A Kiss of Controversy

So, Jadavpur University has managed to rake up more controversies, yet again. This time it was the Kiss of Love protest; in solidarity with Kochi as well as a blatant, and much needed, statement against moral policing. While the #HokKolorob movement continues to trend on social media and in dinner-table conversations, the REVOLUTION has ruffled more than just a few feathers from the very onset. Over the past two days I have heard enough about the "Indian Culture" and "Decency" to last me a lifetime. But I did not sit down to write this as a means of lashing out randomly. I decided to put pen to paper so that I could address some of the major concerns that seem to be doing rounds.

First up, lets talk about Indian social code. Indian culture is not one single person's reality but it is an idea that stretches over many communities and religions. Not one person can suddenly say what Indian culture should be and shouldn't be like. As for what place love, or the public display of affection, holds in our society, I think the sensuous sculptings of the southern temples have already been cited in more than one discussion. Our current social code, isn't dependent upon the "Indian culture" but it is based on a series of judgmental Do's and Dont's. Our social code is actually a very weird combination of archaic British laws and narrow minded restrictions enforced in the name of  'culture'.
Take kissing for example. If kissing is such an 'indecent' thing to do in public, then why did the newspapers pick out only pictures of protesters involved in liplocks to publish them on the front page? There were many people who kissed on the cheek and many more who simply held hands or hugged. Why weren't those pictures published? Simple: Because a kiss is great for publicity.
Why are most films marketed on the basis of the number of kissing scenes in it? I am not just talking about Emran Hashmi's films, but any film in general. If the movie has a kissing scene in it, the scene will inevitably find itself in the trailer. If it doesn't make the trailer for some reason then the entertainment sections of every newspaper will at least run one page on the said kissing scene, analyzing it, discussing about it and making sure that the audience is well aware of  it. Even a movie like Jab Tak Hai Jaan publicized that it featured Shah Rukh Khan in a rare on-screen liplock. It also helped that the actress was Katrina Kaif.
Why? Because it garners more interest. Basically, Indians are okay if the kiss becomes a carefully thought out marketing strategy, but they are not okay with the kiss being an expression of love between two consenting individuals. Doesn't that reek of hypocrisy?
It doesn't end here. While we are at it, lets take a look at our attitude towards people who are "afflicted" with alternate sexuality; for those who are sarcasm impaired, my choice of word is beyond your comprehension. Our society is perfectly alright with watching a film like Dostana (entertaining as it is) which has gay characters and even a liplock between two men, as long as the film makes it clear that the characters are only PRETENDING to be gay. Doesn't that make you think of all the gay men (and women) who have to pretend to be straight, just so that they can get through the day without being spurned by everyone they know? Even if all the pretending kills them, the family finds comfort in knowing that their son died a straight man (albeit a fake one). Doesn't that insensitivity scare you?

Which brings me to my second point. Kissing and hugging in public and any display of affection concerns only the two people involved in it. Onlookers may find it jarring, or awkward, which is fine. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. But just because the comfort level or intimacy that exists willingly between two individuals makes a third person uncomfortable, it can't be punished! I have heard many say, that if such display (of kissing in public) is an individual right, then the next time a boy tries to force himself upon a girl, it should also be considered well within his rights. That view, by all means, is ridiculous! Any display of affection depends on the willingness of BOTH the parties involved. People can hug/kiss in public as long as they both want to, and that should be completely acceptable; whereas a person trying to hug/kiss an unwilling person must be punished. That's the simple rule and if anyone thinks it's unfair, well, the world has been known to be a pretty unfair place.

Thirdly, and very importantly, it is said the Jadavpur University has a habit of turning everything into a sensation. Now that we have found our voice in protesting, we will protest against everything to keep seeing ourselves in the news. Again, that is not true. You wont see us protesting against the arrests made in the Sharada scam. You wont see us protesting against the banishment of a certain strongman from the ruling party. You will, however, find us protesting when a girl is refused entry into a movie theater for wearing a skirt. You will face our music when a woman is denied entry into a restaurant for being a rape survivor. You will hear the voices rising in protest whenever people are wronged and this wont be limited to one university or state or even one country. This clamoring protest will be heard, time and again, from all over the world. And these protests will continue for as long as it takes the government to truly understand WHY we are protesting. Till then, we will keep trying.
And for those people is high places who continue to sit and watch with an expression that closely resembles Mr Bean caught in a sticky situation, I would humbly show you, what we call, 'the finger'. If that offends you, I'll atone for it with a Kiss. :D :P

Rants of an Angry Student

Over the past one month, many things have been said, for and against the student movement, some people have insulted and disgraced our professors and our university nine ways to Sunday, but we have managed to persevere. While we have received overwhelming support from all quarters of the society, we still continue to face opposition from a section that believes in political suppression and thinks that constantly imposing their "discipline" on us will eventually give them a win. I can't begin to emphasize just how wrong they are!

