This is not the end my friend. This is beginning.

Delhi Gang rape victim has “passed away peacefully”. BBC uses this statement as if she was the patient of some painful incurable disease. But wait, the fact of the matter is, she was suffering from a painful incurable disease. A disease called negligence, a disease called inhumanity, a disease called mis-governance, and a disease called patriarchal thought.

Dear media, can you please tell me how someone can pass away peacefully after the condition she was thrown into. Can’t you even understand the cent of the pain she might have gone through?

Well, this is not a death of the girl; it indeed is the MURDER of the victim. Actually, it is assassination of democracy and humanity. I realize how cunningly government and administration had worked out to prove this murder into a death. I hope they had applied half of this effort to save the humanity. The result might be somewhat less sad. But they were way too busy in this demolishing public outrage that they hadn’t even heard the victims scream.

I’ve this feeling, “what if the girl had been died earlier”, in India itself and the whole drama is a cloaking mechanism to veil behind this death in hospital scene. It’s strongly doubtful how the whole protest was killed by framing the death of a cop into a murder. How the girl was secretly taken away from India, without doctors’ recommendations and worst, how the news was released at the wee hour so that people couldn’t outburst instantaneously. It could be a move to divert public conscious into other things.

Enough saying; now this is the time to act real. This is not the end. This could never be. It’s no longer been a fight of justice; it indeed must be a war for humanity. How can we trust it is a democratic nation where a government that cannot even save the humanity, let alone protecting the democracy in the first place. I hope her soul will rest in a better place where there is no monster in human disguise. She deserve that place because this earth is not safe anymore.

 But this is not the end my friend, this must be a beginning. A renaissance to save the humanity, to democracy and most needed an equal society for the females who bears the pain to bring us into this world. If this protest cannot bring a change, then trust me there will be no tomorrow which can. We have to stand again for our girls, for justice, and this time much firmer than ever. And fight until the system will reform. Change in political faces cannot bring the change; we have to change the system itself.  We have to change the thought of this patriarchal society. I am not proud of my country. I am not proud to be an Indian at all.

It’s high time when few people’s shit-filled head are making the shame for entire human society.  We have to ensure the punishment for the culprits which could convey a message to these inhumane creatures that they couldn’t even think of staring at our girls on purpose, let alone touching them. Keeping them in jail serve no purpose, except costing us taxes to feed them. It’ll only make us pay for the food those monsters eat, which, I am sure, we would never accept. To attain this, we will go against constitution (yes! Trust me, it worth) if needed.  Public hanging or beheading could be an option. Or better, the rapists could be thrown alive into her pyre. Our ancestors might’ve done this for respect (?) but we will do it as justice. And I am sure no human right activist would stand against these punishments. Human Rights are for human, no? But they are not human, they are not f**king human. They are the rapists, and rapists have no religion, no cast, and no creed. They are just rapist.

Let’s not die this agitation; this is the time to fight with a double courage and determination. This govt HAS to listen. We’ll make them listen, otherwise.

But please, no violence this time. No Bharat Bandh as it’ll put our nation into a grave economic loss while we are already ailing economically. Together, we can.

Protests, Politics, Women in India: THEEK HAI???

A woman is potentially not safe in her mother’s womb, but we are here fighting for those who are “somehow allowed to born” by this patriarchal society. THEEK HAI

A woman, whom we always considered as the weakest element of the human society, whether in TV serials, or in movies or in novels, or every other goddamn it places, when our respective mothers was the happiest person in this universe when we born. At that time she had taken 57 dels of pain while the tolerable limit of pain for human body is 45 dels. Still it’s the women who are considered to be the weaker one. THEEK HAI?

 

A woman indeed is the prime victim of domestic violence in our country regardless of the conditions. She is being judged by her dressing sense. She is molested in public, teased in market. Still, THEEK HAI?

Tribal women are gang-raped by policemen and paramilitary forces, who indeed are supposed to protect their respect. THEEK HAI?

A woman is the prime victim of the social inequality and is perpetually asked to be confined to the home itself. She is forced to wear the MODEST dresses. The definition of this MODESTY though is not defined completely and uniquely. She is being harassed every time, everywhere for its different version of defination. THEEK HAI.

Our Khap panchayats recommends girl’s marriage age to be reduced to 15 years because they cannot reduce the rapes. THEEK HAI.

 These panchayats issue fatwa for the couples who decided to live together legally, in the name of “honour killing”. THEEK HAI.

Prime Minister of 125 crore people’s nation took it 8 days to address his countrymen, with a relatively emotionless speech when the entire nation was on a stake of protest. THEEK HAI.

 

He finished his statement with a ‘THEEK HAI” remark which technically overshadows his already insensitive speech. He was acting as if an automated robot is being programmed to deliver a message and then asks his masters if the execution was accomplished. THEEK HAI.

He claims to understand the pain and aggression people of the nation are enduring because he himself is a father of three daughters. Aah! Pity on him. In a parallel universe, one only needs mere common sense and empathy towards humanity to feel the THAT pain. THEEK HAI.

