The Termite in the Wood

Jerry was lying on his bed, filled with dread and anticipation of what was coming. He hated it when his mother was away from home, not because he felt lonely, but because he would be left all alone with his stepfather. Light streaked into his room as the door opened and the big man entered. Instinctively, Jerry's legs folded upwards and he held them tightly in a fetal position. He was shivering. The big man came and sat beside Jerry's bed.

"Are you feeling cold, my boy?"

Jerry curled up even tighter.

"Don't worry, your mother will be home by tomorrow evening. Till then I will take good care of you."

He stroked Jerry's hair. The shivering increased as the hand moved slowly from the head to his back. He patted his back for several moments.

"Do you want to come with me into my room, boy?" he asked Jerry. A few tears rolled down Jerry's cheeks. The big man gently lifted the shivering child and took him to his room.

********

Robert let out a huge sigh of relief as he finished pitching the tent. It was a long hike through the hill and forest and they had reached the water hole at last after walking for close to five hours. 

Victor was a young and athletic man who could give any fitness freak a run for their money. Robert liked Victor ever since he had interviewed him for an analyst position for his finance company. This guy had a tremendous amount of confidence and energy. Robert had predicted that if Victor could channelize his passion and zeal properly, then he was sure to go places. Under Robert's mentoring, Victor blossomed into an asset for the firm and was now indispensable for them. Robert wanted to share some good news with Victor, but wanted to do it informally before making the actual public announcement. He invited Victor for a hiking cum hunting trip in this popular water-hole where he planned to break the news while gathering some good game.

Victor put down the tools and laid himself down on the cool ground of the forest.

"This is what I call a job well done, boss."

"That's what you get when you have the perfect blend of experience and youth."

"You call yourself old, boss? Sometimes I feel older than you." 

"Stop buttering me kid. You don't need to. I wanted to discuss something important with you. But before that get a couple of beers from the icebox first. Both of us can afford to relax now."

Victor went inside the tent where they had kept the icebox, and pulled out two cans of beer.

"So you said you wanted to discuss something important with me?" Victor asked as the liquid spread warmth in their bodies.

"Yes. What have you thought about your future Victor? Where do you want to go from here?" Robert asked.

"Well, as of now I don't feel like going anywhere away from this beautiful place. But once our stocks get over, I guess both of us will have to go back to the city."

"I was talking about your career, kid."

"I know, boss. I don't keep any long term plan, you know. As long as I can pay my bills and feed my family and enjoy the work I do, I guess I would be happy."

"What do you think about being a partner in the firm?"

"Are you kidding me boss? I have been with you for just six years. There are people who have been there longer."

"Yes, there are many more experience people. But none are as innovative or energetic as you. I don't want the company that I built to stagnate. I can only take it so far, I need someone who has the will and passion to take it even higher. And I think I know who that someone is."

"Woah. I mean, it really feels great that you feel like that, boss. If you think I can do it, then maybe I can. Cheers to you!"

"And another news is that the papers are all ready and signed back in the office. We just need to make the announcement. So, cheers to you!"

The beer cans clanged together.

"You know, boss, my mother would have been really proud. I miss her so much."

"Yes she would be. I can assure you that she is very proud of you right now, wherever she is. You never talk much about your family, do you? I mean in the past six years, this is the first time I have heard you talking about her. What about your father?"

"I lost my father when I was a little kid. My mother married another man after that. He is still living, but not for long."

"What do you mean? He's got some ailment or something?"

"No boss, he is pretty fit and fine."

Victor picked up a piece of wood lying next to him.

"You know, boss, wood has always fascinated me. I mean, this is a natural organic thing, but it still remains so strong even if the living thing it was a part of is long dead. And it remains strong until you allow it to remain strong."

"I can't see the point you are trying to make." Robert said.

"The point is, we are like this wood. We can remain strong even if the soul is dead. We still remain alive. But then we all have the termites inside us. These termites eat us from inside. They sap whatever strength we have left and leave us brittle."

"Is it you talking or the beer talking? I still don't understand what you are trying to say."

"It is neither Victor, nor the beer talking, boss. It is a little kid called Jerry, whose soul was ripped apart twenty five years back."

Robert looked at Victor with shock. But before he could say anything, the block of wood landed on his face and he fell unconscious.

When he regained consciousness, it was night and a bright moon was out. Robert's head hurt very bad from the blow. But that was not the only body part that was hurting him. He was tied to a tree and could not move. He looked down and found his groin filled with blood. There was a letter stuck to his thighs, and the moonlight enabled him to read it.