Before I go ahead with my rant, I have to trace the events that led to the student movement for the benefit of anyone who actually reads my blog (which I am sure is very few).
It all started on 28th Aug, during the university fest held by the Arts dept. A girl was dragged into the hostel (which stands literally about 10 steps from the fest venue) and molested by 10 boys. Her male friend was beaten up. No one knew what happened, and the fest went on, undisturbed even as the girl went home and tried to deal with the trauma, all alone. The victim's father asked for the VC's cooperation in this matter, only to be told to "come back two days later" and "don't send your daughter to college for a few days" and even "I can't take responsibility of their (girls') safety" by our 'honourable' VC. We students only came to know of this entire incident three days later, and then started a movement for the safety of the women on campus. This was not the only instance of violence on campus and the students were getting tired of these repeated incidents where the perpetrators went about scot-free. The student representatives repeatedly ran into various walls, trying desperately to get anyone to listen to them, but not many did.They started a sit-in demonstration in front of the administrative building, demanding an impartial probe into the matter, only to be told by our 'honourable' VC that it was beneath his dignity to talk to students, and that he wasn't getting paid to negotiate with students. That it would hurt his pride. In spite of this blatant insult, the students persevered and the sit-in demonstration, which was utterly peaceful, stretched upto 150 hrs. Then finally, when after the EC meeting on 16th sept, the VC and the EC did not even take up the molestation issue for discussion and instead branded the agitation as the "indiscipline of students", the student finally resorted to the only thing they knew that would put some pressure on the VC. They resorted to a gherao (i.e. refused to let the VC leave his office). They demanded that the VC come out of his air conditioned office and face the students and assure them that he will look into the matter and set up an impartial panel for the probe. The VC, who is a very 'honourable' man, flatly refused to give the statement. The professors who were negotiating, finally left the admin building at 1:45 am, after promising to come back and start negotiation where they left off. As soon as the professors left, completely unharmed by the students, who were singing songs outside the building in protest, the VC called in the police and Rapid Action Force (which is called upon only in cases of communal riot) to "release" him, claiming that the students were going to kill him!
Then he turned off the lights so the students couldn't flee and had the police brutally beat them up at 2 am in the morning. Many girls in that crowd were molested, one even had her dress torn off her back. Following this police brutality, 40 students had to be hospitalized, 2 were critical and one was in a coma for two days! 37 students were arrested and taken to an undisclosed location (which later was revealed to be the police headquarters) and released on personal bonds only after the students demonstrated outside the police station.

That's when the students, after having suffered for days, been humiliated, hurt, beaten, molested and finally accused of attempted murder by the VC, started the movement against campus violence and demanded the VC's resignation. The movement started trending on social networks... #Hokkolorob, meaning 'let the voices rise'. The country suddenly woke up to this clamour and this apolitical student movement found support pouring in from every corner of the world.
Moving on from the rather tiring narration of the outrageous turn of events, I would like to put forward a few questions that have been tormenting me for days now. Ever since the news broke of this assault, the situation has been made worse by our ministers and govt who shamelessly paraded in favor of the VC, throwing their weight behind the criminal, as is becoming their trend now.

But why?
Wouldn't it have been MUCH simpler if they just fired the VC and sided with the students? They would have earned some brownie points for standing up for what's right, and God knows, they desperately need any good publicity they can get right now. But by being the egotistical idiots that they are, they decided to show their powers (of muscle flexing and idiocy) and came down hard on the students, trying to crush them in every way possible. All I can say is, by doing this the govt has ensured that they will never score any votes from 99% of the student community, ever again.
What made the governor think that this pathetic excuse of a man was fit to be made the permanent VC of JU?
If anyone figures out the answer to that one, do let me know! The Governor is also probably  playing his own game. He lets the situation go from bad to worse as he enjoys the show and then before the 2016 elections, his party swoops in with a very strong campaign, and the deliberate destruction of an university as reputed as JU becomes one of the major issues. If you want to be a saviour, then you need something to save, don't you? *sigh*

We, the students, haven't given up. One month on the students are still protesting, still sloganeering, still demonstrating and all the while being very peaceful. We may have lost some battles, which is inevitable when one is up against the entire state machinery, but we wont back down. We have seen just how low people can sink, and more importantly, we know just who those people are. The next election, we will have our sweet revenge. And for the university, we love it too much to let it slide into disintegration under this incompetent and cruel VC. We will take back JU, it belongs to us, Its our home and if we don't take the responsibility of keeping our home beautiful, then who will?