Our national congress president had no guts to face the people when they need her the most. All she could managed was to invite a group of 5 representatives(?) to her resident to converse over the topic. THEEK HAI.

Our Home Minister couldn’t even address properly to his people (countrymen) because he can’t go EVERYWHERE in the nation every time. THEEK HAI.

 

He indeed was way too busy in IMPRESSING the Russian Prime Minister rather than listening to the people who had elected him as their leader. Impressing a person who himself has been a pioneer in demolishing this kind of protests in his country. I can see how he wanted to reciprocate. THEEK HAI.

 

Our Home Minister  is the person who address the protesters as mob, mob as Maoists, Maoists as terrorist, and terrorists as Shri Hafeez ji. Atithi Devo Bhav. THEEK HAI.

Our Chief Minister had completed her duty by only dripping few tear droplets, blaming Police commissioner and launching a women helpline. THEEK HAI.

 A legend BJP woman leader had declared that girls as moving corpse, and here we are talking about sensitivity. THEEK HAI.

 

Congress President of Andhra had been caught on camera, redefining the definition of women's edition of liberty and freedom. THEEK HAI.

Arvind Kejriwal had jumped into the protest after 3 or 4 days, probably when he saw the potential political benefits of this issue. Baba Ramdev had again used his enticing ability to frame his supporters against the government. THEEK HAI.

 

Digvijay Singh blames Baba Ramdev and Arvind Kejriwal for politicizing this protest and motivating people to turn it into mob. Well, no one gives a heck over this person's statement, so why to waste another THEEK HAI?

 

Our so called Youth icon Rahul Gandhi had still in silent mode over this issue while he was the first to visit the agitating farmers in Greater Noida. I respect his sensitivity. Nevertheless, THEEK HAI.

 

Delhi Police had used lathis, water cannons and tear gases (expired) to scatter the so called mob. They  had run out of water during Chandani chowk fire extinguishing but they had enough water supply to scatter the people. THEEK HAI.

  

Few rowdy elements had hijacked the movement and turn it into a Police vs People war. Stones were pelted to the Policemen, public property was demolished and the whole issue was dramatically changed. THEEK HAI.

A constable was killed (not technically proved, yet) in all these movements. Police and Government are palying blamegame and dirty politics over it. THEEK HAI?

Loads of top politicians had attended the cop’s funeral but most of them hadn’t even had time to express their sentiments over Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw’s funeral, let alone attending it. THEEK HAI.

Nonetheless, even if the constable is not the victim of mob, does it means that there is no sensitivity for him, as being a human being. Can't we have moral compassion (at least) for the person who had lost because of our negligence? THEEK HAI?

 An FIR was lodged hurriedly against 8 random people in the charge of attempt to murder that constable even before autopsy report. Apparently they are seems to be framed at the first sight. As matter of fact, on an average, it’ll take atleast 1 month to lodge an FIR report for rape in Delhi (or in INDIA for that matter.), that’s too if political pressure is applied over the police. Efficiency of our Police Department is also THEEK HAI.

With the course of these 10 days, the girl was almost forgotten, the rapists were taken for granted and the entire protests had been apparently became a movement of confused peoples vs Govt vs Police. THEEK HAI.

 

Section 144 was imposed, Metro station were shut down. Traffic was blocked. THEEK HAI. 

Police Commissioner hadn’t even credible to take the responsibility of mistreating the innocents. THEEK HAI.

We are now fighting for the justice of this one girl while millions of females in our nation are the victims of daily injustice. THEEK HAI?

But before all these THEEK HAIs, we have got to decide that, does our attitude toward the society, towards the system, towards the humanity is THEEK HAI. Aren’t we all are prime reason for these entire social imbalance, somewhere, honestly. Are we THEEK HAI?

A compassionate regret

My remorseful confession for watching epic movie JAB TAK HAI JAAN……..

I don’t know how to say this? It all started few months back when the first look of JAB TAK HAI JAAN released. I thought we are going to have a good movie after so much time. It was the great combo of Yashraj and Shahrukh Khan, after all. Then, promos released, posters were became common and media had made it an forced option to like.

I went through the promos, which are not very anticipating, honestly. After several unwanted futile attempts to ignore the media hype of this Yashraj-Shahrukh so called epic venture, I decided not to watch this movie until Jab tak hai meri jaan. Then suddenly like from nowhere, another fascinating promo of another much-heard movie SON of SARDAAR came into light and the previous option isn’t remains forced anymore.

With time passed, there comes a time when these two movies becomes official rival of each other. There mutual release date was announced to be on Diwali itself. The whole idea behind this rivalry might be the logic that festivals in India are like a license to become stupid, by spending their hard-earned money and very unruly time on these movies. But this is another issue anyway- any other time for that.

Among all these moments, suddenly the great Yashraj Chopra had unfortunately passed away due to dengue. This had given another opportunity to our ACTORS for proving their acting skills, and whole tribute melodrama had begun. Although, few of them might really felt for his absence, undoubtedly. All of a sudden, this unfortunate moment had turned into a very commercial sympathy and the expected success of the movie had been linked with his pride. On the other hand, Salman Khan had joined his hand with Son of Sardaar and jumped into this JTHJ vs SOS war. SOS had also sued Yashraj productions for forcefully trimming down the SOS screens around the country, which apparently seems true after their release.

