'Hungry bellies' VS 'The blue ink'

“We promise to provide sewing machines and gas stoves in every home….. (Recorded voice with tempting election offers echoed)”. Sometimes I feel that these candidates provide better offers than Wednesday Bigbazars. A mighty stereo loaded on a mini lorry was repeating these words of an extended list, vomiting out everything fed into it, figuratively speaking, highlight points of the party’s agenda for this year elections. Slowly the lorry took a u-turn and came to halt. Three young boys around 20 may be, who wore a t-shirt which resembled a party office wall got busy distributing pamphlets and explaining the crowd “the need” to vote for their party.

(Period.)

It was about 4 o’clock but the sun was not in the mood to leave. I was waiting for the bus under the shade till I heard the shriek of a woman. When I turned, I found that she was trying to get some help. I rushed to the place without giving a second thought. Few other men had reached there till then. She was with an old lady lying at the back of a broken wall adjacent to the railway track. She was lying unconscious, with mouth agape. White foam was spread out of her and dried up leaving behind its mark on her soiled face. Thick mucus flown out had accumulated below her nostrils. The rise and fall of her chest was the only indication of her being alive. Her stomach had sunk somewhere. It seemed she had no food from days. Her dirty old tattered sari was just enough to cover her body. Sari which she must have not changed from ages, or it was the only piece of cloth that was left with her to hide her body. While one of her leg lied turned with her knee facing the soil, other one was bent abnormally.  Her fist was dug in soil as if she tried to grab on to something out of pain before she went unconscious while the other had stains of some stale food around which flies were wandering. A thin yet long line of ants were riding over that hand of her, picking up their food and were passing down to soil.

Two other men ran to buy water packets while I helped the woman to bring that lady to the shed. The woman lifted her and made her rest on her lap. Two other men were spraying water on her face to bring her back to sense. She was hyperventilating at that time. She opened her eyes at a jerk and closed them slowly to half mast. “Water…water…” was all that I could hear her murmuring.  

Party workers were still distributing their pamphlets avoiding everything that was happening just two steps away from them. Public was also busy grabbing their seats in the MTC bus that just arrived… young lovers were busy talking… spending some time with each other before going home… one pair of lovebirds were treating each other paani puris, while the girl was feeding her love like he was a baby or God hadn't gifted him with hands to feed himself. Strange world, isn't

it? While an old woman was fighting with death and dying just because she failed to fill her stomach, the whole world is busy with their personal reasons without giving slightest of their attention. One of the party members approached me. Handing me their pamphlet they asked me to vote their party this time. With my broken Tamil I tried to convince them to shift the dying woman to any nearby hospital so that she can be saved if they want vote. From my broken Tamil they understood well that I am an outsider and I cannot cast my vote here. So there was no need for them to please me or entertain me. Within fraction of seconds their lorry vanished from the spot.

Thanks to few auto driver annas who shifted the old lady to a hospital and I wish that she gets well soon…

original photo: old lady fighting with death lying unconscious on ground  

Party workers busy distributing their pamphlets who flee from the spot when asked for help

P.S.

“We will give you sewing machine…we will give you gas stoves…..” didn't anyone tell them before that sewing machine will only be needed if everyone in this country have cloth to wear…gas stoves will only be needed when they have food to cook… They left a woman to die without helping, but they wanted vote from us.

These were the party workers of a well known political party which is going to compete on almost all seats over India. Having its roots in UP, it spread all over India this time. No doubt, their party chief too wants to become the next PM. During her reign as CM she has brought numerous developments in her state and now she wants to bring the same in this whole country. Yes...developments…constructing 130 huge elephant structures…This is what they call infrastructural development; I guess… so what if it accounted for 40,000 crore scam, it was a part of development and beautification of the state. When in every corner of India someone dies of hunger each second, our prime motto should be beautification, isn't it? And then they say they fight for backward classes. “Hungry belly have no class”. Shouting only to increase reservation for backward classes won’t make you a good leader. Hungry bellies need food not elephant statues. The statues which should have cost five lakh were brought by state run agency for sixty lakh. Lucky elephants, aren't they? They must be thanking corruption, which made their value sky high. But nothing went into their stomach; they were still hollow plastered from outside by clay, many officials under the project grew stomach not less than elephants though. Yes, she is one of the prospective PM candidates, yes she is…because CBI dropped all scam allegations against her and gave her clean chit. She is clean in records now. But her reflection in public’s eye will come out when the result will be declared...All the so called netas be better answered by millions of hungry bellies this time  

2014 PM CONTENDERS: WHO IS GOING TO TURN PROMISES INTO REALTY ?

“This post is a part of the blog-a-thon by World Vision India on Youth Ki Awaaz” 

