A New Mystery

"Even with nothing in my hands

I feel like making a hundred new plans

I feel like meeting the new heights

I feel like fleeing to a new world of mine

Even with no one by my side

I know I can maintain my stride

I know i'll end up being solo

I know but, my life will never be hollow

Balancing light and dark in both my hands

I look past the hazy woodlands

When in search for my pre written destiny

All I find is another brand new mystery. "

For all that happens for a reason

Words dry up

Response ends

Love becomes a trickle

And turns out like a prickle

What once was easy

Now becomes a crazy

The heart craves for familiarity

But there is only new dissimilarity

While walking away is hard

So is staying on

But you need to

Cuz you are frayed

Stick to your decision

Be strong, this shall pass like a season

And once it finally ends, remember

It happens for a reason.

Credits: Preeti shenoy

Much Love, yet a Broken Heart!

Peace out!

Guest Stuffing

We must have heard of turkey but have you heard of “Guest stuffing”? This is supposedly a well-known practice for anyone who grew up in India of forcing the guest to eat until the guest is an inch away from throwing up. This is considered as a great hostly thing to do. Leaving any food that the host gratuitously pushed on to your plate is considered very barbaric.

Anyways, for New Year, I visited my cousin’s family in Bangalore for a day and this is my proper visit ever since I was back from my many travels. When I arrived at his place, on agreed upon time – like an idiot, he was not home. His dad assured me that he would return soon and insisted that I waited.

My uncle’s friend was also waiting there and it was considered so indecent of me to leave that place while, Mr. R, an interesting guy, interested being a euphemism for creepy. There was no end to his questions. He seemed to have an axe to grind against young Indians. He didn’t sound like an average curious George; he sounded more like a lawyer arguing for my death sentence. Several questions followed that reiterated the accusations against me. Finally, he gave me a shocking sympathy for not being a software engineer. *face palm*. After serious identity crises over there, I took a quick move inviting everyone for dinner.

On the other side, my aunt is on a spree of dumping her kitchen delicacies in front of us and almost squeezing it in the mouths. It felt as if she is making an adjustment for draught in Ethiopia. My cousin’s wife is a tamilian and she is at her best in serving us all the south Indian delicacies. The dinner featured South Indian delicacies Idly, Sambar, Vada, lemon rice, coconut rice and some varieties of sweets. You won’t believe this is all made as my welcome. Just then my cousin entered with a dozen full of food parcels that contained rotis, some two varieties of paneer curries and some snacks. Who under the sun would think this is my diet while I am watching my calories. My dinner plate came pre-configured with 4 idlies, 2 rotis and some curries and chutneys. Damn, I didn’t want to fill myself with idlies. Then I thought: Ok, not to worry. If I go easy on the lemon rice, I can do some well-deserved justice to the Rasmalai.

I polished off the idlies and rotis with the deftness of an experienced South Indian. *plop* *plop*. Two vadas magically appeared on my plate. I looked up in horror. The spatula wielding hostess was standing right next to me with a bowl menacingly full of vadas. “Oh, you are young, you can eat two more” she dismissed my horror with a wave of the spatula. I begged the hostess to control her effervescing hospitality. I was even scared to utter a word because my uncle’s friend is also sharing the same table with me and asking me questions like if I knew how to use a broom, if I knew how to cook other than pushing off this amazing food.

I ate the bonus vadas too. As I was serving myself a carefully measured portion of lemon rice, I heard the host guffaw. “Don’t eat like a bird. That is why you are so thin.” Before I could fully comprehend the ominousness of his statement, the host moved with dizzying alacrity and before I knew, a lemon-rice-heap of the size of Gibraltar was sitting on my plate. I am sure a tear trickled down my cheek as bid farewell to any remaining hopes of getting to the Rasmalai.

