Speak India, Speak for yourself

The first cry out of the mother’s womb and ‘she’ is considered as the sole burden for the rest of her life. It has been a tough fight, the fight between who will survive and who would reign. The society has so far been divided into the dichotomy of gender. A ‘Female’ since ages is classified in a life that is shameful, useless and barren in its very nature; that atrocious plight they have been put into since birth. The place we all inhabit is proud of its heritage and the fragrance of its very culture. But have we ever thought and analyzed that how life has been treating women across this planet? Have we ever pondered over millions of the women in the past that had been a part of the sinful practice as Sati? Have we ever gathered ourselves up to look out of the comfortable window of our balcony at the maid who works tirelessly through day and night and yet is treated no better than a mule? No, we haven’t as we are the only passive agents in the society who have been busy in the commercialized aspect of time.

It may seem strange to many when I talk about an age old practice of Sati, in a time like today. But, this is significant to be talked about as the society has ritually been practicing such acts like witch burning till seventeenth century and Sati till the end of the nineteenth century but the important question is that has it been demolished completely or not? Women have always been silenced to death or drugged and a new category like Subaltern has been defining them. I actually don’t see such practices coming to an end; in fact they have been gradually substituted. Probably, if innocent creatures are not considered as witches but are burnt to death for dowry, or if they become widows then they are not Sati but they fit into a taboo in the society which configures them as Divorced/ Separated/Widowed. If the woman today has a boyfriend then she does not possess a good character, she is wild if she speaks back and she is raped if she wears the clothes you find revealing. The ultimate question remains the same; why can’t we as a society let them breathe freely, or why this tagging is always something which has to happen so naturally.

By such stamping of what role a woman has to play in time, we are indulged only in conditioning their lives. It is the same society that takes oath to provide relaxation to women in the fields of education, work, and in fact allow them to grow out of the shell and walk parallel to the other gender in the society, yet  a woman’s individuality has sadly been marked on the basis of her relationship status if put in contemporary context. It is the same society which is constituted of both females and males, thus it would be somewhere incorrect to blame patriarchy to be the only unhealthy concept especially today. One cannot blame patriarchy if we look at the other side of the coin that what a woman is doing for another woman. When she lay on the road nude and injured did one single woman came to help her, or to at least see what could she have been facing? It is essential for one woman to speak for another; it is always the people in the society who have to help each other so leave alone the questions of man or a woman.

We women need to speak first, before even men speak for us. We need to fight domestic violence, we need to retreat back if we are forced for dowry and we need to shout back if we are silenced as Subalterns. We are women, and we need to prove the strength of this gender and importance of our living, breaking the barrier of conditioning. It is about every small thing from the burning, torturing, raping or any such derogatory act, it is for living and living like a human.

Estranged!!

I feel estranged

i am lowering down

as i resolve to ponder upon

I do not feel you certainly

But i cry

I even do not know why do I

you are there and still not there

I wish to speak, my heart sinks

the soul is clutched

by some unseen force

I beg to feel free

The ringing I hear

Are they your wedding bells?

Or am I delusional?

The magic happens

I heard it right

but not meant for me

it is for you and everybody

I am not the god's child

I feel so bad

But I am helpless

You call it the play of life?

Love stories that change!!

Oh that prince charming, riding on a white horse, coming all the way to take his princess away…have you been splurging upon this wild thought too??? No, it doesn’t mean that I do or did (wink wink ;)), but this is something I know many girls must have at some point in their lives be dreaming of (blush :)) well, are there any love stories??? Or to go precise are there any real love stories??? Or are there any such princes riding all the way rummaging around for their princess??? Let’s, take the truth down (gulp) with a pinch of salt! The times have changed and so are feelings and attitudes. The people have changed and so are the relationships. The life hasn’t changed but the lifestyle has. Love has changed too!!

