Tuesday, May 14, 2013

My Life as a "wanderlust"... No End To Learning...

There's practically no end to learning new things...

An oft heard old phrase, right.... but this is something that I discovered only a few years earlier... discovered, what it really meant...

Given, like all other "normal, self- absorbed" students, I hated studying.... I mean, I really hated it.

In fact I used to be very envious of my Mom, who was a home-maker, because, she had no home work to submit, she wouldn't be punished for talking in class (which, incidentally was a constant for me)... she did not have the headache of packing her bags every night after duly consulting the time table, and there were no exams for her to be given... She just stayed home...

Oh man, how envious was I of her...!!!

Little did I know, that being a mum, had other responsibilities which were far more difficult and cumbersome than my simple, student life...

I was a diligent student, part of the reason was, that would keep my parents satisfied, my teachers happy and me, out of trouble, generally...

Of course I was pathetic in Maths and Science subjects, but they were only two out of the entire course of eight subjects... Till my tenth standard, somehow, I got through without much trouble, as I earlier mentioned, I was a diligent student, able to keep everyone happy...

The trouble came in my Tenth Standard, which was one of the worst years in my entire life, just not student life, but my entire life... Personally it was the happiest, because it was the first time, I had been in LOVE... well, it was more of a adolescence crush... but professionally, I mean being student is a full-time profession, isn't... it was terrible....

I flunked in almost all the tests, that were periodically taken in my class, and passed with mere passing grade in Mathematics in the finals.

That was IT for me... no more Mathematics, no more Physics, no more Chemistry... I just don't think I could have dealt with it anymore...

Fortunately for me, my parents thought so too...

In my 11th and 12th standard, I was allowed to take up the Arts subjects, and that's where the transformation came in...

I will forever be grateful to my parents for allowing me to take up Arts...

And it was in these classes, and afterwards in College, that I really learned...

There is a difference, between learning for mark's sake and learning for your sake... and the difference is a great deal...

The way I used to mug up stuff before, changed to understanding the subjects... History, Economics, English, they were no longer "subjects" for me anymore, they were a device to learn and understand the world.

For those two last years of my school life, student life for me was no more a rigmarole... it had become a journey... For the first time, in all my years of schooling, I looked forward everyday to a school day... and no, I did not study in school that was super cool or anything like that... in fact I studied in a public school, with the worst academic students, because no one wanted to take up Arts... where's the future in that...???

My teachers became my best friends... they helped me quench my thirst for knowing more, because I had developed  this insatiable desire for reading... No more, did I envy my mum, in fact I found her world to be quite mundane...

I did not understand it back then, but I do understand it now... I had excellent results in 12th standard, which enabled me to go, to one of the most distinguished college in my country... Just studying doesn't fetch one marks, one has to really love the art of learning... otherwise it's an utter waste of time, money, and energy... just mugging for mugging's sake does not get a person anywhere...

Even the job that I took up later in my life, I loved it... and I learned tons of stuff in it... Office wasn't a place where I would just trudge, do my work and get back, it became a place where I learned a lot of stuff, some practical, some philosophical...

Even my Boss was super cool  no he wasn't hot or dashing or handsome... but he made me learn some of the most important lessons of my life, and one of them was that, there was no end to learning...

It was his "mantra" for success, he would keep on saying... "Sreeupa, there's no end to learning, everyday would teach you something, every person, whoever it is, your friend or enemy, would teach you something... you just have to be cunning enough to learn from it all..."

In due course of time, I left the job, got married, moved to another country, but those words, still stay with me...

The reason I wrote all this, because, I used to think, I am a very good writer, in fact I have a blog (which incidentally, you are reading now..!!),  my work has been published in several magazines and reputable national dailies... I worked in one of the largest newspapers of the country, but four week ago I started taking this online course about writing... and trust me, it again changed my whole perception of writing...

Once more, I learned that there was no end to leaning, and if you love something very much, you would want to learn more and more and more of it... the key is just to find out what exactly you love, and the rest you'll welcome...