LATHIR MUKHE GAANER SHUR, DEKHIE DILO JADAVPUR!

#Hokkolorob

Going Away

Inspired by Sylvia Plath's 'Mad Girl's Love Song' ...

I fancied you'd return the way you said,

But I grow old and I forget your name.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

For the fifth and final time, she turned to look at him. He still hadn’t moved. In spite of herself, she felt a lump in her throat; the corners of her lips trembled threatening to curl into a downward arc, her eyes trying clear themselves from the watery veil. He didn’t even so much as acknowledge her lingering presence. As far as he was concerned, he had fulfilled his obligation by waving her a cordial goodbye and wishing her a happy journey. He had buried himself in work, his flawless pearly forehead under his forever clumsy hair visible over the laptop he intently peered into. As he moved his head while typing, his youthful brown eyes became visible. She stared at him longingly, as if willing him into seeing her, but his eyes continued to be focussed on the screen of his computer.

 His eyes. That’s where her fascination had started. His dark eyes which revealed themselves to be a deep brown when light fell across them. There was something so gentle and soft about them, like they warmed her leaving a trace on her body wherever the eyes went. She could feel her cheeks flush, a soft, shy smile light up on her lips when they did so. After determining that her shirt was proper, her bracelets sitting pretty at her wrist and her hair falling over her shoulders in just the right manner, she waved him a ‘hello’. He always waved back with a smile, his eyes bright and warm, welcoming her presence around him. When he flashed a smile, she felt her heart skip several beats together. His smile was so easy going, relaxed, effortlessly charming. She would often smile to herself and gloat silently, he was always so glad to see her.

She bowed her head and walked over to the water cooler. She felt betrayed by his indifference. How could he do that to her? she thought as she absent mindedly clutched a glass of water. She watched as a few co-workers walked by. Some smiled at her, two stopped in front of her and shook her hand one last time. They wished her farewell and a happy life ahead. She thanked all and cordially responded to the wishes. Seizing an opportunity she even let out a small laugh, hoping it would reach his ears and he'd look up to meet her eyes, but nothing happened.

She felt miserable. Here she was, leaving this office, going away forever and he couldn't even care to walk her out. How people change! she wondered. It only seemed like yesterday that they were together; chatting, laughing, the promises he made... no, there had been no promises. She resented that. She didn’t have any promise that she could hold him to. How could they have spent all this time without getting ahead in the relationship?? All those days, the words exchanged over coffee... no, cold drink... and that was only once.

 From where she stood, she had a clear view of the break room. She sadly smiled to herself. What a day it had been. They had had a successful meeting, closed a good deal; six of them sat around the table in the break room, relieved, waiting for their pizza. They had one big bottle of coke which everyone passed around. She still remembered the warm smile he gave her when she passed him the bottle. His eyebrows raised in a comic fashion as he said something funny. He had taken the bottle from her, taken a sip and passed it on. Few minutes later when she found herself searching for the bottle for another drink, he had been to one to reach for the bottle and give it to her. She still savored the moment when their fingers brushed together. She bet that there was a playful naughtiness in his eyes. And she responded by blushing.

How Neha had made fun of his hair that day! He had an adorable habit of running his fingers casually through his hair in a half hearted attempt to keep it tidy, but the result achieved was quite the opposite. In fact the untidy look suited him. It gave him a boyish charm that made her heart melt every time she looked at him. She didn’t like it at all when he entered the office with his hair all combed back neatly. It looked like it was an attempt to look mature and his immaturity shone through in that very attempt. She felt like ruffling his hair and making it all perfect again. She knew he would only laugh, maybe crack a few jokes about it. But she had never dared.

She looked around the office again, this time taking in the rest of the people as well. She set down the glass in her hand, waved at the nearest two co-workers. They both wished her a happy journey. She then turned around and walked out of the office.

He still hadn't looked up.