A hotel van with large drums of food leftovers was about to leave. It was slowly gathering speed. As it rode down the gutters, some part of it leaked down the back door (May be one of those drums just fell aside and rolled down to the door). With in no time two men came running behind it. Both of them looked hungry for days; with weak legs, untidy beards, dry skin, and dirty tattered clothes just enough to hide their personal parts and revealing sunken bellies that must be squeezing the stomach inside. Both of them jumped over the food like hungry lions jumping over its prey. They ate it up in a go, licked the road literary till it shined as if inaugurated recently. Then they started running behind the van till it disappears far away. They ate up everything that it dropped on its way.
The front gate of the same hotel was packed with Mercedes, Audis and other luxury cars. Political giants were discussing their agendas for the next election, business men and women finalizing their business deals and rich brats were partying after having several tequila shots; complaining over the little overcooked chicken fries and were busy clicking their pictures on their brand new I-phones.

2014 and the election is starting soon all over India….

Modi’s wave is creating ripples everywhere. Though his sudden emergence as the PM candidate shocked everyone and created rift in their party, he has got enormous support from everywhere. His Long speeches, rallies, chai pe charcha, showcasing of the model of Gujarat have gone viral everywhere.

Even Rahul ji have started visiting ghettos, hugging old ladies and eating up their cooked food, though he may be taking several preventives to avoid any contagious diseases or may be vomiting the food out at home in vigilance of some renowned doctors of our country. ‘Har haath shakti, har hath taraki…’ You should accept that power was only in your hand and so the development was yours only, not of the poor Indians. If after being in power for several times earlier, your party couldn’t bring any change, how can we believe your slogans and the power of hand this time? ‘Hand has been infected’, admit it and infected things should be amputated as soon as possible. We have heard you roaring ‘Katar soch nahi yuva josh’ and advertising the same by one controversial lady herself Hassiba Amin. Where was this Yuva centric soch earlier? I think it was in store from the day you were in lap till you grow up as the prime ministerial candidate to drive ahead the legacy of your Family. Rahul ji you must admit that you are a rich, spoiled, ignorant brat and an outcome of a corrupt political thinking. A degree from a foreign university won’t make you a good leader here in India. We have even IITian in the race. Better you should plan to clean your party, reform your mother and jija ji and then try for the elections after at least ten years or else relax at home and enjoy the scam moneys your mother has stored for you in Swiss Bank.    

Even Nitish ji withdrew his support from BJP. He was not happy with the selection of Modi ji as their prime ministerial candidate. Actually he himself wanted to be. ‘Seriously do you want to be???’

Didi too wants to become the prime minister this time. Didi will always remain as a parochial figure well known for her periodic outbursts during public speeches against Maoists in everyone’s mind. She is best remembered as the railway minister when the railways incurred heavy losses and she had to resign after the Tehelka expose of the Bofors scandal. She can’t also be forgotten for forcing Dinesh Trivedi for resigning on price hike of the railway fares though it was most needed at that time. She made a laughing stock out of herself when she got Ambikesh Mahapatra, a Jadavpur university professor arrested for circulating her cartoons. “Grow up didi, take a chill pill.” She crossed all the limits of her craziness and parochialism and made the whole world to laugh at us by saying, “The main reason for considerable increase in rape cases in our country is possibly because of the limitless freedom of interaction between men and women.” Few days back, our most celebrated Anna ji extended his support for her. He thinks that she is the best CM and can prove to be a great PM. “HE” thinks and what “HE” thinks but only what WE think can make a difference. A shockingly feeble mass who attended their so organized rally divorced the alliance between didi and Anna ji even before it get started. ‘Didi’ now you must understand that you have no national presence and Anna ji should accept that his time has gone. His illegitimate child AAP has gained more popularity than what he is having now.

Amma ji don’t say that, but some people, yes I mean some people are continuously saying that she should be the next PM of India. Even the left parties at some point of time, wanted her to be the one. I am not saying that she wants… some people wants her to be…..

Now, Mulayam ji too wants to be the PM. After he had handed over his place to his foreign educated son (I always wonder why these rich people and politicians send their wards to get educated outside India when we have so many premier institutions within our country) I thought that he retired. But no, I was completely wrong; planning was already started for capturing the prime minister’s seat from that time. Now we must wait to watch gundaraj spreading all over the country…no, no I am wrong. Some racial clashes and unlawful attack on medical students by his party member were nothing….