I love writing, I really love, the way mere words makes magic, make you want to cry, make you want to laugh, and make you want to read more of them... I love reading stories, mine and others and I love the fact that I am still learning to be a better writer and reader of the words...


Monday, March 11, 2013

Mr. Chetan Bhagat, kudos to you... Celebrating the "Working, Career-Oriented Woman"...

Today I came across a blog, sharply criticizing Mr. Chetan Bhagat's take on why men should choose career oriented woman over a home maker.

This particular article, written by Mr. Bhagat in the Times of India, had gathered a huge number of "likes" on Facebook and had many "shares" to it's credit.

This particular author went on to criticize Mr. Bhagat's take on home makers in her blog.

Mr. Chetan Bhagat's article, I am sure, most of my women readers read it and shared it likewise, was a practical take on why men would do better to marry a career oriented woman. For reasons unknown, my fellow blogger totally missed the point.

Mr. Bhagat, I am definitely sure, (and please I am not being paid by Mr. Bhagat or The Times for writing this...) targets men as well as women in his article, people who are  ( I am hoping), educated enough to read an English daily, and also independent financially, otherwise, the article would make no sense...

And therein lies the answer to why this article was extremely important to its readers.

His idea was not to crticise "housewives", who form an extremely important strata in our society, but rather the idea that a working woman could not not be a good home maker... this was the central idea of the article, and in criticism of which, my dear fellow blogger completely missed her perspective.

Whatever critics may say, the most important indicator of women's liberation is her financial independence.

Historically if we see, marriages conducted between powerful families and women of reputable dynasties were given a totally different status, as compared to those who came from poor alliances. In fact Akbar's wife Jodha Bai, or Harka Bai, his chief wife, for most of his reign, came from a very reputable dynasty and was an essential pillar of Akbar's idea of separating religion from governance.

In India, many hundreds of middle class and upper middle class families, even now have this idea, that if a career oriented woman comes into the family as the "bahu", household work would be neglected as she would be busy with her career. This happens in really educated and wealthy households too. Therefore, nowadays, there is a surprising trend. If the guy happens to earn fairly a good salary, his parents look for a home maker, a girl, with convent education, from decent families, having higher end degrees, but willing to be a home maker.

This is one of the most widely spread matrimonial demands of prospective Indian grooms and in-laws.

Most importantly, a woman is first and foremost an individual, and therefore, she has the complete right of choosing whether to be a working, career oriented woman or a home maker.

Now, there is another class of women too... those who have willingly made a choice to be a home maker. I fall in that category, and unfortunately, this blogger, whom I am criticizing  does so too... These are the women, who have higher end degrees, and they very capable of earning a livelihood, often times, a better livelihood than that of their spouses, but they have chosen to be home makers.This choice in no way demeans them or their spouses and they are, I believe, in the minority.

To be in this class, you have to belong to that affluent section of the population, where you know, that your spouse can provide for you and/or your child all the benefits and facilities, that a double income earning family can afford. Then you have the choice of not working and looking after the household. It's as simple and practical as that. Also mind you, this decision to become a home maker, has to be solely the woman's alone, not that of her husband, or her in-laws or her parents. This section of women, trust me, fall into a very "affluent" section of the population, "affluent", because, they have a choice in this regard.

After all, as Mr, Bhagat, pointed out, in an age of expenses, a double income earning family, stands way better than single income earning household. Its so true and immensely practical.

Therefore I am totally for marrying career oriented women and working women, rather than unemployed ones. When I was dating my husband, even I was an extremely busy career woman and therefore I respect them immensely.

But unfortunately, this choice is often denied to many women.

Women are either told to give up their jobs or to temper down their career ambitions because of matrimonial responsibilities.

I have a friend in Pipariya, a small town in Madhya Pradesh, who is independent, earning a healthy income and living alone in Mumbai. Unfortunately, her parents have been unable to find a guy suitable for her, because of the fact that she's earning... this still happens in India, mind you.

I also know of another woman, who lives in USA, here in Overland Park, and earns more than her husband. She's a dear friend of mine and she's the best home maker I have seen.

