A bowl of hot clam chowder with a certain Ms.Brown


The pale crescent moon hung on the ash laden sky, even the usually tranquil night was brimming with the prospect of idiosyncratic souls sparking a genesis. All great stories of acquaintances usually begin with boy meets girl but this one is about two women meeting and their journey, trust me this one is way off the charts. 

The black leather seats on The Beast were heated and sunk right into the road; it embraced the highway and glided with the speed of wind. She drove that vintage Mercedes fiercely like she was a part of the mechanics. The chilly wind outside rushed to touch us but broke down on the clear glass windows, misting my view of the outside, not that there was much to see on that small dark highway. The incoming traffic from the other side flashed a light on the massive diamond on her petite finger and refracted the light in my eye. It was beautiful and went well with her completely black attire for the day, matching the time outside. 

We pulled into the parking, cracked a couple of gravels against the vintage tires and stopped only centimeters away from the small wooden board announcing the name of the place, ‘Lenny’s’ as they fondly referred to it. As I stepped out in the sharp December air of New Haven, I could feel the blood draining out of my face, it was cold! We stood in front of a massive double door and asked for a place to sit. The rather unamused hostess showed us into our cozy wooden booth. I slid inside waiting for the conversation to begin. The car ride had been oddly quite.

The waiter interrupted and asked for our order. Carole smiled at me and asked me if I have a preference, I indicated none. So she ordered two bowls of Clam Chowder and some crab cakes. On went our conversation. Carole asked me where I got the bravado to fly solo across the pond to be there, she was partly amused with me. I was 24 and talkative, it was a long night of knowing each other. Me twenty four and she some six decades older to me, it was one of those one in a million strangers from two different continents meeting stories. It was extraordinary.

I can describe Carole in two words- Vintage Jazz. Yes, I can picture her and still don’t have words, which is extremely rare. Some people have a very harmonious but impactful existence, she has that gift, those symphonies just working together like a Nat King Cole song. The way of life for older generation in India is majorly only passing time after their retirement, she was a refreshing change. Carole was living the life back then and even today.

She plays golf and wins championships, attends lectures in Yale University, extensively carries out philanthropy in the third world countries and the USA, goes dancing in galas, drives like the speed of wind, a concerned patriotic person in these times and above all she is a mother of three amazing daughters. I learned a lot about how to live life, every step of the way. She was always so down to earth and loved me dearly that it left a lasting impression on my mind. The kind of affection I was unused to and I felt eased in even in that very new house and environment.

In Branford, Connecticut, I walked into the most beautiful home I had ever seen. The house was right on the water and you know how obsessed I am with beaches, it was heavenly. Carole showed the way to my room with a little balcony which embraced the ocean outside. My stay with her was of four days and some of the most peaceful ones. We sat down on the kitchen counter with coffee or wine depending upon the time of the day to talk about the changing culture, intentions, religion and politics in the world, it opened the door wide open for my brain to learn and be sensitive to so many alien elements, it made me a little astute to other sensibilities. 

I would deem a visit to Connecticut fruitless without n number of trips to New York to see the wonder that the city is, really. So one fine morning, we dressed up (Carole in her usual black) and off we went to New York to see a broadway play, she was an avid investor in broadway shows and wanted me to experience the enchantment and power of those shows. The Phantom of the Opera was in its usual Majestic Theater on the W 44th street in New York. It blew my little mind; the quality of production, the song, the actors and the sets, I loved every bit of it and it was a big tick on things to do before dying! 

I was introduced to her grand daughter Grace who is my age and such a wonderful soul. We spent the New Years’ at the Quinnipiack Club for a tranquil dinner and an elaborate breakfast at another seaside club in Connecticut where I brought together all the people I had come to visit. Alan, Mary, Carole, James and Jenny, all of them under one roof, I can never forget that day, it was a spectacle!

I left her house with an oddly unsettling feeling. When the distance is as huge as New Delhi and Connecticut, you don’t know when you will see the person again or if you will ever see them again, quick secret, I did.

Through the years, the love and fondness between us grew. We wrote to each other and talked over video and phone. When I decided to get married, I knew I wanted her to come but it seemed like a daunting task and a distance too big to travel for her. I had made a friend in Grace and she decided to represent her grandmother at my wedding. Boy, was it fun, I can’t speak on her behalf but we did try to make her do every Indian tradition possible including performing on stage to a Bollywood number. So much joy and love.

After missing each other even after being in the same country repeatedly, we finally met again last year when I decided to make, my now grandmother, Carole meet my husband at her summer house. The car ride from Orlando to John’s Island in Florida is beautiful and we enjoyed the scenic route to reach a rather Spanish residence with white walls and wooden windows. The sound of our car announced our arrival and I stepped out to see a beaming grandmother with arms wide open to welcome us. It was so wonderful!

