Saturday, 31 January 2015

Where is my India? - A short story on Nirbhaya Case.

That day I just got late or maybe it was some fortune that was acting upon me. I was standing near the bus stop and was waiting for the bus which I had never used for the convenience as I never got late before. My alliance had told me the number of the jalopy bus which I had to take for my office.
I stood next to an elderly person and was looking at the beauty of Delhi. The beautiful roads, buildings and people were making me feel that I was living in the city of my dreams.
As soon as I finished looking at the artificial beauty of my nativity, a natural beauty came and stood next to me. She was silent but beautiful. Wearing an Indian traditional and having mehendi(henna) in her hands she was looking even more beautiful than the artificial Delhi. Mehendi which usually wore by Indian women that denotes some special occasion for which they have donned it. By seeing hers one can easily learn that soon she was going to be wed. This deteriorated my enthusiasm for her.
Soon the bus approached us and we got up into it. Looking old and dirty from inside it was denoting my India. I got a seat which was next row to hers and I could easily see her and her beauty. From the corner of my eyes I was just watching her not from the eyes of lust but from the love and respectful one.
Soon some joyous thing happened inside the bus and she smiled over it. By keeping her hand on her mouth and smiling, she looked beautiful enough to make a boy mad behind her. Then after noticing that she was noticing my gaze on her, I moved my face towards the window and once again started looking at the roads, edifices and people. With an innocent fright and mischievousness I looked through the corner of my eyes whether she was noticing me or not. And she was! she was looking me with a cute expression as if she has caught me gazing her. I removed my face once again.
The bus stopped at various places to pickup the straphangers waiting at their respective bus stands. Meanwhile the bus stopped at the place where there wasn’t any stoppage. But still some straphangers added the crowd inside. They got up in bus with an egoistic attitude as if they own this world but by looking at them a child could be able to figure out that they weren’t having a penny in their pocket. The attitude matters and they were best in showing them. Collectively they were six having a big stick in one of the hands and were the street boys who roam to discharge malevolent and despoiling the country as a whole.
“What are you doing?” a passenger said with startled look as he was forced to get up and stand at the corner. The street boys were doing so, so that they could sit in front. They finally settled themselves making other six uncomfortable.  One by one everyone stepped out of the bus as the bus reached their destination. Mine was still far so I was sitting at my place. With me there was the same beautiful girl and those cheap chintzy street boys looking at her with their lusty expressions. She ignored them as any other girl and I was looking at them with the eyes of anger as well as fear. 
Unfortunately they got up and came back, the place where we were sitting. I looked at the unknown girl, she got conscious, looked up with an immensely fear expressions and got terribly startled when the other six sat next to her. The expressions in their eyes were filled with seduction and lust and may be she thought that something had gone wrong. After judging the situation she got up to move in front but she was stopped by one of the culprit. He stopped her by clutching her hand and this made her angry.
“Leave my hand.” She said with haste expression.
“I won’t.”  
“I said leave,” she said again and then something happened which I hadn’t imagined. The culprit moved his hand upon her shoulder and then on her waist. Looking at the situation she moved a little back with great power and slapped the person who misbehaved with her. They took it as a great scar upon their egoism and respect which they have to remove now.
All the others stood up with even more lusty eyes and then pushed the girl in between them making a circle around them. I looked at her, she was immensely scared by their rustic faces and I noted that she was asking help from. I didn’t do anything, but as their hands went on her bare back, shoulders and then on her breast, then it was a scar on me that being a boy I wasn’t helping the helpless girl.
I got up with my storming and angered body and clutched the hands of the culprits when they were going to open her clothes. Meanwhile she shouted for help and I pushed a guy back so that I could help her to move from between them.
Their unity was a matter to be ascertained and when I pushed a guy, four of them pushed my head and hit it on that metallic corner of the bus. My forehead was blood stained and now with my anguish body and with my unconscious eyes I again went to help her. Putting all the great strength on my fist, I clung to their arms when they had finally opened her clothes and were busy rubbing her body with their hands. She kept on shouting but neither the general public outside the bus nor the driver heard her, or may be they pretended.
As I clung to their arms to stop them, one of them with bloody eyes brought out the stick which one of them had and basically I noticed it was an iron rod. My eyes were still trembling as I badly got hurt between my forehead and my eyes. He used his rod like a sword and with power he hit it on my hands, back and then on my legs. I still was moving towards them to help her as they were crushing a beautiful flower by their misconducts.
I moved towards the weapon equipped culprit and noticing that his rod wasn’t harming me, he clung to the rod tightly and revolving it in air he hit that rod on my face, making me to descend down at the very spot. I fell and my face was shattered with blood. As I fell my eyes were open and were looking at her and then slowly and steadily my eyes closed and there I was sure that a beauty is going to be raped.  
                                                                        2.

