THE EARTH IS 'SHAKIN N MOVIN'

I was about to call it a day and had just slipped into my warm mink blanket when the my cell phone vibrated, twice to be precise. I checked it but there wasn't any call, text or whatsapp message. Feeling dizzy I ignored this and wrapped the blanket around myself, when suddenly the phone vibrated again and this time not just the phone, but the table, the lamp the alarm clock and everything on the table started shaking. Before some stupid hollywood plot about hallucination could impede my thought process, I realized it was an earthquake. An earthquake, again? A week ago the National Capital Region (NCR) experienced familiar tremors, and again the ground beneath is jolting. Is it the wrath of god about the universal paap ka ghada or is it some divine alarm clock alerting the mango man that do not make a fool out of yourself again this election season or is it the tectonic plate mumble jumble? Anyhow, whatever it is, it is scary to never know whether the vibrations one experiences are from an empty stomach or from down under.

On a serious note, the rise in the frequency of these tremors is a cause of grave concern for the residents of NCR. Not only does such fiasco causes commotion but also it is a live wire risk for the 'not so quake proof' buildings of the capital. The greater risk is for the people who are devoid of home or are living in temporary arrangements that cannot bear the brunt of the quake that is not so sporadic now. But the grass is not too green on the other side as well. With most of the buildings violating the ground rules and not being built in quake resistant format despite New Delhi being in the most quake prone region, this city runs a great risk of endangering lives and properties with a magnitude which one fears to fathom.

The government needs to quicken the pace of preparation for meeting a disaster in case the need of the hour is such.  The multifold, so called, Disaster Management Committees need to conduct multiple mock drills for ensuring that people are do not meet the disaster unprepared and naked. 
                                                                 Beat the quake!

Hallowed Be 'My' Name

            Who am I? It is a question I repeatedly ask myself when I face obstructions in life. These obstructions are not the usual ones, but those that wake me up at three in the morning and force a question down my throat - What did I achieve yesterday that I sleep so soundly? It is at these moments that I realize that I am still a zero or to put more vociferously, my existence is as good as nothing. People do not give a damn thought as to who I am and what I achieved in life. How many people remember when I was born? How many people shall be affected if I were to die at this very moment? And then I have a clear picture in front of me which says that I am of no significance whatsoever to anybody - neither for those who squander away their life in vain nor to those who are so busy proving their worth to society that they don't have time for anyone. These not so sporadic 3 o' clocks in the mornings make me contemplate my plans about becoming what I aspire to be - a legend of my craft.

          I love watching biopics and interviews and my reading collection comprises of a good number of biographies/ autobiographies. My favorite film happens to be Chaplin(1992), needless to mention whose biopic it is. The last scene, where an aged Charlie Chaplin watches an assemblage of scenes from his films, during the Oscars where he is to be honored with Lifetime Achievement Award, and then with watery eyes he gets up from his wheelchair to deliver his speech , gives me goosebumps. I feel awestruck doesn't matter how many times I go through that scene. I imagine myself in Chaplin's shoes and for a brief period of time I feel the pride, the emotions, the respect and the admiration that is being bestowed. But, then reality resurfaces and I am left with nothing but a silence. But, that silence is not the usual one, it has a peculiar hum, a pulse that pours into my ears like molten wax. That feeling I suppose is that of a guilt I harbor due to my lack of efforts and the fact that I gave up so easily on occasions wherein a little more perseverance would have made things so much better for me.
               It is so easy to get inspired, motivated and sometimes the adrenalin rush takes away your sleep. Sometimes the admiration comes from legends like Chaplin, who are the torchbearers of their respective fields, and sometimes the zeal to achieve comes from people who hate you, who mock at your credentials, who try to undermine your potential and keep you down. I have had so many of such nincompoops who feel that entire sphere is their baap ka maal and who have no desire to innovate as they have surrendered to the cliched yet ever so successful formula of CCP (cut-copy-paste). I am quite sure that this isn't just my observation because such degraded and rotten specimens of homo sapiens are all around us - here, there and everywhere! The frustration sometimes gets the better of me and I feel like quitting everything and leave for the mountains as a hermit. But, at such torrid times the biographies come to my aid and I am reminded of the countless impediments the legends had to face to get where they stand now.
               I know I am nothing as of now and my credentials do not speak volumes about my talent but still the seed of inspiration that was sown in my heart long ago has germinated and the roots have spread deep. There is no turning back for me, I have left the comforts of life behind and a thorny path awaits me. It beckons me towards a plethora of challenges and quests that are yet unconquered and perhaps I can vanquish those yet unscaled peaks. Jim Moriarty from the BBC series Sherlock famously remarked, staying alive can be boring 'cause its just staying!. I don't want to stay stagnant, like a river I want to flow and flow vigorously, pounding every distraction and surpassing every impediment.
              Lastly, I wind up this disquisition with the most innate desire of mine. I want to die as a legend leaving behind a cult that has but only one emotion for me - respect! So what am I doing to be inspired right now? I am listening to 'Cult of Personality' by Living Colors, which by the way is CM Punk's titantron!! \m/

प्यार : वो भी था और ये भी है!!