Finally the movies released and both of them had did a good business on Box-Office. JTHJ, however, had leaded the war for the obvious reasons. Here, let me make this very clear that, obvious reasons refer to the release and sympathy, rather than the impact of the movie itself. JTHJ had undoubtedly took the commercial advantage of Yash Chopra’s demise, in the name of tribute and respect.

Nevertheless, I did watched Son of Sardaar and liked the movie, especially the pre-interval part. It was a totally paisa vasool movie. After watching it three times to become sure that this movie is definitely a one-time must watch. Until then, I hadn’t watched Jab Tak hai Jaan yet as per the promise I had made to myself. Although, TV channels had never failed to remind me that this movie is doing great, unaware of my prejudiced detestation for this movie.

Then one grimy evening, when I had nothing to watch- nothing to repeat either,  then my friend had passed me his pen drive with a pirated copy of Jab Tak hai Jaan. I was literally f**ked during the viva voce in college, so I played the movie. This is THAT evening.

The movie starts with an epilogue of a bomb diffusion scene from the movie where the male protagonist was diffusing the bomb without wearing any bomb squad suits. Then the actual movie begins, making me hate this movie even more with every single passing minute. I couldn’t tolerated this movie until interval and I deliberately took a short 3-hours break before playing the post-interval tolerating program. The post interval part was little bit captivating but utterly hypothetical at the same time as well. It seems like the writer came from some no man’s land where nothing had to do with logics and facts.

I don’t know which asshole will put some like 100 bombs at no man’s land where the bomb cannot kill any single living creature if it blasts. The writer was either thinking that the audience are as stupid as he is or most probably they had this illusion that every single bullshit under Yashraj production’s banner will be readily accepted by the audiences (Oh wait! This is not an illusion. This is an irrefutable truth. Right?).

I admit that there is a liberty of expression to every person in our country (??????) but this doesn’t mean that you had get the license to fool 1200 million innocent Indians. Yashji had unintentionally trying to compete with Akshay Kumar movies, and succeeded up to an extent too.

However, there are few moments also present in the movie, which can said to be appreciable but that definitely doesn’t deserve to make it a 1000 million movie. Seriously.

I strongly regret my decision to watch this movie and still cursing my stars to make me watch this shit. Iwould like to give it nothing more than 1.5 stars on the scale of 5, and strongly recommend every lucky human being who hadn’t watched this movie yet, not to watch it anyway.

May god saves you from Jab Tak hai Jaan and Akshay Kumar. God bless.

……….But still I love Delhi, indeed.

So technically we live in a city which is said to be our national capital. Capital city of world’s largest democratic nation indeed is not a joke. We are provided with so-called world class amenities, for that matter. We have Delhi metro, for instance, as India’s first fully air-conditioned automated transport system. We have this huge fleet of stylish buses in DTC claiming to provide better transport at nominal fair. We have Indian Parliament and India’s biggest politicians, the lawmakers of the nation, as a matter of fact. Supreme Court, nation’s largest judiciary institution also situated in the city itself. Reserve bank of India, Country’s largest financial institution also found its existence here. Every religion, caste and creed are claimed to be heartily welcomed here irrespective of their state of origin.

We have Delhi metro, so what if it’s not commute after 11 pm. We have world class restaurants but we never care if its last order must be before 11 in the night. We have this law claiming to sell liquor only to the person of age above 25, so what if a teenage could also buy it. Tobacco products are said to be “not for sale to minors”, so what if a kid can easily fetch at any of the nearby street vendor, too. We have these government aided bus service, so what if the driver don’t halt it at every stop. We have cigarette banned in public places, so what if the uncle standing by your side at bus stop or railway station or any other place, for that matter, is blowing out the smoke-ring as if proudly contributing to the national gross of smoke production. We have RBI headquarter but you can’t carry cash more than 20,000 bucks, so what if your mother is sick and need to be hospitalized where doctors would refuse to commence operation unless you pay the amount. They don’t even let you possess the corpse without money, let alone operating her, for that matter.

The KFC outlets are here, but you can’t make order fearing the potential worm you could find in your chicken, like they discovered in KERALA. This might be their latest non-veg recipe, so what your chromosomes does not allows you to eat that unintentionally innovative food item. You can’t carry stuffs worth more than 26000/- or you have to pay the penalty (or better call it duty) at airports. Police can’t lodge your complaint because you don’t have any reference or money to warm their palm, so what if your stuffs are stolen or someone had ran over your vehicle just because he was too drunk to drive straight. You can’t carry any apple product (or similar expensive gadgets) without paying the duty taxes, so what if you own it personnel use. You are thoroughly checked at the shopping-mall entry or cinema halls as if you have carried explosive material with you, so what there is no checking provision at Railways station or similar sensitive public places.