I do not think being a home maker is demeaning, but I do wholeheartedly support Mr. Bhagat's idea of marrying a working woman rather than an un-employed one and I also support the idea of being a career-oriented woman or a working woman rather than a mere home-maker.

If at any stage of my life, I feel, I have had enough as a home maker, I should have the choice to resume the mantle of a working woman and vice versa. This choice, is crucial in the debate of "Home Makers VS Working Wives" and would be the true indicator of women's liberty and empowerment.

And mind you, no one in the world, has a right to tell a woman to give up on her job or diminish her career ambitions, unless, he/she has provided her with the particular job.

Trust me, having been both a career woman, and an home maker now, I truly believe that a working girl, will bring a perspective to the marriage, which is far better than marrying your average "stay-at-home" girl or having a home maker as a wife.

Unfortunately prospective Indian grooms and their parents have a long way to go to understand this.

And my dear ladies... career oriented ones and home makers, please stop critising the few Indian males, like Mr. Bhagat, who have taken up cudgels of  promoting our rights, you are only harming yourself and us...




Tuesday, March 5, 2013

My life as a "wanderlust" ... The Story of Sarada

As in my previous post, I had promised, that I would write about some of the wonderful people and places that I have visited during my travels, this post is my first endevour to fulfill that promise.

I wanted this story to be the first, because it's a story of an incredible woman. This incident took place in the year 1998 in the month of April. I mention this story specifically, because there are so many women, and in so many different circumstances, and each have their own brave tales to tell... this is such a story, the story of Sarada, an ordinary woman, but incredible because of the circumstances she's in.

This story takes place in a small town in of Londa, more specifically, the Londa Railway Station... Londa is situated in the Belgaum district of Karnataka, India. It's a really beautiful town, with breathtaking views of the Sahyadris rising up. There are generally two types of people who come to the Londa station. The first are the trekkers who are interested in going up the Sahyadris, and the second group generally, change trains here for the further journey upto Goa. My family and I fell into the second group.

Back in the 1990's, Konkan railways, which connects Mumbai and Margao in Goa, did not have many trains in operation and as my father was being transferred from Jabalpur in Madhya Pradesh, taking the right connecting train was even more difficult... so we undertook a long journey, from Madhya Pradesh, to Mahrashtra to Karnataka and finally to Goa. Londa fell in our Karnataka section of the trip.

When the train stopped in Londa, very few people alighted. It was afternoon and the month of April. The summer sun was already making it's presence felt and there were very few porters available.

We were approached by one, who took a hard look at the number of cases we were carrying and asked us our destination. When we told him that we were taking a train from this station itself, and we merely needed to change the platform, he pointed out that there was a bridge to be crossed and that with the amount of luggage we had, he would charge at least 70 bucks.

Now Indians, and especially Bengalis, have an inherent habit of bargaining... no matter the money was being paid by the Indian Government, my parents and I promptly indulged in a bargain. The fellow, probably was feeling too sleepy... contrary to agreeing or disagreeing, as is the norm of a successful  bargaining, he simply left.

So here was, a family of four, stranded on a platform, with the summer sun beating down upon us, and in a few minutes it looked as if the entire station has gone on a siesta, except for us. There was not a single person milling around, not even stray dogs were found, the few stalls of books and paraphernalia had already closed with "lunch time" hanging on their downed shutters. The last departing porter gave us a reassuring advice, wait till the next train arrives and someone would be there to help us... well the next train that would arrive was the one we were supposed to take, so his advice was completely wasted on us... but we chose not to point it out to him.

As we were staring up at the stairs to the bridge, gathering up our luggage and planning on a strategy as to who would carry what, we met her... she was a frail looking woman, in a red sari, no footwear and a large red "bindi" on her forehead... she came up to us, and signaled with her hands, where we were headed.

 Our first impression was that she was a beggar, and thus consequently, we chose to ignore her. As my father picked up the first suitcase and started heading, she ran to my father, and started snatching it from his hand... we jumped up, thinking she was a mad woman, and my mother and I started screaming for help... then she started pleading to us, again with the signs to stop screaming... she painfully explained that she was a porter.