उस ज़माने का प्यार ........
पेड़ों के इर्द गिर्द झूमता वो प्यार ........
उन पेड़ों की शाखाओं  पर बैठे दो पंछियों सा प्यार .........
वो प्यार ......
आपस में लिपटी फूलों की पंखुड़ियों के जैसा परस्पर वो प्यार ...........
चाँद को तोड़ लाने वाले वादों सा वो प्यार ...............
साथ जीने मरने की कसमों सा वो प्यार ................
वो प्यार ...........
प्रियतम के इंतज़ार में जलती बुझती शमा सा वो प्यार ..............
पहली छुअन के एहसासों से वक़्त के पैमाने पे थमा सा वो प्यार ..............
वो प्यार ...............
वो प्यार ना जाने कहाँ खो सा गया है !
इस ज़माने का प्यार ........
चुनाव से पहले बनती गलत - सलत नीतियों सा ये प्यार ...................
मीठे कि महक से सनक उठतीं 'लाल चीटियों' सा ये प्यार ..........
ये प्यार .........
पल पल बदलते फेसबुक के स्टेटस सा ये प्यार ...............
भावनाओं कि कसौटी पर बेबस सा ये प्यार .................
ये प्यार ...........
इस खोखले समाज के तानों सा ये प्यार ......
चोरी के फ़िल्मी गानों सा ये प्यार ........
शरीर पर लगी गुम चोट सा ये प्यार .......
किसी शातिर के दिल में छुपे खोट सा ये प्यार ............
ये प्यार ............
ना और लिख सकूंगा कि दिल के दर्द से स्याही भी लाल है .................
जो कभी पुख़ता सच था वो आज बस ख्याल है ..............
पर दिल दिलासा देता है कि ना घबरा मेरे दोस्त के अभी भी कुछ तो ठीक है…
ऐसे परवाने अभी भी ज़िंदा हैं जिनके लिए मुहब्बत पवित्रता कि गरिमा का प्रतीक है .............

STATE ELECTIONS 2013: RAJASTHAN

A good trailer can compel the audience to throng the cinema halls and tag the film as a hit. The jamboree is always attracted to the 'first look'. Quite similar are the coming state elections in the five states, namely, Delhi, Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Chattisgarh and Mizoram. These elections are going to be the precursors of the Assembly Elections to be held in 2014. This is like prototype testing where in the parties will get to witness the mood of the people and also to make amends in their tactics and policies in the duration between the two elections. A great game is about to begin, which will showcase the manipulation tactics and the nation will get to see the rat race.

Rajasthan, the regal state and the largest state of India might prove to be the center stage of political sand storm. The incumbent CM Ashok Gehlot has launched a plethora of populist measures supported by the media onslaught. Still, the frown on his forehead is clearly visible in lieu of the rising number of cases dealing with sexual exploitation of women against a number of his ministers. Former CM Vasundhara Raje is too leaving no stone unturned in making sure that  the reign of Congress is a mere guest for two months that remain. Rajasthan has 200 seats in total and the winner needs 101 votes for cementing the victory. With the elections scheduled on December 1, it is going to be an arduous task for any of the cohorts to impress an agitated lot of around 40 million voters.

Congress is under tremendous pressure with the serious allegations on its leaders who have a strong hold on their respective constituencies and their communities and with BJP releasing their black papers, these are dark times for the the incumbent CM and his governance. Whereas BJP is crouching like a predator, waiting for its prey to get clumsy and then attack it with all might. The opposition party is organizing rath yatraas to propagate its agendas and convince the voters to cast vote in their favour. 

According to the recent surveys by Times Now-India TV-C Voter BJP leads with 97 seats followed by Congress with 79 and others with 24. Also, according to Hindustan Times-C Fore survey BJP is way ahead than Congress with 118 seats while the latter manages a meagre 64 and others claiming 18 seats. These polls, biased or unbiased, are an indicative of the changing tides in the state. Doesn't matter how much CM Gehlot discards them where there is a fire there is always smoke.     