You can freely drive in the city without any interruption by paying the contribution money, so what if have no Driving license, no legal possession on your vehicle, or the worst is even if the vehicle had been stolen few weeks earlier for which the complaint had already registered. You have to pay the contribution money ranging from Rs. 50 to Rs. 2000 to that traffic constable even if you have all the legal documents. It’s not your fault by the way as our police department is inherited with ingenuity to find the flaw in your document or in your driving even if you hadn’t any.

Our parents known as “peerants” or “mom-dad” as if they are the most inseparable entity ever known to man-kind. Lady Gaga and Brian Adams can’t perform in our city as our government had decided to shut down the concert latest at 10 pm, so what if you had invested those millions of rupees in 350+ days to get all the 125+ permits required to host the show. Salman Rushdie and Husain are banned because they had hurts the religious sentiments of the Hindus and Muslims. The privilege of this religious sentiment drives them to kill each other to prove the supremacy of their religion. Amit Trivedi is banned because he had mocked the national emblem, so what if the politicians had ruined the nation itself. Girls are raped because some shit-filled heads consider them as a commodity of entertainment. They think the girls are being raped because they wear “objectionable” dresses and carries mobile phones.

Our neighbor state, Haryana celebrates kind of rape-month every now and then. Their Khap panchayats and our senior leaders thinks that marrying a girl in early age might check the rapes as if marriage would tag girls with an “un-rape-able” human being. Our youth’s find this huge privilege in molesting the girls in the streets while mango people watch them enthusiastically. Our business man and national son-in-law manifolds the 5 million bucks into huge 3000 million in mere 3 years and have this honour in calling us mango people and our nation as banana republic. Our law minister steals money provided for handicapped and warns to shed the blood if opposed.

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Rest of the “LOVE”ly reasons are to be updated soon…. If responses are good.

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PS: Please don't be prejudiced judging me. I do love Delhi otherwise as well. This is just a way to accentuate the things we are either forced to accept or we deliberately ignore them at all.

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And yeah... thanks for your patience tolerating this (if you have any). Have a good day.

We too have a canteen : GBPEC

Well, it’s not necessary to mention that I am a student of G B Pant Engineering College but I had to as this blog is hovering around our college. I am not going into college issues as this is beyond the perimeter of this blogpost’s concern. Moreover, commenting over College admin. could lead me into serious troubles as I don’t want to put things on the board whenever my identity is associated with it, as Right is not Write-able and wrong is I don’t wanted to right. Additionally, I have no idea what (the hell) actually is going into the college. Literally. So let me switch onto the primary concern of this post.

Like any other college, we have an eatery station too in our college. They are best in serving worst food I had known yet. They have this huge (?)  anthology of food we don’t want to have, but as they say “Majboori ka naam ……..”. Most of the time, they have no loose change to return and ultimately bestowed by toffees or other eatables which indeed is not EATABLE as well. Hygiene is something you can’t expect here. Hygiene in canteens (and other places like that, for that matter) are like acting in Salman Khan’s Movie. You may enjoy the movie taken as a whole but you can’t anticipate for acting in it. And still if you are doing so, you are basically doing nothing but fooling around yourself. In a way, I can say that, Cafeteria of GBPEC (my college, abbreviated like its total land stretch. Yes, I mean it) and hygiene is like railway tracks. They might claim to run along parallel, but they never seem to meet anywhere. Apparently.

The mediocre experience of food (especially cooked) can lead you to an ideal world where everything other than this seems to be better. However, this feeling may be surreal. The cooks and staffs have this superpower of ruin every food item they prepare and eventually turn it into a horrendous edition of the same. Nevertheless, they are apparently good at their heart and at mouth for that matter. Additionally, they have this huge reliability of justifying the names of the food items. French fries, for instance, I had last week, was mitigating its name in the fact that it was brought directly from France and go rotten in eventual freight. However, this might be the case of misfortune on any accidental day. But the thing is, I am coming up with what I had experienced by person.

One thing though which will undeniably kill your appetite is the tea of our canteen. The tea available here is the most awful item you could ever imagine at this place. It is technically the perfect blend of boiling water, tea leaves, sugar, milk and mediocre experience. It is the thing, which you’ll always wants to obviate. Samose are the 2^nd worst item which will take you to the unsolicited excursion to the world of mediocre familiarity. The stuffing inside it is the most unwelcomed thing you could tolerate. There are so many other appalling things also available in our canteen but mentioning them all is no longer obligatory as you had already get the clear picture about the things I had mentioned and you can correlate them with these items relevantly to imagine their savor.

Nonetheless, there also exist few other items, which could be tagged as good on the same scale, but most of them are readymade or packaged and had been outsourced as it is. Cold drinks, for instance, along with chocolates and biscuits are few of them. Additionally, very few items are also in the league of above good on that scale, again, that they actually prepare by themselves.

Though there are few other things also needs to be mentioned but I am not getting into it as it will doing nothing good to me (as I told you earlier). All we could wish are better food out there. It is in the state where anything other than this would be better indeed.

Thank You for wasting your worthless time reading this.

PS: This is the outlook of the person who had drafted it. There is no social figure or statistics are included in this post. This post is not intended to offend any personnel. Nevertheless, if anyone feels affronted by this, go to GBPEC canteen (or may be in to hell. Same meaning though). I don’t think I could help in this case. 

