Prayers for a Wildflower

What can I do except write about it? This is all I can do, for now at least.
Let’s do a simple case study.

CHARACTERS:  
The rapist: 
Oh yes it’s a he.
Is extremely horny.
Has a bunch of loser friends who are like him.
Probably watch porn all day? Definitive yes on that.
Maybe has a job. This point as we know, does not matter.

The victim:
Female. That’s all I got.

The police:
Protects the weak, banishes evil, supports the needy, and sorry I have to stop here for fear of death by laughter.

SCENE:
Victim is there. Just simply there.
Rapist/Rapist+buddies spot her. I want the real thing man.

LOCATION:
Any where will do as long we have space to stand and she has her space to, you know.. 

CLIMAX: 
In other news ladies and gentlemen, the rape victim is pregnant. We do not know yet who the father is.
Or worse: rape victim gets married to her captor for child support.

ANALYSIS:
My dear horny Indians, yes you want it. So bad you don’t care where you stick it. Get a wife, do it with it her consensually and STFU. Or pay for it. Do not meander about the streets, look out for the first female and spread your crap into my sisters.

And then behave as if nothing has happened? How? How?
You animal, who gave you the right to be born?

One day, this will be more than a blog. This will be a death sentence for people like you. I will smile and rejoice that your doomsday has finally come.

Till then, I will pray for her. And hope that she can somehow see the light of day, wherever she is.
May your soul rest in peace..

His Heart’s Desire

She daydreamed a lot these days. And she was carrying his baby. He treated her like a queen. But all she wanted was to be with her elder brother. She was also confused most of the time. Sporting an angelic smile, she stopped her mother and asked her lots of questions. But her mother seemed to have no time. And her father was always behind the newspaper. Whom should she ask? All her friends were busy and they never stopped to see her. Somehow, she didn’t find that odd. She suddenly cried out “Mani Anna!” and broke down completely. Her mother filled up a tumbler of water and tried forcing it down her throat. But it tasted very salty and made her want to vomit. She made retching sounds to make her mother understand. But no sound came out and the water was now in her tummy. Oh! How big it had become. So many gifts and bangles. But she had never liked bangles. They reminded her of handcuffs. Jail!
Her mind was starting to wander. Rusty bars, people in white and always shouting. She never understood them. She had a friend there, the fat jolly inspector. But her brother had said that he didn’t like her talking to him. So, she never even said a hello to him when she met him on the streets. She had wanted to ask her brother why, but she kept forgetting.
She suddenly felt the salt and the bile rising in her throat, and ran outside to the backyard. Fields and mountains burst around her and for a moment she felt unsteady. She wanted to hug someone badly and so went to the closest thing she could find, a neem tree. She kissed the lowest branch she could reach and felt a sense of peace. By now, her mother had come out screaming. So she ran, as fast she could with the baby, inside her room and bolted it. She just wanted to be alone! At times like these, just staring at the door made her feel good. She heard thuds and threats but didn’t care.
It was almost 6 o’clock now: her brother would be home any minute. She got up, tidied her dress, combed her hair neatly and opened the window facing the street. She saw a lot of kids playing in the mud. She looked absently at them and wished she was there with them. She suddenly saw him coming and she wanted to shout in happiness. She ran outside and hugged him. He had a frown on his face and all he said was “Get inside.”. She didn’t care and clung onto him. He carried her inside and sat her down. He took some snacks from the kitchen, gave her some and gorged down the rest.
“Anna how was your day?”
“It was good. Little less work than usual.”
“Did you bring anything for me?”
“No ma, I didn’t have any money with me.”
“That’s alright Anna, you want some water?”
“In some time. Where’s Chandran?”
At this point, she got up and said “OK, I’m going to eat something. I’m very hungry.” and smiled at him.
“OK.”

It was almost 2 hours later when Chandran came home. He went into their room.
“Lakshmi, what did you do today?”
“Huh? Why are you asking?”
“I want to know.”
“It was the usual. I befriended the neem today.”
“OK. Can I hug you?”
“No. I’m tired and I want to sleep. Good night.”
4 hours later, she was fast asleep, drooling a little on the pillow. He was up, staring at the moon. The night came down upon him and laughed at him. “How have you still not killed yourself?” it seemed to ask. He had no answer. With what madness he had taken her that night, with the same moon as his witness. With the same fury, she had detached herself from life. She was the angel of the village, the gang leader of the brats, the one who was going to study a lot and change their village into a town. Not anymore, he had taken care of that. The village elders decided what was to be done. She spit on the ground. She wanted to slap him, but didn’t want to touch him. Her parents accepted the whole situation with a calmness she couldn’t comprehend. Her brother spoke for her. It lead to more fights, more tears. She searched for an apology from the universe, a reason as to why it should have happened to her. There was utter silence. Ceremonies happened. Life ran its course on them and gave up on her. He was willing to fight her battles, but she never let him. At some point, she started living her life backwards, becoming more like the child now inside her.
Desire. That was what had burned her life before his eyes. His punishment was to see her like that. They were in two different worlds which had no intersections. He knew that he couldn’t change things, and he didn’t deserve to. All he wanted was the power to obliterate things and events. He was a faceless stranger to her and she brought out a strange phobia of mirrors in him. It was the last thing he thought of before he slept every night.

