Why do we stop caring?

The morning newspaper lying down 

I sit with the hot steaming cup of coffee

the headlines announce, in bold letters

an acid attack case, and I gasp

in horror and disbelief once again

The story reads, like many other

of a woman who dared to say "NO"

attacked with the brutal corroding acid

carelessly thrown over her face, arms

as she gasped for breath, and life

The attacker with the audacity to justify

"he just wanted to be with her,

it's her fault, she refused him"

nonchalantly, he carries on living

knowing his life is not affected

Image source: www.rangerart.com

He burnt her skin, her flesh

the pain more so emotionally

the motions in the clock stopped,

as she lives between hospitals

awaiting justice, for she is THE victim

As people stare at her face,

she wants to hide, but for which crime?

she stopped her education, but why?

the life for her has changed, should it?

I sigh deeply, with no answers

But I carry on with my day, like usual

just like the attacker, as the justice weeps

I see somebody walking by, her face covered

her eyes lock with mine, and I can see the pain

the unsaid, unspoken pain..

And I hang my head in shame,

I care, but what more than just reading the news?

what more than debating and discussing?

why don't we have more stringent punishment?

how can somebody destroy someone's life?

and not even be punished?

I think of you..

When the dark night darkens

And the clouds are thundering

I think of you,

I wrap myself in the blanket

Of warmth, love and care

All of which are you..

When the sun shines hard

And the day never seems to end

I think of you,

the umbrella of shade

Of hope, of dreams and aspirations

All of which are you..

My reflection..

When I stare at myself in mirror

And reflect back sadness,

I think of you,

And the reflection smiles back

Makes me laugh, confident

That reflection is you..

You are my dream, my smile

My shade in the harshest sun

My umbrella in thunderous rain

But most of all you are my essence..

My Role Model..Who taught me to be who I am..

I am writing about #MyRoleModel as a part of the activity by Gillette India in association with BlogAdda.com.

How do you define who is a role model? Not just somebody in whose steps you want to follow, not just somebody who you admire, not just somebody who inspires you, not just somebody who teaches you to dream..its all of these things and more!

My Father, who taught me how to be just me, who taught me I can be anything..that I should dream to fly and understand that I will be hurt, will be lost, will need to say no..

Thanks for being my role model, I am only because you are…

MOM: My essence!!

When I look inside me, I find you

Lost, alone, depressed; I look around, I find you

When I look for inspiration, I find you

love, compassion, selfless, all these are you..

MOM..I can never say in words how much I love you!

Image source: parties.coloringcrew.com


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

IPL ke liye kuch bhi karega!!

The warm beautiful afternoon of April spring was perfect for a siesta before the big happening of the evening, I lazed around thinking, stretching my arms on my velvety couch. There was just the need to get up and arrange for snacks before the big game began, royal challengers were to take on Mumbai Indians and If I missed even one ball of royal challengers batting, they lose and how could I do this to my team!!

                                               

So the Saturday evening plan was well set, and as I day dreamed about Virat scoring a 100, my mom screaming out to me woke me up, "Get ready fast, somebody is coming.", jolted out of every possible sense in confusion I asked, "who, what?? excuse me", she came and looked at me in her most stern expression, "Somebody is coming to meet you, since you didn't reply to the pictures sent, I decided to call them to meet you." she walked away pronouncing the sentence like the judge with no time for my protests.

So like a showpiece I sat at the corner, decked up like a Christmas tree against my wishes with a permanent scowl as the icing on the cake. More than my resentment against this tradition of parading me like a goat to be sold off, my worry was more when I looked at the non-stop clock. It is already 6, my inner voice screamed, it will start at 8, the match!!

I had prepared everything, my set top box was working in good condition, star sports was on and the TV was already dusted twice or thrice in a single day. The "Guests" arrived at 7pm, late by an hour, "no punctuality" I smirked as I looked at the "Groom" smirking. The boring conversation started, and it seemed like time will never end, which was a good thing. "Let them go before my match starts" I hoped, but what had seemed like eternity transformed to already an hour on the clock, the match had started, it was 8.

With the restlessness building in, I kept nodding to the mindless conversation. But now was the time to show my love for my team, so to my mom's utter surprise, I started saying , not believing my own ears as well, "Hi aunty, I really like him, can I speak with him alone for a few minutes?"

He looked at me as if instead of asking to speak with him, I have hit him. Seeing the surprised/shocked faces, and then looking at the clock as it moved to 8.01, I decided I only need to take matters in hand, motioning to him, "Hi, lets go to my room" and I led the way as his outgrown stomach followed me.

He came and sat meekly at the edge of my bed, itching to start the TV I restrained myself and smiled at him,"Hi, look I want to make something very clear, I really like you, But I want to be honest with you" he looked up expectantly, I sat down and placed my hand on top of his, in my most emotional voice that I could manage, "I have some kind of disease, we don't really know what it is, some kind of infection or some deadly disease the doctors are still finding out, my mom doesnt want you to know but since I like you so much I thought I shall" and I did my pretend sob. I hoped he didnt ask details for I hadn't thought more in the limited time I had.

With a start he got up, brushing my hands off, as if my disease will get to him. Without a word he ran off, whispered something to his parents and they quickly excused themselves. It was already 8.15 and I had missed 15 precious minutes, and I ran off to start my TV. But the test wasn't over yet and the lights went off. and then StarSports.com came to the rescue with live feed.

