ऐसे पढ़ेगा तो कैसे बढ़ेगा इंडिया?

देश की शिक्षा मंत्री ने देश भर के शिक्षकों को एक चिट्ठी भेजी, चिट्ठी थी तो शिक्षकों को उनके योगदान के लिए शुक्रिया कहने के लिए लेकिन चर्चा में आई स्पेलिंग की गलतियों के कारण । चिट्ठी में स्मृति का नाम समेत कई और शब्दों की स्पेलिंग गलत थी । कितनी शर्मनाक बात है कि शिक्षा मंत्रालय की लिखी चिट्ठी में गलतियां निकलती हैं। स्मृति ने ये पता लगाने को कहा है कि आखिर इस गलती का जिम्मेदार कौन है, लेकिन क्या केवल एक शख्स या कुछ लोगों के कारण ही ये गलती हुई? शायद नहीं।

करीब दो महीने पहले राजस्थान के एक गांव के स्कूल में जाने का मौका मिला । खेतड़ी के खड़कड़ा का ये स्कूल किसी भी आम सरकारी स्कूल की तरह ही लगा, 3-4 कमरों में चल रहे स्कूल में ना बैठने की सही व्यवस्था है और ना ही क्लासरूम में रोशनी की । लेकिन  मेरा ध्यान खींचा यहां की दीवारों पर लिखे शब्दों ने ।

जरा स्कूल की इस मेन गेट पर नजर डालिए, यहां से आप प्रवेश नहीं ‘प्रवश’ करते हैं।

इसी ‘प्रवश द्वार’ की बाईं तरफ एक और पोस्टर  पेंट किया गया है,पोस्टर में परिधि, बेचना और कानूनन की स्पेलिंग गलत है।

‘प्रवश द्वार’ की दूसरी तरफ ‘शपथ’ नहीं किसी ‘शपत’ पत्र की जानकारी है जिसकी व्यवस्था को समाप्त कर ‘दीय’ है।

एक और सरकारी पोस्टर कहता है कि “यहां पत्र प्राप्त किए जाकर प्राप्ति रसीद दी जाती है”।

ये दलील दी जा सकती है कि ये सरकारी विज्ञापन हैं और इनका स्कूल के पाठ्यक्रम से कोई लेना देना नहीं है।अगर आप ये सोच रहे हैं कि ये गलतियां स्कूल की दीवारों पर किसी अशिक्षित पेंटर से हो गई होंगी और इसपर ध्यान नहीं देना चाहिए, तो आप गलत हैं, ये गलतियां उनसे भी हुई हैं जो स्कूल में पढ़ते या पढ़ाते हैं।

स्कूल के अंदर कक्षा प्रतिनिधि और कप्तान- उप कप्तान की जिम्मेदारियों के नोटिस लगे हैं। ये नोटिस किसी शिक्षक या छात्र ने ही लिखे होंगे, किसी अशिक्षित पेंटर ने नहीं। दोनों ही नोटिसों में प्रतिनिधि को ‘प्रतिनिधी’ लिखा गया है।

कप्तान-उपकप्तान की जिम्मेदारियों वाले नोटिस में ‘तय’ करेंगे को ‘तैय’ करेंगे लिखा गया है, कुछ वाक्य भी गलत तरीके से लिखे गए हैं। 

लेकिन क्या पूरे स्कूल में किसी ने इन गलतियों को नहीं देखा? और अगर देखा है तो फिर सही करने की कोशिश क्यों नहीं की गई या फिर कहीं ऐसा तो नहीं कि जो लिखा है वो स्कूल में पढ़ने-पढ़ाने वालों के लिए गलत ही नहीं है? कहीं स्कूल के बच्चे इन गलतियों को सही समझ कर तो नहीं पढ़ रहे हैं?  

क्या बच्चे सिर्फ किताबों से ही सीखते हैं?, क्या स्कूल परिसर में लिखी गई दूसरी चीजें जिन्हें वो दिनभर में कई बार देखते हैं, उनका असर नहीं होता?  गलती किसी से भी, कहीं भी हो सकती है, हो सकता है कि इस लेख में ही मुझसे कई गलतियां हो गई होंगी, लेकिन क्या ये जरूरी नहीं है कि इन गलतियों को नजरअंदाज करने के बजाय इन्हें सुधारने की सलाह दी जाए,  एक स्कूल परिसर में तो ये जरूर होना चाहिए ।

हमारी गलतियों को नजरअंदाज करने की प्रवृत्ति ही कई बार हमें शर्मसार कर देती हैं, स्मृति की चिट्ठी की गलतियां भी शायद इसी का नतीजा है ।

इस बात में तो दो राय नहीं है कि ‘पढ़ेगा इंडिया तभी तो बढ़ेगा इंडिया’। लेकिन सवाल ये उठता है कि  ‘यही पढ़ेगा और ऐसे ही पढ़ेगा तो कैसे बढ़ेगा इंडिया?’

If Ram can be worshipped, why can’t Radhe???

(Disclaimer: The writer is neither a disciple of any priest, nor is a hard core God lover, the arguments are based on simple logics ,if any of you feel that logical arguments can hurt your sentiments and beliefs, you should close this page right now.)  

What is Faith?  According to Google it is a“strong belief in the doctrine of religion, based on spiritual conviction rather than proof. Since Google is the most trusted feature of the internet world, so going by its definition, it would not be wrong to say that faith can never be associated with logic. It is this faith that makes us worship an idol, a river, a mountain or even a tree.

