An Innocent Lamb

30/04/2021

Every girl desires a man of her dreams, a man who makes her feel she is important when all her life she has just been a burden, a man who fights for her equal rights when the world around is scraping her off them. I, an average looking young girl from a small town was also adhered to such fascinations and it was not long before when the much awaited day knocked the door of my life.

It was a chilly winter morning and everything was cold and still, I was helping maa in cutting vegetables when my father got a call from a man seeking permission to come home and ask me to marry his son if in anyway I find him suitable for me because apparantly his son saw me at a dairy shop and decided to tie knots with me. In the next few minutes after my father hung up the phone, the house turned upside down, he ran to the market to buy sweets and maa started cooking some of her woo-the-guests delicacies leaving no ground for disdain, while I was instructed to get ready and look my best. I draped my favorite blue saree with a golden border and matched it with silver bangles and a black bindi on my forhead making sure his eyes dont get off me even for once.The boy's mother died when he was 13 and was brought up by his father who was a member of the ruling party of the state. My family praised their stars and the marriage was finalized, their responsiblity was passed on and my dreaded fate was set loose.

The initial days after the wedding were no less than a fairy tale but as the time went by the tale took a nasty turn. Every night he used to come home drunk and abuse me, he treated me like a flesh with no feelings and no life while for most part of the day he acted aloof like I was never there. I asked my father to open me a kirana shop where I started spending most of the time in order to stay away from home. It was a saturday night and the sales were usually high on weekends, I closed the shop at 10 and returned home.As I was locking the door, I heard heavy tread of footsteps coming towards me, so I turned to look and a slap came on my face, he asked me with rage that with whom have I slept with holding me by my hair. I pleaded with him trying to justify the crime I haven't even been commited but he turned his deaf ears to me and tied my hands to the corners of the bed, opened my legs wide and took off my salwar and underpants. I tried hard to scream through the dupatta he shuffed into my mouth but to no avail. I could smell the stench of alcohol from his sweaty body over me and then felt an acute sharp pain of something piercing through my vagina, the pain was so immense that I could hardly move anymore. My body was trembling and my clothes were soaked in blood while I started to loose conscienceness. " Your genitals were sewed with an aluminium wire ", the doctor told me after I insisted her to. It took me two months to recover completely with the help of my mother who stressed on launching an FIR against him which I denied, thinking maybe he will change someday and realise my love for him has never faded but I failed to see the avalanche unfolding ahead of me ready to engulf whatever was left of me.

It's been a year since the incident but still nothing changed, neither my time nor him. Some nights he would come late and go straight to bed while some nights he would not come at all. His clothes smelled of ladies perfumes every morning I washed them, but istead of being resent I was relieved. It was one of the coldest nights of december, I felt a mild temperature so I decided to take a pill and lay down for some time but was startled by a shattering sound. He was home and furious finding no food to eat, he yelled and screamed at top of his voice so I told him that I was in a run-down condition and coundn't bring myself to cook anything and asked him if he could eat outside like most of the nights for which he punched me in my stomach. I sat on the floor feeling week holding my belly tight with tears rolling down my eyes. I couldn't take it anymore so I shouted back at him with all the burden I was holding back came rushing through my throat. I told him that I am neither his whore nor a slave and how much ashamed I am for still being in love with him. I told him that I should have married a dog for it would have kept me happier. He kept staring at me with his intoxicated red eyes, his body was shaking with fury, "You Whore", he shouted running towards me and grabbing me by my neck with all his strength, I struggled for breath and digged my nails into his hands drawing out some blood but to no avail. My body lost all its energy to fight, my hands hung motionless and he threw my lifeless body on the bed and slept beside me, his dead wife.

My eyes were staring blankly at the sealing shedding the last drop of tear, my body was numb from all the pain it endured and my heart finally rested after beating tirelessly. The soul left its broken shelter in search of a new abode that would not let it get hurt and would sheild it from the vicious thunder and shameful winds, leaving behind the bruised carcass of an innocent girl who had let herself die living for someone else.