The Superman in every common man - (3 of 3)

This incident is to be published in three parts. To read the final part click here continued from part-2 

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I stepped back by the impact to 3 or 4 feet from my original place as people made space for their entertainment show. This is called law of conservation of energy. The energy they had applied in pushing me was converted into the work done by my body during my backward motion. It was purely basic Physics. Nothing else. I understood why they emphasized on these subjects during our school days.

“ No. She is not my sister. Does it matter?” I meeked in very low voice resulting from the cocktail of feeling of fear and self defence.

“Then what you are? A fucking Superman?” One of them retorted as they burst into laughter.

“A superman with his underpants beneath his pants.” Another added.

“Actually he is the scrawny version of Superman.” Third of them had marked his presence and they again burst into laughter. Some of the audience also found it laughable.

“What are you doing behan****? Does your father had taught you only all these?” A voice emerged from somewhere in the crowd. All 200 pairs of eyes moved toward its origin. An old man, about 60 year of age, had showed up from the mob in a second. The radiant on his face defined his confidence. He came and stood beside me. He then pats my back and scolded those three bullies. Also, he preached the crowd. He introduced himself as retired District Magistrate of some random district of Kerala. He must be in any other coach during all these time. Those three bullies were started misbehaving with him as well, but the intervention of public coerced them to immediately apologized him and deboarded from the train there only.

I thanked him for showing up at the right time. The time at which my bones were likely to be broken. He appreciated my courage which was no way needs any appreciation. It was just a result of spontaneity. In a nick of time, that girl approached us. She thanked that radiant uncle first, and then she approached me. My hearts bloated with a feeling mixed with fear and happiness. The happiness because a girl is approaching me while fear of her upcoming remark. What if she tell “ Thank you Bhaiya.”

Bhaiya? I mean what the hell…… Am I too bad looking or I am Bhai Saheb type. Whatever it is but I didn’t deserve to be a Bhaiya of any beautiful stranger girl. God had already blessed me with a sweet sister. I don’t need another one. I am not an universal brother anyway.

Nevertheless, she came to me. Her perfume fragrance hits my nostrils while she was yet few feet away. My heart skips some pulses for the obvious reasons. My mind began to analyze the possibilities out of compulsion. Her approach was spellbound indeed. I prayed my lords to not let her tell this most haunting word “Bhaiya”. It is the most lethargic word a beautiful stranger girl could ever say to a guy. Totally unacceptable. Okay.. go judge me, call me creepy but I  ain’t gonna buy it. Bhaiya from a beautiful unknown girl sounds like back stab from your best friend. You’d never want to accept any of them either. Totally  subtle and unanticipated indeed.

“Thank you….” She said as she extends her hand, perhaps for a handshake. Her  meaningful pause followed by her interrogatory eyebrow movement as if asking will you going to respond or should I take it back?, was enough to make me ensure that she was not going to brother-zone me. Aah! Huge sigh of relief, undeniably.

“Abhishek. Abhishek Bhopali.” I announced my name similar to James Bond style as I shook her hand. It felt so good. Her fair, warm hand was too soft to let go.

“Thank you Abhishek.” She said with a firm, tighter handshake and released the grip next moment. But I had to fight with my mental voice to finally release my grasp. However, I had to leave her indeed, and I did. “Thank you for showing the courage. God knows what would have been happened if you weren’t intervened. I really mean it.”

Yes, I deserve that “thank you”, that hand shake, that touch, that fragrance. Not because of showing the courage and saving her from the public nuisance but for risking my life for this random beautiful stranger girl whose I didn’t even knew her name.”

“I didn’t do anything. It’s this uncleji who managed the situation.” I said this pointing towards that uncle on the ground of morality though I don’t mean it. “There is no way I could save even myself if this uncle hadn’t shown up here. By the way, what’s your name?”

She told her name Sneha. Few minutes of conversation had made the things back into normal and people forget it as if it never happened in the first place except the fact that this beautiful lady is now sitting beside me, talking to me, which I hadn’t even think few minutes earlier. The train too moved slowly after a while.

That day, I learnt one thing that we don’t need any extraordinary muscular strength to stand against any wrong-doings. We don’t need any Superman or Spiderman or Shaktimaan or anyone else for the raising your voice against injustice. Every one of us has a Superman in us. A Superman who likes to wears underpants beneath his pants. A Spiderman without web or mask, for that matter.

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PS: This is a work of fiction.

The Superman in every common man - (2 of 3)

This .incident is to be published in three parts. To read the second part click here

continued from part-1

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Everyone turned their heads to check what had just happened, even though they all had pretty much idea of what could that screech and slap meant. The moment we turned our head, I was unable to see any of them as everyone in the train seemed to “enjoy the show”.

I too couldn’t conceal my curiosity and climbed on upper birth to make sure what I had anticipated in my mind about the situation. The birth itself was already full. What I had seen was the worst version of it. The guy, who had been awarded with the tightest slap, few seconds ago, was still stroking his right cheek, trying to digest the truth that he had been slapped by a girl. He grabbed her hand and gave a mighty slap on her face. It was not only clearly audible but also visible as we all were looking at them. The blow was too mighty to control her senses. She must have fallen on the floor if he hadn’t grabbed her hand. Her head must have been spinning with that blow. We were all stunned by what had just happened. What happened next is the lethal abusive slangs I had ever heard.