Arvind ji, the present day hero, the phoenix who magically incarnated from the ashes too wants to be the PM. Even he left the CM post in pursuit of becoming the next PM. He wants to change the whole face of our country over night. Can hurrying so much solve the problem we are facing today? Some overnight decision and you came up all of a sudden that you are resigning the CM post. If you wanted to be the PM, you could have nominated someone else as the CM of Delhi earlier instead of yourself. Or you were afraid of losing seats projecting someone else as the CM candidate other than you, or that election was just an experiment to find out how much support your party is getting? Don’t tell me that you came to know about all those constitutional processes to pass a bill and the opposition that usually comes while fighting to get a bill approved only after becoming the CM. And so only you left the post for bringing change in a larger scale, India. You have such a great think tank comprising of some genius people like bhusan ji, yadav ji, didn’t they counsel you? Or was this decision the outcome of those intellect brains? Didn’t you think of the people of Delhi who had bestowed their hope on a new comer like you rejecting Harshvardhan ji’s clean image and popularity? Now with what hope people will vote for you? You could have stayed as the CM of Delhi, bring some reforms in the capital and the next time you would have been the strongest contender for PM. But no… you wanted it all this time…

Left parties came up as the third front in the name of union. Union? What kind of union? Admit it, after the election, one by one out of you will be joining this or that party (helping them to gain majority). By joining I meant getting sold for ministry or for filling your locker. Please don’t get angry….

P.S

2014 elections, we have so many PM candidates and so many promises…. But can anyone of you answer me when will I stop seeing hungry bellies seeking for food and breathing their last, failing in the battle of their search? Answer me and my vote will be yours for sure. Don’t tell me that you provided us with “food security bill”. It is one of the hollow bills which were made just to make poor Indians lame and entirely dependent on the Government. 

We want people to become self sufficient, not beggars begging for free food.
I have asked my question. What is yours?
Ask your question and try to find out who is going to answer you before you cast your valuable vote this time.

   

AN ODE TO SEAFARERS

                                  

It was the year of 1986. I was the mate officer in INS Vikrant, the air craft carrier. Since 15^th August was approaching fast, all were engaged in preparations for a grand celebration. Musical rehearsals synchronized with rhythm of waves were a treat to the soul. The rehearsals proved exciting enough to give goose bumps to every spectator. Our ship was heading towards base when suddenly we received a message that a merchant ship has sunk near Vishakhapatnam due to a fierce storm. Within minutes all the aircraft squadrons were alerted and a search operation started. Aircrafts and copters circled and hovered around the area, but spotting any human body between the roaring blues, opaque lather and challenging storm was far too difficult. Rescue operations ran round the clock, but there was no clue of any sign of life. After exhausting two days when almost all our attempts went waste and the search operations were about to call off, we received a message at night from one of our search parties that they spotted a body floating in water. A rescue team with few helicopters rushed to the spot quickly. Huge spot lights were focused on the sea to spot the floating body. It was found that the person was alive; he was waving his hand. Then a helicopter lowered and dropped a rope to the person, rising up and down with giant waves. After several futile attempts, he succeeded to catch the rope but was not willing to come up. He was still signaling something which we failed to understand. We didn’t want to lose much time as a big wave can strike at anytime which may drown him away. So we lifted him by pulling the rope.  We noticed that he was holding something with his right hand which slipped out the moment he was lifted. When he was almost half way to the helicopter, a bag full of currencies that he hid inside his boiler suit slipped, flew down and moved with the current.

Atlast he was hauled up and was transferred to our ship where he was admitted in the sick bay. “Christiana”, he blabbered and fainted. After providing glucose and carrying out some primary treatments, he came back to his sense. We were happy to see him conscious but he burst out to tears soon. He was trying to convey us something. In the mean time we received another message that our team had found a bloated dead body of a woman. The moment he heard this news, he started weeping again. He was acting like a lunatic. He was trying to stand up. We held him tightly and convinced him. After few minutes he calmed down but he was crying out the same single word “ Christiana” . we asked him about what happened and he narrated the story of that fateful night, “Cristiana is my wife. We got married only a couple of months ago after having a courtship for over six years.  I didn’t want to miss her in my voyage and she too compelled that she cannot stay without me. So I took her along for sailing. It was our honeymoon trip. Our ship was coming from Singapore with goods and we were heading towards Bombay, my home town. I was in the main engine room when the storm struck. So, I was unaware. When I came up to the deck, I came to know that the captain had already declared to abandon the ship and almost all had escaped except my wife who was lying down holding a piece of broken rod near the hull. I couldn’t find any life jacket . So to save ourselves, I tied the ends of my suit and inflated it up. I carried my wife and jumped into the sea. Using one wooden log, I swam through the storm and massive waves. She was very confident and was responding to me constantly but after a day she turned silent. I was exhausted and she was not good at swimming too. I could see that but I was helpless to save her. I was only encouraging her that we would be saved. She was fighting for her life but at last her body turned pale and she stopped breathing.

-Cdr. K.Ravi (Rtd.)