Redemption

The lane was empty, barring a few cars parked here and there. I was in no particular hurry so I walked absent-mindedly humming to myself. My ears picked up some voices up ahead but my mind, which was too busy remembering the tune, didn’t register anything. I turned the corner and stopped abruptly. About ten steps ahead, two boys were arguing angrily with a third.

They both were well built, should have been around 21-23 yrs old. One of them was wearing a silver chain with dog tags, the kind that youngsters wear for fashion these days. The other one had red highlights in his hair. I shook my head in disapproval. The third boy was younger than the other two, and also leaner. He was wearing a black jacket and seemed to refusing to give up whatever he had in his pocket. From the words exchanged I could tell they were no strangers and that there was no love lost between them.

The argument in front of me was getting pretty intense. They were occasionally shoving the third boy roughly but the boy was in no mood to give in either. He was lashing out at every chance he got. As for me, I just watched. I didn’t want to get in the middle of any fight. But I couldn’t pass either. Not because I was worried, but because they were struggling against my car.

 I waited for them to move away but they paid no heed. I could see that the boy was starting to lose the fight. He was getting tired. But he still didn’t quit. I had to admire his spirit. I pulled out my phone, intending to call the police. That kid was fighting hard to save himself and I felt I owed him that much. Just as the dial tone filled my ear, my eyes landed on an object the guy with red highlights had pulled out. A gun. I dropped the phone in shock and backed up instinctively. I watched the one with the dog tags land some final punches on the boy as the other one prepared to shoot him.

“I have to help him” I thought.

“No, you have to save yourself”, a voice inside me hissed. I stood rooted to the spot.

The kid had almost given up. Almost. He knew he had lost his struggle to stay alive but his right hand was still firmly placed over his jacket pocket.

 With a look of resignation he looked around one last time. That’s when his eyes met mine. I could see him pleading, teary eyed, clinging on to the last hope that I would step in and save him.

“I can’t let him die, I have to do something!” I took a step forward.

“What are you doing?! You’ll get killed. Just get out of here!!” a selfish voice in my head shouted.

“Go” a third voice firmly said in my ear.

Startled, I turn around. A familiar man stood right beside me. I never heard him coming but here he was, ordering me. For a moment I forgot about the fight. All I could think was, “who is this guy? He looks extremely familiar!” But then he spoke again.

“Help him” he said, shoving me. I stumbled forward initially from the impact but then found myself taking a few steps on my own.

I reached the group. The guy wearing dog tags tried to punch me but I dodged his fist. I tackled the second guy, the one with the gun. He was so focused on the kid cowering at his feet that he didn’t see me coming. Slightly taken aback, he lost his footing and stumbled. Seizing this opportunity the kid jumped up and punched the guy I dodged squarely in the jaw. I smirked, “Given a fair chance, the kid sure can fight” I thought. The smirk lasted for two seconds before the ‘highlights guy’ started fighting me.

As soon as that moment of surprise had passed, I knew I was in over my head. The guy was too strong. I struggled for a minute but stopped when I heard a gunshot. The guy looked at me, back to his partner. They both looked slightly scared. Then he quickly got up and they both fled leaving me and the kid panting on the pavement.

I looked around to see if the kid was alright. I was expecting a heartfelt ‘thank you’ when I realized I couldn’t move. The bullet had found my abdomen. The kid was looking at me in absolute horror and guilt. “Oh my God” he kept muttering under his breath.

“Get help” I whispered. The kid nodded and ran towards the phone which I had dropped earlier on.

That’s when I saw that man, standing there. He had literally pushed me into this, and now he wanted to just stand there and watch! And worse, he looked sad, yet content. He came and kneeled beside me. I was wondering why the kid didn’t seem to notice him. I was angry, disgusted and terrified.

“Why did- “I muttered, my words blurring.

“I saved you from a life of regret. Now you will never know the guilt of letting someone die. You will never face the humiliation of not saving an innocent kid from a certain and horrible death. Trust me, I did you a favor”. The man smiled.

The familiarity of his face still confused me but I had more immediate things I had to say to him.

“You altruistic bastard! You let ME die!! What about that?? Huh??” I wanted to yell but I could only whisper it out. My vision was darkening around the edges. I just stared at him with what I hoped was a disgusted expression, even through the pain. For the first time, my mind zeroed in on the familiarity. I couldn’t believe my eyes!

 He was… How could it be?? This was impossible! I knew him! I saw him everyday! He was the man in the mirror.

