The Capital Crime

This is an open letter to the self appointed cultural/moral polices of our country.

A five year old girl has been brutally raped and tortured for four days in the capital city. 

Would you say it happened because the girl wore provocative dress??
Would you say it happened because she went out at night??
Would you say it happened because she was drinking??
Would you say it happened because she went out with another boy??

This happened to a five year old girl who went out to play, right outside her apartment. She was held a captive in the same neighborhood for four days and was tortured and the captive tried to kill her also.

 http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Delhi/raped-5yearold-girl-critical-in-delhi/article4633409.ece

It is sickening and depressing to read about such things in the newspaper, to watch endless debates on the tv.
Just five years. Age where she should be thinking about cartoons and imaginary friends. Her life will not be the same again.
After the brutal Delhi rape incident I was shocked to see some insensitive comments coming from people of position. The indifference to the plight of women in the society has come down to a new level now. The apathy of the law enforcement, the politicization of any such barbaric actions and the time consuming judicial process.
Is our country a haven for rapists and perverts? According to many the rapists did not do anything wrong, it was the victim who provoked them and the victim is to be blamed. I don't think anywhere else such an opinion even exist. Such idiotic comments and statements will only add on to the crimes against women. Anyone would think they can get away with such heinous activities. 
The so called proponents of the Bharath culture should not project their insecurities and attitude on to the youth. They shouldn't pass their archaic opinions as the opinion of the society they are said to be representing. The great culture they talk had widows burned alive. They are not accepting the change, they don't see the world is changing. Gone were the days when the man hunted and brought food while the women cleaned and cooked.
They should know that rape and other crimes against women are not something that happens only in India. There are deeper issues to be addressed but nothing of that sort happens here as they put the blame on the victim. They should make sure men should see a girl for the person she is and not as an object for their gratification.

The saddest and the most depressing part is not the nonsense comments of a few but the silence of the many.
Our country will continue to be a haven for such criminals till that silence is broken and the deep rot is removed. Only a few incidents in the metros will see the light of the day, the rest remain unsaid and unheard.

This post is dedicated to the unheard victims of various sexual crimes happening all over the country, to their silence. 

Superman - 55 words fiction

"Guess what!  I am superman!" He said
"Really??" She asked
"Yeah"
"Screw you. Why did you come? "
"So many questions otherwise"
"Can you give me a hug? "
"Sure"
They reached the ground together, embracing each other. Free fall from the 35th floor  can be fatal.
She slipped and he jumped after. Friendship till the end.

The King of Patiala and the Horse Riders

The King of Patiala was taking his usual morning stroll in the royal garden.  The interior affairs minister, a short rash guy came running to the king.
“Your highness! Emergency! The village youth had been found to sit on the royal emblem and the pride of our nation. The horse!”
“What?? How is it possible?? Isn't there rules against that??”
“I checked with the legal affairs minister your highness. He is on his way to meet you.  It seems the constitution has laid rules on how to breed the horse, what to feed the horse, by-laws on how to milk the horse, sub-clauses on the recipes for horse meat but there is no rule against sitting on the horse! I doubt this is a conspiracy by the enemy states to make the people lose their respect for the  royal emblem and so disintegrate the national unity which would make our country more vulnerable to the invasion ”
The minister told it so fast that the king understood only the last word.
“Well don’t just stand here then! Go make one law against that! Where is that legal affairs minister??”
“Your highness he will reach here soon. And there he is”
The minister said pointing to the bulky, very bulky legal affairs minister walking slowly, so slow that he’ll give an excellent competition to the a snail which is competing in a slow cycle race.
The king and the internal affairs minister stood affix waiting for the legal minister to reach them.
“Your highness I heard from the internal affairs minister about the sinister act of the youth in the village. What ought to be done?”
“What else? Make a new law banning all sorts of sitting and standing on the horse illegal. I want it done before sundown today!”
“Yes your highness!” The legal affairs minister then started his very slow walk back to his office.
“Well done minister for the swift action. You deserve the ‘Order of the Horse Mane’ award!” King was indeed pleased with the interior affairs minister.
The minister left and the king resumed his walk around the garden.