The Cost Of Our Lives

04/03/2021

Living a life of our choice is a luxury these days. From the second we are born, our entire life has already been laid out and sealed by our parents. At a very young age, we are told to opt for Science and not commerce because that is what will make a huge difference in the eyes of our neighbours. Then after school, we are told in what profession we should place our interests in as that will determine whether or not we'll find a suitable boy or a girl to marry. Time passes by and we are parcelled at someone's door to spend the rest of our lives with them because, in the case of a boy, the girl is soft-spoken, knows how to cook and is thin and fair, while in case of a girl the boy owns a big house, has a stable job and a huge bank balance. Our lives costed the fragile status of our dear parents in society.

We grow up and start fulfilling the dreams of our parents, of having a stable job and making enough money. In the process we end up becoming a loyal pet to our bosses, obeying their demands for our entire adult life. We work round the clock, miss out on family and friends, sacrifice weekends at times of deadline and forget to ask ourselves if all this is really worth it. We tolerate the harshest and the meanest of comments of our colleagues and continue being a slave to the money, we never try to break the chains thinking this is what everybody does and this is what everybody bears. Our lives costed the fear of independence.

We keep moving ahead on the same path carrying the same baggage to dedicate the rest of our lives to our children. A mother makes sure she wakes up early so that her children are not late to school, a husband makes sure he earns enough so that his children don't have to think twice before spending it. From the first rays of the sun till the last glimpse of the moon, We as a parent ensure that our children don't have to compromise with anything that we ever had to. We kill our ambitions only to overfill the cup of our children's desires. Our lives costed ignorance of ourselves.

We know that we can live, but often we choose to throttle ourselves. We leave behind our dreams and follow a path that everyone else has taken, which will lead us to a place very familiar but still unknown and unwanted. It might be the safest, but is it what we seek? Why not for once can we think about ourselves, achieve what we want to and love who we want to. Why not for once can we decide upon leaving slavery and become our own boss. The road of our will does not guarantee success but it does make sure that the journey is worth the cost of our lives.

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A Crooked Road To tolearnt India

Monday 30/11/2020

A new arrow in the name of 'Love Jihad' has been thrown right at the heart of the nation's harmony. The law prohibits conversion from one religion to another by "misrepresentation, force, fraud, undue influence, coercion, allurement or marriage". 

Will now marrying a Muslim boy and converting to Islam for love might come under fraudulent activity or a tormented victim of the scheduled tribe seeking to adopt Christianity in order to put an end to his everyday blues would be taken as a punishable offense? Since there is no solid definition of the passed law and no evidences supporting the comprehensive nature of forced conversions, who knows in the coming future the victims themselves might face the brunt of misinterpretations of the fuzzy law and denied individual rights.

From raising the slogans of 'Hindu Rashtra' in parliament to not being permissive of the victims practicing Islam inside the country's border, we have walked the long path from the times of slavery in colonial India to the shackles of urban intolerant India.

We built a nation where a court decides upon whether Akhila Ashokan cum Hadiya's marriage to a Muslim man of her own choice after adopting Islam as her religion, is valid or not. We elected a leader who justifies the act of renaming the cities previously named upon Mughals assuming it would re-establish the country's core culture and ethnicity. We are intolerant of the tv scenes showcasing intimacy inside the walls of the temple, while our famous Hindu temples consist of highly erotic sculptures that not only attract a huge crowd of devotees but are also regarded as a world heritage site by UNESCO. We even applaud the Hindu extremist groups for listing inter-faith marriages alongside other fraudulent means of conversion because they see an agenda of those seeking to increase the strength of their own religion.

We have crossed a long bridge of time only to come back to an era of fear, slavery, intolerance, and sycophancy. In a time where the men of the family continue to regulate their daughters and wives, where the government continues to sow seeds of communal disharmony, and where people blind by faith continue to water them. The giant wheel of intolerance and misery will keep rotating until we decide to stop it. India was never born a 'Hindu Rashtra', nor it should ever turn into one. India's culture and sovereignty lie within its multiethnic democracy which shall not be tainted by any self-proclaimed protectors of the faith. 

A Blindfold By The Media

Monday 21/09/2020

I switched on the TV for my daily dose of news and soon without my knowledge the dose proved to be an intoxicant. The anchor on the tv was roaring and griefing profoundly over the sudden demise of an actor. I felt it too. My agony was much more than the grains on my plate. The infuriated tv reporters mobbed the accused friend of the actor and fired questions at her demanding to know whether she killed him,  force-fed him drugs, or robbed him of his money. She answered none. Maybe god will scrape her off the smugness I thought, forgetting about the girl in my neighborhood who was set on fire for protesting eve-teasing.