And as always, the common man has to choose among the leaders who are less corrupt and who have less cases against their names. They are not concerned with the yatras but with what measures are taken towards their well being. So, rather than the ugly spat the political cohorts should focus on the ever so neglected 'welfare of the masses'. But, going by the aggressive expansions at both ends, welfare days are still far away from reality.

DURGA PUJA - AN EXPIRIENCE AT C R PARK

The city of joy Kolkata is 1479 kms from New Delhi, but during Vijay Dashami  the entire Bengal seemed to have taken over Delhi in terms of the ambiance, specifically at C R Park. As I entered the place, the beats of the dhaak took over me and I felt enchanted. The entire area was decorated like a beautiful bride endowed with beauty, grace, glitter and mesmerizing belle. The whole place was swarmed with devotees of Maa Durga who had come to celebrate the victory of good over evil. Amidst all the grace and vigor there was this peculiar challenge, which pandal to chose? For those who are unaware of what a pandal is, like I was earlier, it is fabricated structure, either temporary or permanent, in a religious ceremony. The fact that I refer to it as a challenge is because every pandal had a flavor of its own and an aura that was distinct and wonderful.

Finally, I, getting rid of all confusion, decided to enter a pandal that was the nearest. The first sight was that of a behemoth statue of Goddess Durga depicting the slaying of the demon Mahishasur. It was difficult to get eyes off such a admirable sight. Near the statue there were young and old alike, all dancing to the beats of the dhaak. On the stage the organizers were busy with the pujari, when suddenly the people were made aware of the arrival of social activist and Chief Ministerial candidate for coming elections, Arvind Kejriwal. He very aptly used the occasion to further profess the agenda of anti corruption and was swarmed by media and common people alike. He projected himself as the crusader of anti-corruption movement and predicted his victory. After his departure the function continued with the same vigor as before.

Apart from  the worshipping, the pandals were loaded with eating outlets. My personal favorites were phuchkaa and chuskee. There lot of food items were available for both vegetarians and non-vegetarians and some shops were even there for the promotion of their brands. The devotees were dancing in trance and it was a beautiful sight to witness. I spoke to a lot of people about the significance of this time of year in general and in their respective lives and in turn got some wonderful answers. All in all, the experience was unique and wonderful and though I have not been to Kolkata ever I have got an idea as to what it would feel like to be there at this time.

মে দেবী দুর্গা আমাদের সব আশীর্বাদ এবং আমাদের মন, শরীর ও আত্মা থেকে মন্দ বাছা (may Goddess Durga bless us all and eliminate the evil from our mind, body and soul).

THE INFALLIBLE GOD AND THE UNBREAKABLE WALL

THE INFALLIBLE GOD AND THE UNBREAKABLE WALL

               2013 is perhaps the year which every ardent cricket fan detested thinking about for  the last two and a half decades but which inevitably arrived on the scene. Two torchbearers, two colossal giants of the cricketing fraternity decided to call it a day. One is the uncrackable and unbreachable wall and the other is the almighty incarnate. Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid are two names synonymous to the spirit, the class and the legacy of the gentlemen sport. Both these ingenious connoisseurs have given invaluable service not just  to the sport but the nation as well. One is the idol for those want to break conventions and the other is the embodiment of patience. At a time when the Indian cricket is marred by conspiracies, these two stalwarts will be missed on the field forever.
Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar arrived on the scene when the first little master of Indian Cricket Sunil Gavaskar had just retired. There were doubts in the minds of critics as to whether Sachin would be able to survive the fierce competition leave alone the question of his being able to cope up with the aura of Gavaskar. The so called experts ridiculed his usage of a heavy bat and forecasted that this little kid would not last long. But, the master proved everyone wrong as he massacred legendary bowlers like Abdul Qadir, Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath, Courtney Walsh, Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Mutthaiyah Murlitharan, Brett Lee and the list goes on and on. Even the modern era speedsters and spinners like Dale Stayn and Saeed Ajmal have witnessed the carnage. His delightful straight drives, hooks, leg glances, cuts and cheeky shots are imbibed in the minds of his countless fans like their own names and identity. Even a Ghajini would not dare to omit them.  Lastly, as Ravi Shastri described him when he reached the first double hundred on Earth in an ODI, Sachin Tendulkar is indeed the 'superman' of world cricket.
When the God of patience was looking for a human abode on Earth he chose the gentlemen whom his ardent fans would confer the title of 'The Wall'. Rahul Dravid was not born to entertain but to contain. He was like Bheeshma Pitamaah for the team and would soak in the entire pressure so that  others could play freely. A selfless team man, he never took the credit of any victory and always shared the it with his fellows. Who can forget those sights when pacers used to charge into him with all their might and he would simply block the deliveries or let them fly by! The rock solid defence made him the the most dependable player in the team.  He became the first man to have scored a century against each of the test playing nations and was also the first non Australian cricketer to address at the Bradman Oration in 2011. If one ever looks at the greek god Atlas supporting the Earth on his shoulder, a direct and absolutely correct collation can be made about Dravid's role in Indian cricket.
Though both the legends are not going to be active on the field when Sachin plays his 200th test match  their behemoth shadow will be seen regularly in form of the new crops of Indian batters. The stance, the shots and the mannerism of every modern day cricketer has something or the other to do with these gentlemen. However, their retirement is at a time when corruption is rampant in cricket and big corporate honchos are eating away the morals and the ethics of young budding aspirants. It is time when both Sachin and Dravid take up the mantle of mentors and preach what is good for the cricket so that amidst the glamour and glaze the spirit remains alive. Both these legends cannot be replicated but their skills, integrity of character and their passion for the game can be.
Adversity causes some men to break; others to break records - William Arthur Ward 