Four innocent hapless young men were arrested from the village the next day while playing a new game on their pets.
 They were sentenced to five years in prison upon the charges of showing disrespect to the national emblem, trying to disintegrate the national unity, conspiring with the enemies against the kingdom, plotting to overthrow the king and finally drinking the horse milk other than how it was directed in the constitution.  Of course the evidences were all circumstantial.

(You may think this is an euphemism or metaphors or something like that but the author is not responsible for  what the reader makes of this story!)

(This story is dedicated to my close friend, whose conversations laid the ground for the Kingdom of Patiala and has asked me to write about it here.) 

Travelling light. .

I went to the Kochi Muziris Biennale yesterday and I did not take a camera with me.

What is the big deal you may ask. Photography is one of my passions and I bought my first camera around a year back. Being photo obsessed I really wanted to take the camera, but due to some inconvenience my camera was not with me and there was no chance I could get another one.  With deep regrets I still went.  The following are the thoughts which arose on travelling light, without the burden of a camera, without the urge to click photos of anything and everything.
 This is not about the Biennale as such; I don’t think I can write about it as it is literally beyond words. This is just a thought I had when I walking through exhibits without the weight of a camera hanging on my neck or mind.
The first stall itself was really captivating and I couldn’t come out of it without taking a photo at least in my phone. People who know my obsession know that I really hate photos taken on a phone. I don’t know why, I just hate it. In spite of that I still took one photo.

Then I was literally lost on the works that was displayed, till I reached the food stall. Not having a camera was in fact a releasing feeling.  I did not have to bother waiting for the crowd to move to take the photo. Don’t have to worry about the quality of the photos. I can just walk through the exhibits. The food stall was located behind the venue, right next to the backwaters. The sight was really good and almost all of those people coming there immediately took out their cameras and started clicking photos.  The first thought that came to my head also was that. The location is picture perfect. The backwaters, a small country bout in the vicinity and some other boats a bit out into the waters.

 As I sat down there and observed people, I saw that more of them came there and rather than seeing the scene they immediately turn their backs to the scene and front to the camera, but is it worth it? Sacrificing the the time to stand there and enjoy the scene we immediately look around to find the perfect spot to take a photo.  We might probably upload it in Facebook and get ‘likes’ and ‘comments’ but beyond that what? We’ll keep it in it our computers? I am not sure about others but I have to keep the photos in my system in an organized manner but most of the time it ends there.
 So once I was done with the first location i.e the Aspinwall HouseI moved on to the next location in the map; the Pepper House. There a very good café was arranged. I must have sat there for around 45 minutes and wrote random thoughts about whatever I have seen till then.
Memories need not be always captured with a camera. Memories are those which are etched in our minds. Cameras literally capture everything, just because we have a camera we tend to take photos of our breakfast to the dog we saw on the road. The so called ‘moments’ are sometimes spoiled by our obsession to record and keep it forever. The actual moments or memories are often lost among such hundreds of photos. Real memories are those which are recreated in words with the person whom you share the memory with. It need not be showed off to the world.
 Sitting at the café I could capture the images of the people sitting near me as words, it would look weird if I start taking their photos.
Do try it once in a while, go to some place nice without the heaviness of a camera and keep those moments in your memory.
(Those who can do visit the Kochi Muziris Biennale, it is something I haven’t seen till now, totally worth it!)

Over a Cup of Coffee

"I came here just because my mother forced me.” 
Sarah said as she sat down in front of Karthik. Not even a smile, he noticed. They were in a coffee shop going through the modern version of an arranged marriage. The guy and the girl meeting up in a coffee shop, much alike to a blind date but just that this one was set up by their parents and one of them was not really into it. 
“It is not like I am against arranged marriage or anything but I want to spend some time doing things which I like to do.” She continued.

