As her mother took her last breath in,
She rushed through the foggy mist,
Not able to breathe herself,
She halted, screeched,
Rummaged for water.



Hardly able to drink she was,
Spilling few drops on to the earthy ground.
She started her car again,
Speeding,
Seeing the trees pass by,
Her memories hit a flash back.



All the things came rushing to her,
And as the memories flowed in,
Also fell the first drop of tear from her dark brown eyes.



Her throat again dry,
She didn’t stop.



Promenading the hospital corridors,
She reached, ICU
She missed a heartbeat; the words gave her a shock,
Shivering she entered,
Only to find a ragged pile of pale bones.
The wrinkled hands rose in acknowledgment
Holding on to her hand,
Her mother smiled,
Which she was unable to return.



It was just as if her mother was waiting
For this last perfect bond to happen,



“MAMA!!’ she cried
Her mother heard it too,
The last words of her daughter,
Which hardly felt the way when she had first said it years ago.



The clock kept running,
There was nothing more to do,
She wiped her tears and got out of the room.



For one last time
She looked back at those same words
I C U
It made sense to her for some very odd reason,
I See You
And again for some unknown reason she smiled,
Just as the droplet from her eyes
Followed the beautiful curve of her lips.

Seeing the smile on her face,
Jumping with joy as we rode on
Looking at the trees running by
She clapped her hands
Widened her pupils in awe


I was too elated
Watching my child euphoric
I mouthed a prayer,
To keep my child always happy

And it was then that happened
A loud blast of black
Sent us all flying away

Refusing to let go off her
I tightly held my child

I fell harshly onto the ground
Bruises and blood marks all over my body
But my child was safe
Yes she was!
Safe in my arms

But then suddenly I couldn’t breathe
I couldn’t see
Dizzy blur
I could hear her screaming
Crying, shouting


She hit my face
Poked my eyes open
And the last glance I had
She was still crying.

And since long after
I didn’t open my eyes
She slept beside me
Tears still streaming from her eyes,
Hoping her mother would wake up soon
She yawned
And hugged her mother’s lifeless body.

Looking through the tear drop
That refused to fall off from my eyes
Clinging on to my eyelashes
It just held there my sigh


Looking back at the glass of mirror
That now lay broken, shattered
I stood thinking, reeling over and over again
To what just happened


Rushing, running, I had reached out to the door
Pushing strongly,
Breathless to see what happened inside


Those bright red drops,
Dripping onto the velvet carpet
From the pink pout of my own


Scooping my child
I ran to those white angels
They said they’ll try their best
To give me back my happiness


And after a very long time
I knelt and prayed
Prayed to all the Gods
And to the Universe
To take my life and let my heart live


My heart did beat
And as I counted the passing seconds
“I’m sorry, we tried our level best”

what work does your father do?

The reason for giving such a title to my post is because this is the very same question which prompted me to write a blog post after a very long time.





I teach as a part time job. And also earn. To one of my students, who is in the second standard, one day, I was teaching a lesson -Family. After reading the chapter, I had told him to answer the questions given at the end of the lesson. He was beautifully answering all the questions when suddenly he came across a question for which he had no answer- what work does your father do?


He interrupted me and asked what to write as an answer. Now, let me inform you all that his father is unemployed and his mother is the breadwinner of the family. He continued staring at me blankly. I too had no clue as to what to say or do so I stupidly read the question out to him again- what work does your father do? When I knew that his father doesn’t do anything.


After an awkward pause, I asked him to answer the next question presuming there must be something about the mother’s job. But alas! None! No question about what work the mother might be doing! THAT led me to muse on this subject.
There are two questions that disturbed me.


One, Is it so easily assumed that a woman cannot be the sole earner in a family? It has also seeped into academics. It is almost like telling the kids that your father’s job holds more importance than your mother’s. What fueled my annoyance was the fact that there wasn’t any mention of the mother’s job in the book. And ironically, the lesson was named “Family”.


Two, even if the mother is working, is her job of less worth than her husband’s that it doesn’t even find place to be mentioned in an EVS book?
Why isn’t it still acceptable that a woman does work? That she also earns? And that her job is also important?


Why is it hard to digest that a man doesn’t work and that the mother is the one who earns for the family?

Moreover why is it so easily assumed that the father must be working?

I have no answers.

I have nothing to conclude.