Anuj (my husband) and Carole bonded over the diversity of their backgrounds. His take on things interested and puzzled her.  I took a glass of wine and sat in the corner to watch the two of them talk. How I had been planning it for years now! While we gossiped over things lost, a rather enormous puzzle kept Anuj busy throughout the night.

We all have had some or the other kind of profound experiences in life. They were never lived alone unless it was something spiritual. A greater part of all of us are fragments of other people’s lives and their impression on us. A shooting star can only do so much if you don’t ask for the right thing in life and that’s also true for every person you meet. Our mind more often than not isolates us like an island. We feel we are trapped by uncertainty in the form of black ocean on all sides and there is no coming out of it unless there is a metaphorical ship which decides to inhibit us. That ship is the memories and relationships we cultivate. It is not only imperative that we let that ship dock but also let it be a permanent resident. 

I was attending a wedding in a small village in Kerala back in 2013 with Alan. It was a day wedding of one of the FFA’s beneficiary’s daughter. The whole atmosphere was thick with excitement and happiness, everyone was scattered around under the glimmering strings of silver making a roof outside in the bright pitiless sun. The family was in tears thanking Alan for the financial help to make that wedding even possible. A deep sense of indebtedness and gratitude flooded their face. All they didn’t understand was that the sponsor was sitting thousands of miles away in her home not knowing the magnitude of impact she had on their lives. This was one of the countless examples of how one by one Carole helped and changed lives in my home country without an ounce of selfish rationale.

As I sit and write this, I ponder over the decisions I took in life. The outlook for each decision as simple as the last, to invest in ‘living’ life than owning ‘things’ to leave behind a priceless legacy. My relationship with a woman who lives half her time in Branford and the other in Florida is inexplicable and yet it exists. It not only exists, it thrives on love and respect. 

At this point, you must be wondering how I really know Ms.Brown! My meeting her was in the stars hence it was partly written by the astrologer in my life, Alan. I can not thank him enough for this like so many other things. I lost my grandmother when my dad was a young kid, so its safe to say I never really got to know the unconditional love of a grandmother. Carole filled that void by telling me one day that she is like my grandmother and there I had it, the most beautiful relationship that I had missed out all my life.

Today, when I find something randomly just lying on the floor in my house, it reminds me how she puts her phone and cigarettes literally anywhere on the floor or the stairs so that she doesn’t have to ‘remember’ but only ‘stumble’ upon them. Its crazy if you think about it but it makes complete sense in our lives. 

And it all started with a hot bowl of Clam Chowder on a frosty December night……..

Aaye, Thehre,
Aur Ravaana Ho gaye
Zindagi kya hai,
Safar ki bat hai

A dole of broken serendipity


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The rustic leaves on either sides paved a way and led towards the hurtling stream which jumped over the green moss stricken pebbles strewn all over the place. It was a beautiful spot with orange and pink leaves, the water was clear and the sound of the gushing stream was so pure and so serene that floating on the water made so much sense. The first feet went in the water and a sudden rush gushed in the entire body like a volt of current. The second feet came in a second later as the whole body slipped inside the icy cold water. The soul felt calm and just when it was starting to feel ethereal, a sudden fear gripped the body and it started to drown. You can’t float on water after all, the mind thought.

Jhanvi woke up with a start. She opened her eyes in fear to a room full of colored boxes and glittery paper all around. The dream depicted her current state of life. She felt her heart drop once more when she realized where she was and what day it was. A 13 year old by virtue may only look forward to some pancakes or meeting her friends on a sunday morning one would think but the bondages of human society transform a plain simplistic picture of life into a mosaic.

13 years ago her parents weren’t happy to see a girl being born in the family. A girl came with responsibilities, a girl came with a cost and above all a girl wouldn’t carry their family name forward. Her mother got busy trying to conceive another baby, a boy, and bore her second child when Jhanvi turned 1. The whole family was ecstatic on the arrival of the family heir. The little child of hardly 13 months was neglected as though she didn’t exist. The love of a mother could be questioned but not changed which prevailed only for her son. All eyes, all hands and everything was for the son.

Jhanvi reminded them of the cost her marriage would bring to them. The sooner she is married off, the better, her father always thought. A small child of age 5 or 6 didn’t know love because it never touched her. She always watched from the corner of the room when her brother lay between her mother and father while she stood in a corner abandoned. It pierced her heart but she only shed silent tears. Her grandmother was the only one who loved her. She spent nights listening to fairytales and slept beside her with a face saturated with dried up tears.