When we understood, what she was trying to convey, we were extremely taken aback, a woman porter, that too one who could not speak or hear... we didn't know whether to be impressed or suspicious...

We slowly started loading up the suitcases onto her head... when the limit of two cases was reached, my mother asked my father to take the other two, since she was so frail, we didn't really trust her to carry everything.... she again signaled, she was very able to carry the extra two suitcases, and they were also promptly loaded up...with four cases piled up on her head, and two duffel bags on her right arm, she slowly started to mount the stairs. I and my brother kept matching her pace, because we were sure she would topple over. She again signaled to me regarding which platform to go to, and I signaled back. When we reached our destination, she slowly unloaded the suitcases and the bags and waited. We weren't sure what we were supposed to do, and my father took out a 50 rupee note... she again signaled that she didn't want the money now, but when she would load the luggage on the train. We were surprised and really touched.

As then happens with all Indian families, we squatted on top of our luggage and waited for our train to come. She squatted on the floor nearby.

My mother, this is one trait I share with her... whatever the circumstances, we need to talk. My mother promptly started a conversation with her. Now it was the most strangest conversation, I have ever witnessed. No a single word was spoken between the two speakers, the entire conversation was through actions, yet the witnesses present could clearly understand what was being spoken.

What transpired from the conversation was as follows.

Her name was Sarada, she pointed at a Hindi tatoo on her arm to let us know of this fact, she was married, her husband was also a porter, infact the same one who had told us that there would be someone to help us... she had three children, and she helped her husband out in the business of pottering.

She looked after the noon shift, when there wasn't many trains and passengers, while her husband took a short nap. He would be back, she said in about an hour, and she would go to pick up her kids from school. She had three children, two daughters and one son and yes they all went to school. Her husband and her children could all speak and hear, only she couldn't. Her husband, she pointed out did not drink or beat her, as is the norm in most poor Indian families. When my mother pointed out that she too could take rest, instead of laboring in the hot syn, carrying such huge luggage... she explained to her, that she really believed in earning herself, and being independent and  in fact, it was her earnings, which made it possible for her children to attend schooling. She also pointed out that because both her husband and she earned, it has been possible for them to make a "pucca" house for themselves.This, she pointed out smiling, was an achievement,  as they were the only porters here in Londa to have one. We were stunned listening to her story.

In an era, (this was 1998, remember?) where women's lib was only a lip service, here was a woman, disable so as to speak of, but far more advanced and far more capable than, many quite able ones. She was poor, she couldn't even hear or speak, and yet here she was, doing a job, that in India, is quite clearly a man's domain. We could not hide our appreciation and respect for her.

Shortly our train came, and she again loaded each and every case, with care in our designated compartment and my father was so happy that he paid a hundred bucks to Sarada. Soon as the train left the station, we could see Sarada's red sari fluttering up in the wind as she slowly mounted up the stairs.

Friday, February 22, 2013

My life as a "wanderlust"... The Beginning...

When I was a little girl, my parents took me to an astrologer in Kolkata, India, where I was born.

The astrologer couldn't predict anything much, except that I would keep travelling throughout my life.

My mom, who is a bit of a non-believer, found this prediction very annoying. Of course I would travel, in fact, I would grow up travelling, because of an evident reason:  my father had a transferable job.

Since my birth, thus, I have been travelling.

 Mind you, many a times, when I was younger, I have hated it... but slowly I embraced it. 

It was as if I was born to travel, go to different places and then again move on.

I like to think of my like as a river. I know it sounds philosophical, and my readers would go..."ohhh...nnnoooo.... spiritualism and stuff..." but it's true... a river, never returns from where it starts it's journey.

It has almost been the same way with me, though I did return to the place where I was born, for a few years until I set off again.

These days, living in a place, for more than five years at a stretch, has become an anathema to me...

I like travelling... not at all for the thrill of adventure, but just for the plain, simple fact, that I get bored, living at one place all the time. 

I would like to tell you my story... it's a story of a girl, who was born in very ordinary circumstances, and her destiny turned her life to be extraordinary.

