Sunday, August 15, 2010

Happy... Day

Today is Independence Day; Tricolor received self-government rights from the Union Jack. I was so happy in the morning and started from my home with a bunch of tricolors in my hand to wish everybody around for the “Independence Day”, the day we have been celebrating since last 63 years.

As I walk proudly, those golden words by Jawaharlal Nehru rings in my ear; “At the stroke of midnight, when world sleeps; India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance.

Then suddenly, I was remembered, hey 63 years ago when Union flag was replaced by and divided into a tricolor and a crescent & star, we left something to hang on. Something; which is still bound by Article 370 and is behind both tricolor & star crescent. I saw a bunch of agitated youths throwing stones and feeling oppressed by the people who claim to have freed them 63 years ago. I didn’t dare to give them tricolor to celebrate… Left one of the tricolor from the bunch there to turn black.

I moved forward and was bumped in a 20 something young man; he turned around, I saw heavy deformities on his face. At the place, people usually have eyes, he had two big holes. It’s not Friday, the 13th and neither have we started to celebrate Halloween in India. I apologized for bumping in him and wanted to wish him Independence Day with a tricolor in hand. Then, I saw a file folder in his hand which had a bundle of documents and it read “Bhopal Gas Victim compensation”. He must have been a year old or in womb when that calamity happened and culprit was let scot-free. Couldn’t dare to wish him independence. He is still waiting for justice and compensation. Left one of the tricolor from the bunch there to turn black.

After going for few more strides, saw a poor man in his small hut trying to feed his two little kids with onion and a potato veggie. They wanted milk and bread. He murmured to his torn-saree laden wife, “Onions are 15 rupees kg, how the hell I am suppose to afford 34 rupees litre milk. By the way, rupee had a new symbol and new identity in whole world”. Little one asked, “Baba, does this make things cheaper?” I couldn’t dare to wish him his poverty and inflation stuck independence. Left one of the tricolor from the bunch there to turn black.

I glanced at a new swanky looking Terminal building at the New Delhi Airport, saw a beautiful architecture Talkatora stadium and Yamuna sports complex and while walking looking at them, stumbled on the wide potholed road. I thought, they were paid to make Delhi ready for commonwealth games, but they got paid to fill their pockets. A minister successfully “delivered” CYG, which made him realize growth potential in this industry if he makes it large and move beyond Youth. Y was replaced by W. It is CWG now. Wow!! This profession pays a lot. I couldn’t dare to feel proud of my Independence… saw all my tricolors turning black in my hand due to the ill-effects of the corruption and beaurocracy. India, a place where people have to pay to get their case registered by police and hey that too after 100 gets connected.

India was part of allied forces in World War II, which supposedly won the war. Germany and Japan lost the cities, people, economy and war. Over 60 years after the war ended, winner India is way behind the Technologically advanced Japan and Germany. We are still called “Developing” country. 63 years after independence, we are still developing!!!

Many of the infrastructure projects lay incomplete; many of the sportsperson have to pay out of their pocket to perform at international events. Reason is said to be “Lack of funds”. Bill for increasing salary of MPs and MLAs is passed by thumping majority in parliament. Now, I know where my funds go. People like me, pay almost 50% of their earned income in taxes (30% in Income tax, then there’s service tax for services, sales tax for goods, VAT etc.).

We have Maharashtrians, Tamils, Punjabis, Biharis; but not Indians. Real meaning of Independence day is a paid holiday, but that was also on Sunday this year, Damn!!

Whenever it feels that everything’s over, life brings new dreams, a new hope; after all hope is the crux of living… and in this hope I wave the Tricolor in my hand…

Happy … Day

Sunday, August 1, 2010

There laid an “It”

Once upon a time in a dark place laid an egg; from a thick liquid of ejaculation came rushing millions of snake like head bearing substances and one among those million was fortunate enough to find a place and formed a zygote. Unfortunately for that one lucky fellow, it was an ‘X’. It resulted in a ‘XX’.

XX started to grow big inside that dark cave. There came a probe of some higher frequency to scan the image and found ‘it’ was a XX. It could hear the sounds of hush-hush. A medico gave some pill to the mom and “It” was no more.
There laid an “It”.

Another XX was fortunate to pass the probe test and came to see the bright sunshine, beautiful rainbow colored flowers, hear the chirps of birds, feel the warmth of love and care among its loved ones. Suddenly an elderly man with a laathi in hand came and grabbed little XX from the arms of its mother. A loud thud came with a shriek sound of fable cry.
There laid an “It”.

Another XX was fortunate to overtake the laathi and grew with two little plaits, looking a sweet, cute angel hoping to go to school with its brother, to learn something worthwhile and be somebody. There came a loud roar of some uncle and shouted at the thoughts, asked it to bring water from the well and stop thinking about bullshit. It rushed to the well and tried to draw some water from the well with those tiny hands, couldn’t bear the weight and fell in the well. It cried for help, but nobody came, it was not to important for anybody to save. Those bawl for help, became weak by minutes and came to a halt with a drowning sound.
There laid an “It”.

Another XX lived beyond the tender schooling age to see the wonderful feeling of being mature, being that it was the one who could be God, the one who could give life to somebody; it was the one who would be the one to carry a womb. There came a lusting neighbor, with yearn in the eyes, with hunger to eat a tender fruit. Bawls were continuous from the semi-lit room. Nobody dared to stop the heinous act. Sounds became weak, ended with a shock out which it couldn’t never come out.
There laid an “It”.

XX grew to leave behind the pain, lived beyond studies, to make a mark of its own, to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with any of the XYs. It was proud to be itself and trying to go beyond ‘It’ to a certain identity. A hum of one-sided love came from the adjoining cubicle. A sound which harass, annoy and irritate. A slap flew from ‘It’ and landed on the cheekbone. That slap was from ‘It’, which had that self-respect and confidence. Came a bottle of acid and a dagger and with the wail of pain laid ‘It’ in pool of blood.
There laid an ‘It’.

XX was in love, grew to feel that care, warmth in the arms, feel that fondness in the eyes, feel that devotion is actions of the lover. XY was of lower caste. There came a panch from the khap. A brutal end to the love affair. Their mutilated bodies were found in the outskirts of the heavily lit, educated city which boasts of a big Dil.
There laid an “It”.

Another XX got married, was sent off from the father’s house with loads of love and showers of happiness. It started a new life with a devoted husband. There came demands of cars, bike and cash. It couldn’t bear the brunt of the rising expectations. It laid in the burns ward of the local nursing home with nobody to take last statement. Heard the whispers and found reason to be bursting of a stove.
There laid an “It”.

One XX was pregnant, with expectations of a XY, with hopes of the cracking sounds of the tiny one. Once again X was faster than Y. Loud shouts of betrayal were heard. A malnutrition life who gave another life couldn’t bear the ordeal.
There laid an “It”.

Just because Y couldn’t race ahead of one X, ‘It’ had to suffer all through life? For how long will we tolerate the pain and trauma on life? Doesn’t anybody have that courage to stand against the atrocities?

‘It’ was never meant to be an ‘It’. There was “She”; a beautiful daughter, a supportive sister, a caring friend, a loving wife and a compassionate mother.
There lived a “She”.