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Monday, September 27, 2010

Leave the innocence

When those innocent faces and tender feet might have learnt walking, they never would have known that their innocence is to fade, their tenderness is to wither.
Greeted in this world with a million dreams to colour, a thousand zeniths to achieve, a hundred hopes to nurture- everything tears down in that one moment of ardour.
Filthy, degraded, a blot on family’s name, disgusting- these are the terms he uses to define himself after he goes through those 5 painful minutes.
They are tricked, they are tortured, they are raped and murdered! Their agony unempathized, their screams are not heard... their tears dry unseen!
Those dreams seem to have lost their colour now, those heights now mock, the hopes have shrivelled ... they sit and stare in despair... thinking of those days when those innocent faces and tender feet learnt walking......

See to believe


She is the need, she is the desire, she is the faith, she is the passion- yet why is her life full of disdain!
Even today, most women are standing where they stood since decades. Talk about the 18 year old Roop kanwar who committed sati in 1987 to the 32 year old Babita who was ruthlessly beaten by her alcoholic husband, from Gauri Gupta who was burnt alive merely for the sake of money in April 2010 to a 16 year Maoist girl raped by other members for fleeing away- Country might have progressed but yet in most unfair play, it is the woman who has to pay the price.
You may say, we have Kiran Bedi’s and Barkha Dutt’s today, we are ruled by Pratibha Patil’s ……. But the above statement holds true... It holds true for the larger India… It holds true for Jessica Lal, Priyadarshini Matoo and hundred others; for women like Irom Sharmila, who fasted unto death to repeal “Armed Forces Special Power Act” in Manipur and Medha Pattkar, who has been arrested several times for demonstrating against the Sardar Sarovar Dam.
I was sitting in my hostel room when the she walked in with a bucket and broom. She asked with a tender voice, “Room Cleaning?” I nodded. She looked at me. A friendly smile was all that she had been waiting for. She shared. She talked and she shared. She talked about her life, her husband, her hopes….. She talked of how when she went back home with a few rupaiyas, her husband would spend it on alcohol rather than for their food, for their children’s education, for paying off the debts she had taken.  She was unhappy, full of despair, but she was afraid…afraid of taking any action…she was scared of doing something that is against the society, against her husband. I tried to show her a path of hope, where she could stand up for herself, where she could live with her kids a life of contentment, she looked at me, she smiled with tears in her eyes… she said,” Wouldn’t it be great? Is this possible?” I said, “It is up to you”… She thought and thought; her smile faded away. She picked up her bucket and looking down asked,” Can you lend me 50 rupees? If I don’t take money home he will beat me up! He can do anything, he is my husband and most importantly he is a man”!  It also holds true for her..!

Exclusively For Humans!

“Write a blog, write a blog”- this thought has been hampering the very tranquillity of my mind since a couple of weeks. With the tremendous overburdening of assignments and with the constant strain to abide by the deadliness of Sep 20, this has been a claustrophobic experience! Not that I am a freak who worries about finishing my assignments all the time, it’s just September 19 being the fateful day when I was born, just don’t want to screw it!
Anyways, amidst this confusion and a wide array of ideas that crossed my mind when thinking of setting up a blog, I just couldn’t find enough time to put all of it together, so I rather decided to opt for something feasible!
Well, I have somewhat been inclined towards feministic and socialistic ventures. Being a sociology student, I have this proclivity towards redressing social issues. Can’t help the fact that all I was taught in my Bachelors was about social concerns and analysing them with all possible perspectives (psychological, Political Science oriented, Economical and of course Sociological)!!
I am sure most of us at some point of time might have experienced this gush of feelings for the want and desire to do something, to do something for others. Well, such thoughts might be frequent but it’s the execution that’s rare.   There are certain egoists and self- obsessed creatures on the planet who have nothing to do with the miseries of others, well their sole reason being born is ... well nothing! But for those who care.. this blog’s for them. These ‘humans’ are welcome to be a part of this attempt to carry out a little ‘reality check’!

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Pray for me brother

He was four; his hands scratched and scarred owing to the 6:00 am to 9:00 pm tiring job of making glass bangles; his eyes had lost all hope; hope to be free, hope to be educated like other children going to school, whom he watched on the streets every day, hope to just be loved, cared and caressed! He had lost his childhood, his innocence.....
There’s a saying “All things grow with time- except grief”!.. He worked, he worked and he worked! Away from his home, away from his family, away from his sense of belongingness and security; his life pretty much had lost all its meaning. Days and years passed. The boy grew to be six. He hadn’t seen or heard from his folks in all these years, he didn’t understand anything about monetary aspects, about why he was doing something which he didn’t want to.  Years of being treated like a machine and being a subject to hostility had taught him a lesson- The lesson of being indifferent... He didn’t care!
For few who still hoped for hope and had faith that they will be rescued, their belief paid off. A human rights NGO team conducted a rescue operation for these children below 7 and was all set to unite them with their families. Our six year old boy was still showcasing his expressionless face. But this time it was different! This time it was because he was flabbergasted! He experienced this sudden chill that he now will be able to lead his own life, go to school like other boys do, be someone, and be loved by his mother who might be waiting for him eagerly.
As he walked through narrow quaggy chawl lanes accompanied by a NGO worker, he was elicited by nostalgia. Not that he could recollect much, as he was taken away when he was 3, but he did remember- he remembered  playing with his two younger brothers, he remembered how his mother used to sing to him and how his father used to take him for a “shoulder ride”. It’s said ‘Change is the law of life’ but nothing had changed in the slums; everything was the same- the same sight of thousands of huts flocked together in claustrophobic juxtaposition, the everlasting poverty, girls of six acting mom to their younger brothers, the same consensus and sharing between animals and humans of living circumstances and sometimes food.
His home- a straw hut devoid of windows and doors was now visible to him. He walked, his steps getting slower and slower and finally taking a halt. He was extremely enthralled by picturing how will everyone react; the NGO hadn’t had any source to reach them, so this was completely going to be a surprise for them.. Hope a pleasant one though! The worker’s patting on the back helped! The boy again took off staring at the ground, filled with emotions of excitement and happiness. They reached the hut. Old green rag curtains at the entrance were down. The worker called out loud for someone in the house. No response. He called out again.. ; the curtains slid aside, it was his mother. 
His heart skipped a beat, his face still staring the ground, trying to have a quick side glance of her, his hands tightly gripping the worker’s fingers; Years of separation had fogged the mother’s picture. She stood stunned outside the house, the worker said, “This is your boy. NGO has brought him back”. The staring continued for a few minutes, the female stood dumbstruck. The long silence was broken by the mother who started sobbing out loud. The boy looked up and saw his mother. He saw her sobbing; he wanted her to hug him, to caress him, to love him. He was waiting. He saw, there- she was about to say something- may be “Come to me my son”.
She said- “Why the hell are you back? Who will now earn for us? Just take him back please...”.
He stood there with his expressionless face. ........
He is six, his hands scratched and scarred owing to tiring 6:00 am to 9:00 pm job of making glass bangles. He has lost all hope, the hope to be free, the hope to be home and the hope to be able to study and live his childhood, he has lost his innocence .... He works, he works and he works.....