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.