“What are those things?” Karthik spoke for the first time.
“Travelling for instance…… Basically do things with my friends…… Watching movies……… I had a boy friend in my college so didn’t really hang out with my friends then, kinda making up for all the time I wasted. YES I had a boyfriend and I used to hang out with him all the time. Don’t give that surprised look. … I didn’t study in a medical college to spend all my time nerding off in front of the books……. We can enjoy the whole semester and cram the studies to the last one week. . ”
“Cappuccino, two,” said Karthik to the waiter, other than which he did not really say anything.
“My mother was very adamant on seeing you as her cousin’s somebody’s somebody had a high opinion of you.” Sarah continued talking as the cappuccino came.
Karthik let that compliment pass with a smile.
“You being a doctor would be used to a serious life style. I am not saying it is bad or anything but I like somebody who is a bit more relaxed and fun loving. You guys really do a good job saving people’s life and stuff like that but then again you are not really the risk takers in your personal life. I am sure you must be the kind who used to study on a daily basis”
“Not really.  I usually..” He had to stop as she continued with her monologue.
“.. We on the other hand don’t really have to break our backs studying like that because we don’t really face a life or death situation. If we can manage to…”

“Oh f***!!” Karthik nearly jumped out of his seat.
“What??” Sarah  was shocked to see the  f word coming out of the ‘good-boy’
“It is my ex – girlfriend!!”
“  What??? You ex girl friend??”
“No time to talk now, we have to move fast!” Saying this Karthik took Sarah’s hand and literally ran out through the other entrance of the coffee shop, almost knocking down another couple on the way.
He released her hand only when they were a safe distance away from his ex- girlfriend.
“Sorry about it. We recently broke up and it was not a good break up also” Karthik tried to explain as Sarah was trying to catch her breath.
“What you mean not a good break up??”
“Well I am not really sure if she knows it or not.”
“What the hell? You are such an ass!” 
“Well I try not to show off! In my defense she started to avoid me then I ignored her but she never really bothered”
“You doctors are so screwed up man!” She said with a laugh. That was her first laugh since she sat down in front of him 15 minutes ago.

After 4 months, their wedding reception..

“Hey your ex girl friend is here!” Sarah whispered in a worried tone while smiling at the 6 cameras aimed at them.
“Who? Diya? She is fine.”
“You made peace with her?”
“Well she was not really my girl friend, just a good friend.”
“What??? You lied to me??”
“You wanted an adventure, I gave you one! Oh yeah we have a tendency to make up stuff, got it from writing all those exams!”
“You ass!” She punched him in his ribs and laughed a lot louder than the first time she laughed with him. 

(Author's note: Coz we are fun too!!!)
Belated Christmas wishes everyone and hope all of you will have a really great new year up ahead!)

God's sense of humour!

Some of my close friends would know that I consider myself as linguistically challenged. At any given point of time I can learn/talk/understand no more than 2 languages.
Well yes as with most of the other stuff I put up  here this is also a mild exaggeration but it is very difficult for me to learn a new language so I accept it and stop trying to make a fool out of myself. More than any other language it is Hindi our official language which has a problem with me. I never could reason with the fact that inanimate objects have gender. Plus there are a lot more stuff in that language which has given me enough nightmares throughout the 6 years I studied it. (Yes! 6 years!!! Yet I cannot speak or understand Hindi properly! Now you all know why I don't like it!)  This particular trait of mine has made me the butt of many a jokes among my friend's group.
So this is just a background to the following incident which happened yesterday.
I was on my way to the railway station to go home with hardly any cash on me. As always I went to the nearby ATM, after entering the PIN the machine's touch screen was stuck on the language selection page. I touched English nothing happened. I touched Malayalam, again nothing happened, skipping the Hindi in the middle I came out and went to the only other ATM  in the locality. The other one was closed for repairs. I stood there at 1:30 pm not really knowing what to do to catch the train at 2:15 pm. Again I went back to first ATM hoping for a miracle to happen. When you are walking in the sun with two moderately large bags trust me you'll become a believer! Then man inside the ATM came out counting money. MIRACLE! I silently proclaimed while entering the small room. But again, the machine was stuck at the language selection. Was God playing a trick with me? Then I understood the grand joke! I touched the middle option - Hindi! It worked. Unbelievable! The ATM did not have a problem till the previous night. First time in my life I am seeing the ATM behaving like this. With familiarity I managed the first Hindi screen without reading but the second was tough. I had to try really hard to decipher those signs. I was sure the person waiting outside would think I was gonna steal money or something. But thankfully he didn't call the police.
Only when I was comfortably sitting in the train I realized the prank God played on me!
He sure does have a good sense of humour, even though many of his followers don't.
I am sure many of us have these kind of tiny incidents.
Do share them here.