I laboriously finished the lemon rice. I was so full that I could not even laugh at the bed wet jokes of my childhood. But, like a wounded soldier crawling towards home country, I reached out for the Rasmalai. I had them in a cup and was about to eat when I heard, “What? You are already having dessert?” *Plop* There was Sambar on my plate. “I saw you didn’t eat Sambar.” At which point, I gave up. The silver lining was that the hostess gave me my Rasmalai to-go. And now I am writing this between my regular breaks to the washroom!

Btw – Happy New Year , 2015

For Better or....

Howdy Folks!

I’m alive. Surprise!

People all over the world are clutching their falling pants and wiping their runny noses while trying to hold back tears of joy. That’s all I’m going to say about my vanishing act and my subsequent return today. I’m back. Let’s not read too much into that.

I read my own blog yesterday, the dusty old posts forgotten by all, hiding in the ether. Words buried in old web pages, unseen by anyone except the odd spam bot. I am simultaneously embarrassed and jealous. Embarrassed because I was an idiot. Jealous because, well, I used to be a fun idiot. I used to think of such strange and wonderful things that just do not occur to me anymore. As though the little spinning pinwheel that is inside my soul, powering my imagination and coherence, is slowly being worn away. Soon it will be but a little pile of confetti.

However, to be frank, I am excited about the whole stuff happening around: D. At least I am in a place where I don’t have to laugh for jokes like this - My laziness is like the number 8. Once it lies down, it becomes infinite. In fact I am living in a live entertainment world. Trust me, my inner voice has a better tone of humour than these made up jokes. Try it by walking in front of me sometime.

Now-a-days, I am living on a motivation of spending my remaining life in a comatose state without uttering a single syllable just like Mr. Singh. Before you people used your impermissible levels of intelligence in guessing my profession, lemme tell you, I am not a LIBRARIAN. Adding much to my amusement, wherever I go, I end up bumping into couples and little freakily bawling kids. In such worst conditions, if ever I can still hear but highly prefer not to hear is Ekta Kapoor type bahus who are roaming in this free nation. For that matter,any saas-bahu Jodi.

Talking about it, everyone ought to get married unless they have a really good reason not to, like becoming the nun or if they are in a coma or are in under daily dosage of Ekta Kapoor. I researched long to find out the reasons that hypothesized women to get married which is supposedly their life’s biggest dream.  The most realistic one seems to be that they seem to get the urge to merge for all sorts of silly reasons like being in love, but the most plausible one could be that they have managed to locate that one specimen in the male population who is not a complete jerk.

It boggles my mind whenever I see all the forces come under cooperation and willingness to get a person hitched. Research tells us that these forces spend one hundred and forty four hours a week, on average, either in contemplation or in discussion of this stuff.  When I say forces, it refers to the family, extended family, friends, friends’ friends, colleagues and trust me even the servant maids.

Well, there are seven billion people on this planet. Statistically half of them are men. The probability of finding that one handsome, loving and sensitive male out of the pack is pretty high. It’s a different matter however that I might never run into him because he’s likely under scientific observation in a laboratory in MIT. Just in case if you are lucky you bump into him too but these same rational forces I referred too with make their best to project him as any other jerk.

So this excessive enthusiasm and the pains of bitter disappointments of those frogs that turned into princesses kept me extremely busy. Hence, no updates but I promise to visit once in a while with a new post.

The Victim

On this pier walking past the memories
that conjure up deluged with the remnants of love
far away secluded
for me
the world looks so plebeian
dancing to three powers that made it a mere marionette
no disdain
no love
no care
no fear
apathy it is
the power reminds me how mortal we are
how assiduously we follow the rythm
I leave this place dry with no blood and a story to tell
without a kindred one to abdicate my throne to.
His sable eyes look through- perplexed with the
equable climate,floundering helplessly he finally
reaches the sacred place where
the inscriptions of blood speak !!
from the stench of failure came a catharsis
genesis of a contempt for lives caught in the vale of love
a blinding light which rose above me showing the face behind its facade.
"sucess" the inscription read !!!
doors opened to the road flanked by graves on both sides
every epitaph read the same as I walked on
the path intrepid
"The Victim "

Adventures of Demented Teacher

Couple of days back, just before the recess break began, I was suppose to give a tutorial to100 students. Little to my exaggeration, surprisingly I  had that good attendance for an Algebra class. I was bored teaching the same shit, no surprises there watching the students doze off. Suddenly out of nowhere, a Gtalk window pops out saying 'Motuuuuuuuuuuu' (fatso). It was my roomie who pings me to say that a pink pair of tongs were on her bed and asked if it was mine. I replied in a word taking no choices and chances as the projector has the desktop. She chuckles and asks,” wore something na aaj!”