I opened my eyes and something ached, it was my forehead that was covered up with medicinal cotton. When my eyes got the control I found myself in between Medicare electronics which are found in the hospitals. Soon I remembered the girl, because of whom I was there, I asked about her from the nurses and all of them told me that she was in that hospital and was next to my room.
I knapped the pipe which was attaching me with the electronics and I got up to check her conditions. As I moved out I found everyone mourning around her room and for one second I thought whether she has died or what?
I asked someone about her condition and he told me that those six culprits has raped her and it’s her internal bleeding that was creating problem for her as well as for the doctors. He further told me that those culprits after raping her have cut her body with a blade and had thrown us from the running bus.
“Thank you, I know you helped her.” He said with a sorrowful face but I told him that I had not done anything. I was unable to save her. The nurses told me that I should be in my room as I was still weak and I followed their advices. I sat on my bed and thought that she has not died but if she survives, she will die every day.
That same day in the afternoon when I was standing in front of her ward, someone entered with the storming gait and alarmed everyone who were sitting motionless at that sorrowful site.
“How is she now?” an elderly person asked to her mother.
“Ask the doctors.” She replied as she didn’t want to tell them. They all went inside the doctor’s cabin and after 15 minutes came out and said something which made everyone cries with shock.
“I will not marry,” the groom said in the heartless tone and they all went without showing compassion and pity for her. They told me that the bridegroom refused to marry because the doctors have told that now she will never be able to give birth to anyone. After listening to it a tear fell from my eyes that first her fortune left her and now the person who was going to marry her.  
                                  
                                   3.