Dear Boss,

I hope you are feeling great. I hope I have made you as comfortable as you made me many years back. The Jerry in me died a long time back, thanks to you. I ran away from home that time so that Jerry could die and Victor could be born. By now you must have discovered that the tools you used to destroy Jerry have gone missing and it is all a bloody mass left there. I do hope that the animals of the forest like the taste of your blood. Your tools have been strategically placed to help them find their meal for the night.

Thank you so much for all the guidance that you have provided Victor, the result of which I am now a partner in the firm that YOU created. But a partner is someone who shares ownership with another person right? But what if the other person is lying in the belly of some wild animal? I guess the partner can become the owner.

Thank you for your faith in me. I hope I have returned you the favor.

As a parting note, if you ever get born again, which I definitely hope not, I hope that your soul remembers this lesson and does not become a termite for another Jerry.

Regards,

Your once-upon-a-time stepson,

Jerry

******

Note: This story is not fully original and is based somewhat on a short story titled "Triangle" written by Jefferey Deaver in his book "Twisted".

I Was Only Having a Gulaab Jamun

So I just happened to take a look at my blog the other day, and found some fungus developing. Right now the stories for the blog have kind of taken a back seat since I am exploring another aspect, i.e converting the stories into a visual form. I have no idea if I can do a good or even a decent job for it, but I have always dreamed of trying it out one day. So while I try my hand at it, I just thought of sharing a small story/article I had written a few years back. Hopefully the point I want to make can go through.

Dear Ma,

I really miss you. I wanted to meet you so badly today, to share the news that I had topped my 5th standard class. I was so happy, and I know you would have been too. I wanted to hug you the moment I saw my report card. I felt like talking to you at that time, but I know we cannot afford a phone right now. I promised myself that I would, one day become a big man, someone successful and drive away our poverty. I would become a doctor/engineer and then you would not have to clean other people's houses or wash their dishes. I would build us a new house and you would live like a queen. I won't let Baba come inside the house. Let him go and drink himself to death. I would be big and I would stop him from hurting you anymore. We would be so happy, just you and me away from all worries and strife.

I was really happy Ma. Dinu got the second rank and we decided to go to have some sweets to celebrate. I know you had told me to come straight home Ma, but I was so happy that I really felt like eating something sweet and I knew that you would be tired after your chores to prepare something. I was also going to bring you some. I had saved all the pocket money you had managed to give me. We had gone to a mithai-wala near the railway station where there is always a crowd. You remember that place Ma? We had gone there to buy me new shoes when I had joined school. We were just eating Gulab Jamun Ma, me and Dinu. We weren't troubling anybody. Everybody was so happy. But then why???????

Why did they blast us Ma? I never hit them or took any of their stuff, then why did they take my life away from me? I just wanted to grow up and do something to make you proud. I wasn't going to hurt anybody. All my dreams have crashed and all your aspirations have gone with the smoke. What did we do to deserve such a fate Ma? Why was I killed when as you say, there are many bad people in this world who hurt others, why weren't they hurt or killed? All the people there looked happy. You always said God loves his children especially those who live happily and do not hurt others. God loved me when I got my report card, so why did he suddenly hate me when I was celebrating just that Ma?

I am sorry Ma. I am sorry because I did not listen to you and did not come straight home. I am sorry because I won't be now able to fulfill all those promises of happiness that I made to you. I am sorry because I won't be able to stop Baba when he hits you. Will you forgive me, Ma?

Yours lovingly,

One of the souls of the victims of 13/7/2011 blasts

I Have a Dream!

I had a dream yesterday night.

It was dark and my both hands were tied to poles on either side. They were tied too tightly. I could not move them. My feet were bound together, so I could not move them either. It was a cold night and I was stark naked without any piece of cloth to cover any part of my body. I felt vulnerable. I was struggling with all the strength that I had, but it was of no use. And then they came....

I don't know who they were. They were fully covered in dark grey coats. I could not see their faces because they were covered in hoods. There were three of them menacingly coming towards me. I tried to scream, but one of them covered my mouth. They smelled bad. I had a sudden urge to vomit. The others started exploring my body, touching me where I did not want to be touched. I felt like a tiny pebble in the sea, rolling away with the wave, having no control over where I was going. They took a black cloth and blindfolded me. Now I could only feel their horrible presence, not see. One of them said that they can experiment on me. The others laughed, I could feel their happiness as any sense of control that was left in me was being taken away. They took a rod and inserted it in my rectum. I scream, but the scream never left my mouth. I was gagged. The rod went deeper, cutting through me as it went. My body was being damaged, why, I don't know. But it wasn't the bodily damage that hurt more. It was the feeling of helplessness where I wanted to resist but wasn't able to that was worse. 