“You… how is- “I gasped, forming words was getting very difficult.

This had to be a joke! I was shot, probably dying and the man sitting beside me with a pathetic ‘it’s for the greater good’ smile was… well… ME!

He saw my confusion and shrugged, “Years back, I let this kid die. I still remember the face of his mother when she asked me why I didn’t save him. I have asked my self the same thing ever since.”

“So you decide to kill me?” I think.

“You won’t understand, just like I didn’t back then. Its only when you have lived these years as I have, in overwhelming guilt, do you realize its not worth it.” he explained. His form was getting hazier, like he was vanishing. But then I didn’t know for sure because my own dimming vision wasn’t very reliable.

“I got one chance to do what I should have done back then. To redeem myself. I did” he said, his form almost translucent now.

My vision blurred completely, everything became dark. In the background I could hear the kid calling out to someone. Maybe the police have arrived; or the ambulance. I could hear sirens coming from somewhere. I felt the kid come up beside me and shake me.

“Wake up!” he called.

 But the voice and the touch felt distant, and I was too far gone to care.

Beyond the State Lines

Reena tossed and turned in her cot. She turned the coarse bundle of clothes she was using as pillow over and over again desperately trying to find a dry spot to hide her face in. She froze at the slight movement at the cot next to her. But the person did not wake up; just turned over and everything was still again. Letting out a long breath, Reena buried her face in her pillow and wept.

3 years ago

“You take care of yourself… (sniff sniff) … God knows how you will manage … eat properly… watch your health, try to get good sleep when you are not on duty…” aunt chanted continuously, all the time weeping. Reena’s cousin Rabi was going away to Kolkata. He had enlisted in the Special Forces and had received his first posting. The entire family was elated. Rabi was not only one of the very few educated boys of this remote village, but also one of the only three to get an actual job.

This tiny village, situated in a heavily forested area near the state border, rarely saw such achievements. Their lives usually consisted of farming on small plots of land and rearing cattle. Some of them who worked outside their village were daily laborers. Very few could boast of a half decent education and even less could dream of having a job and a fixed salary. Thus, Rabi’s going away party included more or less the whole village. They all wished him luck, blessed him, praised him and gave him charms to keep him safe while his mother fretted about the constant dangers of his duty.

“Don’t worry maa, I’ll be alright”, Rabi smiled, assuring his mother.

“Yes pishima, he’ll do well”, said Reena, “Rabi da is very smart, and you know that!”

Rabi turned to Reena. “You take care of yourself and everyone here. Ok?”

“Of course”, she hugged him, “be careful.”

1 year ago

The only school in their village had long closed down. Now it served as the arms vault for the rebels. Almost every able bodied man and woman had been enlisted to this rebel army. It was the villagers’ job to provide for these people. Thus Reena’s father, who was farmer, had been spared from enlisting. 17 yr old Reena did not understand much of what they said or preached. Something about the government not being fair, something about wanting their rights, formed the core of their ideology; not that they cared much for it. As long as the people were terrified of them and the government took them seriously, they were happy. Initially, when the rebellion started, the villagers had supported them. They all had genuine grievances which needed to be heard. But as time went on, more and more places came to be affected. Power in the hands of the rebels increased, more villages came under their control, more people joined and subsequently the body count rose.

 The rebels lost sight of the original aim and took to the more enticing ideas of power and manipulation. Reena knew that it was only a matter of time before she would be forced to join them. Her father had already turned them away twice saying he needed her help in the fields but that excuse would not hold every time. She didn’t know exactly what was waiting for her but she was terrified of it. The fear of the unknown is always the worst. But Reena was sure that knowing would hardly be any better.

3 months ago

Reena arrived at the rebel camp. It was in the middle of a forest, about half an hour trek from their village. The man who escorted her showed her to a tent.

“You’ll stay here… this is where we sleep…” he beckoned her to follow him. He proceeded to show her around the camp and explain the rules. Finally they reached a clearing where the new recruits were being trained. He handed her a rifle and ordered her to join the parade. When training for the morning was over, Reena followed them back to the tents for a frugal lunch.

“What is your name?” Reena asked a woman sitting beside her.

“Jaya”

“How long have you been here??”

“Five years…” The woman didn’t seem interested in this new recruit but Reena, who could hardly contain the terror in her heart, went on.

“How long do we have to live like this?”