After 2 days when I was discharging from the hospital she came into consciousness and her family members went inside her room to look after what had actually happened. Nobody asked me for but still I went inside to see her because I know I was in love with her. As I looked her my eyes naturally went down because I wasn’t able to even look at her. Her hands were having 20 scars of stitches and she was so scared that she can’t stop crying even for 1 second. When she looked at me she started trembling with fear and the doctors asked me to leave as she was frightened to look strangers in front of her. I wasn’t a stranger for her but still I left for her sake.
With a routine I use to visit her in the hospital and everyday she refuses me to enter in her room. I use to sit outside and talk to her parents and every time when I talk to them they cry, they cry because they believe that from now she will die everyday. She will be shamed of herself.  But one day something special happened, as I entered in her room she didn’t refuses me to enter unless she smiles and I judged she was crying too and I guessed that she has remembered me. She wasn’t talking as an oxygen tube was still over her mouth. She notices my scar and then looked at hers, she became sad because her scars were 50 times more painful then mine.  
One day she went into the coma and doctors had told us that it is a very critical state and anything possible can be happen with her. That day neither I did anything special nor I prayed or preached god for hours, I simply stood in front of him and joined my hands ordinarily the way I use to because I had a belief that she will be fine. She was a strong girl with excessive will power.  Thus the miracle happened, she came out from the coma after 2 hours and penned down that she wants to live more. She talked with her parents while writing because the oxygen tube was the barrier in between. My routinish visit didn’t come to an end but I continued to meet her everyday. Many fingers stood against me and my visits but neither of them bothered me because nobody could stop me to meet my love.
Soon her condition showed some recuperation and the doctors told me that it was just because she meets me everyday. I didn’t agree them but one day I noticed. My routinish visit took a break and two days I wasn’t able to attend her in the hospital and I specially got a call from her parents that I must come and meet her because her condition started to deteriorate. Immediately I rushed to the hospital to attend her and then everything settled down.
I remember the day strongly when something happened out of my imagination. Thad day doctors told us that she is now out of danger and her health can be improved very quickly and easily. I truly remember her mothers comment on that matter. She said.
“Now what’s the benefit for her to be fine, nobody will marry her now? It was better that she must have died.” She said and commented again.
“Nobody will marry her now,” she said and cried.
“I want to…” suddenly my mouth said those words which were my wish when I first saw her. There was a two minutes pause to everything. Nobody talked for around two minutes but then after her mother said.
“What,”
 There was a single ‘what’ to what I said and nobody negotiated over her marriage on that day. It took two months to make her family ready for the marriage and they got ready easily because they accepted the fact that I will be the best man for her who can handle her and her pains. She needs a man who would think of her more that he himself. Everybody accepted my wish to marry her but they hadn’t told her about anything because at that time she wasn’t in that state to handle that situation. She needs recovery to what she had suffered.
The doctors specially came to me to talk on the account of my marriage with her. They told me that it is useless to marry her because she will never be able to garner the happiness of a marriage life, she will never be able to produce any child and her life will always be in a danger provided how much she can be cured. In respect of those fragile advices I simply told them that.
“Children are not everything in this world. In fact the country is formerly over populated. It doesn’t matters to me that she will never be able to get the happiness of a married life because I want to give her the happiness of life which she is capable of.”  As I said the doctor tapped my shoulder and went without saying a single word.
It took me over a whole one year to settle down with her and to adjust in a totally different situation. I hadn’t got married with her but still each day I use to go in her house and meet her almost for two hours so that could distract her mind from that repugnance sight. Many times I failed to do so and in front of me she use to cry and say that she is now a waste in the society but every time I consoled her.
In India there is a culture to spread the news, topics and old belief without any reason and one day she got stuck to it and learned that I want to marry her. She personally invited me in her house and said in the harshest voice that pinched my whole body. She said.
“Do you want to become great or what, why do you want to marry me knowing that you will never be able to live happily? You can lead a happy life. Why are you spoiling you life just for my sake?”
“It’s my life and I am big enough to take my own decision, you are not supposed to comment on that.” I too said in the harsh words and didn’t care that she was ill or something.  I badly wanted to marry her and care her because I fell for her. For me love never diminishes as the deterioration of the beauty from the either side of the partner. It only increases when someone is badly in need for someone.   
Neither had I gone to her house nor she called me for one week and in the time between she stuck to the bed. Her health started showing excessive deterioration. For seven times they had needed to call doctors for her because she started getting the problem of respiration. She wasn’t able to breathe properly and got a bad stomach ach. She vomited number of times just because I wasn’t there.
I went to the hospital to meet her and when the doctors were busy checking her again and again I was there holding her hand at the side of her bed. Like a truest partner I was supporting her will and confidence and this provoked her to think over our marriage. It took time but finally she accepted that I was not a kind of person who will destroy his own life in the sake to become great. She accepted that I love her, love at first sight.  

                                   4.