I woke up suddenly with my face full of sweat and my heart beating very fast. It took me a while to realize that it was all a dream and that my body was still intact. A few gulps of water helped calm down my pulse and I slept again.

Now just this dream was enough to shake me up and make me write about it. But recently this ghastly dream was a reality to a poor girl in Delhi, the nation woke up, but very soon went back to sleep. After all who has the time to ponder upon the problems of the common man!

A few days back I was disturbed by the attention given by the media to the suicide case of the main accused in the infamous Delhi rape. A suicide by a self-confessed culprit woke up our so-called leaders to set up "inquiry" commission to look into these "security lapses". It is with great sadness that I note that a similar prompt action was lacking when a common human being was brutally raped and murdered. I won't even call it murder, it was much worse. I will equate this to the inhuman crimes committed by Nazis and Japanese military during WWII. Am I exaggerating?

Our media also conveniently forgets the main issues that need to be highlighted, and our news channels are now bombarded with discussions on whether Rahul Gandhi will remain a bachelor for the rest of his life. Has the media forgotten the power it has to change the nation? It did not forget this power when they brutally followed up the Jessica Lal murder case and proved to the country that even if witnesses turn hostile and powerful people are accused, our Judiciary can still work. Can we expect a similar commitment for a powerful anti-rape law that would enforce stricter punishments?

It is a fact that the law alone cannot change the attitude of the country. Only when each and every one of us pictures himself/herself as the victim, will the things take turn for the better. I read a very nice conversation on social media about a guy telling his female friend about his experience in a taxi ride which he shared with a homo-sexual male. The co-passenger was touching him in a manner which he felt uncomfortable. The female friend then calmly explained that that was what all women go through each and every day. Every man is either totally harmless or a potential rapist. 

In a way I feel it is good that the brave girl (aptly named Nirbhaya by our media) did not survive this ordeal. Consider the scenario if she had. The society would practically ostracize her for being a victim. Even if her family supported her, the society would make sure that she is reminded of her trauma each and every moment of her remaining life. This would keep going till either she turns mad or commits suicide. Nobody keeps reminding the culprit that he was a perverted loser who felt that this was the only way he could show that he was more powerful. Nobody refuses to hang out with the rapists after they have committed the crime. Sadly it is just the opposite with the victims.

Apart from this dream that shook me up, I have another dream which I dream every single moment. I dream that one day I would be able to walk any street in my country without fear of getting robbed or murdered. I dream that one day, everybody will realize that you receive only as much respect as you give, that life is too short to spend it hating anybody. I dream that one day, all of us would realize our true potential and achieve the greatness that has been long denied to us.

So at the end of another rant, I bid adieu to all those who managed to read till the end. May be one day we all would be truly safe and happy! 

Little Karen

Jane had woken up very early that day. After all, it was her Karen's first day at school and she wanted everything to be perfect. A single unmarried mother, Jane had come a long way since her boyfriend abandoned her after she was pregnant. Outcast from her family, she had to fend for herself, and for her child. The world is a harsh place for anybody to live on their own, and being a pregnant woman, Jane had learnt it the hard way. And she had fought the odds and won. Taking care of Karen along with doing the odd jobs for survival had robbed Jane of her youth, but she had no regrets. The faintest smile and the smallest chuckle from her little daughter was more than sufficient to drown all the weariness that she felt. They had carved their own lives together, Jane and Karen. A little world for themselves which none of the wolves outside could penetrate. 

No, she wasn't going to let the bad memories of the days gone by to spoil this day. Her Karen had now grown up and would be taking her first step into the outside world without her mother for the first time. Nothing should spoil this day, for this was their day. Karen was very excited about going to school. Since Jane kept Karen with herself most of the time, Karen didn't really have many friends of her own. She was looking forward to meeting other people of her age and making friends. 