Where have I disappeared?

Every time I sit down, my thoughts seem to find no other road. A torch to lead the way is there, but its light is too weak. My mind speaks out, shuts out the noise. But it is ever there, present like the sound of the sky. Save me, I scream. I don't care. But its just hard. Not for me. But for the thing itself. Painting a picture with no colours, my life is now a joke. Its vibrant nature quelled by things too worrisome, I call out to my very own cocoon. I have jumped inside my box, nailed myself in. A little hole left to swipe at imaginary insects wanting to keep me company. No fireflies, moths maybe. My quests have merged into one, that which beats my brain. I have become a bubble, bursting at the slightest touch. My throat indicates fever, hopefully a sign of something on its way. I have prayed my prayers, kept my promises, done my duties. I am tired, leave me alone. Give me back my sanity. Give me my life. Kill me. I never wanted to be someone else so bad. I want to be 5 again. I want to play my old stupid games. Where I didn't have a care in the world. Where I was free. Where I had myself for comfort. I had trees around me. I had dirty shoes. I had happiness.

Why bus travel makes me jump with joy

Waiting for a bus seems a harmless enough thing to do. I just have to simply ignore the men looking me up and down, sizing my body up. Visually raping me just because I have something that they don't. Oh, but of course I can't say anything. Because I'm public property after all. It gets worse when I step into the bus. Men brushing against me casually as if their birth right. The funny thing is though the bus has an equal number of men and women, the women don't fall onto the women or the wolves nor do the men fall onto the other men. It's as if we are all a magnet for testosterone. I'm not even that pretty for anyone to give me more than three seconds worth,but it's simply that I'm different in subtle ways.The conductor takes forever to hand over the change resting his hands for however long he pleases.
Then there are things which are so simple but hold the same levels of irritation. I'm not asking that the honourable species who rest their asses to behave like gentlemen and give up their seats for the minority clan. But hell, even though 33% reservation hasn't been fully carried out in buses, 4 seats are reserved for us. You aren't worthy enough to sit there and when I tell you to get up, I don't expect you to look me in the eye and talk like a smart ass. I don't care if you've slogged the whole day. A lot of us have too and its nice to claim the little of the territory that belongs to us. But hey, I'm following the rules. So I must be put behind bars. Frankly, my voice has faded. All I want to do is to castrate you and feed you to the street dogs. Because this land is forbidden. But of course you can't understand that. The logic is too complicated to feed into your pea-sized brain.
I don't want to hear an irritating tune being hummed from your whiskey covered lips, that too when you sit and I'm holding on to dear life. You must at least have the fucking courtesy to get up when a pregnant woman or a grand mother stands near you, instead of pointedly staring at your phone and showing off your worthless ring tones. You shouldn't expect us to ask it, because you're not the bloody king.
Maybe, just maybe if I cover myself up totally, roll myself on excrement and get onto a bus, I could repel the blue bloods. But it's a big maybe. Well, anyway I'm treated like shit, so I thought this would help. Excuses. For being like this. It's not my fault I was born a women, but hey, I didn't ask to make it your business either.
I accept I'm cowardly to not stand up and fight for my voice to be heard. But when I do,you shout me down and no one comes to continue the thread and you're a man after all. And apart from the insults, I'm also given advice. I'm supposedly too forward and too outgoing to make comments like this in public. So I'm asked to shut up and behave a "woman". Whatever the hell that means.
These incidents have at least made me realize the meaning of the expression "be a man". Yes loser, because its so humiliating to be a woman. Its one of the worst insults you can hand out to a man. Because only his manliness makes up his personality. Just like being fair and voluptuous and having smooth skin makes up a woman. Forget about character and other things that old men talked about. Totally not important. I'm truly sorry if I've ever used it in the past.

So to all of you suckers out there, please get a life and don't forget to get lost.