This was the first time I had a talk about pre marital sex with my parents. It started with the discussion of Khushboo’s comment. And as expected, my parents completely opposed the idea of pre marital sex. When asked why, my father said “you have a certain background and certain morals. Pre marital sex is ‘unholy’.” What made it funnier was my father hardly was vocal with the word “sex”. He stopped at pre marital! That is it! I was to assume it was about sex.
I, of course, as a teenager with active hormones, reacted strongly to this. Firstly, is sex the deciding factor of one’s morals? Would having sex before marriage make you “unworthy” of living in the society? As for that matter, is the ‘society’ supposed to know when I am having sex???
My parents were shocked goes without saying. They hadn’t expected this coming from me. They said I was raised as a good daughter. Hence I wasn’t supposed to have sex before marriage. Again, needless to say, I refuted. Then there emerged a fight, which then resulted with me being shouted at.
Virginity, especially of a girl’s, is highly overrated. Girls are expected to behave in a certain way that again is decided by the ‘society’ around us. Drinking, smoking, drugs and sex apparently is tailor made for men. But if a woman enters the “restricted area”, she is termed as ‘characterless’, while a man is given leverage, only because he is a man, which again is none of his achievements.
While reading more about the same on the net, I read a comment by an activist. She had lived in England for nearly 30 years. And now when she is back in India, she finds India a lot changed and that too for good. She finds that youngsters are more pragmatic and very well aware of what they are indulging into.
I tried to reiterate the same to my parents. I am a 19 year old, legally allowed to indulge in sexual activities. Why then can I not have sex before marriage? Who are the so called “moral police” who decide what I should do in my personal life? What happens in my bedroom is nobody’s business. The “society” has no right to judge me. In fact nobody has the right to judge me. And even if I do indulge in sex, why would I proclaim it?
Moreover, is being a “good’ daughter only about getting married and have sex with a man whom you have never seen in your entire life and your parents point out him to you? And you have no option but to say yes!! Isn’t that a mellowed form of prostitution? The only difference being that it is recognized by the society?
What I cannot fathom is why sex is such a big taboo? Why is marriage seen as the license to have sex? Shouldn’t it be my decision whether I want to indulge in a no-strings attached sex or an emotional love making with a man?

From the womb

Shriveled and tiny, I lay in the dark region
It wasn’t long that I had been there
I knew my mother, I knew my father
I knew the fact that they didn’t bother
They didn’t want me,
So they planned to kill me.

I could feel my mother’s anxiety,
I hated myself,
Why, oh, why
Why am I a girl?
I am not wanted,
I am not loved,
Nobody is anxious to receive me,
Like God had promised me
“My child, I am sending you to earth,
To a place where you will live long,
To two beautiful parents who will hold you tightly,
You will bring them utmost joy, and love and happiness
You will be theirs.”

I had jumped with joy,
Anticipating about my life,
About my parents,
But here I am,
Not able to speak out,
That I love them both,
I wouldn’t bring them grief
I would always keep them happy

But I couldn’t speak
I just lay there,
Helpless,
I knew I am not going to be born.
My mother told me that night
“My love you are always,
I am sorry I am doing this to you
But my daughter, you will live always in my heart.”

And that was the last time I heard her voice,
I experienced a seething pain,
I wanted to hold on to my mother
But couldn’t,
The place where I was
Just turned more darker,
And I couldn’t see anything.
Again.

Women's Day Reminder: we are still a patriarchal society.

What a great gift to the Indian women on Women’s Day. There was a complete ruckus created over the Women’s Reservation Bill by the Yadav clans and hence discussion of the bill was stalled in the parliament. The Rajya Sabha, where the bill was introduced was adjourned amid pandemonium for the day. The opposition reacted strongly to the bill and almost assaulted the Vice President, Hamid Ansari. The disturbing videos and pictures shown by the media were proof enough to realize how behaved our MPs are. Though of course, for many it was a sense of Déjà Vu. The Bill was waiting to be passed for the last 14 years. It was nothing extra-ordinarily surprising for me that it didn’t. And what shocked me more was the fact that Lalu Yadav also opposed the Bill and for some reason that struck me hard.
The inevitable blame game has already started. Congress is being accused of getting the alibis it needed to not to pass the bill. What shocks one is the unprecedented attempt to bull-doze the bill and that too with such vandalism. The Rajya Sabha could be termed as the clichéd “Fish Market”, on this day.
There are two things which make me wonder really hard. One, how can women even dream to get empowered in this all-too-strong-patriarchal India? Two, were those REALLY the MPs? Those people who claim to work for the “common good”? Guess what, “common” doesn’t include women. The word only encompasses the “male world”, a world where women are considered to be “under” the “control” of men. Look how civilized our leaders are. Our leaders represent us. They are people we choose as OUR representatives.
I had goose pimples all over my body watching the video clips of our Honorable Chairman being attacked. Also, on the fact that there is a long way for us to go. It is the road less traveled.