As she readied Karen for her big day, Jane marveled at her creation. Hardly a few years ago, she would not have thought this to be possible. Some days she had to go without food which was very hard to get considering her meagre income. There was this constant fear that they would not survive their ordeal. The nagging guilt that she was not able to provide her daughter with the basic necessities in the most formative years of her life. But the bad time had passed. From crashing at one friend's place to another, now they had rented their own little apartment, a home they could call their own. Jane had a steady job which paid her enough to live comfortably. She had finally proved to the big bad world, and more so to herself, that she could survive on her own. That a single woman outcast by her own society could survive, and survive well.

Jane walked with Karen the small distance between their home and the school. Karen held her mother's finger with her tiny hand and walked along. The excitement was apparent in her footsteps. Her eyes were brightly lit up and she was looking forward to meeting new people. The air was cool, the sun was out and it was a perfect day. Jane looked down at her chirpy daughter and a tear went down her cheek. Maybe this is what happiness really was.

They stood together outside the classroom. It was finally time to say goodbye for a few hours. For the very first time, Karen would be without her mother or any familiar face for a few hours. As the excited Karen let go of her mother's hand, Jane felt an emptiness around her. Would her child be alright without her looking over? More so, would Jane be able to manage without those tiny fingers curled around her finger? Suddenly she did not want Karen to leave. School can wait a few months more. 

The teacher came over to Jane and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"She would be just fine. Don't you worry." said the teacher.

Going against her maternal instincts, Jane turned around and walked out. The tears were increasingly becoming uncontrollable. This was not correct she felt. Something was terribly wrong. Her heart pulled her back, but the brain urged her to walk away. Is she old enough to be on her own, albeit for a few hours?

The weather had changed. It was cloudy outside now. There was a gloomy feel to the entire climate. It was just not right. Wasn't this supposed to be her happiest day? Even the weather gods weren't helping cheer her up. There was a loud clap of thunder. It sounded more like a gun-shot. Then there was another, and somehow the clouds were all too excited. Too many thunders all around. Or were they really thunders? Why was it not raining when there were so many thunders. Did thunders really sound so much like gun fire?

Jane turned around and looked back at the school. All she saw were screaming children running  out in total chaos. She yelled Karen's name and ran towards the building but strong hands held her back, not letting her go to her Karen and rescue her.

"Control yourself Jane, let us get you inside now." someone said.

But Jane was not going to relent so easily. Her Karen was in grave danger.

"Come on Jane, it's about to rain now. The time for outdoor activity is over." they repeated.

The two pairs of strong hands lifted her off the ground and carried her inside the building. The mental health care facility was a big place and they had to walk for several minutes till they reached her room where she was sedated and allowed to sleep. Next to her bed, on the table was a newspaper clipping which read 

"Twenty children and six adult staff members killed in a shooting incident.  A twenty year old man carrying a gun trespassed into the school premises and began shooting randomly .................. "

The Day I First Met Her

I was waiting for the bus that day. The sun beating down, and a few drops of sweat trickling down my face. It was one of those usual boring days. I checked my watch. The bus would be arriving any time now. Little did my bored self know then that that day would change my life forever.

"Excuse me, could you tell me what time it is?" I heard a voice say. I looked back at her and I felt my heart skip a beat. Never before had I seen anybody as beautiful.

"Hello, I am asking you for the time." she repeated.

I gathered my senses.

"It is almost 8:30 am." I replied. "You waiting for a bus?"

"No, I am waiting for a  plane at a bus stop. What are you, an old man?" she snapped.

"I was just trying to make conversation. Sorry for bothering you." 

I felt bad. The first meeting with this lady was not going well. Better luck next time, I told my heart.

The bus arrived soon and both of us got on to it. I was slightly quicker and manage to grab a seat. She came and stood next to my seat. I looked up at her just to catch her stern gaze back. I felt sheepish and took out the newspaper from my bag and began reading it.

"You are totally shameless, aren't you?" she said softly.

"Pardon me. How could you just say something like that?" I asked her. This was getting annoying.

"A lady is going towards a seat and you just come and grab it shamelessly. Don't you have any manners?"

I got up.

"Ok. Just have it and shut up. I don't need to listen to nonsense early in the day."

She sat on my seat with a smile and I went to the other end of the bus. I was boiling inside. How could anybody call me shameless? 

I glanced towards her and she smiled back at me. 

Why? Why do beautiful women have such lovely smiles? 

I tried looking away in another direction, but my gaze always ended up in hers. After about five minutes, the person sitting next to her got up as his destination had come. Smiling beauty looked at me and gestured me to take the now vacant seat. My mind was being torn apart. One part of it wanted to go and sit next to her, the other part was too insulted to accept the invitation. Obviously the first part won the contest and I ended up being seated next to her.