Highly Viscous

A glimpse of whatever can resemble a liquid's state
A reflection turns into a shadow
Smiling at me from the other side of the gears,
Inquiring about mundane answers posing as questions
The mind probes into raw data
Turning over and over, the rush of memories
Whys and hows fixing me with a witch's glare
Confusion I see, everywhere
I have to face the crowd's judgment,
revving up seemingly angry but all smiles within
After all I'm bargaining for his life as my own for:
we're very different yet so similar as the waves in an ocean

The bearings of my life have got nothing to say
I'll wait a million eternities just to see you again
I may not be deserving of you now, but
give me a few seconds out of the eons that He grants
I will build on whatever I see fit
Walking everywhere, all I see is you
Just as you came up to me before we parted ways

Heads we win, tails we still win
Tortured by geography, yet on the same brown plain
Fixed by destiny, we'll meet someday
My nameless prince, my very own, the drive in my life

Life is to be lived

The act is finalized, the tricks laid out prettily on the table. The beautiful assistant flashes you her most winning smile and the crowd keeps you going. Spotting a few people here and there in the meaningless babble, you wave to keep the rhythm going. The lights then dim and your shadow now follows you. Then everything goes wrong.
The props aren't right, the trick is a disaster, your friend in the audience is no longer on-board and the people's mutters rev up like some machine about to mince meat. But what you miss most is the applause. Your soul is gone. Where to find solace now that you found out that everything was a huge mistake? Whom to turn to for help when you know that nobody cares? Your troubles seem to swell up, tears daring each other to break away from your eyes. You want to scream but the audience took your voice away with them.
No friend, no lover. No one but you. One man battles are not unheard of, but what for are you fighting?
Glory? It was never there to begin with.
Love? That too.
Yourself? It will never be the same again.
So what? In some smelly, unattended, rat-infested corner of this huge world, you might just find it. Pure and crying to be rejuvenated. The jagged edges will bear witness to your rough sail, but polish it you can. Don't lose it again lest you become a nameless speck of dust with a mundane existence with the might of the universe behind you; ready to swallow you at the slightest imbalance.

Gut wrenching crap

You wake up everyday,drag yourself all the way to the shower and groan it out during breakfast. Chewing on a piece of bread like a cow on cud, you finish 2 slices after eternity. Then comes the coffee. Its either too black or too weak and never just right. You try to do something but boredom creeps its way in and throttles you till its time for lunch. 2 hours later, you're too sleepy to be doing anything and nap it up. When its time to get up, half the day is gone, but there's still time for that "coffee" you love. Finishing it in one giant gulp, you start your work. There's a significant amount done before dinner is announced and as is with meals, you're first at the table. That over, you sweat out more than you had bargained for that day finishing it off at around 2 am, all the while gritting your teeth over irritating matters of no importance that seemed very life threatening at that time.
Baring your fangs(sorry teeth), lashing out at the phone or anything handy enough to be thrown at the innocent smile of a 3-year old kid who stares back at you as if every damn thing in his perfect world is fine. You start hurling abuses at that mad kid in the poster, at your computer screen, at the dumb freecell game that you couldn't win and thus brought up the lost streak count to 12. Even the usually not-so-funny forwards seemed very insulting and the usual do-till-i-die hobby of messaging has lost its fun. Oh, it so has. And when people don't realize this, it sparks a something. Medieval-like in its battle spirit and as immature as that kid you hate, it crops up. And that feeling of having defeated someone in a verbal matter is so soothing to that monster inside you.
It controls you in the heat of passion and in the dourest of times. Like it? Just love it. Hate it? More than the slimiest anthropod. Can't live with it, can't live without. Looking back on it all, do not blame it on "situation","circumstance" or "hormones". Deal with it, its the monster YOU created by channelling all that you hated into one massive black hole. Its upto you to warp its dimensions, cut its fangs, suck out the poison, fix up a smile and face the world.Who knows, yours maybe a cute cat compared to someone else's dragon. And you know what they say, never tickle a sleeping dragon.

Dude,where's my vocab??

Its probably just out there in that tiny part of your brain, that long forgotten small grey bit, which could have just about inspired "The Lost World", because thats what it is. We've transcended what eras? and the poor old Oxford errm dude who edits the dictionary must have seen millions of what can only be called juxtaposition of letters pass through himself onto that blue bound book. Maybe he cringed, maybe not. But that's what's cool and whacky. You can get it in if it's "in".
Now it's time to mention our very own Indian, or rather Tamil counterpart:Machan! This is utterly bewildering to my parents who actually know it as a relation(mom's husband's bro is mom's machan). God forbid, I don't use it.But very confusing all the same.You might think during our college culturals, a lot of well, trendy people come to visit.Bringing with them their jargons, lingo and what not. Infact, what can one expect from a hot(or is it cool?) rock band that was doing their sound check and just about to start their power jamming? A deep throated "dude lets get this crap over with and ROCCCKKK!!!" followed by some growling and head banging maybe. What actually happened was a high pitched, bat-like"Machan the drums aren't being heard da!!" No one noticed, but my jaw dropped below my knees!Come on, a rock band, with ponytails and everything??No!
Another super cool word that should be given highest priority is sup. Synonyms- wassup, watsup, enna pannra(yes, two but read as one). Has a wider range of meaning-timepass, concerned enquiry,to "know" as in keep tabs, status word (non-trademarkable category) ,etc etc.Slick and short, it conveys what you want without moving your jaws that much. I mean, applause seriously!
Anyway all one can think about is that if its machan this generation, what will the next gen say???