THE DISTINCT VISAGE OF RAMLEELA

                With winter around the corner and the petrichor getting more intense, a sudden excitement starts building as the festivals start getting more frequent in the calendar. The first to knock on the door is Dussera or Vijaydashmi. Associated with this festival is the common practice of organizing Ramleelas. There is absolutely no need for anyone to elaborate on what it is, how it is and what goes on in it because it is very innate in our culture and our lives. As a kid I remember having visited the nearest Ramleela, to my home, almost each day. The street food, the magic shows, the shoddy caricatures of Essel World rides, the swords, arrows, bows and not to forget the theatrical depiction of the Ramayana.  Playing at the backdrop of all these activities were the melodious bhajans in the mesmerizing voice of the late ghazal maestro Jagjit Singh. Those were the good times.

                Nowadays, Ramleela has been reduced to a minuscule of its old self. The bhajans have been replaced with crass cacophony, the street food stalls are deserted with the arrival of big brands, the children don't find the ancient warfare tools are interesting as the new gizmos and Ramayana is portrayed by soulless individuals. The entire fair looks like a chaotic gathering, as if the soul of the Ramleela has been drenched and the jamboree is just a customary ritual.   

                An air of artificiality prevailed when I entered the Ramleela ground in my city. Hawkers were buzzing around humming some gibberish which somehow was related to the merchandise  they were selling.  Moving on I saw a great divide between the old version of the fair and the new, between the people who were startled by the color of the fair and people who were disgusted at the sight of what they thought to be too local for their taste, in short the stereotyped divide between the rich and the mediocre. The rides were deserted and no body seemed to care about the theme of the fair. I felt claustrophobic, even in a big ground as it was and rather than the frolic I experienced as a child the entire canvas of the Ramleela irritated me.

                Being an avid fan of theater I decided to watch the Ramayan on stage. This was the last chance I was willing to to give myself to still believe that the horrendous show would still poses some elements of yesteryear's that would help it linger on to its former glory. However, yet again, I was dispointed and disgusted, as what I saw in the name of the depiction of the epic was a complete third class caricature with absolute nincompoops acting on the stage and raping the esteem these naataks have amassed over the years.

                I am short of words to pen a conclusion to this misadventure of mine. I have had a special emotional association with the Ramleela since childhood. It was my stress buster during and after the half yearly exams, it was the time when I used to meet my friends and enjoy imbecility at its purest and highest form, it was an opportunity at marveling the obedience of Ram, the loyalty of Hanuman, the thundering voice of Ravana and the devotion of Seeta. But now,  it is a not even a speck of dust of its former past. And as far as my question of visiting it next year is concerned, well all I can do is nothing but recollect a saying from the Buddha - Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.