"I am sorry for being rude earlier." She said, flashing that smile which was diminishing my ego continuously.

"Is this sarcasm or honesty speaking?" I asked cautiously. I did not want to get insulted again.

"Take it as a simple sorry. I know I have behaved badly with you and want to apologise. I am Deepa." She extended her hand.

"Apology accepted. I am Rakesh. So may I know the reason behind your attitude, if you don't mind? Just curious since I have been at the receiving end of it since morning."

"You can call it just plain frustration. Things haven't been going my way you know."

"Such as?"

"Such as, my alarm did not go off in the morning which made me skip breakfast in order to catch the bus on time. I ask you the time since I forgot my watch at home and you stare dumbly at me. I get into the bus finally and you grab the sole available seat before me. And work pressures to top that. Who can be in a good mood after that?"

"Me staring dumbly at you? You seriously gotta be kidding me." I said.

"Don't worry, I usually have that effect on guys and I am used to it. And before you get any ideas, let me tell you that I am already married."

"No issues. I'm not interested in dating you, though I must say you are very beautiful and your husband is one lucky guy."

"I wish he would remember that. May be you can tell him if you happen to meet him. He is very forgetful, you know. So where do you work?"

"Still looking for a job actually. I have a degree in journalism and have done a few itsy bitsy pieces here and there. I have an interview with the Times in about two hours, hoping to crack something there. What about you?"

"Now you have to be joking. Are you sure you haven't been stalking me?"

"What do you mean? I was waiting at the bus stop first, remember?"

"I am assistant to the chief editor in Times and I am headed the same way. So here's the deal. I will buy some breakfast for both of us and then we can go to the office together. Let me complete my apology that way."

Now this was too good to be true. This beautiful woman was asking me to have breakfast with her and she worked at the same place that I was going for an interview. Two birds in one shot?

We reached our destination and headed to a nearby cafe. 

"I am really hungry." She said. " What will you be having? A coffee I guess, with maybe some upma? They make it really well here."

"You seem to know my taste very well. Perfect suggestion." I smiled back. Coffee and upma was actually my favourite combination.

"I guess I should, the same way I know how to irritate you." she replied.

"What do you mean you should know?"

"Forget it."

Just then the waiter came and took the order.

We were sitting next to the window of the cafe and the morning sun was streaking in from it right across her face. A cool breeze was blowing that blew her hair softly. With a gentle motion of her fingers, she brushed the loose strands of hair aside and smiled at me.

"You really like me, don't you?" she asked.

"Why do you ask me that? We have just met." I replied.

Her eyes filled up for a split moment and she recovered her composure quickly. The food arrived soon and she busied herself into eating.

"Let me change the topic. Since you were late, why didn't your husband drop you?"

"I wish he would just remember he has a wife for a change. Maybe I should have married you instead."

"What the hell are you saying? It isn't funny if this is your idea of a joke."

"Rakesh, don't do this again please. Don't you remember anything?" Those tears were back again and this time she made no effort to hide them.

"What do you mean?" This was getting weird.

"Don't you remember this place? This was where I took you so many years back when we met for the first time to apologise for being rude. Try to remember Rakesh, please make an effort."

"I think I am having enough of this nonsense. Thank you for the meal, I think I should be going for the interview now."

"Look at yourself Rakesh. Just have a look in the mirror. Do you even think you are young enough for an interview?"

Ironically there was a mirror right across where I was standing. I looked into it. Was my hair really white? Did I actually have those wrinkles on my face?

"Yeah, look into that mirror. Look into it the way you have been looking in it for the past few months. Neither are you going for an interview, nor am I working at the Times. I have been your wife for the past 54 years. I know the ailment is eating your memory, but try to remember something please!"

A sharp pain emerged in my head. Everything looked too bright, so much that I could not keep my eyes open. I closed my eyes. The pain kept on increasing and it spread to the rest of my body which could not hold me any longer. I fell on the floor grabbing my head with both hands. Images were flooding in my brain. A much younger me graduating from college. Me receiving the best journalist award. Me looking into the eyes of my newly-wed bride. Me holding the tiny hands of a baby girl, my daughter. It was too much to bear. I tried opening my eyes, everything was blurred. I could make out Deepa leaning over me telling me to hold on. Those eyes were familiar. I had seen them on my wedding day. I could make out some white clothed men holding me up and taking me somewhere. Somebody held my palm, and this time I did not need anybody telling me who it was.