The train was still obstinate to move. People were still staring at them, perplexed. Though everyone had had a clear idea about what had just happened. Those three guys were consistently exhibiting their slang vocabulary collection. The girl was looking at the mute mob similar to a goat looks before being slitting. Helpless and endangered. That guy had still holding had still grasped her hand tightly which she was trying to get rid off. No one intervened in all high-pitch melodrama happening in the train. Not even a single person. I cursed them in my mind. But then, I too was not opposing those wrongdoings. I was too skinny to oppose them. My single word at that situation and I would’ve been crushed by those three massive bullies. In fact, I was too unconfident to protest. I decided to let it go. What’s the point of getting into trouble when I already knew that I can’t beat them in fist fight.

In just matter of few minutes, their brashness had shoot up to its maximum. They were actually started harassing that “poor” girl. The girl was crying for help but I was as helpless as she was. I just hope somebody from the crowd appears to help her. I was also hoping for some superman, batman, Shaktimaan or any of the superhero, I used to watch in television shows, would show up to protect her like they do in TV. I even thought, for a while, that lord Krishna will help her like he helped Draupadi. But nothing had happened the way I thought. All I could do was hoping for some non-existence super-hero from those futile TV shows. Meanwhile the behaviors of those guys were turning oppressive. Nothing seems to be helpful. No one showed up to help that pity girl. When things become irresistible, I lost my control.

“What the f**k do you think you are doing?” I shouted out loud. Suddenly those 200 pair of eyes followed me. Most of them must have rubbed their hand out of excitement. They had sensed the upcoming potential entertainment show in which a skinny, scrawny boy being beated up  black and blue by those massive body builder bullies. It was going to be fun. At the other end, the three of them left that girl and approached me.

Oops!!! What had I done? I immediately smelled my being in very near future. I thought my next stop would be any nearest hospital instead of Delhi railway station. I almost shat in my pants. My limbs began to swell out of fear, literally. I cursed myself for intervening them. “why the hell I did opened my stupid mouth?” I thought.

The human tongue has no bone, but it has the potential to break one’s bone.” This proverb sublimated in my mind. I was about to become the most recent example of this proverb. My legs began to staggers in fear. My pulse rate started to increase as they approached me. It was like the Faraday’s law of induction. When a current element is moved along a magnetic bar, there is a variation in current, or vice versa. Mr. Malik, our Physics teacher in 12^th class, had once told this during our Physics lecture. Now I could actually correlate that statement with my real life. My body, which was likely to be repaired in any of the nearest hospital, was shivering.

“Is she’s your sister? Asshole.” One of them roared as they pushed me.

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Click here to proceed

This incident is to be published in three parts. This is it's second part.

PS: This is a work of fiction.

The Superman in every common man

It was bright Monday morning, around 10 am. The sun had been glowing at its fullest as if deliberately tempted to kill every single creature. Summer in Delhi is a bitch, especially in mid-June. I was travelling in passenger train plying in Rewari-Delhi route.  Back when I was at Palam railway station, I just looked through everywhere for estrogen-driven co-passengers. But unfortunately there was not much girls up to my level of anticipation. There were only 3 or 4 girls which could be considered as beautiful by the low-esteemed standard I had set for girls.

It might be due to scorching summer hot or due to summer vacation that lesser number of girls was travelling in the train. Two of them, one is far above the scale of beauty, had been boarded in the same coach I had hopped in. She was so beautiful. And sexy as well, for that matter. I wanted them to sit beside me, at least one of them, preferably the hotter one. But nothing happened the way I had anticipated and they sat at a seat considerably far enough to stay away from my visible range.

The train became over-packed as soon as Patel Nagar railway station had reached. I had to offer my seat to an elderly uncle. This much over-crowded train was not to be seen every day. And the worst thing is there were no enough girls in train making the journey miserable. Beside the summer vacation our unofficial daughter-killing-scheme had paid us off. After all, how can we expect more girls in our society when we kill them either before their birth, in mother’s womb, or soon after their birth? We live in a country where we worship female goddesses and kill female children. How skewed we are….. Alas!!!

“What the hell you are doing?” A screeching female voice echoed in the coach. Around 150 pair of eyes followed the direction of origin of the voice. I looked too. It was one of the “beautiful” girls of the two of them who hopped in at Palam railway station. The beautiful girl whom I wished to sit beside me. Everyone was perplexed about her sudden screeching.

“What?” replied a guy with 5’9” body frame, in puzzled tone. His voice was giving a clear hint of his Haryanvi ascent while his rude overconfidence was confirming it.

Two other guys with same body proportion had folded their hand over their chest proving about their together some.

“You are touching my…… my body.” She complained hesitantly.  It gave a clear picture of the reason of her screaming.

. “This kind of things often happens in crowded trains, madam.” Another guy said as he stroked his stubble-claded chin.