The news broadcasted on all channels that she was involved in an illegitimate affair with a movie director who happens to be her father's age. I promised myself to guard my son from these witches whose only job is to entice men and rob them of their money, least bothered about how many chaste sons of their naive mothers have robbed those maligned women of their modesty and life.

Finally, the day came of her arrest when the media's mammoth coverage proved ineludible for the accused who was sent behind the bars not because she was proven guilty of murder, but rather because she was paying money for the drugs which were later consumed by the actor. She was convicted by the media and hatred of the people soon clouded her side of the truth and her right to justice. 

I took a long deep breath and felt triumph, sleeping assuredly on the flooded floor of my damaged house with rain pouring down through a thousand tiny holes of my roof I thought, the justice was well served.

The Justice Drenched in Blood

13/May/2019

Over 3.5 crore cases are pending across courts in India. 25% of cases in High court and 8% of cases in subordinate cases have been lined up for more than a decade. So maybe that complies with the reason why people have taken the law into their own hands and resorted to justice through sticks, stones, knives, and chants of Jai Sri Ram. The chant used by Hindu devotees to show their supreme faith in Lord Ram is now held as a weapon against non-Hindus.

In 2016 two Muslim cattle traders were beaten by alleged cattle protection vigilantes over selling beef in Jharkhand. The attackers killed 32-year-old Mazlum Ansari and 12-year-old Imteyaz khan who were later found hanging from a tree.

In UP's Hapur district, Rajeev Sisodia killed a man named Qasim over cow slaughter. He was sent to jail for 5 weeks which in turn made him a hero for his people. He then audaciously admitted to his diabolical act by saying, "Vo log Gaaye kaat rhe the, humne unko hi kaat diya". He was welcomed with garlands after coming back from the jail.

Tabrez Ansari died on 22 May 2019 by villagers of Dhakidi over a rumor of bike theft. He was tied to a pole and was beaten mercilessly by sticks for the entire night and was made to chant "Jai Sri Ram" and "Jai Hanuman" after he revealed his name. In the morning he was handed over to the police after which he was declared dead.

A vigilante group lynched two saints and their driver in Palghar district, Maharashtra. Incident was fuelled by a Whatsapp rumor of active child kidnappers operating amid lockdown. The 70-year-old saint was seen beaten with a wooden log in the head by the mob on videos circulating over the internet.

Over accusations of a speeding number of cases of mob lynching, the defense minister and former home minister  Rajnath Singh debated that the biggest incident of mob lynching happened in 1984 where thousands of Sikhs were murdered over the assassination of Indira Gandhi by her Sikh bodyguards. Is it even right to compare the heinous crimes to one another when the only outcome that came out of it is torture and painful deaths? Isn't a murder of an innocent over a baseless rumor can be considered big enough or forcing a non-Hindu to chant expressions devoted to Hindu deities just to demean and dishonor their religion isn't worthy of conviction.

Yes, the justice done by the mob is faster than the courts, served on the spot in the light of the rumor. It also rejects the law and imposes severe punishment to the culprits and immense suffering to their families but in the end, the alleged culprit might be proved as an innocent victim who died in the hands of the people under the rage.

Are we ready for such justice to take over our society or do we need the law to take over the justice drenched in the blood of an innocent?

BROKEN PIECES.

13/04/2020

What it's like leaving home and staying in a place all by yourself, no friends around no family to take care of you. 1877 km, that was the distance between my ecstasy and perseverance.

I arrived in Chennai on the 22nd of Jan. My first day was full of anxiety, confusion, and sadness. Their food didn't match my taste buds and I didn't match to their culture, or at least that is what I felt. Crying did help me in giving this place another chance.

On the first day of the training, among 215 trainees and I could locate only 5 who belonged to the north region of India. Laxmi Vajayanti, a girl from Andra-Pradesh was the first person to acknowledge my uncertainty and asked me to come and sit next to her. Preeti Singh from Farukhabad was the next person who came up to me and ask "Tumhe Hindi aati h? ". Every day after work my family would video call me and ask If I am liking here or not. Yes, was my constant reply. Trying hard not to give anything out from my face. It became my most awaited part of the day. A week passed by and I was still unable to find any comfort, peace or felicity.