Your prayers offered to your God be it Rama, Allah or Christ is purely based on faith rather than any logic or proof. We (I mean most of us excluding those you raise questions about anything and everything) hardly tend to question as to what is the logic behind the beliefs in these different kinds of Gods. Then why have we suddenly started questioning the belief of thousands of followers of self proclaimed goddess ‘Radhe Ma’? Why are we eager to find logic behind this faith.

The media houses, that have branded her as a fraud making money in the name of God, are themselves running sponsored shows based on religion and astrology. If the news channels can make money in the name of ‘Shivling darshan’, why can’t an individual do the same in the name of his/her own Darshan? If people are ready to pay for it, why should we raise questions, it’s their hard earned money, let them spend the way they want. And why should questions be raised only about these living self proclaimed Godmen?  Why not about Shirdi’s Sai Baba or Mumbai’s SidhiVinayak?What is the logic behind throwing money at lifeless idols?

The pictures of Radhe in a miniskirt has also raged controversies, some argue that this is not acceptable in the Hindu society, going by this logic, the Naga Sadhus and the Jain saints should have been banned long ago. If her followers do not have any problem, why are the others doing moral policing? 

A Baba was telling his follower to change his underwear, as the one he wore had a hole in it which acted as a hindrance in his success. What may sound like a hilarious joke to many can be a treated as a serious stuff by many other. This is what faith is all about.If  any ‘Baba’ or ‘Maa’ has done any thing wrong, it would be proven in the court of law, he/she would be punished for the same, and then the followers will decide if they want to stick to the same God or find a new one. But a trial outside the court especially by the media can not be justified.

In the name of faith and religion we have fought and killed each other for decades, we have tainted our own Allah and Ram but we but we still have faith in them, we still worship them. In the name blind faith and belief, if that Allah can be worshipped, that Ram can be worshipped, then why can’t this ‘Radhe’?

Where cloth weavers weave success

“I always felt that if the boys of this village can do it, why can’t I?” says Deepa, one of the 18 students and the only girl of the Patwatoli village of Gaya in Bihar, who cracked the JEE advanced exam and secured a seat in the most prestigious engineering college of the country, IIT.

As Deepa narrates the story of her success, it is evident that although she is elated with what she has achieved, this success has not come to her as a surprise. It seems as if she always knew that this moment was destined to come. In the year 1991, Jitendra was the first student from this village of cloth weavers, who made it to the prestigious institution. The number then grew to three in 1998 and the village has not looked back since then.

While lakhs of students across the country spend huge amount of money every year for the preparations of such exams and still fail to survive in the cut-throat competition, what is so special about this village that despite of lack of basic resources and amenities, the students have been creating history year after year?

The village Patwatoli, as the name suggests is a village of Patwas, a cast known for weaving clothes since ages. “Our forefathers used to weave clothes with hands, and then we shifted to these big machines” says a mill owner pointing to the half rusted machines of his mill. “But the lack of electricity, lack of new technology and increasing competition in the market worsened our condition”, he explains.
 
It was the idea of giving good education to the children that came as a savior for the patwas. Parents started encouraging their children to study and their children didn’t disappoint them.

But amidst all these glories, the one thing that the successful students have always nurtured is the basic idea of weaving. Those who cracked the exams and landed up in good institutions and highly paid jobs did not leave their village for a lavish life. They still come back every year to teach the other aspirants. Together they have weaved a pool of bright, successful and intellectual people who have made each and every person of this village proud. The 18 students selected this year are also eager to take this legacy forward.

This has happened for more than a decade in this area, so what’s new this year? Ask anyone around in the village and they’ll proudly say “It’s a girl this time”.

 

The man not in books

Roaming around at the World book fair, it seemed as if the whole world, with all the possible pros and cons of the past, present and future has accumulated at this place.  Perhaps this is the only place in the world where Gandhi and Bhagat are seen next to each other. Or the only site where you can find both left and right occupying the center.

You might be known for your good or bad deeds but if you are a part of history, you are here in some or the other page of these millions of books.

After wandering around the endless collection of the books spread across many halls of Pragati Maidan, I was tired enough to stroll any further. A loud but soothing classical tune was constantly going on in the background., May be someone was performing a folk/ classical dance .I walked towards the open theatre of the ground, from where the music was coming, not to enjoy the classical dance but to give rest to my aching feet.

The enthusiasm of the audience there was unlike the previous similar shows I had seen.  But when I stepped up the six giant stairs and looked at the center stage, I felt that the show was actually not similar to anything I had seen before.

There was a man with earthen pots (matkas) placed on his head, not one but 6 of them. Carrying the entire load, he danced with such ease that not many can dance even with a hat on their heads.

He did all the moves graciously, then he danced on two swords and then on broken pieces of glass. And while doing all this he sported a smile as if nothing underneath his feet was hurting .

The entire crowd stood up in his respect, all one could hear was applause and whistles.

The man didn't need to speak anything. His dance had said it all. But he spoke. He spoke to make us realize that for the last 27 years, he is the only one in the city carrying the burden of this art on his shoulders.

One could easily feel the pain in his voice as he mentioned the term “dying art”. The man will celebrate his golden jublie next year. But there were hardly any traces of joy in his voice or on his

face as he mentioned this. It seemed he didn't want to grow old because he knew that with him will die his 'dying art'.

I entered the show late, so I didn't know his name, I asked some other people sitting around, they also had forgotten the name announced in the beginning, even the anchor did not repeat his name. It seemed as if his dance had overshadowed his all personal identities.