The day had come when my biggest wish came true­­—our marriage. The marriage executed very simply but it ended a little drastically. When she entered the stage as a bride, the mocking smiles ran between invitees but I ignored them for the first time. I told her that she was looking extremely beautiful and that was almost after a long time when she smiled heartily. The invitees started discussing her fateful story between them having cocky smiles on their faces ignoring to what she was feeling at the very moments. All her scars become an interesting point to be noticed by the guests which was making me feel angry and ashamed. The situation worsen when our priest had told me to wore a chain of beads around her neck and when I took the chain from his hand she got up immediately and went somewhere without asking the permission. I heard many smiling and murmuring over her unusual behavior in the wedding. I stared everyone with my vehement eyes which made everyone to stop themselves.
She got up from our wedding because she got an intensity of vomiting and she went to vomit. I thought that our marriage has created a joke of her and I was sad to see everyone mocking on her condition without knowing her internal feelings. From that day my love for India declined.
After crossing great hurdles our marriage completed and our first night after marriage arrived. I didn’t forced her to make our first night like a kind of an usual marriage night rather I talked to her whole night busy distracting her mind from thinking her past. I cracked some silly jokes to which she laughed in some and stayed quite in others making me insecure.
I was in a situation where my one single mistake could ruin her life and I changed my path for her and took the steps with ease and grace for her recovery.
A new problem came in front of our marriage where I had to go out for work everyday and there were excessive chances of her suicide. To prevent her from having an idea of suicide, I use to write 10-15 pages of love letters to her every night and use to give her in the morning so that after reading it she could accept the fact that there is someone who loves her more then his own life.
One day my love letter wasn’t able to charge its spell. I entered my house and I called her name but she did not replied. I checked her in every possible room but forgot to check my attic. I opened my attic and found her lying on the floor with face down and crying. She was looking as if she had gone mad. I didn’t lose control or shouted at her but helped her to stand up and explain what happened to her. She continued to cry and I put her face on my shoulder and I washed every tear that came one after the other from her eyes. To tell what had actually happen she innocently opened the television and there I learn what her problem was. A news channel flashed over the screen where a man was shouting that a new gang rape case has shattered the dignity of law and order in our country. Looking at it again she started crying because her mind went into her past. She started trembling with fear and I immediately closed the television and persuaded her to the room where I forced her to sleep safely while putting her head on my lap. In that situation anyone could feel her as a burden on him but I didn’t because I had taken her responsibility, her parents didn’t force me to take it. In love there is no burden, in love it’s only love that cares for each others.   
Our married life wasn’t as smooth as an ordinary marriage life, her health continued to create problems in it. Sometimes her vomits, sometimes fevers and sometimes her intestinal pains were the hurdles between our happiness. But I stayed the way I stood for her earlier.
Sometimes god showed mercy on us, I still remember when 2 whole months her health showed recuperation and in that phase I judged that she started felling for me. She uses to cook delicious food for me when I came tired late at night. With a routine she uses to kiss my cheeks at night to show that she cared for me. 
Delhi was always a beauty at night and I persuaded her to come with me at night and to spent time to change her mental situation. Near an ice cream parlor I stopped my car and ordered for two ice creams. I was back in my car when the delivery boy delivered my order. I was eating by dish silently and in between us there was nothing to talk at that time. I was startled, surprised and was shocked when a sweet voice from the car called up my name and said with an innocent and cutest tone.
“I… I love you…” she said without looking at me and for one minute I was testing my ears whether I was hearing correctly or what. To check I said.
“What? Say again…”
“You heard right, I love you…” she said this time with a confidence that she love me. I hugged her tightly in my small car which was aching both of us so I rushed home and we hugged each other the way we want to in my big house. Our married life was at its best but still without a child but I never regretted over it. I was happy that she was happy.  
With a blink of an eye, happiness surrounded us and I use to feel proud when I look up at my married life. Except the happiness of a child there wasn’t any problem that was stopping us to love each other. Gradually her smiles change into laughs and then into laughter. One day I got hurt on the same place where I formerly got while saving her from the rapist. Like a lovely wife she cared it while putting medicinal cotton over it and then changing that same cotton in periodic intervals. Her mind was becoming normal day after the other and was showing steady improvements.
The phase came in my life when she started writing love letters for me which I use to read it hundred of time in my office apart from doing my office work for which I was paid. Everything was running happily if that day that would have not happened. I returned home one night the way I use to, basically I was happier because her love letter which I read that day was the most funny of all and I desperately wanted to hug and kiss her. I entered my house and saw her vomiting. I rushed immediately and saw the blood stained washbasin on which she was vomiting. I tapped her back so that she could be able to eject the contents of the stomach easily. She finished vomiting but still the blood wasn’t a good sign for her health.
As I persuaded her to bed for rest, again she went to the washbasin to eject the contents of her stomach. This time too she ejected blood from it and after looking at the amount of blood, my inner body alarmed. Immediately I took her to the biggest hospital of the town because I want her back. I didn’t want to play anymore with her health.
Soon she started suffering from intestinal pain and we told her to lie on the stretcher. She followed our advice but with great difficulty. She was holding her stomach in such a way as if it’s going to burst out. I continued to hold her hand till the I.C.U. arrived but then suddenly our hands separated as if she was saying that her end was near. I stayed out till the nurses came out and told me that:-
“Come in, she is calling you…” I hastened immediately inside the intensive care unit and found her lying on the patient’s bed with an oxygen tube on her mouth. I moved towards her bed and saw a tear of pain at the side of her cheeks. I was confused at that situation and didn’t know to why actually she called me. She touched my chin, I moved my face a little closer and then she was able to touch my whole face, from the hairs to my neck. She cried and murmured may be:-
 “Goodbye…” she said in the slowest tone and then her hands fell down to her side. Doctors came forward, checked up her pulses and then closed her eyes, slowly and steadily shattering my life.  