“As long as it takes. This is our life.” Jaya replied. Reena examined her face. She was dark, her face expressionless, hardened in a way that emotions no longer found a place on it. Her eyes were casual, indifferent. A thin jagged scar ran from her hairline, over her eyebrows and ended just above her right eye.

 “Where did you get that scar?”

“About a couple of years back. We were fighting the joint forces, few villages away from here. I lost my footing and fell onto some rocks. The cadres brought me back to the camp and stitched up my forehead. But the scar remained.” Jaya shrugged.

Her indifference sent chills down Reena’s spine.

“What will happen to me?” Reena asked, not even attempting to hide her fear this time.

Jaya looked at her and said, “We’ll train you to fight. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to all this.”

12 hours ago

Reena hid behind a tree trunk. She cringed as gunfire erupted a few feet away from her. The first shots were fired from the other side of the tree line, which was followed by a few more shots from her side. Jaya was shooting from behind a big boulder.

“Move forward to the next point and cover for me” she yelled. Reena remained rooted to her spot. This was her first encounter with the law enforcers. The rebels had planned a ‘guerilla attack’ on an army camp but had not counted on the back up. There were more Jawans than they had estimated and now they were fighting back. The group had fled to the forest but Jaya and Reena were way behind the others and still needed to go over the stream to the safety of the dense forest cover, which they know like the back of their hand by now.

“Move!” Jaya screamed again.

Reena hastily lifted her rifle and started firing. She quickly ran from her hiding place to the next point. She could hear Jaya running behind her. She found a guarded spot behind a banyan tree near the stream. Jaya also came to a stop behind her. They both were panting. Reena was terrified. She couldn’t believe that she was actually firing at people, trying to kill them. She was covered in sweat, her hands, cold. She could literally hear her heartbeat. Jaya, on the other hand, was counting the cartridges.

“Five… six… here…” she put a few cartridges in Reena’s hand, “I have a few more, just in case.”

Reena’s hand shook but the little training she received made her pocket the cartridges safely.

“On my count start firing and follow me towards the stream. You did good so far, don’t freeze now.” Reena nodded, desperate to get back to camp.

“One… two… three” Jaya started running, dodging branches swiftly.

Reena emerged from behind the tree, about run after her when she saw someone come out from the thicket to her left. She turned quickly and lifted her rifle but her palms were too clammy and the hand supporting the weapon, slipped.

Cold fear gripped her. In a moment she felt nauseous, terrified and angry for having lost grip as she fumbled with the weapon. The entire thing lasted only a couple of seconds but Reena knew very well that bullets only take as much time to kill.

She repositioned her hand and looked up. The man in front of her was in a uniform, a cap covering his head, his gun raised, but he didn’t fire.

“Why didn’t he fire?” Reena wondered, “He could have easily taken me down…”

“Reena?”

She froze. The man lowered his weapon. Reena’s own grip was failing again but this time she didn’t care.

“Rabi da…”

Rabi took a step towards her.

“What are yo… just…” he extended his hand, “come with me…”

 Reena stood there unable to believe her eyes. She supported herself on the rifle and took a step forward.

BANG! BANG!

Rabi’s hand was still out stretched. But he looked like someone had shoved him. He took a step back as if reacting to an invisible force. A dark red spot erupted in his chest and another followed. He froze for a bit and then fell down, dead.

“Dada!!” Reena screamed and started to run towards the fallen man but a strong grip on her shoulder stopped her.

“Come fast!” Jaya yelled, forcefully pulling her away.

“Noo let me go...” Reena cried, thrashing about, trying to break free but the grip was unrelenting.

Jaya forcibly stuffed a piece of cloth in Reena’s mouth, covered it with her hand and dragged her towards the stream. Within seconds, Reena felt water up to her knees and rising. Jaya still had that death grip on her shoulder and was pulling her. Reena looked around wildly, trying to get away when she caught sight of Rabi. He lay there on his stomach, lips slightly parted, eyes wide open. She felt tears running down her cheeks. She was waist deep in water and with every step she took, the leaves and branches around the clearing obscured her view. She didn’t want to move but she was forced to trudge.

Finally, the grip on her shoulder relaxed. The water barely rose above her boots by then. They had crossed over the stream successfully.

“You can take a minute, but we can’t stay here more than that” Jaya said, trying to keep her calm.

Reena removed the cloth from her mouth. Her cries had reduced to sobs. She heard a few voices calling out to each other. She realized more men had come in to the clearing and they had found the body.