"Deepa......... " my voice trailed off.

**********************************

It was a normal day. I woke up early in the morning and made myself some light breakfast. I had an interview that day and I wanted to reach the office before time to make a good first impression. As usual, I walked to the bus stop and was waiting for the bus, when a hand tapped my shoulder and asked,

"Excuse me, could you tell me what time it is?"

I looked back at her and I felt my heart skip a beat. Never before had I seen anybody as beautiful.

Outside the Comfort Zone

This blog of mine has been neglected too much. If it was a wife, then I would have been divorced long back. But thankfully blogs are much better, they remain faithful and as they were when you last saw them. So what was I up to?? Nothing much, other than packing as much stuff as I could into as many suitcases as I could hope to carry on an international flight. Taking as much of my country with me as an airline would allow me to. And as expected, it wasn’t enough. Once reaching Arizona, I was getting adjusted to the arid and hot weather, the usual apartment hunting tensions and once everything was done, I was busy having a gala time with all the university welcome events which are like almost everyday.

So, if I am enjoying myself so much, where did I find the time to attend to this blog of mine? My relationship with my blog has been a typical one that a person has with their boyfriend/girlfriend. There’s the initial excitement at discovering something new, then you show people what you have, and enjoy the sight of their awestruck faces (a bit exaggerated), you take in the compliments and ignore the criticism. Then comes the stage where you are comfortable with it and get used to it. There isn’t anything new to discover. So you start neglecting it, and when you are at your loneliest, it again comes to your rescue. I love my blog, maybe because I may have poured so much of myself into it, more than I have done with any person. So here I am, whether I like it or not, posting once more, hopefully for the better. And no, I still haven’t come up with a story but hopefully the block would pass and I would be back with the usual fiction.

Getting used to another country, a totally different culture has been a real adventure. Some of the old followers of this blog might recall one of my earlier post titled Cast Away, where I had posted about my first experience away from home into a hostel. It is the post closest to my heart since it was all totally true and heartfelt. Today I am writing a similar one, but this time the person writing it is 6 years older than what he was during Cast Away, and this decision of going far away from home to pursue my dreams has been a calculated one and wasn’t hurried like that time.

So how is USA? That’s the first thing people ask me. I say it is a really good place. I see more discipline here as compared to my own home country. The people are more well-mannered and polite. No job is a shameful job here. For example, the maintenance guy in my apartment complex owns a car and drives down to Las Vegas every weekend, and cleans the swimming pool, sweeps the complex, does the repair work in the apartments during the weekdays. The people here take their job seriously. Another thing I really admire here is the traffic discipline. I have rarely heard a car honking even in the most horrible traffic jam. In a jam, there’s a difference of at least 4 metres between every car, unlike in India where a jam means all cars are sticking their noses up the front car’s rear end.

Now that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss my country. I do. I miss the utter chaos, I miss the crowds and obviously I miss the food. Luckily for me, my mother had made sure that all her children are comfortable in the kitchen and can cook for themselves right from childhood. It used to feel a real pain to be helping Mom in the kitchen when we were kids, but I can see, or rather feel the dividends of that training now. In this country, where we keep converting the dollars into rupees mentally, it is very difficult to survive without cooking yourself at home. It is way too expensive to eat outside and even then the food here is not easily digested by our gut which used to spicy food. There are Indian restaurants but imagine having to pay $10 for a plate of daal-chawal.

The best thing about staying away from home is that one learns to appreciate his/her parents. You realize that it is not easy managing a daily routine all by yourself. But then, our mothers easily manage the entire family’s routine, don’t they? You realize that keeping a hold on your expenditure is very difficult, but Dad does it without any problem right? You realize that your cooking doesn’t taste all that great, but then you used to crib about your mom’s preparations (not in my case, I was told right in the beginning that if I crib, I would have to do it all myself).

It is very difficult staying all on your own, even if you are with friends. More so, if you are in a foreign country where the culture is totally alien. Initially it is the awe that you feel when seeing something you’ve never seen before. Then is the acceptance stage, where you decide that you are going to like this place since you are going to be here for a few years anyway. Next is the homesickness, especially when you start missing the home-made food, so you dig into the reserves packed into your bags. Once the reserves finish, then there are the desperate calls home to ask for simple recipes which don’t turn out as they are supposed to, however much you try.