Jhanvi was 13 when her father’s cousin from the other town suggested that its the right age for her to get married to his friend’s son who was 20 and a plumber. Jhanvi’s mother was apprehensive only for a while and gave in to the idea after a little persuasion from her husband. After all, the wedding jewelry was ready and the sooner Jhanvi was married off, the sooner life became free of any burden for them.

Destiny conveniently chose the worst for Jhanvi and her hand was given in marriage to Pushkar.  She was reading Tagore’s ‘Where the mind is without fear’ which was ironic to the situation in her life when her father walked in and announced that she is getting married. Each word stabbed her right in her heart. She protested but in vain. She knew her father’s decision was final and nobody could ever reverse it.

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She stopped going to school from the very next day, why pay the fee when there was no need of education now? Her parents calculated everything and education didn’t fall in their list of priorities when the preparations were in full swing. Jhanvi sat in a corner and cried. Her grandmother tried to relate Jhanvi’s life to her own life and made her understand the sacrifices a girl has to make during her lifetime.

The present day was a horror movie in action. She had seen a small photo of Pushkar and he looked old enough to be her uncle. She was terrified of the very thought of living in the same house as his and yet here she was on her wedding day with no way out of the mess she was in. She could run away but go where? A 13 year old’s vision of the world is limited and her options, zilch.

Her mother forced her out of bed and into the shower. She was immersed in sandal paste and all sorts of things which were yellow and smelled nice to Jhanvi. Her life was a haze right now and she wanted nothing else but a day to comprehend what was happening and what lied ahead of all this drama that was taking place without her consent but unfortunately she was granted nor the day nor the choice to have the final word in anything.

Her henna painted hands were adorned with glass bangles, her head was covered in veil and the blazing red bridal outfit which was bought a fortnight back was put on her. Jhanvi still looked as young as she was, no amount of make up or heavy embellished clothes could hide her innocence or age. The walk from her bedroom to the mandap was a torture and she controlled her tears as a punishment to herself.

Hours later she sat on a bed of a house she had not seen before, a place she didn’t know and a feeling so alien she questioned why she was even alive to do what was about to happened. Pushkar walked into the room and bolted the room. Jhanvi clenched the bedsheets tightly awaiting the horror to unfold. Pushkar came closer to her and forced himself on her. With everything that was left inside her, she gave in. She gave in to a man she hadn’t even seen properly before, she gave in to a pain which made her want to scream her lungs out and she gave up on her life that night.

The murky sunlight filtered through the old frail curtains in the room and hit Jhanvi’s eyes. The events of yesterday had taken a toll on the little girl and although her body still screamed for more sleep, her brain had recalled everything that happened last night and the room came into focus. She saw Pushkar sleeping peacefully next to her. His sight irked her soul. She wanted to run out of the room and out of this life her parents had pegged for her.

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There was nothing to do but to get dressed and greet the hoard of family members waiting for her she thought. A small session on how to wear a saree was certainly not helpful as she struggled to drape it around her slender waist. Jhanvi met some good and some not so pleasant people of a house which was now her family. It seemed that there was an awful number of men in the family and very few ladies. On inquiring she was told that she was the only girl in her house and now she was responsible for all the household chores which was short for a maid.

A week passed and the festivities ended. Pushkar didn’t care much about Jhanvi unless he wanted some pleasure during the nights. Jhanvi cooked and cleaned, took care of the family in her own clumsy ways and braved taunts on being a useless ‘woman’ which she was not; she was merely a girl who used to attend the 6th grade a month back and now she was suddenly in charge of some middle aged men she didn’t even know properly.

Jhanvi was 3 weeks pregnant when she found out about it. Her instant reaction was to go kill herself in the nearby pond but the entire family was ecstatic and it was the most happy they had been since she moved in. The whole atmosphere of the house changed except that her pregnancy reminded her of the multiple rapes that she had endured. The child will not bear a single ounce of love but my endless sacrifices she thought. But the child had become a part of her existence and she had to choose between love and hatred. The innate tendency of human beings is to find a soul just like theirs to confide the greatest, deepest and darkest secrets that they have and when they don’t find that soul, they cave in and become dangerous. Jhanvi had that choice of choosing love over hatred, a choice of redeeming her life and living it with a purpose.

Her struggles were as real as her pregnancy. Her family extended no support, she went through the same cycle of torture each day and Pushkar’s desires couldn’t wait for the baby to come. Some of the days the pain and agony of suffering was so much that Jhanvi considered suicide as the prime choice to end everything but her grandmother’s last words rang in her ears. She always seemed to stop herself.