I know a lot of you know me personally and of course, I do not strike you as an "extraordinary person" in any way. Yes, I am probably extremely ordinary, but the travels I have done and the people I have known have been extraordinary indeed and I like to believe (even if it's in my mind), that I have lived and I am living a very extraordinary life, not because I am different but because the people I have known, and the places I have gone to, have been different.

As I tell my story, I would like you to be a part of it.

If you searched within yourself, each of you would discover an "wanderlust" in yourself.

The place you are in now, did you ever imagine you would be here?

What brought you here? 

Where would you be in five or ten years from now?

Do you know the answers to them all?

Mark Twain once said, "Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than, by the ones that you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbour, catch the wind in your sails... Explore, dream, discover..."

Reach deep within yourself, bring out your wanderlust stories and relive each moment.

I welcome you to my journey and hope I will get a glimpse of your's too.



Thursday, February 14, 2013

Why Each of Us Should Celebrate Valentine's Day??

February 14th is here, and yes, the news papers, the TV, your friends in the virtual and in the real world, the shopping malls around you, and even the radio, is peppering you on how "swwwweeeet" is V-day, how to declare your "louuuvveee" if you are single and have your hearts set upon someone, if you are already dating or married, how "lucky" you are and so on and so forth...

In India, especially, February 14th is a controversial day... on one hand, there are political parties claiming that this is a "western invasion", on the other you have the popular media, the Archies and Hallmark stores, and the shopping malls, going all out, to encourage you to declare your "lloovvuuee" for your significant other...

And if you are single, Lord save you... You are really treated as an outcaste, how dare you be "single" on Valentine's Day... throughout my life, from the time I realized the meaning of Valentine's Day to the age of 27, (I began dating the man I married, at 28)...so... from 15 years of age till 27, I dreaded Valentine's day... yes seriously... I almost hated it....and till date I have never celebrated February 14th as "Valentine's Day"

Well God has always been really kind to me, and I believe I have divine blessings, my only brother, who is also my best friend, decided to be born on the 14th of Feb, which arguably spared me the pain of being treated with moans and groans, which many a single people are showered with.... so exactly what I did all through these many years?

 I celebrated Valentine's Day, with all the paraphernalia that goes with it, and I managed to remain single and happy, HOW...??? well, this is exactly HOW????

Many, many years ago, when people didn't know cell phones existed and Facebook was unknown, and of course Archies and Hallmark hadn't made their presence felt, the world, and particularly India, didn't know the "real meaning of Feb 14th"... and then came the onslaught of Western cosmopolitanism and yyyeessss Feb 14th was Valentine's Day, and YOU HAD TO BE MADLY IN LLOOVVEEE WITH SOMEONE  to celebrate it, and yes it has to be celebrated....so boys and girls who were lucky and pretty and dating and in 'loouuvee", found it to be an ideal day to celebrate their love publicly, which conventionally they wouldn't dare to show...

Well, that left people like me... alone, and particularly on this day, very, very vulnerable...

I recall a hilarious incident, well it looks hilarious now, back then when it happened, it was, painful...

This incident took place in Jabalpur, a small town in Madhya Pradesh, India. I was in Stnadard 9th, which you all would know, is an age where "Valentine's Day" mattered supremely to all of us... there were a few girls in our class, these girls, weren't the smartest, but they definitely were really pretty and they had guys drooling all over them... I was on a pretty good terms with this gang, part of the reason was,  that I was the only "smart, fat, nerd" who helped them with homework... So, anyways, these girls, were planning a party and needless to say, I was't invited... but the worst part is, the guy I had a secret crush on, he was, and of course, the next day, I had to hear all the "fun" that they had... and it seemed that my "crush" had, had the most fun....!!! I was almost in tears, that entire day, from the time school started till it was over, and all of us had to bear the smug smiles of this nasty crowd, because of course they really celebrated "Valentine's Day" the way it ought to be celebrated, whereas we, well it was just a normal day for us...