Sunday, 18 January 2015

A new boy in Mumbai - A Short Story.

Mumbai, a fascinating, seductive, exploring, a city filled with dreams, the place where a new boy kept his first step. There was a sudden sense of fear, terror and loneliness in his heart as he also had a sense of proud, confidence and faith in it.  He had big dreams inside his mind which he wanted to fulfil at the place where almost everyone’s dream comes true. It is said that almost 5000
people comes to Mumbai everyday to fulfil their dream so it can be judged that Indians too watch dreams and some also have the courage to fulfil them.
Being a middle class, he kept his first step on the Bandra railway station in Mumbai, with a belief that he would one day own this whole city- too big a dream one can say, but the stage of adolescence faces this degrees of dreams and one can never be big without thinking big.  He came from a backward class and place but was an emancipated young man who knows that man and women is both equal in their class and what they do. He came to Mumbai to become the best photographer of that city, India or even world. He was hanging a differentiated camera around his neck and started his work as soon as he stepped in Mumbai. He clicked the exposures of many things around him- the slums, the seven- star hotels, the seductive beautiful girls and even the shrines and idols he is familiar with.In his journey of becoming great he also met with several problems and the biggest important problem that came in his way was ‘where to live’. The houses were extremely dear and he can’t imagine of even buying them. But this problem soon solved as he started living in a small room which he bought at the price he could.Time rolled by and he became more familiar with Mumbai, and some one has rightly quoted that “Mumbai doesn’t take time to charm you with its grace, beauty and richness”. He started loving Mumbai. In his work he was very prominent, confident and sincere. He clicked the shots of many exotic things which can please many but never gave him that fame as he always wanted. First he uses to click the shots of religious deities, idols, shrines to bribe god to help him ‘own the city’ but god is not as corrupt as human individuals. He never helped him; soon he changed his topic from shrines to girls, models and beauty. He clicked the pictures of lovely girls that all were models which gave him a little fame in the fashion world. He started working as a part time fashion photographer and worked for so long at that same position that he stopped further dreaming about ‘owning the city’, but he never knew about the fortune and to whom it shines and when it shines.Meanwhile in his journey he got married with his love, she was extremely beautiful, cute and had big bulging cheeks which he uses to kiss them many time in a day. She never stopped as she too loved what he uses to do. Being both from the similar caste they never had any problem of inter-caste conflicts which Indian faces many times as India is bound in her own useless rituals, rights and emancipation. Apart from his job he use to do work every time, he always use to carry the camera with him as he never know what he can see around him which can make him click as a sensual memories. As time rolled by, Mumbai became more beautiful, exotic, lovely and even more seductive. But on the other hand terrorism increased all over our country. Our country never tried to harm our country; it is another country who always tried to harm India.One day, being Sunday the new boy in Mumbai was moving around in his old acquainted Mumbai. He had his camera with him. Moving around from different streets to different streets he came across the street where there was extreme chaos. The place was crowded and he asked ‘what has happened?’. The people told ‘a bomb blast in two shops!”. He felt afraid and a terror ran through him as he never saw something that regretful. He ran towards his home as fast as he could. The chaos, crowd and shouts of pain were never ending. He slowed down his steps as he was out of danger. He moved his steps, turned sharp for another street and what he saw was unbelievable for him.  He saw a Muslim woman wearing hijab was cleaning the wounds of her husband. He judged him as her husband as the man was wearing a Muslim hat worn by the Islamic males. She had a small handkerchief in her hands and was cleaning the wound of his forehead. She was crying, too regretful and was filled with sorrow. He immediately went to the opposite street, plugged his camera and zoomed in as his specialized camera could. He clicked 3 exposures of that wonderfully sorrow sight and came home as he thought her love would be waiting. Reaching home he found a note from her love in which it was written ‘I’m going to the market to buy a surprise for you, will come soon, and see you”. The surprise was nothing else but was a specialized camera for him. Getting the letter he rushed to the market where two bomb blasts happened. He called her but no answer came from the other end. He called her several time but same happened. He cried but god was not as fortunate towards him. He came home waited for her but the time was passing at it’s unusual pace. Time rolled but she never came back.Soon he accepted the fact the now she is no more. He became extremely famous all over Mumbai because of publishing his pictures of Muslim woman washing the wounds of her husband. Many columns, essays, compositions, debates etc. were held and written on the one picture. He became one of the famous photographers of Mumbai. Soon he became one of the most admired photographer. His images spread on internet, social networking sights, magazines, newspapers, journals, televisions and on other modern media. One of his dream come true- dream to be famous, rich, admired but another pat of his dream was still left unfulfilled.Now every evening he use to sit next to his big window and look out towards the sea, the sea which surrounds Mumbai, the sea which enhance the beauty of his dwelling place. He always sits next to the window with the picture of his wife- who went away without saying any last wish to him. He loved, love and will love her throughout his life and now he was totally lonely in that big, big city. He had just drop out the dream of ‘owning Mumbai’ as he was told by somebody that “it is worthless to achieve goals when there is no one to share the happiness of achieving it.”       