All of the sudden, the suffering of Algebra has become super hilarious recreation class.

That bitch chatted for like 5 minutes non-stop while the projector connections are too tight to disconnect. All the while everybody in that lecture hall was laughing his/her ass off. First time in my life, I had to adjourn my class 45 mins early and get out. Next day I go to my class and I see my name plate replaced with PINKY and people started calling me the same out of the blue.

I was really embarrassed that day but when I look back and write this was one of the funniest things which happened to me and of course I have a semester to deal with it!

I reflect!

As I watch that fading sun,
Looking deep, hiding behind the dark clouds,

Like those unsaid thoughts pondering,
I reflect.

As I watch those fresh flowers,

Covered with the tiny rainy droplets
Saying a hundred things without speaking a word,
I reflect.

As I hear those roaring clouds,
A hundred allegations flying wildly,

Lashing out the anger,
I reflect.

As I scrutinize the path I have chosen
And my view of sticking to it, even when lost,
I reflect.

But as I think about all that has gone wrong

I break like the steaming volcano,
And all that could have been
I reflect.

As I watch to live it again.
For a desire that died 
but tears continuing to flow are lost in all the reflections.

Joy of Swades!

Been on a trip inside my head for the past few days, and am off on another one, this time for real. It is high time for me to respond to all the pending comments, visit all the morons in the city, take a bath and catch up on all the gossip! Not necessarily sequentially: p

Anyways, it is burning hot here man… swear! Do not ever tell this around, I am sure there is one person everywhere who can give you that screwball lecture on Global Warming.

Unfortunately it was my boss during my internship. To save my job, I spared his egg shared smooth shaved head.

I sat through a long discourse on global warming and how it’ll affect the kind of clothes we wear on a daily basis. Apparently, the Earth is going to become too hot for us to wear clothes and we’d all be walking around butt-naked on the streets, sweating like pigs. We will be forced to do something drastic to preserve whatever ‘little’ decency we have.

From the Stone Age to the Information Age, we’re crashing towards another Ass Age. Strangely, this comes just before the next Ice Age, and the two pronunciations are not to be confused. So, what do we do in this ex-ass-perating situation?

Well, the answer is drink coke and put peace!  I know how it feels … Face palm!  Morons are everywhere but only logical morons are found in yeh desh hai mera..Swadesh :D

Somehow I feel that all the truths about Global Warming should be proven true, and then would the fucked-up version of the future would be something like ass age to ice age. Unfortunately, it’s just a dream. An ass-piration: P Then the formula of Keep calm and eat aam doesn’t work :P ..You know why ….

Anyways, apart from the heat, I have my serious rants. Every unofficial couple in the city feels that I am their parents or ex’s hired CID who is tracking them in every mall, theatre. Oh yeah! Am this bright inquisitive and exuberance of the youth parcelled from west and landed here. Lemme clarify, I am omnipresent for next two months in all the malls, multiplexes, single screen theatres of the SE Asia. Unfortunately coke is paying for the scampering; else I don’t mind tracking you souls too. Sorry, currently I am hired! Jee le zindagi!Hasthe kilthe... 

Finally! Despite the odds, feels great to be back in motherland J

Introducing India today!

Be a female and get killed before birth.

If survived that, at 5 years get raped by the neighbour.

Got over it also easily? Time to go to school!

Be a nice student, ask doubts, and get molested by the teacher.

No, you haven’t had male faculty, oh wait...more to go!