Don’t find it easy? Set yourself ablaze.

I really question the modus operandi adopted by some people to establish their viewpoint. Violence is of course one form. Beat up others who don’t support your school of thought, vandalize and use all other potential means of destruction. But is burning up oneself the ultimate step that is left, to show your support and your outburst? Is death the means to achieve an end? Would burning up your body give an impetus to the process of achieving the end result? Is your life worth that issue you stand for?
Everybody has forgotten the case of Rajiv Goswami setting himself on fire, during the Mandal agitation. As for the very latest incident, take the example of Yadaiah, a university student, who set himself on fire to voice his stand on the Telengana issue, in Hyderabad. He could have been as well alive and support the cause rather than set himself afire. Did he achieve anything out of this act? No. Is he being talked about anymore? No. Will he be talked about anymore? Perhaps, if the electronic media at some later phase feels that the issue is significant enough to be discussed on TV.
He would never know what became of the issue. He would never know whether his act actually helped in achieving the goal set by his party. He would never know the joy of winning. Neither the gloom of losing. He would never know anything.

Cheque De India

Shahrukh khan had tried to set an example. Chak de India did set an example. One aspect of the movie was highlighting of a highly doubtful phrase, atleast in the current phase, ‘Unity in Diversity’. Another thing portrayed in that movie is about the plight of Indian women hockey players.
A report appeared recently in one of the leading newspapers in Delhi carried the horrifying report about the plight of the women in the hockey team of India. Most of them come from the lower strata of the society and are also, sadly, the breadwinner of their family. The team goalkeeper E Rajini’s plight was brought to light recently. Her father is a carpenter with an income of Rs 3000-5000 a month. He needed a surgery for his kidney which meant raising a whooping amount of Rs 20,000. Rajni’s father was in no position to meet the expenditure; neither she or her three siblings and mother.
Ironically, the men’s team had been handed over cheques by Hockey India (HI) after Rs 1 crore came from Sahara. This money was also earned after continuous protests. Interestingly, the women were told there was not enough money for their achievements.
The question here is not whether hockey, our national game, is given its due status and prestige. Of course it’s not. And we all know it. The debate is more than that. The question here is why are the women players not given their due status and prestige. If the men’s hockey team can be awarded a huge amount of one crore, why not the women players? After all, they had won Champions Challenge II and made to the finals of Asia Cup last year.
Here is one country, where cricket players are bought. A huge sum is invested in cricket. A cricket match raises the TRP’s, leads to over hype and excitement. But with all due respect, there isn’t much respect left for our national game. And even more less respect for the upcoming women hockey players. For that matter, even the women’s cricket team. What is not digestible is the fact that though some of these women have proved their mettle in our national game, and also represented India in the international field, still are being paid a meagre 10,000.
They say we live in the 21st century. They shout out slogans about women empowerment. But this outrageous incident makes us question whether India is really on the path of liberation, especially for women, as it claims to be.

Salute to her

This is one incident I would never forget. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, just a simple gesture, by someone whom I had least expected to act that particular way. Of course it was her duty, her responsibility. But then, we don’t often get help from people executing that nature of job, which she was.
One of my friends stays in Faridabad. She has to take an auto daily from our college, till Badarpur Border. By meter it would have cost her Rs 80/-. But as a habitant of Delhi, one would know only too well, that the meters don’t work. Never. Most of them have technical problems. Apparently, the meter production isn’t done in right way. All the manufactured meters have faults.
So, the onus lies on our poor auto-wallahs. They have to act as meters, and that to a high-speed-running one, and decide the cost. So my dear friend, after half an hour of arguing with auto-wallahs, to drop her to Badarpur Border, since they didn’t find it attractive enough to agree to go that place, finally found one. He asked for Rs 120/-. We shooed him away. Then another. Same story. Then another. Then another.
All this time, I had noticed a woman traffic police officer sitting there and watching all this drama taking place. And all the time I was just cursing her, about how passive one could be. Then the green light shown. A fleet of cars and buses and already hired autos started moving. Then came another auto, which had no plan of stopping for us.
And the unexpected happened. That woman police officer, whom I had been cursing, ran towards the auto and stopped it. She told him to activate his meter, and take my friend to wherever she wanted to go.
We couldn’t thank her enough. She just smiled, like this was nothing great she did. Of course, the auto-wallah was bickering all the way to my friend, but it was worth it. And this, my article, is dedicated to her. To women as well as male police officers, who posses the sense of responsibility, just like her. JAI HIND.

oh now i have a blog too...:D