  Indian Navy

The stern tube was leaking badly. It was unsafe for us to start the voyage before repairing it. So, workshop experts were called to attend the problem. The ship was still in floating condition. They made a wooden staging near the propeller to carry out the repair work. Being the chief engineer of the ship I had to inspect the work. I had to approve before starting the main engine to check the propeller rotation. When I was climbing up the platform to reach the stern tube, where the repair work was being carried out, the wooden planks started cracking. I gathered all my courage and climbed up. But within minutes as I reached on the top, the whole wooden staging collapsed. The steady platform started inclining completely. I was sliding down. I found nothing even to grab on to and hold to save myself. I started screaming aloud when I realized that the violent waves are waiting beneath to take me away. The thought of getting churned by the twisting waves sent sparks of terror through my spine. All the workers were stunned and stood agape. None had any idea of what should be done to save me. All were sliding down with the wooden planks into the sea. The waves appeared like a beast opening its mouth and waiting for it’s prey to fall into it. The salivary glands of the beast were pumping out salty waters and its stomach was pulsating, getting ready to digest me.  Everything was getting dark infront of me, my eyes closed to half mast. I saw my wife and my kids standing with wet eyes far away in the horizon. My dreams were tumbling down. I was about to fall into the sea, when suddenly a small motor boat rushed in. The boatman was an expert. He positioned the boat exactly at the place where I was going to fall and rescued me.

- Mr. Mathew Jacob

   Chief Engineer 

   Merchant Navy

In my thirty eight years of sea service I had never faced such a calamity. Yes, it was such a catastrophic incident that I have never faced in my life at sea. I was carrying out the routine watch keeping, examining and surveying all the marine auxiliaries and the main engine. After checking the two-stroke main engine and noting down the important readings, when I turned and just took a step or two forward, something exploded making a huge noise. The root blower of the two-stroke engine exploded and the trunking burst into pieces. The explosion was so strong and violent that it threw me few meters away. But I was saved by just two steps and few seconds. A few micro seconds of delay possibly could have killed me.

- Mr. Kamlavanan

   2nd Engineer

   Merchant Navy

Sailing expedition was being conducted by Maersk shipping company from Bombay to Goa for Naval NCC cadets. About twenty six boats with cadets hailing from almost all the corners of India participated in that competition. I was in INS MATANG, a safety ship. We were escorting the boats to their destination. It was a very adventurous expedition as all the boats were being sailed by wind and none had motors installed to drive them. INS MATANG is actually a tug ship and we were enthralled with the responsibility of the safety of all the cadets who participated in the expedition. All the boats were sailing smoothly when one of the boats capsized at about 2 o’clock in the morning. The crew slipped into the sea when their boat turned upside down. All the young cadets were drowning in water when we reached at the place of mishap. Our expert swimmers jumped into the water as soon as possible and all the crew of INS MATANG were alerted to carry out the rescue operation. Within few minutes, we pulled all the cadets out of the water and shifted them to our ship. All were saved and there was no casualty.

- Cdr. Gopinath ( Rtd.)

   Indian Navy

Life at sea is always unpredictable, full of risks but the upsurge of the violent waves never succeeded in frightening a mariner from carrying out his responsibility. A mariner tames the fierce waves and makes his way through them. As a part of Indian Navy he fights for our country and when he is a part of Merchant Navy he carries out the trade, leading to the economic development our country. A mariner has to remain away from his beloved ones for months, but he has no complaints. He never complains when his girlfriend ditches him and runs away with someone else. He always values relations, never cheats anyone, remains loyal. Only an understanding woman deserves to hold the pride to be a mariner’s girl. We party hard, dance on the rough seas, stay away from home for months but amidst all this we never forget the person we love, we never betray the person who has faith on us, we never leave the hand which we held once.

WE BELIEVE THAT THE WAVES WHICH CARRY OUR SHIP RACE TO THE SHORE TO KISS THE FEET OF THOSE WHO WAIT FOR US WITH HOPE ON LAND. SEA IS LIKE OUR MOTHER. SHE WASHES AWAY OUR TEARS WHEN WE WEEP…CARESSES US WITH HER WAVES.ALL MARINERS ARE DAMN PROUD OF THEMSELVES OF WHAT THEY ARE. WE LOVE EACH WAVE LIKE OUR HEARTBEAT. WE ALWAYS WALK DOWN WITH DIGNITY.                                  

                                      

                                      I sailed, sailed and sailed

                                      I sailed through the storms,

                                      I sailed when my ship rolled and pitched,

                                      I sailed when my sister got married,

                                      I sailed when my brother got a new job…

                                      I missed onam, id, diwali,

                                      I missed Ramzan and holi,

                                     I missed Christmas, pongal and lohri,

                                     But I sailed, sailed and sailed……….