Get on to the bus and get raped.

Somehow escaped it, go to cops for security, get raped or mocked.

Ask for a lift home and get raped.

Finally, love a guy from other religion and be beheaded by your own brother.

Try this: be cow and get worshiped.

Sure it is a sin to be a girl of this country!

We DONOT need reservation in politics, we DONOT need quota in education and business. All we need is a secured country even for a female ant. #An_Indian_girl

Weekend roundup!

Again, I disappeared. I know! Now not the trip or anything, but the exams and also a bit of surprising shocking news.

On 11^th April, one hysterical group ran into me on the street announcing my Dean’s award as very inspiring personality (in other terms all round award which I did not believe till I received). I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or delighted. In the end, I just managed to nod my head, smile, make appropriate noises, and escape to the safety.click here for details.

Anyways that was the reason and also these days my tight schedule fitted in a movie every evening mostly Bollywood masala.After watching sooooo much of drama, now let me recollect the famous dialogue of Bollywood “Mere paas maa hai”. This movie probably set new standards in Indian cinema and elevated mortal beings into superstardom. The ’70s were all that Bollywood could offer in terms of originality, innovation and pleasure. Apart from the occasional gem, a majority of the movies made in Bollywood today are worthless pieces of stool.

Simple formula that all Bollywood movies follow nowadays:

A meets B.

Falls in love with B.

A thinks life is all roses and unicorns. Sings a song or two.

But, oh no! What’s this? B is in love with C! How unexpected!

A is shattered. Depressed. Sings a song or two.

C, meanwhile, is a jerk and does something inhuman, untrustworthy.

B loses faith in C. B is depressed. Blames self for misfortune. Sings a song or two.

A swoops in like a knight in shining armor. Consoles B.

B falls in love with A. All is fine, sing a song or two.

Optional (for violence): C and A have a fight.

If A and C are men, you have a strong romantic movie filled with songs, drama and action. If A and C are women, you have a spicy, romantic chick flick.

The unchanging storyline for any movie worth its salt to pass inspection. Package the formula with a college theme, a superhero theme, a gangster theme, and just about any goddamn theme – you get one crappy movie after another.

If not this, re-hashing successful old movies with more masala and lesser clothes and disgusting lyrics to excite more hapless people. Blatant over-the-top acting with too much drama and too many emotions and too many movements of the eyebrows. Now comes the actors with some two to three hits in their pocket engaging themselves into silly publicity stunts, those who sell their souls to be on a reality show and those who sell their bodies to get featured in a newspaper – we have all kinds of lunatics in this business.

Well, I still love Bollywood! This is the only ridiculous substance that keeps me awake all night.

PS: Perverts, I heard u! Well, not for that certainly!

Credits: Nikhil

A Gal's Promise

Oh boy! This is for you- Don't know who you are, what you think, what you want but I am sure we are going to have a future together, before you ask me for what, here is what I have for you!

In the years to go

In the years to come

I promise, I promise

I shall stand for the ball

With you beside

In the love's glove

 When I first saw you

I tried to ignore and failed

When I first smiled at you

I knew we would be friends

When I first walked with you

I knew you liked me

When I later looked into your eyes

I knew I loved you.

Speaking about you is pleasure,

My cheeks ripple when your name comes by

I quarrel with you even when I know I am wrong

Only because I know you will still stay along

  

With plenty of years to come by

We shall stand in togetherness

I promise, I promise

I will stand

Only because I love to

and only when it’s You.

Quarter Life Crises!

Well, it has been quite a crazy fortnight. I have been travelling, counselling, consulting and giving some random presentations. Basically I was busy. In this time, I almost got in touch with some very cool people, some long lost friends jus appeared from nowhere and few surprising characters. All in common is the fad of mushing life.

Now it seems that we have got the maturity. IDK what that means but I am sure the ass under got a year older and heart somewhere got little brain or the life got a poetic touch.

Life is good. Life is great. Life is unbelievable.  Life is hard. Life is cruel. Life is so beautiful. Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!