Reena was shaking like leaf from head to toe. Her beloved brother had been shot dead in front of her. Worst still, had the rifle not slipped, she would’ve pulled the trigger herself without even realizing it was Rabi. And she would have done it to survive.

From where she stood, she saw them exchange a few words and go in separate directions. Three Jawans started towards the stream.

Jaya’s body tensed beside her.

“If we don’t move now, they’ll kill us”, she whispered urgently.

She took Reena’s arm again, but lightly this time. “Let’s go!”

Reena took a deep breath, took one last look at the clearing. Then she wiped away her tears, ducked to keep out of the soldiers’ sight and began the trek back to camp.

The Best Friend

I slowly parted my eyelids but very quickly shut them back up again. Sunlight streamed into my room through the window over my head. I groaned stretching my limbs and rubbing my tired eyes with my hands. I tried opening my eyes again and managed a squint. It was probably around ten in the morning because my room was bathed in sunlight. I was terribly hung-over but I forced myself to get up, ambled over to the dresser and peered into the mirror. My face was covered in sheen of sweat and my hair stuck out at odd angles. I was wearing a crumpled stripped shirt and black pants from last night and… last night… something was off about last night… but what? I couldn’t remember. My mind began to gather up some images but I hastily shoved them aside. I didn’t want to remember. ‘But why?’ I wondered. Well, I guess, remembering made my head hurt more.

“Krishna di, can you please get me a Disprin?” I called out and went over to the bathroom to freshen up. By the time I came out, Krishna di was waiting for me. At five feet, dressed in a simple saree, the dark complexioned Krishna di was our trusted housekeeper. As long as she was around, I didn’t even feel the need to ask for anything. She knew me so well that all my needs and wants were taken care of, even before I realized. Beyond the simplicity of her being lurked an alert and sharp mind and a caring heart which I knew to be fiercely faithful towards me.

I took the pill and sat down on the edge of my bed, my fingers lightly massaging my forehead.

“Avik dada?”

“Hmm” I said, without looking up.

“Are you alright?” Krishna di asked somewhat timidly. I had never known her to be timid but my throbbing brain passed over this small detail.

“Of course I am, it’s just a headache.”

“No, I mean… Last night…”

My head shot up. A swift feeling akin to that of an electric current went through my spine. There were butterflies in my stomach.

“What about last night?” I asked. Krishna di shifted on her feet.

“You came home late and made quite a scene. You demanded your car be washed right then”, she said, studying me closely.

“I did?” I gulped in spite of myself and then let out a small laugh.

“Oh! Don’t worry; I just had a little too much to drink last night…”

Krishna di looked unconvinced but nodded anyway.

“You bumped your car somewhere.”

I felt beads of sweat making their appearance on my forehead. I casually wiped my hand over it.

“Yes… umm… while parking it.” Krishna di nodded and with a small “hmm” left the room.

She had been working at our house for 10 yrs and had been almost like my local guardian since my parents moved to Hyderabad on business 3 yrs ago. It was a good thing that she didn’t ask anything else. What would I tell her? I drank so much that last night was as good as a blank slate in my mind? Huh! Like she’d believe me.

“Dada-” The sudden noise made me jump, but it was just Krishna di again, standing in the doorway. This time, she looked serious.

‘Does she know?’ I wondered, ‘Maybe I should just ask her… she would never lie to me…’

“What happened?” I asked.

“Rakhi madam called. Said your phone was switched off.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

“She said Rahul dada met with an accident yesterday.”

“What! When?” I stood up. “How is he?” My mind whirled with questions and concern.

“He’s okay now…” Krishna di replied, comforting me. “He’s at Ruby General. Rakhi madam said it will take time but he will be alright.” I nodded and grabbed my phone, gesturing Krishna di to leave.

Rahul was my best friend. My oldest and closet friend; my brother almost. The fact that his life had been in danger and I hadn’t been there to help him made me feel sick. I had never even considered that we would ever be apart. The thought that he was lying in some hospital bed, hurt, scared me to the core. Rakhi di, Rahul’s elder sister had turned to me for help but I had been unavailable. I mentally kicked myself.

Rakhi di picked up on the 3^rd ring. Her voice was a cross between anger and immense relief. “Where the hell were you????” she thundered, “do you know what happened?... Rahul was so serious! I didn’t know what to do! I kept calling you but…”

“Whoa- slow down. I’m very very sorry di. How is he?”