1. The school time love stories!!!

The boy believes she is the one. The girl believes him actually. The boy believes she is the most beautiful he has seen ever. The girl believes him actually. The boy proposes her. She is in tears (the answer is ‘yes’ automatically). The boy buys her roses. The girl is in tears( due to hormonal imbalance in those growing ‘love’ struck years). The boy takes her out for coffee. The girl says she doesn’t drink coffee (she’s shy). The boy is happy. The girl believes him actually. The boy holds her hand. The girl is in tears (adrenaline rush, nothing else!). The boy plans all the meetings now. She has faith in him. The boy gives her a lecture on the next date, I wish to express my love to you, you are most special to me….(blah blah blah)  The girl believes him actually. They hug, they happy. The boy is confident. She now confides in him. He wants to kiss her. She surrenders. They kiss, they happy. The go out for coffee. She is not shy. He pays. They go out for lunch, they eat, he pays. End of the month, he has no pocket money. They go out she pays. He is happy. She is not. They go out for coffee, they share the bill. They meet, he wants to kiss she doesn’t bother for the same (her mind is perhaps bugged up with those 400 rupees she had to spend on the pizza the other day). His ego hurt. She enjoys. He doesn’t call up in the evening. Nor she does. He doesn’t call the next whole day. As if she cares. They end up. They happy. They move on.

2. The campus love stories!!!

How important it is to wear the nail paint matching with the handbag!! Gosh, else he’s

 not going to notice her. She has to go for that sleekest piece in her wardrobe each

 morning. A kind of dress that makes the makes the flab around her belly tucked in. The

 infinite collection of Gucci(s) and Elizabeth Ardens(s)(almost like a butterfly in a rose garden) she is busy spreading the fragrance of her costliest perfume ever. How can she let him miss the air she wants him to breathe (even if he is allergic to it, and may die sneezing :/ ). She finds him cute, she finds him noticing her (factually he notices the overdone make up and underdone clothes). Girl, you think he notices you because you looking attractive, NO! Because you are the most repulsive (only one among the others he rejects). That’s how it is in college, that one sided love. I have seen many of them around me..indulged in useless wooing practices and hopeless fantasies. Let me bring you the truth, guys are better in this age, they know it definitely cannot be love, it is infatuation (if he calls it so, then he is serious at least for a fling). It is a happy thing to see those freaks have fun (ofcorce it is so) and the butterflies to be heartbroken (that really helps them to update their facebook status). Ok, let’s come to that! How I have always hated the love struck updates on facebook turn into the hateful updates ( the same guy behind both)  and not to miss those pretty ‘close’-ups perhaps taken at Blue-O (a whole album put at FB, “me and my guy at Blue-O”) turning into ‘love is painful’ the stolen pictures(Google images) . Ooof, who told you to go for it, I always knew you are being an emotional fool. I hope such cute girls know the choice between right and wrong, and actually look from their eyes (if they also care for the pair of retinas they have ;))!!

Well, the main point is, that it is not the end of it. Love stories should change but only for being mature and strong, but not a consequence of changing love partners and hitting the records for the break-ups. I am not at all interested in preaching you folks or delivering the ‘art of loving’ lecture, nor I am a love-guru, but that’s how it is and that’s how I think it should be. If it is true love, it will come and knock your door, it would be funny, troublesome, magical, conscious, romantic yet so practical. Your guy/girl won’t be someone who may come with school time, leave you by the end of board exams, comes afresh in your college time and you end up breaking in third year!! Isn’t that unhealthy??? Love is pure, it is there for a lifetime. So, what do you think out there?? Did your love story change, if yes has it changed for the better?? This won’t be the end of my article. Hopefully, it begins now, with your viewpoints and your responses to the post. Wishing that you have a great love story too :)

Clock

A soft terrain of muddy grass

in dying hue of the evening

Its wet texture, softening

enters the ground deeper

reaching the breath too

as if dew to dull limbs

It stretches forth

falls back at times

moves forth again

A hopeful pendulum but mortal clock

of these countable years

shading the memories darker

The lullaby the mother sang

in the days gone by

until the winter mornings

her shivering self

comforting the daughter in warm quilt

Songs of the night so warm

Mother lays mercilessly

on this muddy grass

though a soft terrain

shivering again till the winter morning

lays cold to death

the daughter, who cannot be seen

A harsh domain of the mad world

In oblivion, in illusion

Soft appearing, but stubborn

enters no heart

reaching no breath

As if a scented dead limb..

A wish..