And once all this is past, you realize that life cannot be more awesome. It’s awesome to be on your own. You are more willing to take chances and experiment. You are away from your usual peers, so there is more scope to develop new aspects in your personality without the fear of being ridiculed. Your horizons are widened; life is calling you with open arms, with a platter of opportunities laid out for you. Yes, the entire platter is for you. You may not be able to finish all of it. You have to choose. And the choice you make would define your entire life. You make mistakes, you learn from them. Some situations sweep you off your feet, you learn to retain your balance. You get overwhelmed, but your upbringing gets you back on track. If not for anything else, I love Christopher Nolan’s Batman series for one tiny dialogue, which literally defines every human being’s life.

“Why do we fall, sir? So that we could learn to lift ourselves up.”

I just read all that I have written. This makes me wonder, did I really have to leave my country to realize all this? No, not really. Then it struck me, was it just now that I realized that life was waiting for me, or had I known it all along, under the mental stacks of self doubt and low confidence? Yes, I knew that I was destined for something big, something I may have never imagined when I built my first Hydro-electric generator at the age of 16. I knew that if I could build something like that all on my own, I could do whatever I set my mind to. Then came the stage where I made it to the prestigious NIT. I struggled all those four years. I discovered myself more through those struggles than any other way. Luckily for me I had a rock solid family that never let the self doubts go above dangerous levels, they made me understand that a creature meant for flying should not be afraid to walk, and this is what has defined me.

As I am at the beginning of another marvelous phase of my life, a new platter laid out before me, I would like to tell you all one thing. Somebody who has never tried anything new in his/her life, somebody who has always been afraid of taking risks, afraid of falling, that somebody can never support you when you want to take a plunge into the deep sea. Don’t fear getting hurt, time heals all the wounds. Don’t fear falling, for there will always be someone to give a hand in case you can get up yourself. And most importantly, never ever hurt those who are close to you. Your ego will be forever with you, but it may not be the same with people. Choose what you value more.

So at the end of a random post, I would like to tell you all that I might have thought of a new short story for the next one. The writer’s block is slowly melting………………………………….

Rape of Shame

"Don't walk alone on the streets, it's not safe."

"Don't wear skirts, you may provoke somebody."

"Don't talk to boys, you may give them wrong ideas."

"Don't speak out your mind, you may be wrongly labelled."

Common sentences, aren't they? These are the instructions given to all females belonging to "respectable" families so that they maintain that "respect" and "honor" of their family. Sometimes it makes me wonder, what do "honor" and "respect" really mean?

According to wikipedia, honor is an abstract concept entailing a perceived quality of worthiness and respectability that affects both the social standing and the self-evaluation of an individual or corporate body such as a family, school, regiment or nation. In more simpler terms, how you yourself, as well as others perceive you.

It is common on the papers these days to see at least 2-3 rape or molestation cases daily. These are only the reported ones. There must multiple others which are not published in the media. There would be even scores of others where the victim keeps quiet or rather is forced to accept her fate and close her mouth to uphold this so-called honor of her family. Which leads me to the question which has been bothering me and countless of like-minded people. 

"How is it that the victim of a rape case is dishonored while the perpetrator is still honorable?"

The mindset has been also fuelled by our film industry. In so many movies we have seen or rather heard the dialogue "Balatkaar se ladki ki izzat loot gayi." ("The girl has lost her honor/respect as she has been raped."). Does that mean the victim of this horrendous crime is responsible for bringing upon herself this fate? Does that mean just because she chooses to dress herself or behave as she deems proper, it gives the perverts out there on the streets the right to sexually assault her? Who's really lost his/her honor here? The person who can't control his sexual desires, or the one who chooses to live the way she wants?

Many argue that most of the rape cases involve the victim dressing "provocatively", displaying portions of anatomy which are best deemed hidden. Though I don't agree with this point, even if we deem this to be true, how then, do you explain the rapes of children, the minors who haven't even reached the stage of puberty yet, some not even touching 5 years of their lives? What is so "provocative" about a little child, who now would have to grow up with the world around her telling her that she is unclean and dishonored, just because some pervert out there vented his sexual frustration on her.

The latest shame is the incident that occurred in one of the most busy places of Guwahati in Assam. Just because a girl in her late teens protested against a drunk man filming a video of her friend, she was molested by a group of 20 men in full public view, the proof of which everybody must have seen by now either on the internet or on the news channels. She was groped, slapped and stripped openly and what everybody did was just stand and enjoy the "scene". 