Well, that was the beginning, every year, while I was growing up...some "really cool" people would have these "secret parties" where they would have "lots of fun" and I was never, ever invited to even one of them....

By the time, I reached college in Mumbai, I had realized something very, very important... there were loads of "ordinary", "not so good looking", "single", people like me, and the best part was, these were actually the majority... they never got invited anywhere, their respective "crushes" were people who seemed from another world, and they never had the courage to declare their unspoken emotions....

I realized, that these were the "real, normal, people"... not the ones, who went around in gangs, shared some sort of secret knowledge, or had the coolest guys drooling over them... and from then on, the importance of Valentine's Day, changed entirely for me... it had always meant my "brother's B'day, but now I began to celebrate my individuality too... it's difficult, but once you know, you are really the cool, normal, sane person here, you actually tend to be powerful... I began to buy things for my brother, myself  and my parents on Valentine's day, and I partied with my "girl gang" and we really, actually, had awesome fun... of course, we still had our respective "crushes" but we had miraculously stooped taking them seriously...

The problem is Valentine's day is actually a "day to love", its meant to a be day to love people, not only your significant other, but also your siblings, your parents, your grandparents, your best friends, your pet dog... it's meant to be a day when you show your love for anyone and everyone who is important to you.

Unfortunately, Indians, or  at least the vast majority of Indian media and the people who get affected by such media have got the entire thing wrong... Indians youngsters, even now, except those who are in metros, take the day to be a day only meant for your respective lovers... I grew up in a small city of India, and even now, this attitude persists and unfortunately, our media penetrates it even more...

I am married now, and I love the man I married, but even today, Valentine's day remains a day, when I can show my love, not only for my husband, but also for those around me, my parents, my brother, my friends and even Shar Rukh Khan...

Celebrate February 14th, my friends, celebrate it for yourself, for people you love, for those who love you, because in a world, where violence and hatred is a norm, I am immensely glad that there's a day only to celebrate "love"...


Thursday, January 10, 2013

How Far Can You Go To Forgive Someone ?

Forgiveness, as many great men have said, is the greatest joy of life.

My question is how far can ordinary people, like me and you, go to forgive someone?

 Can we ever forgive in true earnest?

Quite recently, I came across a news item in The New York Times, about this kind of forgiveness. It was a work of fact, not fiction.

I was shocked, amazed and stunned by the story and I found questioning myself, whether any person, normal everyday people like you and me, was actually capable of this kind of forgiveness?

I have added the link below, in case any of you want to go through the whole story.

 http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/06/magazine/can-forgiveness-play-a-role-in-criminal-justice.html

I'll just narrate the brief outlines here :

Conor McBride, a 19 year old man, murdered in a fit of rage, his girlfriend and fiance of three years, Ann Margaret Grosmaire, on 28th March, 2010, in Tallahessee, Florida.

They had been having the usual problems, which most committed couples face and one fateful afternoon, a bitter quarrel ensured, which resulted in the most unfortunate killing of young Ms. Grosmaire.

Mind you, both the individuals, involved had sound economic background, no known record of criminal or substance abuse, no history of family discord, nothing... they were two people, ordinary, everyday couple, who were very much in love, and wanted to tie nuptial knots.

The man, after killing his girlfriend, walked up to the nearest police station and surrendered himself.

The stunning part of the story comes now.

As legal procedures began, Grosmaire's parents, who were devout Christians, felt their daughter, asking them to forgive Conor.

They were so taken up with this incident, that they resorted to a legal procedure known as "restorative justice", (which is rarely used in USA, and if used is limited to minor property disputes) to lessen the harshness of the sentence to be delivered to Conor.

Typically, in a Restorative Judicial procedure, a facilitator meets separately, both the victim and the accused and if both parties are willing to meet each other, face to face, without animosity, and the offender is willing and able to complete restitution, then the case shifts out of the adversarial legal system and into a parallel restorative-justice process.

All parties, the offender, victim, facilitator, and law enforcement, come together in a forum, sometimes called a Restorative-Community Conference. Each person speaks one at a time, and without interruption, about the crime and its effects, and the participants come into a consensus about how to repair the harm done.