                                     I was not there when my old sick mother needed me

                                     I was not able to extend my hands,

                                     When my father’s walking stick broke…

                                    Though I gave them huge amount of money,

                                    But I didn’t give them the son they needed…

                                   I was not there with my pregnant wife,

                                   When she was yelling 

                                    and desperately wanted me to hold her hand…

                                  Today my son recognizes me as an ATM,

                                  Knows me by the account number

                                  from which he can draw his fortune…..

                                  But I sailed, sailed and sailed………

Meeting with the futures of India

Meeting-1

Location- somewhere at the back of Chennai central

Passing through hectic streets of Chennai with horrid noises of MTC buses and autos, silly slangy fights infront the TASMAC shops, hotels along the road with hoardings indicating outlandish names, “Samudra view palace” ( though sea shores were miles away), walls with paintings of political leaders riding horses and with swords portraying them as someone not less than super heroes who descended down on the earth as saviours of mankind, food stalls making all attempts to attract customers to sell their stale idlis and steaming sambar and confused tourists dragging big trolleys down the potholed road in search of an affordable lodge, I landed up in a dark alley. That was the land of scrap dealers, hardly visited by any normal person. It was late and most of the shops were closed. But from a distance I saw a feeble light flickering at some corner. I ambled a little distance and saw something interesting which provoked my slow paced steps to gain some speed. I saw a lean dark complexioned man, may be in his mid forties, hammering a piece of iron plate.  Aside him, a small girl was sitting over a pile of card boards, dressed in a sky blue frock, may be her school uniform with few visible patches near her shoulder that had not been mended properly, the plaits of her hair were hanging down and were reciprocating with the movement of her head which played a pendulum infront of a small lamp. I gazed at her for few minutes and discovered that she was studying something and was helping her father too. After her father flattens a plate, she replaced it with next. I went close to her, stooped to know what actually she was reading and found that she was solving numerical from her mathematics book…. I smiled, looked at her for a while but she was not paying much attention.  She may have assumed me to be another customer of her father. She kept on solving the numerical, counting with her little fingers, which was a little dark may be because of those rusted iron plates. I felt a little grieved when I saw those tiny fingers which were meant to work with color pencils and color papers toiling with rust and hammers at this tender age.  Excited, I asked, “What is your name?” “My name is S.Meena, anna”, she replied with a special childish lilt in her voice. “What’s your ambition, cutie?” She chuckled and lifted her head, eye brows arched and looking up into the sky and replied with a blush, “I want to become a pilot, anna”.

Meeting-2

Location- Howrah-Chennai mail

Train had just boarded Visakhapatnam… After a heavy biriyani meal, I was standing near the door to inhale some fresh air that rushes in as the train gathers some momentum, when suddenly my eyes fell on a small magician wearing a tattered white shirt, a brown shorts, a pair of torn school shoes whose sole was opening its mouth everytime he took a step, entertaining the entire bogie with his tricks. He made flowers appear from his handkerchief, showered glitters from an empty box, bringing out the same stick unbroken from a pipe which he turned and bend thousand times. After his performance, he went to each seat with a small box expecting mercy and pity for his few beautiful acts that everyone enjoyed. But to my surprise, those people who were watching him a minute ago were all either deep asleep covering their face with newspaper sheets, became busy on phone or hurried into the toilet as if they had just realized that their bladder was going to blast seeing the kid approaching. He succeeded only in filling the tin box with few coins that made noise, but not enough to fill even quarter of his tummy. Disappointed, he returned to the door and waited for the next station where he could catch another train back to his home. I gave him a ten rupee note but he wasn’t ready to accept it at first. Rather he enquired me if I had seen his performance and accepted the amount only when he was convinced that I watched him from a distance. I was attracted by his attitude and honesty that made me gaze him with more interest. “What is your name Mr. Magician?”  “I am Ravi” he replied and soon got busy packing his bag. When I saw few books inside his bag, I started enquiring about him. He said that he is doing his eighth class in a government school in his village. His father serves tea in trains to feed his family which comprises of a diseased mother and four grown up sisters. That helpless father wants the boy to work to earn something for his family. But he was always very interested in studying and even tops in his class. So, everyday he use to go to school in the morning hour and after returning from school, he gets engaged in his work till evening… I was listening to him tight lipped when the train whistled abruptly, as it arrived at a station. All the thoughts that were mounting in my tiny brain imagining about the struggle he had to undergo each day came to a halt. He got down the train and waved me bye…the train roared again, acquiring speed. I shouted out of the running train, “Ravi, what’s your ambition?” “I want to become an IAS officer…..” he replied with confidence, his eyes were sparkling.  