A thing called...

A feeling that plunges into your heart like chocolate, feels like the best hug you ever got.Why, more than that. Like you're lying face down in the rain and savouring every globule of pure unadulterated joy, and you know if you leave it, you might just regret it.Your heart bursts with some unearthly feeling, comsuming yourself in a flame of your desires, blinding you to everything else except to what your heart wants you to see.Rain might pour down in torrents, the sands may kick up a storm, time may pass you by in a flurry, but who cares?
For those of you haven't guessed it,I might have just described freefall or a ferris wheel ride or that good ol' thing calld love.Anyway, these stolen moments that well up from somewhere deep in you ,stir up your thoughts, make you crazy and yes, fix that rare award winning smile on your face! Again who cares if you look like an idiot?? It's not as if the rest of the world cares if you're sad anyway.So go ahead and experience it.It's yours and only yours.
As for me, these peaked up energies make me see blue everywhere because its the colour of the Gods. A 'lil blue here and there, some smacked right onto my face just to show how smitten I am.But thank God, no one else can see it.Because if that happened, the very beauty of it all would just fade away into nothingness.
So, vacate your mind and plunge into it.Never take a deep breath before it all because it might just suck some of it away!

An Ode to the SUPpressed HEROES

Is it a bird? Is it a man in tights with a red cape just goofing around in the clouds? No, it’s Superman! Where there’s trouble, you can count on him to set things right. And he fights more than just bad guys. He repairs broken bridges, about-to-collapse buildings and out-of-fuel airplanes. But the only thing that instills fear in people’s hearts is that someone may get the deadly Kryptonite from Krypton (which is about the only thing that can stop him) and thus sap all the guy’s powers. A chilling thought.
Meanwhile, on a place definitely on Earth, there’s the overgrown version of a scary anthropoid taking human shape. Yes, you got it. Good old Spiderman. The deal here is that there’s nothing to take his web stuff away from him, but the people in his city just plain don’t like the poor fellow. Aw, it’s alright buddy. Mary Jane does. Meanwhile the spider’s cousin (or however you want to associate things), the bat: flies. And fly it does. In the most state-of-the-art car that today’s Great engineers can think of. Because sadly, he is a normal human being like all of us. Oh, but how selfless to devote his time for the good of the community? Will someone please start handing tissues here?
Let’s talk equality now. The spotlight moves to Wonder Woman. An Amazon with nerves of steel and a heart made of an alloy of gold and iron (let’s call it goron). She’s so gorony (for the want of a better word) that she would have made a good actress or a model. But like all her “colleagues” she gave it up for us. Indeed what would we be without them?
And I almost forgot about Captain Planet, but that’s another story. Apparently, his life’s just perfect.

A 7.2 Megapixel Eye

Am sure all of us at some point in our life would have worked hard to get something. That was exactly how I got my cam.And it was something that I was constantly badgering my dad for a whole 2 years before he said it would depend on the outcome of my exams(I was in the XIIth then). And the moment I held it, I did NOT hear a songbird chirping away to madness nor did the waves stop.But I just felt a glow.It was simply great stuff.Its not a great cam but its the one for me.Why? Coz its never failed at anything.I am a mad shutter bug and feel that a picture does indeed speak a thousand words, if not even more.I know I've irritated many a people, but I simply don't care :) coz one day I know all of them will thank me.Ah, that moment's essence! So small but big enough to shed its light into the lens and the CCD's(uh charge coupled devices, thanks to my "awe inspiring" department :X) in the cam and etch the memory for ever.I believe there's some 6+ gb worth stuff im my comp, and yet, all of them are perfect.A new picture, a new emotion, a new digital thumbprint.Life is always picture perfect and it's just a click away :)

Alpha

Yo! Going to start blogging from this moment, 10:08 pm, a very breezy saturday. Hope you visit this page just once in a while(please), maybe to increase the visitor count(to massage my hurt ego) or just for a hi(thank you). See y'all soon :)
P.S. If that didn't seem desperate enough, I don't know what will!
Madhu