The table was set clean in the garden and the tea was being poured in the saucer from an off-white sparkling tea-pot, it was smoking and smelling of the herbs. The tea-pot, which Shivam had got for her; from Calcutta some four years back and it was as stainless and special as ever. They both had a routine of having the morning tea together while they watch the beautiful backyard of their house. This morning was a little different, besides her and Shivam, Anuj’s share of tea also was being made today, she puts one and a half spoonful of sugar in his cup and he continuously kept looking at the glowing  skin of her hands wearing red bangles on her wrists but quivering fingers making tea, putting milk at one moment and stirring the sugar as it gradually sweetened the warm drink. She threw a quick glance at him and placed the saucer there in front of him. She goes into the kitchen on account of preparing breakfast for the three of them. Anuj had a tiring journey from Delhi last night. The breakfast table was bigger than the one in their backyard, the table cloth was flawlessly drawn today and Shivam was very particular about the same, after all Anuj and he could be together today after a wide gap of seven years. The memorable year of 1995, their farewell day at college in Delhi, they had last met; all of them Shivam, Arpita and Anuj. Since then, they had no news of Anuj besides, that he moved to States at his uncle’s to continue his further studies. The present was the day they all had to talk about it. What happened and how it happened, and finally why it happened. This anxiety was dominantly present in Arpita’s heart, a woman’s heart. A woman’s heart which once had loved and was mistaken for the same.

While the mixie in the kitchen is roaring to its pitch, and Arpita works endlessly, it is almost 1:30 noon, Anuj and Shivam unable to find time for anything else than talking and revisiting the good old college days. Little Anaya, two, is sleeping in her cradle peacefully, probably dreaming, dreaming a girl’s dream, weaving some naïve understanding of her own little world, the world of pure thoughts and babbling words, though broken yet contained a flow of her sentiments, who knows none beyond mummy’s care and  daddy’s love.

Her wish still lingers on, even to this day to fetch a moment out of her own life so that she may clarify the necessary matter with Anuj. The chapter which unfortunately, could not be completed in her case. Anuj has perhaps acquired the famous American air in his sense, probably he is ignoring her; she felt. She tried to be judgemental of his behaviour almost each day even in these long seven years, but it was unanswered. She had been questioning tirelessly but who knew the pain she underwent through each passing day. Shivam was a loving husband, a caring one; but a husband. It was going complex, she didn’t want to miss this chance that life had finally given her, to talk to Anuj before he again flies off to America, a strange land of dreamers.

“Let’s have coffee together, it would be a great idea before I take a short leave of you to settle some account of business and be back before dinner Anuj” informed Shivam. The idea brought discomfort at Anuj’s disposition. Arpita listened; and like a dedicated wife went in the kitchen to brew coffee for them, followed by the time when Anuj and Arpita are alone, at one place, at one time. “ I do not want to be any inconvenience to you by staying in front of your eyes, I am sorry for..” Anuj could not take it further. Arpita held tray in her hands and restlessly cleared the table, her body was speaking for her suppressed emotion, a lingering wish and an innocent confession. She was puzzled. How to begin a talk, with a man who is not a friend to her since long, not even a little more than a friend.

An hour had been already spent, a futile span which couldn’t decide anything for Arpita. It was childish of her to break in front if him suddenly. She was broken to the core of her senses. Her red bangles still retained the music when she placed both her hands on her face and wept. It was painful to Anuj, but as always he was out of speech. He,a man, an intelligent one believed not in prophesying his acts as ever before. He moved and held her in his. “I am sorry that is all I can say to you Arpita” and she melted in his mortal embrace, but it was yet bitter to hear that sorry, which never moved beyond its very denotation. She was quiet and still was being caressed by him, the same old warmth, as if it had been perfectly matured between these two bodies only, without knowing any gap of unfortunate seven years. “You could have told me about States Anuj, and I had been really foolish to create a world for us, in my imagination” she choked. They stood still, speechless. It was this breakdown which was bringing inside her heart a gradual sensation of peace, more than anything else, more than his embrace which was now diminishing in its effect over her. The chapter of Anuj was completed now, an urge of sharing was fulfilled inside that woman’s heart.

The next morning was fragrant with purer thoughts. It was more satisfying a dawn in her life, with Shivam and Anaya, a completed vision, a desired life as never before. She looked at sleeping Anaya’s face, and gives her daughter a silent blessing; so that again a woman’s heart never suppresses in itself, a lingering wish.