At once I felt it is like the sunny sides up for a few days that mysteriously turn into those dark gloomy clouds that none wants to go under. Those ranting earthlings! They and their flawed decisions. They and their blunders. They and their silly decisions. The more I seem to talk to people, interact with them and be a part of their lives, the more I seem to make observations, the more I seem to take random calls on their decisions, the more I come to a concrete truth.

There is no absolute truth. Today you do something with uncontrolled optimism for silly fun; tomorrow it would be the greatest flaw of life. Well, no regrets though.

I just understood that there is no friend who stays for long or has a person who understands you completely. This little misjudgements lead to breaking off friendships or betrayal. Both as a combo is even more painful.

Well, late 2012 and early 2013 has been a year of marriages for all my friends of 23-28 age groups. A conflict of thoughts for love or arranged love marriages. Few marrying their bfs and few struggling to get their families convinced on their bf and few compromising to get something else. On the other hand is this thrashing ambition. A decent job holder wants a better job; the better one wants a best one. And this is the blockage for settlement. Well, in other terms getting married. Now the definition of family also seems to be redefined.

You feel obsolete for the absolute fun. Fear of calories, fear of hair fall or the fear of looking aged. Fear of having a class and fear of your reputation. Fear of world and then comes the hypocrisy.

Seems like the world is pouring out wisdom but also the fear for responsibilities. No trust and full insecurity.

I really don’t know where is the satisfaction? It’s not the friends as it is known that you wouldn’t have the same person for everything at any demanding point of time. Love life is quite a dicey chapter and then comes the demands over the finances.

All these adventures and feeling of fire in heart- my friend, you are having your share of quarter life crises!

I rest my case here!

Perfect Male!

A good man doesn't just happen.

They have to be created by us women.

A guy is a lump, like a doughnut.

So first you gotta get rid of all the stuff his mom did to him.

And then you gotta get rid of all that macho crap they pick up from from friends.

And then there's my personal favorite...the male ego.

Crush it down to pieces.

Left out stuff is called Perfect Male :P

Picking up the threads!

It is a miracle that finally the day has come for me as well; the making of the dream life.

Just can believe it all happened in February. Although it was quite hectic, the most memorable events were just blessed.  A very personal and memorable trip to the pole and one extremely fantastic trip to Austria. Knowing my flair for travelling, I never expected this would be the start.

For all the wonderful changes taking place in my dreams, I felt I need to give credit to those people who prepared me to those titles.

First day in Germany gave me the vibe that I am here running away from something precious but I am sure I am here to explore the best side of me. I may not be perfect, excellent and gallant but I am what I am and I am continuously evolving.

I still can’t believe the tap on my shoulder from that great man (Narayana Murty) who looked at me and said “Steve jobs in making”.

I had a personal coaching session with one of the great personalities from Harvard. He couldn’t resist telling me “You are a phoenix”.

Today I proudly hold a Research Assistant role with ISB and a  Summer Research Scholar admit at HARVARD.

Do I have anyone to whom I really want to brag it? Sometimes I wonder if it is me whom they are talking about, sometimes I feel, hell ya! Of course I am worth it for the effort. As a great man told fame comes with friends and pride comes before fall.

When I look back Couple of years and see I took the pride of my great body, handsome salary and lots of craze. Well, I misunderstood that to be fame. Today, I really know the value of the fame yet I am still not able to believe it. May be getting tougher on you sometimes help!

Yesterday who called me emotionless are now back to me saying most sensible and practical gal. In business terms, no work force lost but I lost my true friend.( I hope you are seeing this fatso!)

Well, await my phase of entrepreneurship sooner!

For now, this is one in my mind for now 

Moron Marathon!