After months of illness and torment, Jhanvi gave birth to a fragile looking baby girl. The hospital was shocked to see such a young mother and vehemently opposed such a practice. The kind female doctor gave the infant in Jhanvi’s arms and shed a tear. She could read Jhanvi’s struggle on her face and felt a sense of guilt engulfing her soul for not handling them off to the police.

Jhanvi looked into her daughter’s eyes and felt a blanket of happiness enveloping her. She promised herself that her fate wont be intertwined in hers, that her daughter wont go through the agony of a life lent to her by others. Just when the infant started crying, Jhanvi vomited blood and gave the baby to the nurse. The doctor tended to her but the bleeding didn’t stop. In horror Jhanvi saw the bed smeared with her blood, her mouth was not the only source of blood coming out of her body. Slowly the room became a blur and she passed out.

Jhanvi didn’t live to see the baby live to even the second day of her life. Her in laws dumped her baby at her parents’ house and asked them to take care of the liability they were not ready to take since their daughter didn’t live to nurse the baby. Jhanvi’s parents were in a state of shock but more worried about the baby which was now in their charge.

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Jhanvi lay peacefully on the ground. She had a little smile on her face. The smile of finally getting relieved of all the pain that she went through in her small life span on the planet. The smile was for the freedom from the struggles that were yet to begin because she gave birth to a daughter. Jhanvi was free at last and on that unfortunate night; love and kindness died a million deaths.

{The latest Census report on the decadal headcount in 2011 reveals that child marriage is rampant, with almost one in every three married woman having been wed while she was still under the age of 18 years in India.

What is worse is a whopping 78.5 lakh girls (2.3% of all women or girls who were ever married or were married in 2011) were married while they were not yet 10 years of age. The Census data also show that 91% of all married women were married by the age of 25 years.

The legal age for marriage is 18 for women and 21 for men. But an alarming 30.2% of all married women, or 10.3 crore girls, were married before they had turned 18, as per Census 2011 data released on Friday. In a silver lining of sorts, however, the trend seems to be on the decline. As per Census 2001 data, 43.5% of all married women had been married while they were under the age of 18 years.}

Are we sick of Sins or has it become an Easy Way Out?


The Dictionary meaning of Sin is-
An immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law.

fire_vs_ice-wallpaper-960x540Divine Law is described by The Ultimate Power above us- God. What God wants and has written in the law are simple things which tell us to be honest, do good work and small acts of kindness, to always remember God and be a good human being overall. Though it is not much, I and I am sure mostly all of us falter in one or the other way.

The contemporary world has become boring with the same sins being repeated time and again. People have lost the power to judge correctly. The sense of what is right for ‘me’ and what is right for ‘others’ has vastly changed. It is no longer One. Though there are some of us who are trying hard to fight this urge and inspire people to pull off the Black pair of glasses they have put on to see the world, we are fighting a tough battle.

“I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.” 
― Mother Teresa

What is amusing to the said people in power is the growing population of the world and their growing confidence that nothing can be done. Whereas we the people, are always castigating against them and doing nothing. Yes they are not right, but are you doing anything? Aren’t we in the same league too when we are not helping?

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” 
― Margaret Mead

I strongly feel that the society is very biased when it comes to women. Yes there are innumerable days celebrated to honor a woman and yes there are so many people and organizations working to help, but we are still lagging behind. The strong issues like Gender Inequality, Dowry, Domestic Violence, Illiteracy, Safety and so many more to the list still prevail in the society. The Economic Disparity is multiplying so while some people throw away food, some are dying out of hunger and thirst of clean water.

tumblr_m39n47kF401r36j8go1_500_largeWe need  a Colossal Spark to change everything.

We just can not sit back and comment. We have to start working at the grass root level to bring a change. The Aam Admi Party has proved this theory for us. If you are determined enough, the magic broom will work to clear off all the Sins perpetuating in the society right now.

Each and every one of us are responsible for how the society will turn out in the next decade. I work for some charities and I am fighting a battle every hour to get people what they deserve. Some easy steps that we can take and I always keep in mind are-

a) Never throw away food and feed it someone poor. It is not a tough task to find some hungry women and men on the road if you are not from the first world countries.

b) Contribute a part of your income in building either a new grass root organization to make families self-sufficient or become a part of an already functioning society.

c) Volunteer your time. Your education can be used to educate so many others. Go on tours and talk to people to understand their grievances and  know how much people suffer and lack even basic amenities like water.