India is a nation where millions of newborn babies meet their doom in some dirty corner of a government hospital due to the lack of attention and medicines which costs more than their father’s entire month wage. Here thousands of kids, though were made to attend the primary schools with the facility of mid-day meals, sleeps starving the whole night waiting till next day to fetch some food. And citizens of tomorrow dwelling in the dank slums, deprived of proper education and guidance not because government policies failed to reach them but because government educational policies do not act as a helping hand to fill the stomachs of their family… They are forced to strive hard for not for better living, just for survival… Work as domestic servants, work as labors in hotels, industries, constructional sites carrying tones of loads on their shoulders which are supposed to carry school bags and lunch boxes.

This is the actual situation of poverty and education in India, entirely different from that which is shown in the movie, “student of the year”. Yes, here thousands of Indian juveniles do compete, not for any student of the year trophy but for food, cloth and education. Here we don’t find masculine figures coming schools in Mercedes with biceps popping out of their tight branded shirts and gorgeous ladies roaming around in bikinis, but we find malnourished lean boys feeling their stomach with the half boiled rice and dal served at school and the young girls fighting hard to a get piece of cloth to cover their body. The actual situation is ghastly.  

In such a gruesome scenario where someone meets kids like Meena and Ravi, trying to lighten a small lamp of dream in a hopeless community, working hard to tear the dark clouds of illiteracy by their sword of wisdom, he is surely going to get addicted with pride, enthusiasm and inspiration.

During my plights through the slums, I have interacted with hundreds of kids living with a dream of becoming doctor, engineer and administrative officers someday, though in empty stomachs. But the question is that

“Till how long will they fight for their dreams with unfilled stomachs?”

“Will Meena and Ravi ever reach their destination?”

… Till the age of ten…twelve or say fifteen…then, then will they be able to continue their higher studies?  No, I don’t think so….poverty and hunger will gradually squeeze out all the dreams out of their mind and throw them into the dark lanes of future where they have to fight for a single penny. Few years latter Ravi will be forced by his father to take the job for the whole day leaving his school. After some days he too will forget that he ever attended school and liked to study. His dream of becoming an IAS officer will soon disappear into the foggy horizon of a dark future. And Meena…our aspiring pilot will be forced by her father to marry someone who can take care of her entire family. She will cry, shout and protest but will finally acquiesce to her father’s decision. Just a year after her marriage, our future pilot who wanted to fly high will be pulled down to the earth by the weight of her swollen belly that will be carrying the desires of a 

self-centered man of this patriarchal society.

Educational policies of the government should include proper attention to the kids and their families. Economical upliftment of their families can drag more juveniles into the schools and make them take education seriously. Along with mid-day meals, provisions for supper should be made; packed cooked food should be given to them at the end of the school time in afternoon. Along with the primary education government should start focusing on higher studies. Though primary education will make difference in their life but helping them to pursue higher studies to fulfill their dreams and come up as skilled professionals in different field is very essential. Primary education can never help them in getting a white collar job that will result in the development of their family status and shaping of the next generation which is going to follow them. If government really wants to make its educational policies effective and bring changes in the long run, it should start working out on higher and professional studies of young Indians rather than imparting only the primary education, enabling them to write their own name to the most and either rendering them unemployed or working as a daily waged labor.  

P.S.  let’s take an oath to help millions of kids like Meena and Ravi achieve their goal. Let’s be a part of their struggle. Many of us lead a better standard of living. So we don’t realize how lucky we are because we have everything we want. Graphs and studies show that literacy rate is improving every year. But let’s wake up… let’s start reading between the lines of the study statics. A vow made to help atleast one of such kids who lives in optimistic dreams of professional jobs and respectable standard of living, when we start standing in our own legs may give renaissance to another generation.  

Kids like Meena and Ravi always makes me feel that “INDIA IS SHINING”. Hope to meet Pilot Meena and IAS officer Ravi in future…..             

                                                                                                                                                

 Amit kumar singh

PLEASE KILL ME....PLEA OF A FEMALE FETUS

PLEASE KILL ME........

.

I wish my birth was my choice....

My mother was lying on the operation table, under a green blanket, screaming loud in pain. She was keeping on requesting my papa not to kill me but he was not giving ears to her helpless cry. He was consoling her that let her get rid of me and they can have a son soon . In the mean time doctor arrived and analysed my mother, pressing the upper stomach slowly. I realized that in a few minutes I am going to meet my doom.  I could hear the clings of surgical instruments kissing each other..weapons preparing for my infanticide . I started shivering inside my mother’s womb. I tried to escape away but the umbilical cord attached with my mother never allowed me to. The moment doctor started the operation, trying to insert the speculum; I tried hard to crawl away deeper inside. I squeezed myself, wrapping my tiny legs and by burying my head between my hands. I was crying. My two month old home was submerged completely with my tear. The evil doctor was surprised by the unwanted outflow of water. He was demanding for more cotton to soak it. But how could I tell him that it was not any of his new medical phenomenon of which he was not aware of or not anyone of his new discoveries that he could use as his next research, possibly but those are my tears that I was shading incessantly from inside in pain and fear .“Dear, what happened, why are you so afraid?” God asked me. “They are going to kill me and I wonder what my mistake is?” I asked dolefully. “It’s not your mistake my child. Humans always fail to interpret my gifts..”, god replied. “Stop boasting yourself, I am going to die before seeing this world, before seeing my mother who conceived for so long and you are blabbering some nonsense about human nature.” I started crying again. “Ok...but u must stop crying baby” God replied. “I can’t …..I want to see my mother. I want to see this world.” I lamented.  No one understands other than God. He presented me one hour to see the outside world. . Suddenly a small plastic tube entered, almost reaching me and the machine, aspirator was started….

