About Her

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Little Moments Of Bliss is a silhouette of a feeling that resides in my heart. A software engineer by degree, a writer at heart, and a teacher by profession, I'm all that I never thought I would be. Pretty pictures,a poem that blatantly refuses to rhyme, a text from a deranged friend, a sudden gesture of love, its these little things in life, that matter and sprinkle bliss. Grace the couch and share a cuppa!

March 19, 2012

My Favorite Song.

With the sweet morning breeze of fresh spring, you sway along;
Making my feet, fly and dance with a desire so strong,
I wish, eternity shall last until eternity;
For it is with you, that I belong,
And your heartbeat plays,
My favorite song.

 PS - Inspiration credits - Lil Wayne


March 16, 2012

Art of Love.

My heart takes flight, into the dusky sky,
My gestures don't say it, but I want to comply.
Be my friend, I can't stay apart
For I am afraid,
Thy love is thy art.

PS - This is my first attempt at writing a poem, please be courteous enough to give me your genuine feedback.

March 14, 2012

I am She.

This post has won the second prize in the Stayfree's 'Time to Change' contest.

Note : Every word written in this article is close to my heart because I, like every other girl, have been a victim myself. Forgive me if my views hurt you in any way.

She was groped in a train when she was 11. A middle aged man pushed her aside while entering the toilet and squeezed her butt. She ran to her mother and never left her side for the rest of the journey. The pain vanished in a couple of minutes but the after-effects did not.

The bus was crowded, little could she do about it. She got in somehow, amidst the valiant touching and staring of the five men standing on the footsteps. A round of hi fives is heard. The old man couldn't keep his itchy hands in his pocket and made sure he pressed himself onto her whenever the driver applied the brakes. She got out at the very next stop. She bathed thrice and felt like she'll never feel clean again.

She was walking her way to the gym and two boys in their late teens brushed by her side on their bike. One of them even took the liberty of touching her breasts inappropriately and then smirked in the delight of the new found information about how 'cool' he is. Before she could understand what just happened, they were out of sight. She turned around and silently headed home, her body felt violated.

She was felt up her school skirt in lure of the conductor pretending to help her get down the bus. Not a word of this was ever spoken to anybody.

In the close confinements of the auto rickshaw, he manages to get a hold and starts masturbating while shamelessly staring at her skirt. Her whole being seethes with anger and she shouts at the driver to stop. She wants to yell 'my dress is not a yes', but follows the road that is always taken and walks away. He smiles and counts upon doing the same to the next passenger. He won. And she lost. Again.

Sometimes I am cruelly put to death as a foetus and when I do get to live, I am expected to tolerate such filth without uttering a word of it to anybody. I have the qualification to earn for myself, I am raped and I am burnt. I am a woman of independent India.

I am She.

She burns with rage when the authorities refuse to walk that extra mile to help her and blame her assumed provocative clothing. She becomes the talk of the town, is discussed over kitty parties by wealthy socialites while sipping their tea, the paparazzi sleeps outside her home for days only to get a statement that can be blown off in the next morning's newspaper.

No man ever marries her and she is served the bitter taste of brutal injustice.

Call me a feminist or a sexist if you must, but being a girl in her early twenties who is not allowed to go to the nearby chemist shop all by her self for the fear of getting marred or molested by a stranger, I don't have a better argument for you. A man once waved a 500Rs note and signaled me to get into his car when I was around sixteen, I felt utterly humiliated and started walking faster towards home. Even if I step out in a burqa covering every inch of my exposed skin, I would be humiliated if those perverts catch a glimpse. None of the incidents mentioned above have been created by my mind, they are well read and make me feel ashamed of being a citizen of such a country. Complaints are written, signed, investigated and then filed away to bite dust. In severe cases, the victim is blamed and boycotted off the society. Nothing that I write here would make a change, until we get out there and try to raise a voice against it. Their temptation exceeds their sanity, but we have to provide proof that ours doesn't. Eve teasing has become a frivolous term now, it is more of sexual harassment, filthy remarks, lewd comments and obscene gestures, be it verbal or physical. Any woman who steps out of her private sphere does not invite this upon herself, as it is quoted. It is not common anymore.

Keenan Santos and Reuben Fernandes are my heroes. Despite the apparent quiet of our youth, they fought against this evil act in Mumbai and were stabbed to death by the monsters. At least they had the heart to stand up and put up a fight. But it also plays with a lot of minds when they wonder will we also meet the same fate if we raise our voices ? After the recent twin rapes in Gurgaon, the police issued a notice telling women to stay indoors after 8pm if they don't want to get raped. It sure drew protests from across Delhi-NCR (or should I say National Capital of Rape ?) but to no avail.

If I could be the change I want to see in the world around me, it would be getting rid of this menace called eve teasing. As and how I'm growing up, I realize and understand why my father over-protects me. But I really wonder if that is the only solution ?

I very well know that a lot has been written and spoken about eve-teasing and sexual abuse, and a lot will still pop up on this contest as well, but since this contest came up at the eve of women's day, I wrote about the issue that is closest to my heart. I can never forget the humiliation that I felt when that note was waved at my face.

All the best to all those who are participating in this contest.

This post is an Official entry for Stayfree's Time To Change hosted by IndiBlogger.