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Tanushree

d) At least in your area, ensure that there are well-lit streets so that women feel safe. I have done it in my area, it’s not that difficult.

e) Eliminate Gender Equality starting with your family and extended social circles. Discuss and take necessary actions like inspiring people to see that Girls are as important as boys.

f) Ring a Bell has been the most effective to stop Domestic Violence, so never hesitate to ring that bell when you sense something foul.

g) Buy some medicines and donate. There are so many clinics which distribute free medicines to patients. Help them in this easy way.

h) Try to visualize yourself in the needy’s position and you will feel deeply. That will generate a spark which will never fizzle out.

“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.” 
― Albert Einsteintumblr_lfkpxlBeo91qco8sqo1_500_large_large

Don’t fall into the trap of Easy Solutions and Sin. They never pay off in life. Only ‘I’ can bring a change and many such enthusiasts make a ‘WE’. I count you in Now 🙂

And she lived Happily ever after……………


trial bay gaolThe sun rays poured in through the small holes of the wasted wooden walls of the house. Rani squinted her tiny eyes to curse it. She changed her side and tried to sleep. Sleeping was never a problem for Rani. She could sleep for hours and never felt too awake. She was right in the middle. Two elder sisters always looked after her. She had one younger brother and the youngest was her darling sister Tanya. She was strategically placed in the middle of the family sandwich.

Rani was 12. She lost her mother while she was giving birth to Tanya. Rani was 6 back then and for her Tanya was a part of her mother just like she was. She made a point since then to take care of her. They ate together, braided each other’s hair and became inseparable. The elder sisters looked after their siblings and took care of the house. They were under their father’s protection who did odd jobs like going to a construction site or riding an auto. It was not enough to feed the family.

Rani spent a large time of the day standing in front of the mirror to pose and to just look at herself. She knew she was better looking than her other sisters and she was proud of how she looked. Of course she could catch those obvious signals from the colony guys who kept staring at her and threw chits to propose her. Her elder sisters always told her to stay away from such jerks, Rani smelled jealousy.

images (1)Her world revolved around her looks and Tanya. She liked going to school but not for the education but for the food she got to fill her stomach. Her petite appearance was growing worse with the amount of food decreasing each day. The monsoons were the toughest when the gaping holes all over their small wood house served entrance to the gushing rain water. They took refuge in the adjacent, more ‘sealed’ houses of their neighbors who only welcomed them once in a while.

One day their father came home beaming. He was smiling from ear to ear. The children gathered around him as he sat on a mat kept on the soggy ground. After a lot of interrogation he finally announced, ” Rani is getting married!! The boy has seen her several times and he wants her hand in marriage!”. The children were shocked and couldn’t make sense of what their father was saying. If he was marrying one of them then why not the eldest? “because our Rani is the most precious girl ever, he loves you darling”. Words failed her and she didn’t feel too sad. She was happy to leave this dingy place with sorrows. She wanted a better life but how could she leave behind Tanya? Life has its share of tough choices and this was one of them. Rani said yes, yes to an underage marriage.

Her hands were hennaed, her head covered with red veil and she was sent off with her ‘husband’. Rani was 14 that time. She reached her new home after travelling for 24 hours which was strange because her father mentioned that her husband saw her everyday and loved her. She didn’t say anything.

Rani’s husband Pankaj was brutal with her. He made her cook, do all chores and exploited her sexually at night. Rani cried but couldn’t do anything about it. She was threatened to be strangled to death if she complained about it. She lost all hope and accepted it as her fate. It took Rani 6 months to register the fact that she was sold to Pankaj. It was no figment of imagination but words spoken by Pankaj when exploiting her one day. She broke down completely. Meanwhile, Pankaj vented out all his frustration on Rani. He hit her, made her touch hot things, blamed her for his failures and used her for his physical needs, he raped her every night.

9 months later she gave birth to a baby boy. Pankaj was elated. It was the first time when he smiled at her and gifted her a new dress. ButHonest happiness was short-lived for Rani as soon as the boy turned 1 , he was sent away to his grand parents who lived in a village near by. No amount of tears and pain melted Pankaj’s heart. The village where Rani lived was peculiar. There were no girls or even wives. She hardly came across some women. But she never found the guts to ask anything. Instead she guessed herself.

The village regarded the birth of a girl as a bad omen and killed them as soon as they were born. Female foeticide was very common which led to a chronic problem, no girls. One of the reasons why Pankaj had to buy a wife. There were no girls for marriage.

Pankaj rarely worked in the fields and always dashed off to see his son, the primary reason for which he married Rani. One night he brought some friends over and asked Rani who she thought was the best. The question was weird but she couldn’t dare, ask any question so she pointed out to one of them.

Pankaj sold Rani to him. Anuj, the man who bought Rani married her for the society and she was taken away to yet another place. She wanted to end her life but she couldn’t muster enough guts do so. She was 19 then. Rani was repeatedly raped by Anuj and his friends. He wanted a child and some money which his friends gave every night. 7 months later Rani gave birth to a premature baby girl.