This case was the first instance where Restorative Justice had been used in a criminal case of this magnitude in the United States.

Conor's crime in fact was rated first degree murder, where the most common sentence, under Florida Law,  would have been a mandatory life sentence and probably death.

Instead, because of Ann's parent's insistence on fulfilling the last wishes of Ann, Conor was given 20 years prison sentence plus 10 years probation.

After I read the entire story, mind you, not even an iota of it is fiction, I was left stunned.

This "senseless" act of forgiveness (I call it senseless, for a lack of a better word to define it), forced me to ask myself, if I was in the Grosmaires' shoes, would I have the strength in me, to forgive Conor?

I ask you, dear readers, if any of you were in such a situation, would you have done what the Grosmaires did for Conor, the man, who killed their 19 year old daughter, in a fit of rage?

I do not think, I have ever read or heard, such an act of forgiveness, ever, in my 29 years of existence, yet there are two people, in this very world that we stay in, who had the courage and the strength, to forgive the most ghastly act of murder.

After one year, of the sentence given to Conor, the Grosmaires reported, that, they felt really guilt free, happy and at utmost peace... It was as if Ann thanked them everyday for their courage and conviction, for listening to their heart.


Wednesday, December 19, 2012

An Ardent Appeal to Indian Men and Women...

A 23 year old woman was raped heinously and left naked on the roads of Delhi on Sunday...

Yes, another rape case, since the last one was reported, let's see, ah... oh yes... a month ago ????

So readers, what's new, rape cases aren't the big thing... they just keep happening in our country...

Well it's a pretty common crime actually... you see, all Indian men, feel they have a natural obligation to condemn, judge and violate a female....

Don't you agree, ok, let's speak stats then...

One woman in India suffers sexual molestation in the form of rape or sexual abuse every 22 minutes... isn't that like wow...!!!

There have been 24,206 reported rape cases in 2011, according to the National Crime Records.

The actual number of rape cases is five times than that of those reported, because most of the cases that take place go unreported.

There has been an increase of 792 percent in rape cases in India, over the last two decades.

Yiiiipppeeee people, what if we can't top in any other fields like health, sanitation, education, sports... we do top in rape cases...

Every time a rape takes place in India, people get outraged, some go out on a candle light vigil, some write on Facebook walls, others like me, vent out their anger on personal blogs...

 Media channels vie each other on anti rape propaganda, and politicians get a chance to pay "holier than thou" visits to the rape victims and their families....

And then when some of these unfortunate women die, oh yes, our Government doles out payments to their family members as compensation for living in a near barbaric society....

And then after the two weeks' hullabaloo, everything quietens down, until another rape case happens and we are again re-awakened to the semi barbaric society that we live in...

This blog is an ardent appeal to men : Father, Brothers, Husbands, Boyfriends... whoever you are, please, please respect women...

Not just your wives, or mothers, or sisters or your girlfriends, but that woman you see down the road... yes, she looks hot, but she doesn't want to get raped... yes that lady in the bus, yes she does have a cheeky buttock, but she doesn't want it to be pinched... yes, that chick in hot pants.... she doesn't like being wolf whistled...

Only our men, when they know and respect the fact, that a woman is just not a "pair of boobs"... or a "measurement"... or a "toy", can the rape cases come down...

Woman, be brave, don't be afraid to slap that fellow in the bus who's looking at what he shouldn't be looking at...

Don't be scared of crying out aloud, when you feel an elbow nudging in your rib cage...

Don't be afraid to carry a pepper pellet... and please feel free to use it...

This is your country too, don't forget  that you are far more stronger than the man who leers at you...

To every Indian men, who leer and lech at every attractive girl, in every city of India, big, or small, you guys are cowards, big, sad, cowards...

And to every Indian female, who suffer their stares silently, alas you are bigger cowards...

Rapes in India will keep increasing, will keep happening, perhaps, that's what Indian women deserves because sadly they were born in India...

Reflection muses...

Language is the basis for recapturing experience...

- Cyhthia Selfae