I could have taken the trouble of searching for a catalogue to find his name, or could have tracked the events website. But I didn't do any thing of that sort because I knew that although his was a historic art, this man would never be remembered in history.

The present that gets written in the books, becomes history and amongst the millions showcased at the venue, this man was not in those books.

The Smiley without a smile

Walking through the streets of the Delhi University campus is always a great experience. Away from the workload, the chaos of the office, you can sense the energy that you seem to have lost the moment you came into the professional world. While I was enjoying some street food on the roads of Kamla Nagar,I felt as if  someone was pulling my woolen jacket from below. I am precisely mentioning the term woolen here to emphasize on the fact that it was a cold day, a chilling cold day!

I annoyingly looked down to see who was not letting me enjoy my delight. There was a small girl, must be 9-10 years of age, shivering in cold without adequate clothes to cover her entire body. Someone would have donated a coat to her which she not only used to cover her body but also pulled it up to save her head from the cold wind.

I thought she was hungry. I offered her some food. But she was least interested in that. All she wanted was to sell the products she was carrying. The girl did not have any smile on her face, but she was selling smilies. Some in form of stickers, some in form of batches and others attached with pencils. 10 rupees was the cost of each.

The north campus of Delhi University is an area where some of the brightest students of India reside. Every year lakhs of students face the battle of scoring the highest in their board exams and those who win get rewarded with a chance to study in some of the best colleges of the country, situated in this part of Delhi. The university campus is not only the place for the brightest minds of the country but also has a pool of the most promising politicians of the future. And amidst the crowd of those intellectual and bright minds and promising politicians was this small, innocent poor girl. I wonder if not a single one of those privileged ever thought about doing any good to this not so privileged child.

Thinking about all these, I walked ahead. The street was cluttered with posters of student wings of different political parties. Some promised a better syllabus structure for the students, some promised a safer place for women, some other wished a Happy Republic Day.

There was a stark contradiction between the writings on the wall and the reality on the street. Like the small girl, there were many other children selling different stuffs on the street but I spotted a special boy amongst them. I call him special because he had a tray in his hand carrying tea. Yes, he was a chaiwala. Chiawla is undoubtedly one of the most discussed terms of the political scenario of this country. I took out my mobile phone to take his snap, but he realized it and ran away. I could only capture a hazy picture of his. Just hours ago, I had heard the US president talking about Chai pe charcha, the meeting he had with the self proclaimed and most reputed chaiwala of this country, our honourable Prime Minister.

I wondered, “Can that PM chiawala turn the world around for this chotu chaiwaal?”

Suddenly an update from a popular news paper application popped up on my mobile phone. It stated: “The suit that PM Modi wore during his meeting with president Obama had his name inscribed on it in minute letters. The cost of the suit is estimated to be around 8 lakhs”

Was this the answer to my question?

And they marched.....

Light is all you can see in the above picture. The light is not merely of the burning candles in their hands, but also of hope - for justice, of anger – against atrocities and of faith – in the system.

Some of them must have had their exams, their tuition classes. Some must have had a fear about any mishappening . Some of their parents must have warned them not to participate in the event. But fighting all the unavoidable situations, they marched and marched like never before.

Yes there was rage in the minds of these students, but they belong to the land of Buddha, and they stood by his principles. Not a single person agitated.

“Justice For Akash” was what they demanded. But this march was not only for that one medical student. This was for all those who died without their voices being heard.

And this is just the beginning, there’s a lot to be done.

In the words of Dushyant Kumar-

सिर्फ हंगामा खड़ा करना मेरा मकसद नहीं

मेरी कोशिश है कि ये सूरत बदलनी चाहिए।

मेरे सीने में नहीं तो तेरे सीने में सही

हो कहीं भी आग लेकिन आग जलनी चाहिए।

                                

Delhi awaits another movement……

A Nazarite Dead: Not just news

Amidst the chaotic situation in the news room,came the news. ‘A boy found dead at railway tracks in West Bengal after allegedly being ragged’. I heard it and like any other news item I did my best to ignore it. I thought someone else was assigned to work on it, so why should I bother. Two days had passed since then that yesterday I noticed on the Nazareth alumni page that the boy who died actually belonged to my school, Nazareth Academy. The biggest draw back of being a journalist is that things like death, rape and murder hardly evoke your inner consciousness. Every crime, every inhuman activity, every death is nothing but merely news for people like me.

I have been active on this blog for around two years now. And every time I write a new article, I make sure that what I write is NOT something news worthy. This might be the first article on this blog that relates to an event that has been reported widely in all the news papers and television channels. I still decided to take up this issue. Because today I realize that every death is not just news, that death of a Nazarite is not just another news item for me .

Aakash Agarwal passed out from Nazareth Academy in 2011, a year after I left the place. I tried hard to recall who he was, but I failed. I don’t know if I ever met this guy. He must have been someone competing with me in a debate or writing competition. Or he must have been someone encouraging me from the audience while I was on the stage. Or may be someone for whom I clapped during a football or a Kabaddi match.

May be Aakash was not one of the above mentioned.  But his death has still managed to evoke me because there was certainly a time that we shared the same campus, ate our lunch at the same time, in the same field. There was certainly a time that we prayed together in the morning.

After studying in an institution like Nazareth, it is sometimes difficult to realize the true nature of the world around. The place taught us to respect our seniors and at the same time taught the seniors to behave with the juniors. The idea of ragging or being ragged hardly comes in the minds of the students of this great institution.

