From Nirbhaya to Bhaya.....

The past few weeks have caused a national uproar over the way a fellow human being has been tormented. I chose to use “fellow human being” instead of “woman” because; she was first another human and then a woman. The sheer inhuman nature of the crime makes me wonder how the hands did not tremble and heart did not bleed as they treated another human being with so much cruelty as to put the worst enemy tormenter camps to shame.

There has been an unending debate by various sections, some demanding harsher punishment/capital punishment , some criticizing women for the clothes they wear, some asking women to learn self defense, some advocating teaching men how to behave with women…etc. But I am not even getting there. It is not about what should be done, what could have been done, who is to blame, or how tough laws should be. I am still closer home, on how the women around me have been reacting to the crime. How fear has started impacting their psychosis.

The horrific nature of the crime and the heartless gut wrenching manner in which a woman has been abused has left an indelible fear in the minds of scores of women across the country especially the women around me. A friend reported how giddy she has been feeling ever since the news broke out and every time she talks about it she feels stressed out and jumpy. Another friend didn’t want to talk about the episode because she felt nauseated every time anyone even spoke about the issue.

My mother didn’t want me to hire a driver to drop them off to the railway station because I would have to come back alone in my car with an unknown driver, even though he would be from a known source. A friend, who commutes to work by auto everyday as she could not drive due to a back problem, brought a vehicle last week, so that she may drive to work. She reasoned her life was more important than the back pain.

And today as I picked up a friend to go to the market, she came down in a lovely sleeveless dress and even before I could comment on how nice she looked, she ran upstairs. “Just a moment, I’ll be back” she said. I saw her grabbing a shawl and draping it around her. “Why take the risk”, she said as I looked quizzically at her.

The fear of suffering, they say, is worse than the suffering itself.

It does not mean that I have ceased being fearful, but I have ceased to let fear control me. I want to accept fear as a part of life -specifically the fear of the unknown; and I want to go ahead despite the pounding in my heart that says: turn back, turn back, and don’t venture too far for you know not what lies beyond. I want to be a butterfly that spreads its wings out in the sun. I want to be the heroine of my life, not the victim and I hope all the women out there want to be the same.

                                                    ******************

From the diary of a nobody.....

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 34; the thirty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "Of-Course, I'm insane"

                                                 ******************

Of course, I am insane.

How else will I explain my inglorious life to my maker? Can I tell HIM I was too naïve to know the difference between a murderer and a martyr? Can I tell HIM that I was just another rootless, jobless desperado who was willing to kill in the name of religion? How will I explain the blood on my hands, that of countless innocent victims, whom I slaughtered in the name of my maker? Will HE understand that all of this was for a starving, naked, roofless family? That family, which now disowns me...

Disowned by my country, shunned by my village and forgotten by my family, this is not how I wanted to live and die. I did not want to be wasted like this, disenfranchised, impoverished, uneducated and frustrated, with nothing at stake and no one to call my own. Becoming nothing but a mere puppet!

When I was a kid, I never saw a puppet show. I never played with puppets or had any interest in them. Maybe if I had, I would have known what it is like to be pulled on a string.  I've never had anyone put on a puppet show to convince me of anything.  But the moment when you let someone run your life is the moment when you have become a puppet in someone else's world. I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, and a pawn; I've been up and down and over and out, and I know one thing now; my existence was absolutely worth nothing!

I wonder if my father got the piece of land and the pot of gold that lured me here. I wonder if my sisters have been able to get married and my mother cured of her ailments. I wonder if they know I will be dead as dawn breaks.

Now as I lie down shifting uneasily, I pray that the dawn never breaks. I can smell death around the corner. It is sneaking in and its all encompassing laughter terrifies me. No one can confidently say that he will be living tomorrow, but to know that I will actually not be is unnerving. I was trained to be unafraid, so I wonder why I am? Then I realize I am not as afraid of death as I am of meeting my maker...

While I thought I was learning how to live, I was actually learning how to die. And now I can only hope Death releases me from the impressions of the senses, and from desires that made me their puppets, from the vagaries of the mind, and from the hard service of the flesh. I hope that from my rotting body, flowers shall grow and lovely blue butterflies shall flutter around and I am in them and that will be eternity.