The fume was settled and they let it go.

The train took an unanticipated halt at some “outer stoppage” somewhere between Patel Nagar and Delhi Sarai Rohilla railway station. Few passengers got panicked as they had to reach their office on time. This halt was unnecessary as well as it would have been another potential reason to their bosses to release their anger on them. The bosses too need somewhere to boost up their confidence which had been shattered after fighting with their respective wives. All of a sudden, everyone seemed to give a mouthful to Indian railways as if they had some personnel war with the world’s largest transport institution. The train didn’t seem to be moving even after 30 minutes. It had given them a hottest topic of discussion. The discussion which seemed to be never ending as everyone had an “expert” opinion against Indian Railways. They had expert opinion for every topic under the sun, for that matter.

Application of perpetual verbal slangs had only worsened the situation. They were constantly shuffling the topics under the wide umbrella of Indian railways. From train delays to accidents, from ticketing systems to tout, from pick-pocketing to snatching, from female teasing to irresponsible and corruption in railways ministry, every single person had their own expert view on almost every topic. They had discussed about almost every attribute related to Indian railways. This discussion had only added few more cuss words and slangs in my vocabulary. There also exists some slang which was way far from my understanding. My mental dictionary was oblivious about the actual meaning of those slangs. Even google.com couldn’t answer the meaning of those words. It seemed like these slangs were freshly invented or might be kept away from the world for all these years.

“You touching me again!” same voice echoed followed by a hard slap. That beautiful girl was screaming at the maximum possible volume permissible by her vocal cord. The panic in her voice along with that hard slap was enough to grab the attention of every co-passenger in the train.

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This incident is to be published in three parts. This is its first part.

 Click here to continue

PS: This is a work of fiction.

THE BRIGHTER SIDE OF POWERCUT

Guptaji is wailing at frequent power cuts as it causes a considerable loss in his business. He is cursing our Power Ministry. To him, Veerappa Moily, our Power minister is the main culprit of this powercut. He also blames him for recent grid failure in North India. But what I personally feel is, Guptaji’s concern may be worth considering but his blaming on Moily saab is totally baseless. I do understand Guptaji’s problem but it is not justified to curse any honourable minister for it.

Yes, Veerappa Moily saab is honourable. Most of you may not correlate with my take on this but it’s undeniable truth. Cursing Power Minister Moily for GRID failure is like cursing NASA for MARS (curiosity) mission’s failure. In fact, we must thankful to our Power Ministry  to make us realize our stupendous past where we all are used to live with equality and brotherhood, without any electricity. He help us visiting into past without the help of any time machine. A past where there is no electricity. Isn’t it unfair to curse a person like him who has tendency to make us enjoy the time travel without any special effort. It’s hell needs a talent and our Mantriji has undoubtedly lots of it.

He makes us realize us the value of candle and lantern. Remember! Lantern is very important in itself. It was the lantern only which had put peoples of Bihar into the darkness of its light for 20 consecutive years. But for that we have to be thankful of Lalu Prasad Yadav. It’s not that only Bihar people are the lucky witness of this golden period of 20 years. Entire India had felt it more or less, but it is beyond the scope of this article. We are discussing here over the benefits of power cut. Right?

Youths these days are ranting over almost every issue. These are the same youth who avoids casting their votes and curse our honourable government. The government which is headed by the peoples whose sincerity can never be questioned. How can we curse a person who is too speak a single word without asking MADAMji. How insensitive!!! We must proud of him. He is the person who is the most lively example of manual muteness which itself is a special art. Bloody youths. I hate it when someone says something odd about MuteMohan Singh. It’s like a silent effort of planning a female foeticide. But it’s not the fault of youth actually. It’s Anna Hazare who is the main culprit in provoking the youths. Isn’t it funny when a 76 year person stands against corruption and makes other’s life miserable? Our life was pretty easier before this so-called crusade. But again, this isn’t the point of our discussion either.

Our youths are screaming against this power cut as if they had born with cell phones, laptop and internet in their hand. What they get here are from this earth itself. Even in Bhagvat Gita, Lord Krishna said that “there is nothing that you brought with you, what you get are from this world only and you have got to leave all these in the world itself at the time of end. There is nothing you can take with you. Then why you worry that much?” From this statement, this is pretty much clear that electricity is not our birthright. It’s just human nature to blame someone else’s wrongdoing on some other else.

I don’t know about others. Neither do I want to know. All I know is about me. Earlier, there were fans in offices. When fan stops, work stops. When fan starts, excuses for not doing the work start. Our government officials were very efficient at this stance. We should be proud of it.

 Now that most of the offices are air-conditioned, how can we expect our work to be done? Air-conditioners are meant for comfort and comfort is complimentary to rest. Isn’t it? Now the situations are changed. When A/Cs runs, they take rest in comfort. When electricity fails, we do strikes, protests. This is why I hate (not literally, of course) Anna Hazare for. It was him who showed us the actual potential of protest.

It’s not that people didn’t do strikes in past. They are performing it from ages, but it wasn’t that efficient after independence except few occasions like JP Aandolan. They were oblivious about its actual impact. Earlier they were unsure about its success but now they are quite hopeful about its outcome. And it’s all because of Anna Hazare.