                 

Five Broken Cameras

A Review

Directed by	·         Emad Burnat ·         Guy Davidi
Produced by	·         Christine Camdessus ·         Serge Gordey ·         Emad Burnat ·         Guy Davidi
Written by	·         Guy Davidi
Music by	Le Trio Joubran
Cinematography	Emad Burnat
Editing by	·         Véronique Lagoarde–Ségot ·         Guy Davidi
Distributed by	Kino Lorber
Release date(s)	·         November 23, 2011
Running time	90 minutes
Country	Palestine Israel France
Language	·         Arabic ·         Hebrew

            Bertrand Russell once remarked, “War does not determine who is right - only who is left.” The conflict between Israel and Palestine is not new and every now and then the news bulletins are flashing a story on it. But, not many know what actually happens on the borders and this is what ‘Five Broken Camera’ very aptly depicts. From the opening scene when Emad’s youngest son is born and the revolution to protect his village’s land from Israeli seizure begins, a unique parallel is drawn depicting the existence of human life midst the conflict. The film is divided into five segments shot from five cameras, which in itself is a unique concept as the destruction of each of the cameras depicts the amount of struggle Emad had to do to bring forth the plight of his people.

            Each of the sequences shot describe various timelines of the resistance. Each and every scene is intriguing and depicts the reality very aptly. The involvement of the villagers to save their land makes one think as to what the audiences across the globe are catered with is really news or cooked up facts? Some of the scenes like Emad getting shot and his brother being killed by Israeli forces are disturbing yet they portray the valour and audacity of the people of Bil’in who are willing to die for their village. The involvement of Israeli and international activists brings to light the disparity in the public opinion and what the government considers to be public opinion, but is thier own agenda. Emad’s camera not only shoots the entire struggle, in fact, it becomes its symbol. His struggle to film the incidents and the family tussle create impediments for his work but he doesn’t gives up and continues shooting despite threats from the army.

            The film is an honest effort to showcase the reality that never even touches the periphery of a common man’s living room. There is not much to say but to admire the courage of people associated with filming and the excellent work of the editing team. To be precise and clear, one the most appealing documentaries of our times is '5 Broken Cameras', go for it!

Rating: 9/10

Thumbs Up: Watch out for some very powerful scenes like the one in which Emad showcases his broken cameras like they are some war souvenirs.  

Thumbs Down: I’ll be damned if I write anything here!!

THE WAR YOU DON’T SEE

A REVIEW

Directed by	Alan Lowery           John Pilger
Produced by	Alan Lowery            John Pilger            Christopher Hird
Written by	John Pilger
Narrated by	John Pilger
Starring	John Pilger             Rageh Omaar             Dan Rather             Mark Curtis             Carne Ross             Cynthia McKinney             Julian Assange
Music by	Sacha Puttnam
Cinematography	Rupert Binsley
Editing by	Joe Frost
Studio	Dartmouth Films
Release date(s)	December 13, 2010
Running time	97 min
Country	United Kingdom
Language	English

            The real casualty of war, indeed, is truth but, it isn't the only casualty. The war that you don't see is an intriguing documentary that takes the viewer beyond the veil and exposes the bitter reality behind the wars that take place in the name of valour, courage and sacrifice. John Pilger, who has been a vociferous critic of the ‘imperialist’ foreign policies of USA, UK and Australia, has once again raised the issue of useless and needless wars in the name of establishing democracy in the so called disturbed regions and also taunted the culture of the so called ‘embedded journalists’ .

            The film begins with the World War I Prime Minister of Britain David Lloyd George telling the, then, Guardian editor C P Scott that, “If the people really knew the truth, the war would be stopped tomorrow.” What follows is a series of questionnaire to eminent media personalities like Stuart Ewen, Melvin Goodman, Dan Rather, Rageh Omaar, David Rose, Dahr Jamail, Mark Manning etc. and exclusive footage that reveal the real life scenarios during the Iraq war shootouts killing innocent civilians. Mr. Pilger also interviews former British diplomat Carne Ross and the US Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney, who, respectively, testify the sufferings of Iraqi civilians and criticize the Obama administration for not withdrawing the troops. Then comes the whistleblowing icon Julian Assange who asserts that, investigative journalists are the number one threat to the menacing activities of the west. The documentary ends with John Pilger quoting Claud Cockburn that, “believe nothing until it has been officially denied”.

            The film has been shot in a very appealing style. The video footages are not very disturbing but they do quiz a common man’s notion about war. However, the interviews seem to be very soft in tone and could have been more ‘dig in deep’ kind of. But, all in all, it is a film that forces the viewer to think of what he is fed in the name of information and what actually happens, as if there is a matrix that creates an illusion called ‘news’.