Its brilliant features such as Infografix that help in understanding facts and figures in an interesting manner, to zipclips it's a lot of fun watching my favorite matches.

starsports.com Infografix

Dad came smiling to my room, gave me a hi fi and joined in to watch the match on the tablet!! With the awesome RCB win it was indeed a super sunday!!!


This post is a part of  Cricket just got better! Activity by starsports.com in association with BlogAdda.com.

"Draupadi": (un)fairy tale of being a strong woman!

The fire scathing as it gulped the dry woods

unrelenting, unforgiving and deep

She was told, it was her unknown mother

puzzled she looked, learning from its spirit

Dark as the mysterious night, she glowed 

questioning, not the coy obeying daughter 

but the clocks ticked on, and she was told

she was to be given away as a "coveted" prize

The hall was full, unknown eyes stripped her

she looked back at them daring, her head held high

they scorned at her, marveling her dark beauty

the trumpet had blown and her freedom wept

They had divided her, as she watched numb

she had looked with deep contempt at the archer

she married 5 men, this was destiny she was told

love, did it exist? or duty was it? she couldn't ask

She was the reluctant queen, changing the old order

of an empire built over the death of a forest

The invitation was just for a game of dice, she reflected

the master of slaves, of kings, was it peace purchased?

The king had lost not just his pride but the obedient brothers 

nobody asked why did he stake her, but she was pawned, 

just the object, is that all she was? this time she asked

they dragged her, as she questioned, but can a woman ask?

She questioned those who had written the patriarchal rules

what is freedom? she asked brazenly as she stared at the beasts

or were they men, as they laughed out loud, at her naivety 

she was helpless they knew, as the "protectors" looked down

Image source: nisachar.deviantart.com

She was to be stripped of pride, of her spirit as they 

ravaged her with their words, eyes; whore they called her, 

and what about the husbands? what name for them?

They tugged and tugged, but couldn't strip her spirit

She was asked to forgive, to forget; for it was her family 

it was a woman's duty, but what of her pride? she asked

they lowered their eyes when the wishes were granted

she asked for independence, the crime wasn't acknowledged

The open flowing hair were to remind of the injustice

but again and again they attempted to crumble her spirit

She sought her justice, even when denied without the hearing

She fought each day to ask the questions, only silence had

She is blamed for a war, that was never her making

after centuries she is still looked down upon

she was "the" wife to five men, she didn't choose

she fought for herself, she fought for being a woman!

We are still fighting that war everyday, every second

the fingers are still pointed at victims, rape did you say?

but she had asked for it, just like the Princess Panchali

how could they resist stripping her when she was staked?

My ode to my favorite and revered mythological character of Draupadi, the woman who asked questions who asked what is right and what is wrong, there are so many dimensions of the character that there could be hundreds of viewpoints and stories!

The reverse chess: When hunted becomes the hunter

“Don’t blame the hunter if you aren't paying attention enough to spot the traps.” ― T.T. Escurel

They sat together in a huddle, the evening breeze still carried the heat of morning. The sun was setting from far across the gurgling white water of the lone river surrounded by the dense green trees. The birds had started coming back to the nests, and the sky was turning a deep colour of the purple.

She knew she was the head of the herd, and she looked around and just saw scared faces. She looked across at the far end of the river and tried to see what lay behind those rough shrubs. "We will walk on the same path as we walked yesterday" she called aloud, as the tense faces looked back at her questioningly. 

The wise old one approached her, "but yesterday that little one was trapped and killed there only, lets go by another route". She shook her head to indicate end of the discussion. She started crossing the river and the herd followed her, the falling dusk cast dark shadows that added to the impending gloom!

Image source: www.hongkiat.com

She watched her steps carefully as they navigated the flow of river and looked ahead as the light faded away slowly. She had spotted them long ago as they stood in the shadows, waiting for her to make that one wrong move, "tonight things will be different" she promised herself.

They successfully crossed the river, and she stood behind those menacing bushes which had taken the lives of many in her herd, she had seen them die a painful death and tonight she would avenge them all. With her trunk, she uprooted the bushes around her. Suddenly she whispered to those who were right behind her and those whispered it back.

The moon was directly above them and illuminated the herd in its pale light. Suddenly a part of the herd moved away from it, just as the second part moved in another direction. She looked straight across, and moved a heavy stone in her trunk and threw it with all the rage she could muster in the opposite direction of the bushes. She knew "It was a trap" , and sure enough the stone was caught in the trapping net with shots being fired at it.

She trumpeted her loudest and started running wildly towards the hidden men, just as they trained their guns on her. But out of nowhere the elephants hit them from behind and the guns were scattered, which creaked as they were trampled upon. The hunters looked fearfully at each other as they were surrounded by the herd.

She looked at the fear in their eyes, just as she had looked in the dying eyes of her little one screaming to her to save him from a painful death. She wanted to tell the hunters, just like she didn't spot the traps earlier, they didn't spot the traps today; how the dry leaves creaked every time they walked, why couldn't they hear the approaching herd from behind, why did they take so long to cross the river so that the night falls and there is sound of every other animal. It was all there, they couldn't sense the traps, now they can't blame being hunted.

This time, all of them trampled on the hunters together, as their screamed echoed just like of the little one who was shot as he lay trapped in the net.She sighed at the blood, only if they can let them live, ONLY IF..
Killing was a curse and they knew it, this was not the survival killing that happens in the jungle, this was just GREED KILLING..ONLY IF..they understand.

She prayed for peace, for not killing anymore for just the days as they were without intrusion!! She didn't want to be the hunter neither the one who gets hunted who can't see the traps..



This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.