Be a rebel. .

(Author's note: Violent theme ahead)

“Be a rebel” 
I told myself. Rebel would be the last word someone would associate with me. I was a good student, a good citizen.  Obedient. I gave my seat to old people. I never did something I would regret. As a child I was taught that being good counts. That is the only thing which counts. Like any other good child I kept it in my heart and went accordingly. Do good. Never disappoint others.
I looked up and saw the moon. It was full moon. That gave me the light to walk this far in the middle of the night. Somehow looking at the full moon calmed my nerves.
“Be a rebel" I told myself again.
Fight the inhibitions laid out on you by the society. Do what you want.
 I kept encouraging myself.
 My sister was better than me in all accounts. Even though she was 3 years younger to me I often looked up to her. She was a constant inspiration and motivation. Her messages would lighten me up during the bad days I had to endure. She was the epitome of goodness. The giver. Whatever she was doing, she always had time for others. To help others with kind words and deeds. She had a pleasant aura around her. She was an angel on earth. And now in heaven.

Brutally raped and killed.
The man who did it walked free. After a lot of courts, cases and what not, he was set free. Mental instability, as his advocate proved in the court. He was to be admitted in an asylum and not in a jail. But here he is, sleeping in the comfort of his room. That was a mistake he did.
Her throat was slit. When I saw her, she was lying on the ground with torn dress and her head at an unnatural angle with the body. The odour was unbearable; the dark nauseating odour of blood. It was all over the place. I had to walk on the blood to reach her; her blood. The same that flows through my veins. i screamed like never before. Not only then but many times after I saw her body. The image keeps coming back. I kept thinking what and all might have gone through her mind at those dreadful moments. How mistaken she was about the world and the people in it.

I am standing outside his room, the images of my sister running through my head.  Somehow her smiling pleasant face is not coming to my mind. It is always the unnaturally angled head. With the blood, the nauseating odour of blood.  My heart starts pumping the same blood in me, vigorously. I can feel my heart beat. Blood is rushing to my right hand, where I have a long knife.
I entered his room. I got a strong smell of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke. The empty bottle on the table told me he is passed out. Perhaps the same alcohol might have led him to something like that to a fellow human being. His breathing was heavy. I looked at him.
How could he?
I asked this question to myself a thousand times but never got an answer. I am never gonna get that answer out of him. I don’t need an explanation. Explanations will not bring back my sister, neither does killing him. I know that but he shouldn't do it again. I am doing it for her.
She probably would have wanted me to forgive him and move on for an angel she is but I am not. I am mere human who gives in to his emotions. A brother, who wants to make sure that no brother would have to feel the same as I felt. A son, who wants to make sure no parent would have to go through what our parents went through.
I raised the knife, closed my eyes and slit his throat. He did not make a sound but his eyes were wide open when I opened mine. The dark nauseating smell of blood filled the place. The same odour.
The same blood runs through our veins beneath our skin, we choose to ignore that basic fact and act differently.
I came out of the room leaving him in his pool of blood, like how he left my sister.