Was it the sudden change in the kind of people around Aakash, whom he found difficult to tackle, forced him to give up his life?

My mind is not ready to accept this. My school was not as harsh as the real world but at the same time my school taught the students to face the challenges of life. Nazareth Academy taught us to fight for the right. And more than any thing else Nazareth taught us to believe in God and have faith that in the worst of the situations, the Almighty will lend a helping hand.

Whether he was murdered or not is a subject of investigation. But a Nazarite gave up his life and surrendered in front of the wrong, as an alumnus of the prestigious institution, I find it difficult to believe. 

Rest in peace Aakash Agarwal. I still have faith in the police and judicial institutions of this country. May you get justice soon. And may your sacrifice be a lesson for all other students.

Who’s staring?

After a long and tiring day, it was the time to go home. But the idea of traveling from Dwarka to Noida and that too in metro seemed like a nightmare to me. Like all the hundreds of other people waiting for the train, I was also praying that I get a seat. The metro came, the doors opened and everyone rushed inside in search of the most precious thing of the time – a place for their bums to rest. But amongst all of them it was me who succeeded.

picture:google

After 6 days of night shift, with 3 days of no sleep at all and 12 hours of continuous traveling on my week off, the joy of grabbing a seat was not less than winning a battle. As the metro moved I counted the number of stations- 36! That means not less than an hour and a half, I calculated. But at least I had a place to sit. While I was thinking about all these things, a harsh and rude voice interrupted me. Excuse me! I looked up, she was a girl in her early 20’s wearing a black spaghetti and a skirt or to be precise a mini skirt or to be more precise a micro mini skirt. (Statuary warning: Before accusing me of being a sexist or a male chauvinist, you should read the whole article)  

She continued in the same rude voice, "You are sitting on a Ladies seat." All my happiness of winning a seat in that rush went into vain. I felt like shouting at her, “Look at me, can’t you see the tiredness on my face. You are traveling alone, why can’t you go into the ladies coach. If I can travel without a seat, why can’t you do the same? And then people like you will talk about equality.” But I couldn't say all those things because being a boy, at times you are helpless . I silently stood up.

30 stations to go .Another bunch of young girls entered the coach, an old lady also came in, the place reserved for old people were occupied by people equally old as her, then she looked at the ladies’ seat, young girls including the one in the micro-mini was sitting their, but they did not find the need of offering her the seat, as if offering seats is only a man’s duty. Finally it was a boy sitting next to them who got up.

26 stations to go.My attention now shifted to the young girls who entered the coach with the old lady.  And this was not because they were too beautiful or attractive but because of their peculiar behavior. All of them were looking at the micro-mini skirt girl or to be precise at her legs. If a boy would have done the same it would have been called ‘peeping inside the skirt’. So I take the leverage of saying that a bunch of young girls were peeping inside another young girl’s skirt.

15 more left. All the way these girls were pointing fingers at her and talking something about her which of course I couldn't listen. I looked around, there was nobody else not even a boy looking at her. 8 more stations to go….

Somehow my destination station came, I came out along with those girls, I was not interested in looking or hearing anything around but one of the girls' comment caught my ears. “ She was looking like a slut”. Her friends agreed, one of them replied, “She should not have wore the skirt at all,” and they all exited laughing. 

They were all modern educated girls. If they themselves can't respect the attire of another girl, how can they expect the opposite gender to do the same? Who was being sexist, me, the other boys or the girls????? Who was being disrespectful????

At least not me. I left my seat in respect for a girl who did not do the same in respect for someone much older and in much more need of that seat.

Well my journey of being respectful was so tiring that I couldn't get up today to go to my office. But there's always a positive side of being good, I finally got time to sit at home and write a blog after so many days!

#Trending on twitter @ All rubbish

I have never been an active player on the internet but the recent hype on the importance of new media,especially at the time of elections, forced me dwell into the all new world of Twitter.

I failed to follow the tweets and trends during the elections but caught them up on the day of the results. I initially thought that Twitter was a serious stuff. And after listening to the media debates I was convinced that whatever happens in this country, trends on twitter.

So I started following the trends. The first trend that I noticed was #thankyoumanmohansingh . I was really happy to see that people wanted to thank their 10 year long prime minister. I felt that at least at the end of his long serving to the nation, people were giving him a nice farewell. But I was wrong. Barring a few comments that catered to thanking him for the economic and development decisions taken during his tenure, rest all made a mockery of his style, his speeches and more than anything else speculations of his relationships with Sonia Gandhi. Is this the developing India about which the media was howling for so many days????

Then I felt that this was an exception and people of this country, especially the educated youth, who is supposed to create new trends, also had some serious stuffs to do. But I was proven wrong once again.

While I am writing this article the top twitter trends are:
·                                 #PervertedLines
·                                 #SantSatayeSattaJaaye
 
The first one, as the name suggests, is the brain child of all perverted minds. And all these perverts, who would have hardly have done anything for this nation are making all sorts of sexiest comment on tennis ace Sania Mirza.

The so called "Voice of Youth" is busy discussing the breast size of a Padma Shree award winner on the so called the “Generation next media".

The second trend is all the more shocking. It is criticizing the congress government but not for its policies but for jailing rape accused saint, AasaramBapu. According to this trend the congress performed disastrously in the elections because they were cursed by the hindu saints who were  jailed during the government's rule!!!!!!

Does the future belong to this "ANTI-social media"?????????????