“He’s still unconscious but doctors say he is responding to treatment.” Her voice choked slightly.

“Good. I’ll come over right now. But how did this happen?”

“I don’t know much” she sighed. “The police said that the CCTV cameras couldn’t get a clear image. Apparently, he was crossing the road in front of Desun when an… umm… Alto it seems, hit him.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Wh… when did this happen?”

“Yesterday, around 11 pm”

I broke into cold sweat.  How could it be? Did I really …? NO!

No no no…! It could all just be a coincidence. “Did the police find the car?”

“No”, I could hear anger in her voice, “They are not even sure of the color! Imagine! They said it was either black or deep blue.”

“Hmm okay.” I disconnected the call. Her words echoed in my ears. 

“They don’t know whether it was blue or black.”

“Blue”, I thought, the sick feeling back in my stomach. The car was blue, license plate 7827. The driver was drunk out of his mind.

I felt my stomach churn and rushed to the bathroom. When I came out, I was exhausted. My head felt like it would burst. I could actually feel my chest constricting, a pain originating deep within myself.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Krishna di enter with a cup of coffee. Disregarding her presence, I went over to my bed and collapsed, weeping. She set the cup down on the dresser and hurried over to me. “Sh… whatever happened… it’ll be alright…” she whispered, rubbing comforting circles on my back.

“You don’t know what I did! I hit R…”

“No. You didn’t do anything. You got drunk and stayed at home last night.”

I fell silent at her words. I looked up at her. She was looking at me intently and meaningfully, like she didn’t want to spell out the suggestion. As if the whole suggestion scared even her, but she didn’t have a choice. I thought for a moment.

“But my car is banged up.” She cleared her throat.

“I will wash it myself… and you will tell everyone that you bumped it while parking.”

Not knowing what else to say, I nodded. Krishna di patted my head.

“Good. Now go wash your face and get dressed. You should go to the hospital. Rahul dada needs his best friend.”

road accidents, Friendship, Drunk driving

The Lights are still Out!

Very recently, I came across a play by Manjula Padmanabhan
called Lights Out. An extremely disturbing play, it shows a group of middle class people coming across a gang rape in progress and  doing nothing to intervene. In the first half of the play, the characters go out of their way to ignore the heinous crime; the next half, pretending that it does not concern them. In fact, one of the characters suggest that they take a picture of the crime because its not often that one comes across photos of "authentic gang rape".
As the play ends, we are informed that it is a dramatization of a real incident which occurred in Santa Cruz, Mumbai in 1982. The entire reading leaves a deep impression on the readers, but the final revelation gives you goosebumps. It suddenly makes you feel unsafe even in your own home!
This play was written 31 yrs ago. Lots of things have changed since then. But has anything really changed for women? We can all answer unanimously. NO.
We talk about empowerment, women having successful careers, women establishing their own identities, reaching the pinnacle of success in every field. But how does all this matter when a woman cannot step out of her house and feel safe? I was born and brought up in Kolkata. One would think that I know the streets, know how to commute and can do so confidently. True, but not the whole truth. For every girl that travels through the streets of this city, its an uphill battle everyday.

• You can always feel the the vulgar stares lingering on you when you walk down the road, no matter what you wear.
•  For those who wait for public transport everyday, you would think that once you get an auto-rickshaw or a bus, your troubles are over. But not for us. For girls, its just the beginning. In a crowded bus or a metro, you can always feel people leaning towards you. If you protest, they blame the crowd. Then suddenly you feel a hand brush against you, feeling you up. You try to move to some place safer but the stares and grins follow wherever you go. Finally you get off at your destination and heave a sigh of relief.
• For those who travel by auto, the nightmare is different. When you are sitting in front, some drivers move away from you, allowing you to sit comfortably, their elbows tucked in so that it doesn't make you uncomfortable. But most do the opposite. Elbows tucked out touching you inappropriately, leaning toward you every chance they get under the pretext of steering and making you want to jump out of the moving vehicle.
• Don't, even for once, think that the girls who manage to sit at the back of the autos get off easier because some passengers have the same tricks up their sleeve.

Years have gone by, mentality remains the same. When a character in the previously mentioned play suggests that they take a photo, you cant help but think about that girl in Assam who was molested on the street by 30 odd men and a TV cameraman filmed it for "breaking news".  Is this really the country we want to live in? Isn't it high time that the society changed?


Padmanabhan's Play, Harassment, Women's safety in India, Violence against women