The clock hit 11 in the morning, time for our tea break. We were in the cafeteria when Laxmi asked me about my family, where they live, what do they do and If I miss them. I showed her pictures of them and all she did was smile while scrolling down each one of them. I asked her about her family, she told me she had five siblings, all girls and she was the second youngest of them. She showed me her father's picture, who was a farmer and her grandmother's, who brought them up."Your mother?"I asked. "She died when I was little" came her reply with an innocent smile.

Rajkumar bhaiya used to bring our food every day, "Didi khaana khaa lijiye nahi tw thanda ho jaega.", was his everyday acknowledgment of me. One day he told me he wouldn't be coming from the next day as he was leaving for home."Wapas kab aayenge?", I asked. "Aree didi ghr me puja h, 2 saal se gaya nai hun isliye jaa rha hun". "DO SAAL!",  was all I could say. My homesickness was suddenly cured to an extent.

Six more weeks passed by. It was Saturday, I and Preeti went to KFC's. We took our orders and got seated."Why don't you talk more"she asked."Don't know maybe that's how I am" came my sheepish reply. My phone screen splashed, DAD calling, it read. "Where are you, is everything fine?" he asked and disconnected after knowing I was doing well."Your dad?" she asked.

She told me that her father does not live with them. He left her mother and her for some other woman who happened to be aunt's sister. He was forcing her to get married so that he could get over with his duty as a father and then divorce her mother. It was not easy for me to absorb and there she was living it with utmost serenity. I also learnt about her roommate Arushi, who was from Meerut. She was pleasant and soft-spoken. Her father and mother were no more, her relatives don't have anything to do with her. Her grandfather was the only family she has got.

They all were the pieces of strength, calm and conviction that mended me as a whole. They were broken inside but still found the zest to go on and live. My problems with food, weather, and homesickness started to seem frivolous. I started to grow more and more each day.

WHO IS TO BLAME?

12/12/2019

"Rapists should be hanged", "those monsters should be burnt alive", "they should be lynched by the mob on the streets".

These comments burgeoning all over the internet made me think, were they really monsters coming out of their mother's womb or did they transformed into one.

I came across some interviews and articles related to men accused of rape and their views and opinions about women reflected to the society they were brought up in.

Mukesh Singh, one of the accused from nirbhaya case, told the interviewer "Taali ek haath se nhi bajti, dono haathon se bajti h agar koi shareef ladki hoti tw raat ke 9 baje nahi ghoomti"(It takes two hands to clap. A decent girl won't roam around at 9 o'clock at night). The rapist of a 5- year-old girl said "she was touching me inappropriately so I thought I'll teach her a lesson. Her mother is also like this, she too has a questionable character".

Many such cases got registered where rapists blamed the women for being in a certain way they were not supposed to be or for doing something a girl from a decent family won't do. One of them felt bad, not because he raped her but because the girl might not get married as she is no more a virgin. They blamed their victims for their gregarious nature, roaming out late at nights, wearing tight jeans, etc. This was not something unheard of.

A mother's womb cannot inflict such thoughts or beliefs. Then who is to blame?

Hanging the person might not choke his fatal mentality and toxic masculinity.

We as a society need to grow so that our #men can grow higher.

The Departure

30/11/2019

Waiting for the company's mail for me to join them and start a new journey, in spite of getting butterflies I am getting chills.

(12 year old me)

Here am I planning my first movie with friends. Excited, feeling independent and brave already. But my father objected and didn't let me.

How could he, should I have been a boy?

(19 year old me)

Here am I celebrating my farewell, dancing in the sari and filled with all kinds of emotions, school days came to an end. Biding my friends goodbye I took off. Mom asked me what took me so long as I was arriving at half-past midnight, so what if it's the last day of the school!

Really! What is the matter with her, doesn't she understand what this day meant to me?

And there I was, questioning them for not understanding me.

(23 year old me)

Time to leave my home and family. Afraid of the nights where I'll be alone, afraid of the people I'll meet for the first time, afraid of the independence, afraid of the mid-nights.

And here I am, questioning myself for not understanding them.