Democracy heals itself

"Democracy is the physician that heals itself, and 2014 must become a year of healing." I was reading the speech the president on my mobile phone while waiting for a bus at the bus stop.

Before I could dwell into the actual meaning of what the old man had said, somebody pulled my hand. I looked down; she was a small little girl in a torn piece of cloth, shivering in Delhi's cold. In her hand she carried hundreds of Indian flags. "2 rupaiya ka ek hai bhaiya ek le lo". I tried to ignore her but she insisted. I searched my pocket and found a two rupee coin. I gave it to her and said that I didn't want the flag. She insisted that she would take the money only if I bought the tri colour. I uninterestingly snatched the flag from her hand. She gave a smile and departed. But as she went away I noted that there was something wrong in the way she was walking. I looked down at her legs to find that her right toe was bleeding. 

The words of Mr.Mukherjee echoed in my ears-"Democracy is the physician that heals itself". Is this how this democracy heals itself? This small girl doesn’t have any resource to get herself a treatment. Her bleeding leg is not the concern of anybody. It will never get treated. Either it will get healed on its own or it will never get healed at all. Is this what the president of the largest democracy meant? While thinking about all these big issues and pondering upon all these senseless ideas, I swear that not for a single moment did I think of getting her legs treated.And why should have I thought about it, I had to board the bus, I had to get back to my college, my friends were waiting for me, I had to join the grand party thrown on the occasion of 'Republic Day'.

While I tried to focus on the speech again, a sweet voice interrupted me," Excuse me, where did you buy this flag from?" I looked up, a pretty girl in her early twenties stood in front of me. "A small girl was selling it", I said. She looked confused and puzzled."I saw her going that side," I added. "Will you please help me find her?" My bus had arrived, but I, who did not have the time to think about the wound of that little girl, could not resist the request of the beautiful lady. "OK", I answered.

For the next half an hour, I ransacked the whole market in search of a little girl for the sake of a beautiful girl. My phone was constantly ringing, my friends were waiting. The party was about to begin and all I was hoping was that I don’t find the little girl soon. (Not to mention, I was enjoying the company of an unknown pretty lady).

But all my wishes do not come true. We soon found that girl in a corner, requesting others to buy the flag in the same way she had asked me. Her toe was still bleeding and everyone seemed to ignore it in the same way I had ignored it. But the girl beside me jumped in happiness as if she had won a jackpot. She got hold of the little girl and started scolding her," Aapko kahan tha na maine kahin nahi jane ko, Samajh me nahi aati aapko koi baat?" She then snatched all the flags from her hand and told me to hold them. I obeyed her like an obedient child. She then opened her bag, took out some cotton, bandage and antiseptic and started applying them on her injured toe. Never before in my life, had I seen anyone caring for someone who according to me was actually 'no one'.

I still don’t know what Mr. Mukherjee actually meant, but what he meant was completely different from what I had perceived. And this is because I never had understood that a democracy is much more than thinking about one's own self. This beautiful girl had actually shaken my inner conscience. "Hello, what are you thinking, return the flags to her. Let’s go now and thanks a lot," the girls voice broke my hallucination. I stood their for a couple of seconds, completely lost. Then I turned to the little girl and asked,"Ye poore ka kitna logi?" "Bhaiya poore ka 110 rupaiye hote hain lekin aap ek sath loge to mai 100 me de dungi,"she replied with a smile. I searched my pocket. A last 100 rupee note was left. I gave it to the poor girl.

"What will you do with so many flags?" the beautiful girl asked me.

"A small gift for you from my side. Wish you a happy Republic day. Thank you for teaching me the real meaning of democracy....,”was my reply.

Celebrating Diwali's Silence

With absolutely nothing to do at my home, I decided to walk through the most restricted street of the town, the ‘Sarai Road’ . For all those not belonging to the town of Gaya, this street is famous for its prostitutes and brothels.  Yes, the  land of Buddha and Vishnu, known for peace and moksha, also has one of the biggest brothels of the state.

I remember that as a child I was strictly told not to wander around the road. Even if I had to go to a place just next to that street I was advised to take the long route. The reason my grandfather gave was that “ It is a bad place”. As a child I always avoided that bad place but today the journalist inside me forced me to enter the lion’s den.

The streets in the town, especially at this time of the year with the festivals approaching, is usually cluttered. You can see hundreds of ‘Thela Gadis’ selling crackers, sweets and idols of Gods and Goddesses, people yelling at the top of their voices, some to sell their goods, and the others at each other. Some young boys could be seen just staring at the girls, sporting black sun glasses even at the night.

But the situation of ‘Sarai road’ seemed to be just the opposite. There was a suttle silence in the environment, something this place is not known for.

On usual days you can see hundreds of men from 18 to 80 roaming around, bike riders gradually slowing the speed to stare at the first floor with a hope of getting to see ‘at least something’. The doors of the houses wide open for anybody and everybody to enter and an old woman sitting on the front door with a bundle of notes with an expression deadly enough to scare you before you get in to see what according to her is ‘heaven’.

But nothing of this sort was evident today. With barely any doors open and hardly anyone on the street, it seemed as if the people have suddenly attained the  ‘Buddha’s enlightenment’ and  have started avoiding this place.

I asked an old person sitting at a cigarette stall, “Kya hua aaj yahan itni shanty kyun hai?”

He replied’ “ Kuch nahi sahab mandi ka tym hai, parv ka season hai na, log pooja krenge ki ladki ch****”

“ bhagwan ka naam lene k tym pe ye sab krenge to paap nahi chadega?”   