RATING: 8 out of 10

THUMBS UP: Watch out for the scenes when Bush and Blair are taking a stroll in the park, regardless of the havoc they caused and the clip in which the ex U.S soldier Ethan McCord is running with the injured Iraqi children in his arms.

THUMBS DOWN:  The interviews seem heavily scripted.

THE PADOSI CHRONICLES - 1

THE PADOSI CHRONICLES

CHAPTER 1

BABLOO

I had just completed the last mudra of Mandook-aasan (The Frog Posture), in the balcony, when I was perturbed by a whistling sound, which was quite unusual at 6.30 am in the morning, in my locality. Distraught by the crass cacophony I looked around and was shocked to witness my padosi ka ladka (neighbors’ son) Babloo, the personification of the angel of slumber himself, up early. The mystery of his early awakening was pissing me off when, a keen observant that I am, I noticed a behemoth smart phone dripping out of his pajama pocket, which he eventually took out. Suddenly, he started beaming towards me and waved his inhuman paw clutching that smart phone. I loathly retorted in the same gesture. While having tea later, I realized the reason he got up so early – to show off! Since I usually leave for college much earlier than he gets up and come later than he does (which, luckily, is the reason of our sporadic interactions), Babloo devised this sinister ploy to flaunt his novel device.

Babloo and his ismaart phone soon became popular in the locality. Frankly, I was jealous, because nobody noticed my smart phone, which, I agree, was smaller and cheaper than Babloo’s – whatever! His vexing mataji, my mother’s kitty colleague, further irked me with the gibberish about Babloo’s corpulent salary. Every day I had to hear about Babloo, his salary, his job and of course, that bugger, son of a metal smart phone. I had had it! Something had to be done to contain this virus of belligerent exhibition. If I had a Dexter’s Lab, I swear to God I would have used every bit of the techno babble that exists to decimate Babloo’s smart phone the very moment he tried flaunting it. Seemingly destined for Arkham Asylum, I got some respite from this routine when I had to stay at a friend’s place for the weekend. But the query remained – how will I bear the sight of that arrogant dork, dobaaraa?

On getting back, maa welcomed me with a queer smile. I marveled at her guts. Maa so brave of you to smile even as the Enemy is at the Gates - I remarked, to which she burst out laughing.  Gazing the quizzical look I bore, she revealed – Babloo ka phone, gaadi aur purse chori ho gaya! (Babloo’s wallet, car and the smart phone were robbed).  I jumped in joy, my energy was contagious and I was more delighted than I had ever been in my entire life!  Maa further elaborated that Babloo had gone out on a blind date with a lady who claimed to have been smitten by his display picture on a social networking website in which he was showing off his phone (yes he is added in my list, so what?) but, when he reached the agreed spot he was ambushed and robbed. I was elated and wondered if I had any psychic potency, because if it was God’s wrath on Babloo, then it was the result of my constant malediction. A remorseless individual, I didn’t even visit to reconcile the brittle, battered and broken Babloo, though I wonder what he must have sad about – the smart phone or being duped in ‘blind’ love?

Next morning, back at the balcony, the breeze seemed cooler and more fragrant than ever before. There was no sign of Babloo, this time not because of slumber but due to shame, I believe. But, who cares as long as the serene morning is not disturbed by yet another tuneless toad from the bingle bob? I plugged in my head phones and lungi dance took on and I said to myself – who’s the THALAIVA(boss) now?

                   WHEN WILL WOMEN BREATHE FREE?

“AGLE JANAM MOHE BITYA NAA KIJO……………”. I got to hear these lines while watching a daily soap on a television channel (obviously with my mom). The translation goes like this – “Oh Almighty! Do not make me be born again as a daughter…..”. I was a little baffled, to be honest, as to why would a woman make such a discomfited statement because it did not sound logical to me with someone raising a hue and cry over the gender endowed upon. I, like so many of the unconcerned males of this flamboyant nation, was too much ignorant to the atrocities that women, irrespective of their age, have to undergo each day on the streets, in the offices and even within the walls of their own homes. I was just 14 then and was not at all aware of what harassment meant but I knew it was something ugly, 8 years later, even now there is not a day when I do not come across a news headline highlighting the fact that this nation, with a great cultural heritage, that worships females as goddess, has become a breeding ground for innumerable diabolic wolverines and sabertooths who can rip off a woman’s dignity whenever and wherever they desire to do so. The recent unfortunate events in the heart of our motherland have shocked me to the core. I cannot even dare to, even by mistake, conceive of the pain and the humiliation that, those poor sisters of mine have to bear as a result of the barbaric treatment inflicted upon them, now and again.