Coming back to our discussion, when electricity fails, mass sleeping movement in government offices disturbs. So their anger is obvious and justified as well. Everyone wants to do their work, but provide them the suitable environment first. How on earth can we expect a working environment when there is no SAMOSA in the canteen? How? If you can’t provide them electricity, give them official leave. Our whole nation is already on unofficial leave by the way. But then there is a risk in official leave also. Ask Sarkari Babu his dilemma. In office, these stupid common men are daily showed up obstinately and intervening in his “working schedule”. In home, chivious demands of his wife are intolerable. In that case, isn’t official holidays are risky? So, it’s better to kick out the common men in government office than being kicked by his wife at home indeed.

Power failure has a social equality in itself. It provides a whole new dimension to our RIGHT of EQUALITY. Power failure sees no differences. Rich-Poor, big-small, rural-urban, everyone are its victim. The only difference is, they have generators and invertors while we have lanterns. But still, power failure is responsible for our equality. No?

In movies, what we see is rich peoples, when get romantic, plans candle light dinner with their girlfriend and wife. But how can middle class people understand this? They themselves are sold into dowry market. How can they know about feeling of love and romance? But thanks to Power failure that everyone gets this unintentional opportunity of candle light dinner. Otherwise without this love-romance thing in their life, how on earth it is possible to enjoy this rich people culture.

Still, everyone rants about physical darkness in streets, in our homes, in offices. But no one cares about the potential darkness in our future. Aren’t our ministers deserves some kind of award for this national darkness. The darkness which enlightens the value of equality in our lives. The darkness which gives us the brighter opportunity to see ourselves beyond the barriers of rich-poor.

Moreover, our Indian citizens are equally deserves the award for social darkness. The darkness beneath which we kills our daughters even before their birth. The darkness of killing our brides for dowry. The darkness in which we molest our girls, sometime in Gurgaon, sometime in Guwahati, sometine in Mangalore, Kolkata, Indore and in other Indian cities.

Aren’t we needed to eradicate this darkness? We can employ generators as an alternative for electricity failure, but there is no generator exists alternately for our moral values. We have to keep our morale high but before that we have to make our moral higher.

In an anticipation of better India where equality prevails primarily…… Amen.

This is an attempt of sarcastic take on social issues. Hurting someone’s feeling is highly unintentional but if anyone’s feeling still hurts, GROW UP. I can’t do anything in that case as there is no cure of Stupidity.

I am back

Aah... Finally I am here, back after 40 days. 40 days without blogging is like life imprisonment. I had never thought, notb even in my dreadest nightmare that I would be keep out of blogging for like 1.5 months. I went to Bihar on the very next day of updating this blogpost (29 July 2012) previously and was supposed to return to Delhi in a week only. But nothing happened the way I anticipated.

I was stuck there waiting for my result which never announced unless I left back for Delhi later. Right around the Independence day, mosquitoes had also proved their Right to Bite. They make sure to bite me again to induce the malaria agents in my already fragile body. Dear mosquitoes, I know I am Sweet but why on earth you chose me to prove your freedom in the first place. I mean, there is several other sweet peoples also exist in this world. Later, I was diagnosed and treated for malaria. The treatment includes 4 painful piercing of injection (I will explain this in further posts) in my body (you know in which part they inject the syringe in malaria treatment). Then comes the another phase of waiting for my semester result which my University was obstinate not to announce unless I would come back to Delhi, or something like that.

Finally, I gave up and decided to come back to Delhi. I booked my ticket in Tatkal which itself was a painful experience. Thanks to that travel agent who booked it for me at his cut equals to the fair of the ticket itself. Prior to that, I had also tried to book it via IRCTC website but as expected it never failed in its patent transaction failure.

They should ban IRCTC for spreading the rumour that TATKAL reservation ticket in Indian Railway is also available online. Also, they should announce some kind of achievement awards for those who succeeded in booking it via IRCTC website. Some award like Bharat Ratna, or something equivalent to it. Yes, it worth it, totally.

Then, the day I booked myself the ticket, the result also announced. Oopsss........... I had got one backlog in this semester as well. Total number of arrier count shoot up to 7 including this one. The backlogs had now becomes the inseparable part of me. I wailed for a moment, not because I was flunked, but because I had waited for THIS all these days.

During all these days, I had no computer to kill my time, neither did I had any smartphone which adds only some extra pain in my mediocre life style. All I had was few novels, half of which was not even worth to touch it. But I had read all of them. I also had this Micromax mobile phone which act as a life support for me all these days. All I did was spending 16 hours a day on twitter. Few tweets, reply and mention, and most of the time spend in staring at the tweeter timeline. It had become my favouriate pass time.  

This is what happens when your life is pretty much screwed up. You could even becomes habitual to the most annoying things like twitter.

Nevertheless, I am not totally incontenet about this visit. I also had few memorable experiences which I want to share with all of you on my blog. Stay in touch meanwhile. I'll soon comes up with few of the experiences in further blogposts.

Till then, take care.