As I try not to think of how my body will jerk violently as the noose tightens around my neck and how I will feel the breath ebb slowly out of my body, I wonder, ‘Was I really insane?’

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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 01

Your vote could change my life.....

 On a cold winter night, when you feel all down and out and trust no more in the institution called love,  this story will cheer you up and make you believe and want to fall in love all over again!!

I don't know if my idea could change a life.....But your vote could however surely change my life....drop in at this link and vote for my idea at-  

http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/idea/250

 Just hit "LIKE"...

Thank you!

"A journey called love" - My entry for the Get Published contest

Being in love.

That phase of life when the head feels light and the heart heavy!  When you don't seem to walk, you just glide. When you lose your appetite for food because you have just gained appetite for someone's sweetness. When you don't get a wink of sleep, but are perpetually dreamy.

Really?

Nonsense!

If you went on like this, you would end up famished, woozy and ......in the hospital? Don't get me wrong. I am not against love. But love happens with the eyes open, not in your dreams. Because if you think it does, then you'd probably wake up to a shocking reality, whenever you do, that is.

Love is, being there, when you need each other.  Love is, when you fight for each other and not against . Love is, when one person's win does not mean the other person's loss. It is, when either you win together or both lose together. Love is, when you feel free like a bird spreading its wings in the vast azure sky and not like the one trapped in a cage forever.

When appearances don't matter as much as the beauty inside. When you are sure you will hold on to each other no matter how difficult the circumstances may be. When you know you will continue to respect each other irrespective of whether you are looking in the same direction or the opposite direction.

It is heartening to see couples hold hands and look deep into each other's eyes,involved in a rather garish public display of their affections. How much of all this is real, I wonder. How many would really stand up to one another when time actually warranted it. Spending fortunes to keep each other happy was one thing, and being happy because they were fortunate to have one another was quite another. Only time could tell whether they will continue doing so, when the hands don't remain or when the light of the eyes flicker out. And then maybe we could say, they rose in love, not fell in love.

Does such love exist? or is it an utopian thought? I can tell you it does! A love that transcends life and death, pleasures and pain, happiness and sorrow, the ups and downs. Let me walk you through them, so that on a cold and lonely day when you begin to question love, they may inspire you to carry on...... "a journey called love".  

 I call them my valentine couple. No, they are not related to this day, not even remotely, and I doubt they know of the existence of such a day. I remember them because they stand for what this day is supposed to signify. Unending and unconditional love for each other. 

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

The job...concluding part

part 1 

part 2

part 3 

part 4

part 5
part 6

Shocked, Abhijeet opened his eyes to see Chandrakanth and Vasan standing next to him. His first instinct was to run away. But to where he wondered?

Abhijeet saw the two closing in on him. He looked for ways to escape, but he knew there was none. The place had neither doors nor windows nor staircases. Just a lift. And entry to it was now completely blocked by the two towering men who stood menacingly around him. He felt trapped.

“So what have you managed to find out?” Chandrakanth demanded to know.

“Mr.Chandrakanth, what you are doing is very wrong,” Abhijeet managed to find his voice; “you cannot do this to these people.”

“Oh, shut up!” said his boss, waving his hand in the air, “you don’t be the judge of that. We pay them enough.”

“Money can never be the substitute for the risk you are putting them through. You cannot justify your inhumanity and…”

Angered, Chandrakanth tried to land a hard slap across his face even before he could complete his sentence. But Abhijeet turned in the nick of time and his boss’s hand hit his protective head gear instead, making him yelp in pain.

“Ahh…you swine, this will show you your rightful place.” Undoubtedly the bigger of the two, Chandrakanth caught his hands and pinned him down. He was trying to choke Abhijeet.

As he struggled to break free, he thought of Sahana and his parents, he thought of the hard way he had come up in life, and now when things had just started looking up, he could not afford to die like this.

Mustering every ounce of strength in his legs he pulled his knee in and keeping his head in alignment with his knee, he moved his head and straightened out all in one swift movement. He put his foot in between Chandrakanth’s knees, and pulled him in. Chandrakanth was on the ground, as Abhijeet got up and kicked him on his groin leaving the man crying in pain.