News channels spent hours debating whether the journalist who filmed the entire crime was correct in doing so, making a public show of the girl's plight. But thanks to his presence of mind, all the guilty have been easily identified, their photos have gone viral on facebook and even hoardings have been put up in Guwahati with their faces. While morally it may be wrong to film such a scene, if he hadn't done so, the guilty would have been moving around scot-free while the victim would have deemed as an object of shame by the society.

A news channel asked the question, "Have we become a nation of onlookers?" Sadly, I have to say yes. When such crimes can happen in the busiest of areas in full public view, and it takes the police 30 minutes to reach the spot after being notified, and a further 4 days before any arrests made, it shows a very sorry state of affairs. One cannot point fingers only at the law enforcers. All the people who stood there watching without moving a muscle are equally guilty. Some people tried to help her (including the journo who filmed it) and were beaten and abused themselves. Still the gut-less public stood and watched. Why?? Because it's not our job to help those in trouble, it is the police's, in the meantime let me watch the show live.

The power of the internet and websites like facebook and youtube was flexed, and 3-4 days after the incident, the "let-us-condemn-it" virus spread among our "honorable" leaders. So what if the administration does not have the balls to implement the laws, everybody can easily redeem themselves by condemning these incidents.

"The incident was unfortunate. We condemn it and strong action would be taken."

"It is the rarest of rare cases. We thoroughly condemn it."

"The perpetrators will not go scot free. They will pay for their crime. The public must condemn it."

Now that scientists have discovered the God-particle, it's time they discover the power of condemnation and develop a way where criminals would be punished just by sheer condemnation. Easy and quick way of justice, isn't it? So when the crime is reported, the police can just pick up a phone and call the politicians, who would just utter a statement, "I CONDEMN IT" and whoooshhh....the criminal disappears to the lowest levels of hell.

I wish things were as simple as that. 

We have become a society with the chalta-hai attitude. It is okay if a third of our MP's have criminal cases including charges of murder and rape against them. But if a victim of a crime chooses to move-on, he/she is pulled back by society and reminded continuously of their fate. We are helpless when it comes to punishing the guilty, but we love to further victimize the victim. Lay all the blame on the victim, after all she brought it on herself, she asked for it.

To those making irresponsible statements, I would like to ask you, what if it was your mother or sister who was the victim and not some unknown female? Would you have said the same thing?

As a society, we turn to our leaders for inspiration. And such strong leaders we have. They provide such strong condemnation. Dumb-asses the public are who underestimate the sheer power of condemnation. How can the Singh who is supposed to be the king bother about such trivial cases when he's busy following the orders of his Mem-saab and plotting new ways to screw our economy. How can you expect the elder sister who's occupied by the ghosts of opposition conspiracies and Maoists to have time to look over incidents in Park street? It's tough being leaders you know. But despite their busy schedules, they provide such strong condemnations, isn't that enough?

Since all the leadership is totally busy, it comes to the police, the protectors of law and order to salvage some pride. C'mon guys, we know that you have it in you to bring the guilty to book. Show some balls, which obviously the "leaders" lack, and punish the criminals. If you can't catch them, when you have full video proof of the crime (mind you, the faces of the criminals are razor sharp in the video) then I feel sad to say that it is of no use paying our taxes so that they can pay you your salaries. I mean, why should I work, so that you can relax?

Sometimes I feel that the public should be allowed to take law in its own hands. But that would be an irrational option as it can set a very bad precedent. The law takes its own course at a snails pace, but it is one of the few systems in this country that works. It is high time now that the tag of being "dishonored" is shifted from the victim to the criminal. Keep harsh punishments for harsh crimes. A death sentence would be too easy on the criminal. Castrate them and make it public news. Let them be the ones to face humiliation instead of the victim. Let it be a deterrent, so that the next time when a pervert even thinks of raping a female, he should know that what he is about to do can make him lose his balls.

Now that some of my anger has been vented out, I would like to state that this rant of mine is a result of sheer disturbance that I felt when I saw the news yesterday evening. I am NOT sorry if I have hurt any sentiments, because my own sentiments have been continuously hurt when I read such news daily. If a certain Kapil also wants to censor this, go ahead, we will censor you when the election time comes. Some people need to know that you cannot take the public for granted. Women are responsible for bringing us into this world, and if we cannot learn to respect them, well, we don't deserve a place on this planet.