For those of you who have been wondering why I haven’t been updated for two weeks, well, you can stop wondering. I am still alive, unfortunately, and I’m back in business. For those of you who assumed I had given up, for those of you who assumed I was migrated to other planet and for those of you who just didn’t (and still don’t) care whether this blog gets updated or not, the least I can offer is a friendly wave.
Alright! Now am done with my daily dosage of overacting, hence I’ll go into the story. It’s been a while that I got into couple of consulting projects for SME and working on my journal with Harvard guys, so arguably, I’ve been a bit busy. Adding an ill-timed illness and brand new fuckers around, it does get a bit dicey to manage blogging time.

But anyway, here I am, itching to tell the world about my last trip. It was insanely fun trip where I was totally out of my mind which generally happens when I travel but this time significantly and literally happened.

Ok, back to the point, there is this so called awesome restaurant in the centre of the city. I, along with couple of friends  went there. It is a historic place and maintained by some private hotel group. Honestly , the place was ridiculously small with 3-5 tables and a huge line waiting at the door. We were lucky to get a table. A person came up to us with some tiny piece of toilet paper type or even cheaper material. He gently handed over to us with a nasty look like #i_am_giving_my_only daughter_away# u better take care!

Just surprised about how this restaurant can be insanely popular while the menu is so like a crap recycled one. We freaked out at the prices yet we kept our cool and still placed an order. After a while a gang of 3 boys and 3 gals walking in rhythm and laughing like old mythological villians' background score. Unfortunately they are from the same origin of mine. You know how were they identified? Because they never learnt how to stand in a queue. 

 Firstly I was distracted by the donkey’s noise around which was amusingly the way that gang was eating. Secondly, their long distance calling made me wonder if they really were trying to call using their mobile.

We were done and waiting for our check and unfortunately the gang too. There was a huge chaos in the area and to my shock was these ppl fighting over bill as who would pay which was followed by mastering the art of bargaining. Finally they agreed on something and there was some peace. Before it lasted, they dug out all the cent coins they had and paid which was eventually dropped by the waiter.

Now, the place is Vienna and restaurant accepts only cash and that bunch of idiots are Indians outside India.

Yeah, this is what I wanted to tell, I spotted again a bunch of morons! 

Mission accomplished :-)

Stupidity - Her perpetual trademark

Wednesdays are obviously the worst days of the semester. Fuelling to that, I had moved into my new house on the same day. Topped to this was a stupid bachelor student who asks me out for a date every time he sees me for which my obvious answer is “Grow up for it”. Well, I am single but doesn’t mean I will get into carbon dating. Anyways that’s not the point.

After I moved my luggage into the new house, I met my landlady. Within 5 mins I understood the level of her stupidity and believe me, I can never deal with such fat old mindless morons.

I told her I would see her in the evening as I have a class and walked away.

So, I came back home at 8 this evening, tired, drenched in my own sweat, reeking of the day’s exploits and turn the keys in my front door and enter a dark abyss. I turn on the light switch to no avail. I panic a bit. I turn on other switches all over the house and I’m still covered in a thick layer of darkness. I panic, stumble blindly from one room to another, screaming for help and trying to get the darkness off my body. No, I’m exaggerating. I have a flair for drama and I get carried away sometimes. I get my torch and find out the reason for this darkness. I see a notice that looks very...Forget it! There is no word equivalent to it.

Dear Sandy,

Find the key on your table that unlocks the switch box.

Regards,

XXXX

Who in the world can put a note on a dark wall and expects me to read it?

Finally I lighten my room and check into that seedy room. Surprisingly my room looks way different than I left it few hours ago. It looks hauntingly familiar for all the wrong reasons. I think I’ve seen many a porn movie shot in this very room. I can’t be too sure about this, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Well, even if you don’t wonder and ponder these mysteries, I’ll enlighten you.

She noticed a cute German with me who helped me in moving that morning. So she put her 60 year old rusted brain to use and bought this effect.

So, there I was, almost in the middle of the night, in the stupidest room with all roses around and some weird room fragrance along with a bottle of wine, and I sit here on the chair, where I’m vaguely sure that many a pretty chick has done it doggy style. The creepy blue lights and a transparent bathroom add to the cheesiness.