Vasan was taken aback by the quickness of the confrontation and lunged forward to help his collegue. He swiftly attacked Abhijeet from behind winding his arms tightly around his target. Abhijeet held onto his attacker’s arms, and stepped on his foot and bowing down, head butted him using the back of his head. Next he used his elbow to attack the abdomen. Vasan fell down and Abhijeet struck his back with hands joined together and using the edge of his hand as a weapon.

As both men struggled to get up, he found a fire extinguisher on the wall nearby, and pulled it out and aimed it at Chandrakanth’s face. The extinguisher failed to spray, and seeing Chandrakanth stand up, he threw the heavy metal cylinder at the man.

He ran to the lift, with both men chasing him and closing in quickly. His body felt heavy and he could not run as fast he wanted to. He suddenly realised he was still wearing the heavy disinfectant spray pipe and canister around his waist that he had taken from the staffer in unit 2. Before the two men could catch up, he took a deep breath and tightened his grip around the pipe and aiming directly at the eyes of both of them, he let out a continuous spurt of the liquid, unheeding of the cries of pain let out by his victims.

 Both of them were completely blinded for the moment. As Vasan cowered, Chandrakanth tried to grab him but missed. Abhijeet threw the empty canister on him landing it on his boss’s head.  As both tried hard to regain their composure, Abhijeet seized the opportunity and ran to the lift and emerged out of it moments later, beads of perspiration dripping down his forehead.

                                                     ***************

He knew there would be car waiting behind the building with keys in it and as he ran his mind tried to form the route of escape. He was agast to see guards running towards him in the direction of the lift. He felt virtually trapped. He did not even have the spray with him anymore.

He suddenly realized that though the guards were running they failed to see him as he was still dressed in the gear of the sanitization crew, head gear included. They must have had orders to stop Abhijeet from leaving the building and in all probability the two must have forgotten to mention that he was in the crew clothing. He thanked his stars and walked out under the very nose of the security into the streets outside to the parked car behind the building. He drove straight to the discotheque where Sanjog had promised to meet him.

                                 

                                                      *****************

As soon as the Vasan and Chandrakanth were able to see they sent an emergency message to HQ and to Samuel, their hit man.

“I want a clean job, no evidence. But before that find out what he has been able to collect from here and bring it to me. Use your entire team if needed, but he must not get away. Send someone to search his house and deploy people at all exit routes from here, mainly the route to Noida. Catch hold of his wife or his family.”

                                                 **********

Sanjog had been receiving the data all along, as soon as he realised Abhijeet was in danger, he sent a copy of the data, recordings and pictures to the commissioner, and to his boss. He called them up and begged for their support. This time his efforts bore fruit and a large contingent of cops was dispatched to the firm.

The basement floors were searched and the whole city was shocked at what the cops had unearthed. The place was sealed off and the staff arrested. They would need no better witnesses than the inmates themselves.

As soon as Samuel realized his bosses had been arrested, he called off the search and went underground.

                                             *************

Kalra was gleaming with happiness. Their paper was the first to come out with the biggest scoop of recent times! They would be the number one selling paper! He could not stop praising Sanjog, his star reporter, and Sanjog could not stop smiling!

Sonia had visited the inmates at the hospital where they had been shifted for further treatment and when she met Sanjog, her eyes were brimming with tears. Tears of shock at the plight of the inmates and tears of gratitude for Sanjog and Abhijeet, and for Alok and Debashis.Luckily both of them were alive but looked like ghosts. It would be a long time before they were cured.

They knew more skeletons would eventually tumble out of the closet. The trustees of the charitable home were now under the scanner too and the police were probing their role in the crime..

“How can I ever thank you enough, Abhijeet,” she asked still teary eyed.

“How about letting me take you to Shimla for a holiday?” he winked.

“Hello..?” Sanjog butted in. “She’s already taken. You stay away from her, ok?”

“Then you join in too,” he mocked, “Sahana’s already there, and before she gets worried sick hearing all the news, let’s all go and surprise her” he said as the other two let out screams of delight.

                                                *******the end*********

(Disclaimer: The series is purely a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any person/s or organisation. Any resemblance to anyone or anything would be completely co-incidental and unintentional.)