In this part of thecountry, where cutting your hair and nails on Tuesdays ,Thursdays and Saturdays is regarded as a sin, indulging in a sex business in the month of ‘kartik’ can no doubt be a severe crime. But what hurts me the most is that this same crime will turn into an ‘enjoyment’ as soon as Diwali or Chath ends!

While the bosses of the place complain about no business, I look at the positive side of it. Atleast in the name of GOD, those girls get some time to spend with their own self. Atleast for one month in the year they can have a good sleep (not to mention alone). Atleast for one month they can live their lives with no one intruding their privacy. Atleast for one month there’s silence in the brothel, in their lives.

If such is the effect of Diwali, I pray that we have a diwali, or a dusseehra or an Eid on every calendar day of the year.

So this Diwali, I do not want to burn the noisy crackers, do not want to lighten my house but I want to celebrate the silence hidden in the darkest corner of the hearts of those girls ,the silence  that would return not before the next Diwali!

What’s your plan for this year????

Had Chicken today???

The scene on the butcher's shop was different from the ordinary days. It seemed as if everybody in the town wanted a dead animal for his meal.

I being a hard core non-vegetarian was not used to here "SAB KHATAM HO GAYA SIR" (at least at a butcher's shop).

In the last two months of my stay here, I have been a regular customer to that shop but for the first time in so many days, there was no meat left at 8 in the evening!

Disappointed with this, I then went to a restaurant and ordered," One Chilli Chicken please"

"Sorry Sir. Out of stock". Now this was another shocker.

Amused with the increased demand in the market, I wondered if chickens are going to be extinct

Meanwhile, I decided to go for some vegetarian item.

While I was pondering on the menu, my phone rang. My mother was on the other side.

“Hi Beta. How Are you,” she questioned.

“Struggling for food Ma”, I joked.

“Accha Suno, if you want to eat non-veg, eat it today itself, don’t touch any non-veg item for the next 10 days. Navratra begins from tomorrow.”

“What!”

“OK I’ll try”, I added half heartedly.

Now I could guess the reason behind people’s sudden love for dead chicken.

You must be finding this incident ordinary enough to feature on any blog. But this small incident actually describes the mind set of the people of this country who only believe in following a religion rather than understanding it.

I mean can any body on this earth make me understand how I can impress my GOD by not eating non-veg for 10 days.

And this thinking does not end merely to eating non-veg.

Have we ever realized that for the next ten days all of us will be worshiping a woman, a woman resembling the victory of right over wrong. We will bow our head in front of the idol of the women, pray for our safety  and as soon as we’ll come out of the mandir or the pooja pandal our innocent eyes would start searching if any ‘hot maal’ has also come  to offer prayers.

The police patrolling in New Delhi will be on its full swing to check that no ‘Durga Devotee’ gets a chance to abduct or rape a girl on the streets.

The girls of my home town, Gaya, would rather decide to stay in their houses itself because the definition of ‘Devi Darshan’ is slightly different for the young brats of the town.

And if you think that this is all- check the newspaper just after Dussehra, it would be full of reports of communal violence.

If worshiping for you has meant just praying in front of the idol of ‘Durga’ and not eating chicken, then this Navratra, lets redefine this festival.

HAVE A HAPPY NAVARATRA!

  

I'll NOT salute the tri-colour

Sare Jahan Se Accha Hindusitan Hamara

Ham Bulbule hain iski Ye Gulsitan Hamara...

The sweet words of this song coming from the loudspeaker of the society compound broke my sleep. I looked at the watch- 7.30.

Today’s morning seemed to have a different charm. The children could not control their excitement. The professionals sacrificed their formals for traditional clothes. Even the birds seemed to be chirping more than the usual days.

Exactly at 8.30, a respected old man of the society hoisted the national flag. With our utmost enthusiasm, we gave our salute to the symbol of our freedom. The sense of patriotism, respect and proud present in each and every individual could be easily felt as the national anthem encored in the society premises.

Only 4 hours have passed since the event. I am still standing at the same place. The tri-colour is still flying with great zeal. But the pride, the patriotism and the respect have suddenly vanished away from my heart. I can see a dirty place with used plates and cups thrown all around. In between the ruckus, a poor lady, accompanied by her two small daughters (around 5-6 years old), is searching for something to eat. While the lady wears a dirty torn sari, her daughters carry a paper flag with not a single cloth on their body.

 "The day is not far off when India will be rid of poverty, hunger, disease and ignorance."

These words of Dr. Manmohan Singh are now hurting my ears.

The flag that he hoisted represents courage, sacrifice, truth, peace, purity, prosperity and righteousness. And in front of the same flag, the Prime Minister of the largest democracy of the world said something which was miles away from reality.

And why should we blame only the PM?.Did we have these feelings incorporated in our minds while we saluted the flag?

If NO, then the tri-colours that are flying at our homes, our schools, our colleges and even at Lal Quilla are not flags but pieces of waste clothes.

All that is coming to my mind is to bring that flying cloth down, tear it into two parts and give one to each of the two naked girls standing in front of me.

I wish I could do that.I wish I could tear all those flags and distribute them to the poors who cannot afford to wear anything.

But I cannot .I am not 'independent' to do that because then I will be accused of disrespecting our national flag and for hurting the sentiments of the people that awakes twice every year.

But their's one thing I can definitely do, "I'll NOT salute the tri-colour. I'm not worth doing that."

Safety- Not for Commoners but for Police!