Few hours later I found myself outside. I looked at my mother who was lying on the bed. She was looking as charming as I had always imagined. Her watery eyes were speaking how much pain she had to go through such a traumatic phase of losing her own part... I wanted her to take me in her lap, embrace me affectionately and feed me with the divine milk. I too wanted to touch her, curdle in her lap and grow up holding her tender fingers. But the train of my thoughts halted when I was wrapped in a poly bag. I shouted loud but perhaps it was not loud enough to reach the hard shelled human ears. I was then thrown into a river along with several more exterminated friends of mine. Few fell inside the water and few on the bank who became a time meal for the stray dogs. I was floating, running my eyes to flash every fruits of this wonderful world.........

Suddenly I saw a newspaper too floating beside me.  The headline said, “SIX YEAR OLD GIRL MOLESTED AND LEFT TO DIE”. I was dumbfounded for a moment. Then I started to read the entire news which said that the dead body of a six year old girl was found in an abandoned building. After medical tests it was found that she had been molested and was then murdered. Police investigated the matter seriously and found the culprit was none other than her own uncle. I was jolted and sudden unusual chillness gripped me. I wondered how anyone could rape a six year old girl. I started flowing with the current again…..

After sometime I got stuck in a wooden log floating in the river. I tried my best to escape but I was helpless. In the mean time I heard two women talking at the bank of the river while washing clothes. One woman said that Mr. Rout murdered his wife. When the other woman inquired the reason behind it, she replied that since the girl had not brought the entire dowry that they had demanded, they killed her barbarically. She also said that they had set her on fire and bribed the police inspector who changed the murder into a mere case of accident. I managed to escape and started flowing again with a heavier heart. It really surprised me that human beings value money more than life and a husband who is ought to shower love on his wife is killing the same for dowry...

The waves of river were carrying me far and far. I was passing through mangroves, enjoying the greenery when I suddenly  heard a screaming . I stopped there and tried to see through between the trees. Soon I found a half naked girl being surrounded by few brutes. Some of them were showering lewd comments on her, while some were trying their level best to undress her while few others were laughing at her doom. Suddenly one tall fellow came forward and tore her dress to make her completely naked. He was acting like a raving lunatic and was laughing madly like anything. The poor girl was crying loud and was trying hard to hide herself with every bit of her torn cloth that she could find lying scattered around her. She was shouting for help and requesting those beasts to leave her, but none of them hear her plea. Within no time she had been raped, one after the other, each one of them was thrusting over her. She was screaming in pain and was bleeding profusely. Few of the bastards were busy shooting her naked video and few were teasing her by dropping lit cigarettes over her naked body. After some time her body turned cold, hand and legs were stretched , the finger tips bent and  her eye lids downcasted to half mast. She became unconscious failing to withstand the pain and humiliation.It felt like I had been struck by a bolt from the blue. White rage filled me. I tried to kill them all but I was helpless. Now I understood why my parents were trying to kill me. I could do nothing except weeping.

Oh God !!! I beg before you , please kill me. I don’t want to live in this patriarchal society where girls are tortured. They will never understand that my birth is not my choice. When I can’t withstand this world for not more than one hour, how can I survive here for my entire life? PLEASE…PLEASE KILL ME….

"ACHA KIA JO MUJHE MAAR DIA,

ANE WALE TAKLIFON SE JO BACHA DIA;

KYA HOTA JO MAIN BADDI HO JATI,

KISI HEWAN KI HAWAS KA SIKHAR JO BANTI,

ACHA KIA JO MUJHE MAAR DIA……

KYA HOTA JO MAIN BADDI HO JATI,

RASTE PE CHALTE HUE MERI JISM KI NUMAISHEN HOTI,

MERE HUSN KI BOLIYAN LAGTI,

SHADI KE NAAM PE ME KHARIDI JATI,

SAB BAS APNI HAAT SEKH KE CHALE JATE

PAR MERE DIL KE CHAALE WAISE HI

HARE KE HARE REH JATE…….