The question is why are women being subject to such heinous behaviour? Does that mean that they have to stick to old chauvinistic statutes of bygone eras? Today when women are receiving education and are excelling in every domain in life thus claiming their rights over public spaces, then these incidences can only be attributed to the insecurity that some of the primitive, uneducated egoistic and brainless menfolk harbour in their mind. And now, when public is on streets protesting against these inhuman activities then we get to hear all kinds of possible excuses that can be formulated by the concerned authorities and not to forget the silly comment on the maryada that Indian women are supposed to follow. Today women are afraid to venture out after dark because, with family or not, they are not sure if they are going to return safely. They have to be always watchful - of the lustful eyes of innumerable men that are scanning them head to toe, of the venomous lips that are passing lewd remarks and of those devilish hand without faces that touch them in a crowded spot. There is no respite for women, rich or poor, educated or uneducated, married, unmarried or widowed. From a toddler to a senior citizen, women are being subject to every form of harassment mercilessly.

I use public transport for commuting to and fro my workplace and it is a daily routine that I witness an uncivilized gesture towards women in some form or the other, which includes an autorikshaw driver deliberately stopping his vehicle in front of a woman and trying to compel her to board it, then the ’elite and educated’ young men from various colleges diagnosing the framework of some random young girl and then passing some uncultured remarks or throwing that predatory smile et cetera. Not so different is the corporate culture of our nation where the men are yet to come to terms with the fact that women can be equally competent as they are. One can very easily gauge out to the cases of sexual harassment in the offices - a senior official demand romantic pleasures in return of increment and promotions, a female employee being ogled at for the kind of garments she dons, a male colleague placing his hands on their female counterpart’s knees in the name of casual conversations, morphed photographs to seek revenge and degrade a female employee’s image and credentials and the list goes on. There is no place where one can assure the safety of women and this is an extremely shameful fact for a nation that boasts of its cultural richness.

Now the question arises, why do rape incidents occur? Is it just the lust in the menfolk of our society that is not quenched even with the, more than enough, dosage of vulgarity being served on a silver platter by films and with the extremely uncivilized lyrics being used in the popular numbers? Or, is it some other reason that is driving these inhuman barbarians towards insanity? According to what I have observed in the newspaper articles, the bulletins being broadcasted and the debates being conducted, the reason comes out to be – ‘pure and unadulterated quest for total dominance’ arising due to their extremely high patriarchal egos! According to an article published in one of India’s leading newspapers, the psychoanalysis of a rapist shows that:

1. A rapist has undergone some kind of sexual exploitation, sometime in his life, which he wants the opposite gender to suffer.
2. A rapist is very insecure about the fact that the opposite gender can overshadow his potential.  
3. A rapist wants to inflict his sexual fantasies on his opposite gender.
4. A rapist wants to exercise complete dominance over his opposite gender.
5. A rapist has a chauvinistic mind-set that women are subject to exploitation only.

This is quite a clear indicator in itself that perpetrators of such heinous a crime as rape  are not mentally very sound, ethically ill-mannered and morally corrupt. This all is the outcome of the chauvinism that has percolated over the centuries in this male dominated, son worshipping and ‘whatever-crap-term-you-can-think-of’ society of ours.

                I do not know what measure to suggest because it hardly would be implemented because, firstly, this is a non-commercial blog and secondly, we Indians have a very obnoxious habit of ‘moving on’ irrespective of whatever crap that happens around us. Still, considering myself a part of this neo-India that knows the difference between right and wrong I would want to throw in a few suggestion, which are:

1. Co-educational schooling should be encouraged with special emphasis on sex education and gender awareness.
2. Parents should take the onus if ensuring equality between their male and female children and thus encourage them to reflect this gender equality in all spheres of life.
3. Menfolk should realize that there is no difference, except for the biological, between them and their female counterparts.  
4. Strict administrative measures should be taken to protect the women, especially after dark.
5. Perpetrators of sexual crimes should be inflicted upon harsh punishments to instil fear in the minds of those who harbour wrong intentions in their heart towards women, because often it has been observed that when all else fails fear does not.
6. Police force should be made more aware of the sensitivity of the issue.
7. No person, irrespective of their designation, should be allowed to issue any derogatory statement that intends to degrade the image and the rights of women.