That was when Rani breathed the last time. The last time anyone saw her. She was beaten to death by Anuj and her friends due to the shame of a girl being born. Maybe it was for the better, a cursed life is far more worse than death.IMG_1247

An Excerpt from a Newspaper which will justify the whole story-

NEW DELHI (Thomson Reuters Foundation) – Police have arrested seven members of a trafficking ring that kidnapped young girls from the Indian capital and sold them as brides to middle-aged men in other parts of the country, the Times of India reported Tuesday.

The four men and three women were arrested following an investigation into the abduction of two teenage girls, who were rescued from an area in southwest Delhi.

“Police said the gang charged rich landowners in (the northern states of) Uttar Pradesh and Haryana between 50,000 rupees ($921) to 100,000 ($1,842) for a girl, depending on her age,” the report said.

Activists say tens of thousands of girls and women are trafficked in India every year, largely for domestic work, sexual slavery and increasingly marriage due to a lack of women in some parts of the country.

A strong preference for boys has resulted in decades of aborting female babies, leading to skewed male-to-female ratios in northern India and rising incidents of rape, trafficking and even “wife-sharing” – one wife shared amongst brothers.

The Lancet medical journal says up to 12 million Indian girls were aborted over the last three decades, resulting in a ratio of 914 girls for every 1,000 boys in 2011, compared with 962 in 1981.hqdefault

The Rich Slum


She walks like the wind and speaks like a bird. She looks timid and physically challenged, but to her she is the queen of her slums. She passes along the huts that are dripping with water from the rain last night. Ladies are sitting outside their huts on the wet ground to get some fresh air. Black smoke from some huts fills the air indicating the preparation of lunch. Everyone recognizes her and pass her an occasional greeting. Her parents named her ‘Shehzadi’ , which means ‘the queen’. She loves to play with the little plastic bag that she carries around wherever she goes. Her little frock has innumerable patches and her hands are full of broken stuff that some rich kid had thrown away in trash. Her eyes are full of hope for a better future; her heart tells her that these days won’t last long. One day she will be able to see the ‘blue sky’ above which is a dirty shade of grey always. Some people of her locality blame the nearby factory for this mayhem but mostly and also Shehzadi know that it’s an indication from god that they are doomed in this lifetime for a sin committed in their previous birth.
Shehzadi doesn’t understand a lot of rituals that are practiced in the slums but she blindly follows them because they are passed on for generations together, of course she sneaks and fulfills some of her wishes., one of them being, owning a pair of footwear. Her grandfather tells her that it is a family ritual that doesn’t allow them to wear footwear, not knowing the real reason behind such obnoxious rituals-poverty. The people living in the slums have convinced themselves of living in the dirt and follow practices that provide them escape from the harsh reality. Shehzadi’s mother is a talented woman, she weaves excellent charpais and makes beautiful pottery products but the men in the house don’t permit her to do something that could earn two square meals for the family. Apparently if a women works for money, the whole family is condemned and doomed for the next 7 births. The slum is rich and prospering with cultures that were both prodigal and unacceptable. Of course Shehzadi is ambitious, but that is it. Even she doesn’t know the way out of this ash filled envelope that surrounds her. Every day she sees someone or the other die of coughing and spilling blood from their mouth. She gets scared but she has no choice.
Her father promised her to send her to school, but as his health deteriorated he couldn’t fulfill his duties of providing two square meals, so there was no question of any school for her. Her mother blew into the small pipe each day to light up the chulah to make food, the ash from the wood and coal was making her asthmatic and Shehzadi sensed something foul.  She tried to find something in the garbage that could make her mother better. Each day she rummaged the garbage to find something to eat, to find some medicine for her mother. She had no knowledge of any medicine, but she had heard that eating those little pills improves people’s health. In that quest to find something pragmatic she found a pair of slippers that had two large holes in it. They were like ‘gold’ to her. She wore them and jumped around, she couldn’t feel the rough ground, she was wearing a pair of footwear. How amazing the feeling was. She kept it in the plastic bag she carried .
One afternoon a girl came in the slums. She looked like an angel. She was educated with curious eyes that looked and inspected every hut that she passed. She jumped around the water that was coagulated everywhere. The filth and the squalid environment made her sad. She talked to everyone around. Some people were apprehensive, they thought she had come to tell them to empty their houses and leave. This was turning into a regular trend in the area where large slums were converted into big industries. But she meant no harm. She came with a smile on her face and talked to them about their problems. After some time they understood that she was from a NGO and wanted to help them. Shehzadi flocked around the girl and demanded opening of a school for the children. She listened patiently and left.
Everyone is still waiting for her to come, she promised a better future, a school, some jobs and some happiness that could save them from this hell on Earth or as Shehzadi always called it  “The Rich Slum”, the slum which is culturally rich and prosperous!