Crimes like murders in UTTAR PRADESH hardly make news these days. A report reveals that about 20 cases of murders take place on an average everyday in this highest populated state of the country. But the recent murder of the DSP in the pratapgarh district has actually raised an alarm because this time it’s not a common man who lost his life but a police officer and that too of a DSP level.

We have often accused police of not being prompt, not being cooperative and not being helpful for a common man. Yes I agree, but today after this incident I realize that it’s not the problem of the police alone. A police officer active enough to probe a death in that village of UP, honest enough to deal with the situation, tried to do something according to the law, but what happened to him? He lost his life, a mob killed him in front if the whole village and there are no eye witnesses at all! A young man enters the police to serve the common people, to help maintain law and no not to work as a slave of the politicians who can take their lives whenever they wish. How can a policeman work independently in this anarchic scenario? Yes he doesn't take actions swiftly and honestly because he also has a family to look after and he also has a fear that if anything happens to him what will happen to his family?, the politicians would not even abstain from eating up the grants meant for his family. We should remember that it’s not just a policeman who lost his life but also a Father lost his child, and a wife lost her husband.

 I also saw on the news channels people revolting against the ruling government, against the MLA Raja Bhaiya and against Akhilesh Yadav. But I wonder where the sentiments of these people were when they voted for Raja Bhaiya not once but for 5 times! This is not the first time that any criminal charge has been levied on him. He was accused of dozens of others severe crimes before he was elected during the last election. So why didn't the people revolt at the time of election with the power of vote that has been given to them in this largest democracy of the world. A police officer is killed in the middle of a village and nobody saw the culprits? Or was it a fear that made them turn their blind eyes towards the heinous crime. If we do not have the courage to fight for the truth, for the justice of a policeman who died for no reason then how can we expect the same from the policemen, aren't they a part of this society?

And because the common people have not seen anything the case becomes complicated and there would be a CBI probe and not to mention this probe would never end. I believe before raising questions on the police or on the government we need to look into ourselves, because shouting on the streets for a change is easy, working for that change needs courage. Rest in peace Zia- Ul Haq.

Just a Simple Calculation

Before I write anything let me confess that if there's one thing in this world that has threatened me like hell it is mathematical calculations and economics.But still I am taking this risk of writing on a topic which involves a lot of economics and calculations that have always gone over my head, so I might sound foolish to many of you but I would still write because I believe that what can strike in the mind of an idiot sometimes gets unnoticed by a genius.

So my discussion here would be based on just one statement made by the finance minister in his budget speech and I quote Mr. Chidambaram"To the women of India: We have a collective responsibility to ensure the dignity and safety of women. Recent incidents have cast a long, dark shadow on our liberal and progressive credentials. As more women enter public spaces - for education or work or access to services or leisure - there are more reports of violence against them. We stand in solidarity with our girl children and women. And we pledge to do everything possible to empower them and to keep them safe and secure. A number of initiatives are under way and many more will be taken by Government as well as non-government organisations. These deserve our support. As an earnest of our commitment to these objectives, I propose to set up a fund - let us call it the Nirbhaya Fund - and Government will contribute Rs 1,000 crore."

Now my calculations would be based on those 1000 crores mentioned above because in this crucial time of slowdown we also need to think about our ailing economy. Have you ever imagined how much is a thousand crore? A middle class household purchases about 12 cylinders in a year out of which only 9 are subsidized.  For the other 3 the household gives as much as 300 more that is a burden of 900 rupees is bared by it every year. Now if those 1000 crores would have been allotted for subsidies then as many as 1 crore households could have been benefited.

Imagine how many unprivileged students could have got their share of learnings had this money been spent on them. Lakhs of people living in the worst of slums could have got a better sanitation with this money.A 1000 crore is enough to set up hospitals in  a whole district, imagine how many lives could have been saved with this money. This money could have helped a common man tackle his everyday expenses had it been used for giving him some tax rebates in this inflated economy.

But all these things could not happen because there are a bunch of boys who have lost respect for the opposite sex and we need as much as 1000 crores to save the women from them! As I had already confessed that I am a big fool in terms of economy and calculations but the brain of this fool says that if you teach your sons to behave you can actually contribute to the economy in a big way!

A letter to a 'Yuvraj' in a 'Democracy'

To,
Mr. Rahul Gandhi
Vice President
Indian National Congress.

Sir
My heartiest congratulation to you for a yet another monarchic decision taken by your party and your Family.I am not writing this letter for congratulating you on your new achievement of becoming the no.2 in the congress party (As if you were not the no.2 before this announcement) but rather I got influenced by your emotional speech that made many on the stage and in the auditorium cry(the crocodile tears of the politicians you know).

Starting with what you said about your mother:"My mother cried because she knows that power is poison". I would suggest Mr. Gandhi that you don't need to take this poison(certainly not for the sake of this country as you described in your speech) because we don't want you die out of poison, there are other people who are much more qualified and at the same time eager to take this power and use it as an antidote for poison .And when you call a power in democracy a poison it actually shows your understanding about democratic powers.

You also spoke about the sad demise of your grandmother. I can understand the feeling of loosing a grand mother sir, but just to remind you if you have forgotten (which i'm sure you haven't) that the huge massacre that followed after that killed many other grand mothers,mothers,sisters and fathers but unfortunately those who lost their loved ones do not have the means to cry in public(or rather they have not learned to play politics on the death of their near ones).