Saturday, 17 January 2015

Indian Soap Operas-- a discrepancy in itself

Since the inception of the 2001 massively hit ‘kyuki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi’ to today’s world ‘Sasural Simar Ka’ nothing has had changed except the design of the channel’s Logo. From the heavy skin scratching earrings to expressions of the ‘saas and bahu’, the plot of the shows to the plotting of the vamps; the screen is still the same though the channel cites ‘Rishata wahi Soch nai’.
The everlasting loathsome cries of the innocent ‘bahus’, inerratic dialogues, Chakamak sarees and treacherous silly plans have almost made me wonder and condemns me to find the newest possible thing in every next episode. Alas! I couldn’t find anything after myriad of days wasting before the black screen even debasing my eyes and brain that was hardly left when I finally shun the idea of finding the creativity within the series of episodes. Have you ever realized, had the television been without these zany and goofy soaps, it wouldn’t have been called an Idiot Box?
Hooked, Cooked and Booked by the Pakistani Television drama ‘Hamsafar’ that incidentally came forth my eyes after incessant shuffling of the channels, regarded as the revival of Drama Industry almost drenched into my heart after the suave serious looks of the male protagonist and pure white serene expressions of the other. This 23 episodes drama kept its pace at the very track and never loses a cord of emotion and exuberance when it had to be shown genuinely. With philosophical screenplay, decent baritone and terrific jaw dropping uncanny performances; the drama got appraised internationally. After watching which I finally discriminated with what we have been seeing since so long and with what we are kept unaware of. 
What if you are asked to savor the same dish for the whole week? What if you are allowed to wear the same dress for a month and most of all what if you are forced to watch a same boring movie for a whole year? I know it would be killing hebetudinous and I felt this same humdrum for a good long time.
What is the reason behind such monotonous? One day I asked myself. Have you ever tried to pen down the facet of it? No, after all we are Indians though. With a dilapidated pen and notebook I started extracting out some major discrepancy floating over the scenes of these sitcoms.  
One of the major loop holes that I found impregnating other problems as well was the perpetual succession of the drama serials. The eternal chains of episodes that serves nothing but hap hazard scarpering story line that delivers irksomeness all around demeaning the emancipation by showing old obsolete customs and values being forcefully applied on innocent children and widows deliberately shown to maintain the same level of TRP’s.
Not only it debilitates the plot but also restrict other shows from entering into the industry by keeping their shows fixed at that particular time for decades. After penning out the facet of the problem and causes behind such discrepancy, it was time to think beyond problems to usher the ways through which these variances could be solved.   
What if the idea of this perpetual succession of the serials could be altered with the idea of allotting some distinctive episodes to them; say 100 episodes per TV show. Look to what will happen aftermath the affirmation of this idea. The shows would look less monotonous to what they look right now. The spoilers couldn’t afford to run the show off track due to the dearth in episodes. The TRP rate will increase and the new shows could replenish the screens with new ideas and faces. This little idiot box in our drawing rooms could once again be perky being far away from the typical stereotype ordinary story and dialogues despite the channels being the same.

Apparently, the idea itself wouldn’t be enough to change the face of Indian television. This idea should also be taken hand to hand and must be implemented with same zeal as the effectuation of the contrary idea was done in 2001 with the longest running show till date ‘Kyuki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi’ that almost recuperated the tolerance level in our lives.