Arrested


The clouds are turning into a slight shade of grey, they are preparing for the first rain of the monsoon. The winds have seized, giving way to the clouds to shower their heavenly drops. I can see all that through the bars in my cage. I can see the other birds flying in the silhouette of the sky. I wish I could have enough power to break these bars and fly free into the oblivion. Life was different some time back, I was free and always ready to conquer the next big cloud.
I am white and I love being white. I don’t like to look like an amalgamation of some colours. Being white is high maintenance but I manage. I loved flying higher and higher in the sky never knowing when to stop as the air near the land is full of dust and pollution. Flying is my passion. Some of my friends just sit around the poles and wires chit chatting away. I say fly. But recently I had stopped going above the buildings and long trees because I lost the love of my life when he collided with the fast-moving aircraft. That broke me and I started living cautiously for my children. I kept my kids near me. Mostly I was the one who arranged food as I didn’t want my kids to work until I was alive. I preferred some water and some grains, rest I saved for my little birdies….
It’s tough being a bird. Every monsoon my nest falls down due to all the rains and the hailstorms. My kids always got scared so I hid them beneath my wings. Bit by bit I used to build my nest again. The worst fact was that, every now and then the tree on which we lived was cut down, making the whole bird community homeless, too much deforestation. I always kept a track on the next tree I would live on, I stay on the safer side, always. I always relished the summers, the sun is up for the maximum time and the sunshine made me optimistic, my birdies played around too!
I visited a house daily. The lady at the house was benevolent and gracious. She kept a reservoir of water and a plate full of grains for the birds. I was the first one to know about the place and I took my kids along. But later the place became crowded with other birds. I stopped going there but I just peeked some times to see the lady.
I was a free soul back then and a rare species too. I never knew what the future held for me. One night when I was sleeping with my kids, we were captured and kept in cages. I got separated from my kids. They screamed and cried but it had no affect on the cruel people. They sold me in a cage as a result of which I am trapped here. Sometimes I feel like banging my head and killing myself, I try that too, but in vain. I used to fly around and look around for food, that food was worth eating, now I always have a plate full of grains for me but I don’t have my kids around. I don’t eat it.
I felt beautiful because no bird looked like me, I was the solitary bird of my community. But now I feel cursed to be white. If I would have been black and colored like the rest of them, I would be with my children and free!!
I can see the sky, I can feel the winds passing through my wings but I can’t reach out to the sky. The life bestowed upon me by god is cursed, although he gave me wings to fly but he snatched away my right to spread these infernal wings……

                                                      STOP CRUELTY TO ANIMALS!
IMAGINE YOUR LIFE IN A CAGE. IF YOU CAN’T LIVE IN A CAGE THEN WHY KEEP THESE INNOCENT ANIMALS ARRESTED FOR YOUR MEAN MOTIVE OF ENTERTAINMENT AND BEAUTY!!

Installments of Childhood


His pear shaped eyes had a hint of mischief all the time.His nose promised an autocratic charisma with lips that leaked of innocent words and lies all the time.Ali loved to play Gilli-Danda  with his peers.A boy of 5 he spoke and knew more than any other kid in the village.His childhood was transpiring merrily in the clouds of dust in a small village. He lived in a battered hut which leaked profusely in the monsoons.He ate meagerly as there was nothing to eat.An ailing mother waited at his abode,coughing and spilling drops of blood everywhere in the ambiance.Her end was approaching near.His father, a man in his forties, appeared more worn out than the two of them due to the hours of labor he put in each day.His face was wrinkled with a mixture of anger and helplessness.His persona reflected sadness, apathy and frustration.His life was slipping out of his hands like sand in a closed fist.He was not able to provide even two square meals to his family.His wife was dying and his son’s health was deteriorating by each passing day.He had nothing to his rescue. Meanwhile Ali lived a carefree life, playing Gilli-Danda in the crooked dusty paths of the village as his father couldn’t provide him any sort of  education.His life was good until that night.The night his amma(mother) passed away.He wailed, he tried to wake her up from her sleep but nothing happened.She wasn’t moving.He simply couldn’t comprehend what was happening.Why were all the villagers gathered at his home?Maybe they don’t understand that mother’s fast asleep, he thought.Ali’s mother was cremated the next day.
His father lost all hope and left his job. Now there was nothing to eat.It was monsoon and the hut had big hols in the thatched roof so it was close to sitting outside in the rain rather than inside. Ali was starving so he went to the nearest garbage dump to eat the left overs.Meanwhile Ali’s father became weaker and started tormenting Ali mentally and physically,blaming him for his failures. Some days passed  and Ali’s father met a man.He was a suited up man with polished skills.He offered a lucrative deal to Ali’s father.A deal that he couldn’t refuse.The man was paying 5000 bucks to Ali’s father to take Ali with him.When Ali’s father inquired the nature of work,he got “labor” as an answer.So he “sold” Ali to the man. Ali pleaded and cried in front of his father.He dint want to leave his home,his village.But as fate had it, he was whisked away to the lights of the city.
He was awestruck and fascinated, never before had he seen so many lights.He was not alone, he had five more kids to his company.But the fantasy was short lived as they were dumped in an old building.A building with innumerable kids of a various ages.They were all getting trained.At first Ali was perplexed, but soon enough the devil revealed himself.
All the boys were getting trained to become beggars.Some were made blind forcefully while some others had their hands cut too to look  like ‘authentic beggars’.That was not all.The girls were forced into prostitution and were made to wear skimpy outfits. Soon enough Ali got lost in the crowd of those captivated kids, who were beggars by the day but lived their childhood in the nights that got lost in the oblivion.A childhood that Ali got only in installments.