ACHA KIA JO MUJHE MAAR DIA."

please save girls... don't let them to cry...they are your mother, sister , wife and friends.....save them if you think you are human..

india in my dreams

                          INDIA IN MY DREAMS

I gladly received few guests from the other side of the border. I gazed at them with a soft contended smile on my face. They too snuggled up against me and hugged me tightly for the reason that we were meeting after years , years which were hard to remember , the date which I had torn from my calendar page , broken the hour glass to bring the time to rest  but the separation was inevitable. India and especially , I was destined to evident the doom , a curse for the fate of my nation. I offered them to sit and we spent a blissful evening together. My wife delightedly lightened the tandoor in my courtyard and my mother helped her in making delicious parathas for our beloved guests.

Ting tong (calling bell rang) I woke up , startled, searched for my guests, but no one was there ,  my house was empty as it was from years. The tandoor in my courtyard was as cold as if fire had not touched it from a decade. I looked at the portrait of my wife hanging on the wall , asking me to wipe the layer of dust deposited over it.…..it was a dream , I realized , it must be a dream. I could still feel the drops of tears those were falling on my hand when I was dragging my sister out when few beasts set my house on fire , the wailings of my wife and my old mother are still echoing in my ear. I don’t remember if they were Hindus or Muslims who burnt my house , I didn’t even care to know who they were or to which religion they belonged . All I know was that many people of my village died as the wreckage blazed , I found my burnt naked wife with the pieces of her sari sticking all over her body forming blisters who died just the minute i saw her lying under the bed and I couldn’t find my mother and sister both. Even after so many years no one dared to jump the iron fence drawn on the breast of the huge nation; no one tried to erase the agreement made on few mere papers which decided the fate of the nation.

                   -  A page from the diary of a person who had seen the partition of India in august 1947.

If suppose there wouldn’t have any such separation and India would have been standing, like it was prior the vicious blow of partition

There would have been eight continents in the world. India would have added a number to the count of seven continents on the world map;

Political leaders of what now we call, Pakistan and Bangladesh  would have been roaring for the development of our nation , shouting in the parliament of India for passing some bills either as a member of ruling government or as a part of opposition , conducting peace marches , anti corruption rally over each state of India;

We have been visiting  the tourist spots like Lahore fort and Badshahi masjid of Pakistan and lalbagh fort and sixty dome mosque at bagerhat in bangladesh  as we visit Tajmahal,  charminar, India gate , etc. We wouldn’t have required any passport or visa to travel, a simple bus or train ticket would have been enough.;

                                " mili baat karne ki ajadi ,vote dene ki azadi,

                                  

                                  lekin kab milegi mujhe sarhad ke uspaar 

                                 mere bichde hue bhaiyon se milne ki azadi.

                                 azadi to tab hogi , jab me sarhad par, uspaar ke 

                                 doston ke sath football khelunga , mere bhai ke piche 

                                 cycle pe baith ke border ke paar ghumne jaya karunga......." words of a 18 year old boy 

staying in a village near the border.

India wouldn’t have witnessed four devastating wars , namely the first Kashmir war in 1947 , 1965 , 1971 and most recently the kargil war of 1999 which cost thousands of brave soldiers to both the nations.

INS Shivalik ,INS mysore , INS Vikrant would have been sailing parallel with PNS Shah jahan  and  PNS tipu sultan for the security of india. Jaguar , SU-30  would have been flying with JF-17 Thunder of Pakistan and YAK-130 and Nanchang of Bangladesh in the Indian sky.

Kapil dev and wasim akram , sachin tendulakar and sohaib akhtar would have played for the same team , team India. Indian would have been the most strongest cricket team and teams like Australia , west indies would have never dreamt of winning even a single world cup;

There wouldn’t have been such a big issue when Sania mirja married sohaib mallick of Pakistan. Infact there would have been numerous marriages across the border.

Muslims would not have been considered as a minority group in India. India perhaps would not have ever witnessed Hindu Muslim riots which had always splayed the shades of blood on the face of India.

India would have been the largest democratic secular republic which values human relations , love and peace above any  religion in the true sense and not just in fake speeches of politicians and the essays we write in schools. Try to make India a place where love is valued , not the mere religion of a person because life is far more valuable than any religion and remember one thing when anyone is killing for the shake of his religion , he is killing his own own god and his own religion in the true sense.

“ Dum hai to akash me lakeer khinchke dikha,

Be phikar udte hue parindon ke par kat ke dikha,

Kya  dum dikhaya tune do bhayion ko juda kar ke,

Dum hai to banti hui jamin ko aur ek baar milake dikha”

 HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY.

                                     BE A TRUE INDIAN TO CELEBRATE THAT