. We tsk tsk rape victims as if it was their fault.

We have been doing this from the last 60 years. Have we not raised these silent equivalent of terrorist camps in our own houses? We have been drawing a dividing line and now it is permanent, raising Frankensteins one after another. Why are we recoiling now? It was we who gave courage to that man to insert a rod in a woman’s vagina.

A society which comes to this does not deserve a second chance. How I wish the Mayans were right.

Mother India has been continuously raped since our independence – by politicians, by law enforcers, by media and by us. She is wounded with bruises filled with pus. And we are that pus. Feeding on her. Killing her slowly. Her own children.

And that is her curse.

No, it wasn’t just the driver and his accomplices who raped the girl that night. And they are not the only one who should be hanged.

Posted from : Bhak sala page on facebook

Monday, August 29, 2011

Happy Birthday Month


It was my birthday in this month of August. Birthdays, to me have always meant to be the days when you deserve to be pampered, to be cuddled and given every happiness you wish for. And thankfully, I have always been with people who have made sure it remains so. Birthdays bring out the little kid in us every time. With new dresses, lot of presents and a desperate wait for the day to arrive, they are meant to bring the highs of life that not many things can. This one was equally special, and more so because I got to spend it with the best people of my life, after a gap of 2 years. Was worth every moment I have to stay away from them. The love, the blessings and not to mention, the most beautiful presents for surprise. Somethings just prove that no matter how much far we are, how much we say or don't, when the hearts are intertwined, we can listen to each others' wishes. Today, seeing those presents, all I can do is thank the almighty for blessing me with such wonderful people. Should be among the best of the birthdays I ever celebrated. And somewhere, deep down, the feeling is that such birthdays might just not come again. For there might be compromises here and there. There might be surprises much below expectations. And disappointments too. And the irony is: I will choose it for myself and won't be able to change it.

For once, just hoping against hope that I am wrong.That somebody, somewhere will prove this to be wrong.

Life is just going to be a compromise in the end. Why do we, then, keep trying to ensure it doesn't end up being one.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Bliss


bliss
is a man singing me poetry,
bliss
 a man playing a flute. 
bliss 
is when i am speechless, when i cannot fight back, when my ego is slashed. 
bliss 
is when wind blows my hair away from my face.
bliss
is riding on my brothers bike and us singing out nonsensical songs aloud. 
bliss 
is talking to a friend and getting a perspective, a compeletely new line of thought that you could never lay your hands on
bliss
is finding out soemthing new about someone you have known for ages and even then it is just in time. 
bliss
is waiting for a text message and getting it when you have lost hope. 
bliss
is YOU.
bliss 
is not wanting to wake up from the bed and not feeling guilty about it. 
bliss 
is being commfortable in your skin
bliss 
is listening to different versions of your favourite track.
bliss 
is listening to music and songs so beautiful that you cannot decide which one was better.
bliss
is reading someone writing your heart out
bliss
is shedding a tear when you kiss.
bliss
is finding out that someone is better than you expected.
bliss
is people living upto your expectations.
bliss
when you can be mad at someone without the fear of losing him/her.

bliss 
is the capacity of zero expectations.
bliss. 
is ME.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

A Call

The boy went near to  phone and sat down. With shaking hands, he picked the receiver up. His palms were wet with perspiration. His teeth were clenched, and he’d grabbed the receiver like it was some catch he was holding on to for his school cricket team.
After days of shaking and oohing and aahing, he was finally going to call her.
Some inner voice told him to relax. He wasn’t going to let this call go waste like all the other calls, (when he’d drop the phone down in terror as soon as it got picked up). He took a deep breathe and relaxed his hold over the phone. He knew he wasn’t completely relaxed, but he had the assurance that he’d written down his lines really well. With his heart pounding against his chest, he dialled the now-all-too-familiar number.
‘Hello’, said a soft female voice. He knew it was her. His heart told him that. His heart was now ramming against his chest. For a moment he thought his rib cage was in danger.
‘Hello.’ He replied, his voice shaking, left hand fumbling for the piece of paper. There was an awkward pause. He read from his paper, and his confidence came back. ‘Is it Ishita?’
‘Yes,’ came the unsure reply… slightly hesitant. ‘Who is this…???’
Bingo! This was exactly as he’d thought would be, and written down on the paper.
‘You down know me, but I know you very well’. Pat came his own reply, with an almost audible smirk. This was cool! Things were going exactly as he’d anticipated.
‘Oh really? How’s that?’
Now he was jumping up and down. Man! what a genius he was. Those were the exact words he’d written down on the paper. Oh, what a coup!
‘Like…you know sachin?’
‘Sachin, who Sachin?’
EEEYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…..
‘Sachin, arre don’t you know Sachin Tendulkar?’ World Cup 2011
‘Nope’.
The word was like a 1500W imersion rod to his ears. What a dumbass this chic is. His euphoria suddenly evaporated. This wasn’t supposed to be so. Everybody knows Sachin. Oh, Well. Never mind. Everybody knows Shahrukh, too.
‘Strange. You don’t know Sachin. Well, what about Shahrukh?’
‘Who Shahrukh?’
‘C’mon. Shahrukh. Shahrukh Khan. Don’t tell me you don’t know Shahrukh Khan.’
‘Well, I have no idea who he is.’
He was flabbergasted. The chic was supposed to say that she knew Sharukh and then he’d ask her did Shahrukh know her, to which she was supposed to reply that he didn’t and he’d say Lo! You know Shahrukh but Sharukh doesn’t know you, in same way, you don’t know me, but I know you very well. That was what he’d written down in the paper. Everything that had started off so smoothly was in chaos now.
‘Well, Amitabh, then. Amitabh Bachchan?’
‘No.’
He was really desperate now. ‘Hrithik! what about Hrithik? Hrithik Roshan? Dhoom part 2′, Kites, Guzarish
‘No.’
This was turnig out to be the worst conversation he’d had all his life.
‘Well then, whom do you know?’ he cried over the mouthpiece in desperation.
What came next was something he’d remember all his life.
‘GADHE! Mein TUJHE jaanti hoon. KHABARDAR jo aaj ke baad meri BETI ko phone kerne ki koshish ki toh!!!’
SLAM!

In a state of shock, he slowly replaced the receiver. He wanted to die now.

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