Human trafficking is an age old phenomenon and thousands of children are rescued each year from the grips of this monstrous approach to earn money.Even though some are rescued, there are still millions of kids who are trafficked each year for the business of flesh.Body parts are sold and girls are forced into prostitution.Small kids whome we see at red lights are the kids who need to go to the school each morning and not some red light area.
The UN has released its latest assessment on human trafficking and the numbers are appalling. The report calls for changes in crime fighting priorities and coordinated efforts between agencies and governments. LOS ANGELES, CA (Catholic Online) – The numbers may shock you.

NUMBER OF VICTIMS AT ANY GIVEN TIME ….2.4 MILLION
PERCENTAGE OF VICTIMS EXPLOITED FOR SEXUAL SLAVERY ….80 PERCENT
NUMBER OF VICTIMS EXPLOITED AS FORCED LABOR (SLAVES) ….17 PERCENT
RATIO OF FEMALE TO MALE SLAVES (Including Children) .
TWO OF THREE ANNUAL VALUE OF HUMAN TRAFFICKING IN DOLLARS .
$32 BILLION AVERAGE COST OF ONE HUMAN SLAVE ….
$90 USD ODDS OF RESCUE ….ONE CHANCE IN ONE HUNDRED

So if you can help please do.Come forward and help these little kids.Don’t be afraid, be responsible!

The tear shedding Nature


Living in the heart of nature and witnessing it’s destruction every minute by some cruel mindless demons(can’t call them humans) for a little money makes my heart cry.

The season of june is supposed to be rainy.Heavy rainfall is witnessed with lush green forests and millions of millions of species.It’s very cold,so cold you can’t bear the chilly winds without a pullover.This is what happened every year.

But this June,the June of 2012, not a single drop of rain fell on the water deprived land leading to the extinction of innumerable species,drying up of water falls and water spots,flowers and grass have vanished and tress are suffering immensely too.Adding to this is the fire started by some selfish and mindless creatures which has been making the situation worst.

If you really look into the whole matter,then it’s huge.I am just talking about a small hill station called Kausani in India(picture shown above), but there are countless other towns and cities which are witnessing this environment back flip.It’s slowly leading us towards the end.

It’s really high time that we do something about it.Be it on a small level but just contribute something towards the planet you are living on.Believe it or not if we do not stop the Global Warming and the never ending natural disasters that have been happening in 2012 then you will be responsible for making the prediction of the Mayan People come true!

LEts NoT Let THe EaRth DESTROy uS


the title might be sounding a bit awkward to you..i just read it in a Paulo Coelho book..n i loved the whole idea….who is not aware of the global warming and the threat that we are causing to earth..but why not just flip it around and see it from some other angle……
we also are aware of the millions of rupees being donated every year in the name of ecology..the politicians all standing on a platform to win the next elections on the gun point of global warming..why don’t they see it the other way round??that’s because then they will not be the noble ones saving the earth..
in simple words when we actually see the earth from space we are aware of it’s vastness and we as earthlings are nothing in front of it….lets say that the earth has some limits n if we try to overstep it , it will simply erase us from its scene….
we are not the ones saving the earth..we are taking steps, steps that are not enough to save the human race…,we have to understand that earth is not dying but the people living on it…….
so take the first step towards decreasing the depletion of earth because you are the one in DANGER…..