You also called your father a strong person because he was on the television addressing the country the day his mother died. Have you ever wondered how strong those fathers are who see their children and mothers die everyday in poverty(at least your strong father did not think about them while negotiating for bofors).

I am amazed why you said that you don't know how the congress party runs, you don't seem to be so innocent that you don't understand that it runs on family politics(your swearing in as the VP is the perfect example of this.)

So, Mr Gandhi you may earn loads of applause,media coverage and some tears for your speech,but the ground reality is that these speeches do not earn votes any more(I am amazed that even after the tragic UP election you have failed to understand this).

Take this as an advice of a common man of this country.(because ultimately it this common man that would decide your fate)

Regards,
Shubh
A voter

Time to teach them....SEX!

Waking up in your own house, in your own room is always a special feeling. And to add some more fragrance to this special feeling of mine I wanted to rejoice my old childhood memories. So I did not tune into the 8o'clock bulletin, neither had a cup of tea nor did I check my facebook account because during my school days my Saturdays did not constitute of these silly things, but  started with the taste of hot 'Jalebies' at one of my friend's hotel.

Walking through that old street was not the same experience as it used to be 3 years ago. Things had changed. Many new and luxury hotels and restaurant had come up. The street which used to be deserted at this time of the season especially at 8 in the morning with  temperature dropping below 5 degree, were full young boys and girls. I tried to ignore all these changes because I knew that no matter what the taste of those jalebies would not have changed. I saw my friend sitting like a sethji on the counter, I greeted him sat next to him and without wasting any moment he ordered the dish I had come to eat.

A young boy entered the hotel. He gave a 500 rupee note to my friend. In return my friend gave him the keys of a room and said "2nd floor first room on the left". He took the keys called the waiter and gave him a 100 rupee note and came and sat beside me. I had never seen anyone giving a tip before eating anything. But the waiter knew his duty; he straight away went to the medical shop just in front of the hotel which had more advertisements of condoms than medicines. I could very well understand what was happening around me. The boy took his mobile and started watching something. He offered the same to me saying" Sunny Leone brand new". I ignored his talk and switched on the television. Meanwhile the waiter came with black polythene, handed it to the boy and the boy went away to his room.

On the television was a journalist giving the expected but unacceptable news "Delhi gang rape victim dead". I could feel the terror in my nerves but was in no mood to hear or talk about this unfortunate incident. I changed to a movie channel; an old movie was on roll. An actress wrapped in a white Saree was standing under a waterfall revealing her bare naked breast. I again pressed the button of the remote; a girl running on the road sported on the front part of her T-shirt 'Good girls go to heaven' and at her back was written 'Bad girls go everywhere'. And as expected in the very next scene she appeared half naked advertising a condom. Before I could turn to another channel a female voice interrupted me" Excuse me. Which way is room no. 25?” Expecting it to be a sex worker called by that boy I looked up. There was nothing similar between the erotic girls on the television and the girl in front of me. Her hands holding two books covered her breasts. Beneath the books was a properly ironed white shirt. On the left of the shirt were small pores that may have been caused by safety pins or may be a school badge! Alarmed with this feeling I looked at her face, beautiful and innocent indeed! She was certainly not more than 15 or 16 years old dressed in a school uniform. She might have come from her house with an excuse of an extra class or maybe she actually had to attend one. But what was she doing here, why did she want to go to room no. 25? She was certainly not one of those bad girls who could go everywhere. My friend showed her the way. I looked at him, he told, “she is his girlfriend both of them are from the same school."

Jalebies had arrived by now. But for the first time in so many years the jalebies of 'bhola chacha' tasted sour to me. Was the boy going to act the same way to that innocent girl as the boy in that sex clip? Would he molest the girl like the one who died today? But whatever was happening inside room no. 25 had the girl’s permission. But who gave her the right to take such decisions at this young age? Was she aware of the consequences she might face? Or she had acted according to the boy because this is what the girls of small towns are taught- A boy is always right. Was the boy using her innocence for his lust? Should I complain about this to the police? But how could they be unaware of these activities, the police chowki was merely 20 meters away! Fifteen minutes had passed but I had had only one bite of the jalebie. I was gathering courage to go against my friendship and complaining about these things in the police when I saw that girl coming out in a hurry, maybe she was getting late for her extra class. I had almost decided to lodge a complaint when a policeman came into the hotel; he shook hands with my friend, took 200 rupees and went away happily.

I left the jalabies half eaten, stood up, not even felt like bidding goodbye to my old friend and walked away. He shouted," Abe jalebi to khata ja!" I turned my deaf ear towards him and walked back through the unfamiliar street.

A girl was raped, she died, 6 rapists have been arrested, protests are on full swing, everyone is asking for justice, for capital punishment, but would these punishments serve the cause? With the girls and boys attaining puberty at the age of 10 -12 who would teach them what is right and what is not? There have been cases when the girls have been raped by their relatives and they were not even aware that something wrong was happening with them .Sex education has been added in the syllabus but is the purpose being served? Are the teachers trained enough to take up such issues with young school children? Is the police trained enough to tackle such sensitive issues? Do the filmmakers and advertisers understand how these sexual components are affecting the young chaps?

Yes the anger of the people is justified, yes stronger laws need to be implemented but what is most important is to teach them, the girls, the boys, the police, the filmmakers, the parents and every individual. Its time to teach them....SEX.

Today the boy had money with him. A girl was there to fulfill his lust but what would happen when he would neither have money nor a girl, then how will he fulfill his lust????
I could see in his eyes a budding rapist. GOD save the girls from him!