It’s time we shed the false skin of patriarchal diktats and move towards building a society that treats and individual with proper respect irrespective of the gender, caste, religion or creed. It is time we stop paying heed to corrupted and crippled bureaucrats who issue crap statements against the poor women and girls who fell prey to this barbaric act known as rape. It is time we make the streets and the offices as safe for the women of our country as their homes are. It is time when we protect our asmita so that every girl child who is born in this part of Earth proudly says ‘AGLE JANAM MOHE BITYA HI KIJO…………’.

                                THE WRETCHED SIDE OF LIFE

I woke up one morning,

but realized it wasn't me,

Besides my bed wasn't the usual pair of slippers,

neither was the familiar green tea.

I saw my reflection in the mirror 

and witnessed a demented image,

My thoughts and ambitions had been altered,

 and my once a peaceful world was now a wreckage.

There was no beacon of light to look for, 

my own sky was shrouded by a dark cloud,

I had lost faith in the theory of good times, 

my inner voice was chocked out.

There were people whom I trusted,

whom I adored from the core of my heart,

But they turned out to be the harbingers of pain 

and drove me stark.

Something is tearing me apart ,

I feel I am two people within,

One half of me wants to raise his voice and fight the odds,

The other half just wants to give in.

I know there are people for whom

I have to bear with my colorless life,

But when will I live for myself?

Sometimes, I feel like quitting

and kill the rebel within and dump the corpse in a shelf.

Why do we always have to restraint 

from acting the way we want to act? 

Everybody needs to understand, 

that there are times when we need to follow our heart

because for everything there can’t be a tact.

What will you do when you are cornered, 

being referred to as unusual?

What will you do when among the hundreds around you, 

there are none sharing your opinion, 

with whom your feeling are mutual?

There is no one to relieve you of the pain,

neither a messiah nor a prophet,

You have lost your will to live 

because no more are you a destiny’s child,

but a mere entangled puppet.

I do not know when it all be over,

I can see no light at the end of the road,

Time presses on me like a boulder of cactus,

and my shoulders can take no more of this unwanted load.

And feeling the dusk of my life approaching, I pray-

“Oh Dear Lord! Why can’t you just slice my throat 

with a stroke of your all mighty knife?

Because, I do not if it is beautiful, 

having been always the witness,

of the wretched side of life!".

                                       GOD......as i know HIM.

I am a religious guy and therefore I dedicate my first article to The Almighty, but this article pertains to my perception of Him. I feel blessed and perhaps I assume myself to be God’s own child, because as per my observation , whenever I have strayed from my path and mistakenly led myself to be entangled in the cobwebs of gloom, He has, by means that have been strict or sort of amusing , led me out. In fact, whenever I have disgraced my own existence with actions and reactions that do not correspond to those of the so called normal living biological samples of Homo Sapiens, He has, somehow, created such situation or led me into such scenarios, that I myself was willing to accept my mistakes and redeem them. 

I believe, that God is more of our own moral consciousness, which is quite evident by the fact that we have been passed on this notion through generations - that God is in everything that surrounds and us and most importantly God resides in our heart, our breathe, our mind – in short, we are Him and He  is us. The Vedas state – when there was nothing then the Tridevas visualized what the human world is going to be like and then created everything that fits well in, our very own, human frame of mind. What I feel is that, the Tridevas correspond to three states of our mind that is, construction, maintenance and destruction (and of course recycling in today’s eco-friendly era). 

God is actually a guiding light that wants us to stick to the noble path in life; it is our character that decides how long we can follow his footsteps. Consider the example of an airport, the landing strip illuminated by the lights symbolizes the correct way of living. It, completely, depends on the pilot as to how well can he identify those signals and land correctly. Similarly, the Divine One can show us the right road to our ultimate goal, that is, salvation, by giving us those hints which can be a gut feeling or a bad omen or the natural insight to view things as bad or good.

Our mana (the human mind) tends to deviate from walking towards moksha(salvation) and gets caught somewhere in the crossroads. It is our duty to leave every distraction aside and concentrate only on the ultimate purpose, so that when we disintegrate back into the five elements, we can reunite ourselves with the greatest soul. As a lost child runs into the arms of his father or mother when called from a distance, we all need to clear the mists of our eyes that are mesmerized by maya (desires), and go and surrender our souls to The Great One, so that He can expand our tiny and materialistic approach towards life into a fruitful one.

  TWAMEVA MATA CHA PITA TWAMEVA, TWAMEVA BANDHU CHA SAKHA TWAMEVA, TWAMEVA VIDYA DRAVIDAM TWAMEVA, TWAMEVA SARWAM MAM DEVA DEVA.