Yes. The bathroom / toilet has a TRANSPARENT wall. F*** you very much, landlady.

I seriously doubt if she is amusing herself with this stupid act or genuinely proving her stand or mocking my singleton :P

Anyways, as Einstein said " Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."

Nothing is lost..

Gone are those days,

Where the books are all closed

Up in the shelves

Pens have dozed

All by themselves

But my eyes are wide open

Gazing the colours

 Till the schools reopen!

Gone are those days,

When each dawn had a new friend for me

Pushing each other into that muddy pool

Yet sprinkling all the smiles

And hands were only for hugs

Gone are those days,

Chirruping of those birds delighted me

Winking of flowers made me laugh

Lips chanted only ‘mother’

Loneliness made me play

Bees recited poems

Longings made me walk

Lost….

But not forever

Days live, Friends live, birds live….

So do the child in me

He...

I was watching the angels sing,

the songs of love with her fluttering wing.

While I was pondering on some unsaid thoughts,

he came unannounced, unexpected

like he owned the place.

He walked over in peace,

helping the little heart to seize.

He is intangible and charismatic,

clever and quick as a flash.

Those are moments of silent joys

in the still time

letting the heartbeats slow down, unwind

to enjoy the serenity of life

But I await seeing him yet again

to ask my heart back.

Rising the Silence

Feminism is not a dirty word. Feminism means having a vagina and a vagina is not an invitation. Our body is not an invitation. That doesn’t mean we cannot still take pride of long legs, shapely calves.  It’s totally our call to wear flattering necklines, accentuate our waist, or butt.

I refuse to pack chilli powder in my hand bag each time I step out of the house. I will not buy the advice of mastering martial arts or acquire cans of pepper spray - ‘just in case’.  Why am I to do it? Is the equality only in the words not in the society? Do I need to fear the opposite sex when I am equally competing in every field? Do my male friends really need extra humanity lessons to be humans?

 The streets, stations, subways, buses, autos, trains, over bridges, cabs belong to women as much as they do to men. We reclaim what is rightfully ours, without being browbeaten into scampering away in fright. Why retreat at this stage? If anything, the moment to go ahead and change the rules of this dastardly game is now. If we weaken our resolve and move even an inch from the position taken, we’ll have surrendered a basic right. The right to freedom. The right to safety.

It was quite shocking when my German friend who happened to be in India and asked me about how safe is it for people to settle in Delhi with regards to the Delhi rape case.

Is the answer to that is a female foetus is not safe even in a mother’s womb? And are we discussing the safety of women as those who are ‘allowed to live’?  But this is not the time to feel martyred. There is no room for self-pity. This is the time to demand real change.

The solution lies in our hands. And those hands need not reach for chilli powder. If we adopt defensive strategies to ‘protect’ ourselves, we are admitting weakness and anticipating defeat. How many women in scary circumstances will have the physical strength and the presence of mind to reach for those chilies? The onus of staying safe was never on us. Let’s not foolishly take it on ourselves at this critical stage and let the real culprits off the hook. And those culprits aren’t the rapists. Criminals take their cues from society at large. A society that disregards and looks the other way when politicians rape, loot, kidnap and murder with liberty, is a society that is inviting trouble. Men like the Delhi rapists who must have believed they’d get away with the crime – just like all those govt. body whizzing around the capital, followed by a convoy of security cars to ‘protect’ them. It is this blatant abuse of power that we need to put up a fight against. Until those changes, women will remain soft targets.  Through all this, an extraordinarily courageous woman continues to fight for her life and let the world know she wants to live. It’s a poignant war cry from what could soon become her death bed. Yes. The situation is grim. And this is a national emergency which must be recognized as one. No woman in India should ever be told to arm herself with chilli powder. No woman should even feel the need to do so. This is what the fight is about. Women must be able to take safety for granted. Just like men do.  For, when Delhi gets raped, India gets raped.

Are we grown up to be flame of the house or being flamed for the male desperation?

“Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”

-Shel Silverstein

Credits: Shobaa De