Visit the Facebook page for further indulgence into Stayfree's campaign to bring about a change.


The Street Vendor [55Fiction #7]

He knew it would be a beautiful day since the moment his first customer said Thank You to him. Never had a person spoken to him with such kindness. Although he couldn’t sell as many sweet-potatoes as he did everyday, content resided in him.

Those two little words filled the void of respect inside him.

March 11, 2012

In Greed, They Trust.

Having grown up in a close knit joint family, I came across all the pros and cons of living with ten more people strolling around in my home. There was love in our abode all throughout the day's length. A pleasant atmosphere, younger siblings, grand parents, first cousins, lame jokes, picnics and what not. I haven't holidayed much outside north India and my home used to be my favorite place in the whole world. Meals were served, shared and eaten together, and not just happiness, sorrow too was divided amongst all so that the one it aims at doesn't feel the heat of it. My over protective parents nurtured my childhood well and I grew up to be a fine yet sensitive girl, with no clues of any dirt in this world, whatsoever. Little did I know, I was looking forward to witnessing some in my own happy paradise.

One very fine sunny morning, I heard some heated exchange of arguments between my father and my uncles. It was an unpleasant shock to me because the general ambience of our home was quiet and happy. My mother kept me glued inside the four walls of our room because I was at a very impressionable age. Within a fortnight, they became a sad routine. They might have been budding for a while but very innocently they escaped my notice. I was a kid back then and couldn't make much sense out of what my ears caught. Tension grew with each passing day and took over my heaven. Indecency crept in and there was little a girl of thirteen could do about it. A few years later, our family separated, not in a very amicable way. I have never been instructed not to talk to them if I run into them somewhere, my parents are sensible enough to let me make that decision for myself, but the way it all happened has made our bond sour. I miss being the wise elder sister to my little sister, but we never exchange calls. My older brother hasn't heard my voice since the day our families grew apart. I haven't spoken to them ever since, except once at a relative's wedding.

Things got ugly and relationships failed God's testing times.

Own your money, don't let it own you.

Money took it all away and hid it, well. It was a lesson well learnt. There are many beliefs and ideologies that are blamed for the evil present in this world, I lay mine on money. It has made humanity lose its taste and warmth, relationships have become fragile and take no time in falling like a dead leaf.

If I could change one thing around me, it'd be to start treating people for who they are, and not for how heavy their pockets weigh. I know this might give birth to a debate in your mind but money does dominate our minds and thoughts in an ineffable way now. It even spells power for some. If only human mind was capable enough to spot the difference, so to say the least. I'd prefer wearing a smile to a Prada, if that is what it takes to be the change I want to see in others. Politicians are sucking the country dry just for a few extra piles of money in their lockers, wealthy people look down upon their employees like they're alive because of their favors, sisters curse, families wish ill of each other, this whole world stinks of greed. My father is a very modest man, he always says 'Respect your sub-ordinates more than your superiors, no matter how loud your pocket shouts'. And I now realize, it speaks volumes about a person's character.

With no alternate perspective in mind, I enjoy the various luxuries money provides, I love my cellphone, my jewellery, my clothes, but devouring them at the cost of losing my loved ones and my dignity is something that will never make sense in my world. I don't reserve the greatest praise for the saint who has attained spiritual blessedness and abandoned all worldly pleasures, that would be a hypocrite act because I myself will never do so. Indulging in a little pleasure every now and then doesn't hurt, but doing so by robbing somebody else off their hard-earned income and stabbing your brother in the back might. I'm no preacher and I'm not perfect but a little sense and love can give you all that greed and money can't. A good night's sleep blesses only those who earn it, not those who steal it.

I am not saying its easy to walk away from lusting over money, but not letting it get to your head would be the key, and even if it does go to your head, have the nerve to fight it away.

March 2, 2012

Maybe, someday...

At some certain times in our lives, we all do things we swore we'd never do, become something we never wanted to be, desperately try to stop loathing someone you know you'll never like. What next? Ashton Kutcher might pompously philosophize 'I'd rather do nothing than do something I am not passionate about', but do you and your dignity stoop low if this isn't applicable in your life? Habits. They conspire against you. They make you scrawny and feeble. You like getting habitual to people, situations, and songs. You get so comfortable in your skin that you have to scratch it off to make way for change. It might be for the greater good but you detest it. It leaves scars that remind you of happier times.

Growing up is a tedious task. Wounded knees were easier to heal, they say, you understand now, and I know you're not nursing a broken heart. Responsibilities bounce up and down, all around your existence and one sporadic incident makes them realize you cannot handle the pressure. Yet the change keeps on sprinkling little incidents all over your day. You live through them and lose what's left of your tiny little being. A cold beer and an old friend, try to revive you out of your self-induced pain and depression, but who knew, you were meant to drown. You know you cannot break the monotony, but that doesn't stop you from trying. Or does it?

You touch your face and sense a vague sense of pressure like you've put a dozen masks over it. You look at the sky and envy its job of smiling down at the world during the day and resting under the stars at night. But you're sure; it would trade anything to get rid of it. Monotone bites it too. You run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. They say, take life as it comes, what if you don't want to? Rules. You cannot be rebellious now because you're not 16 anymore. You get a new wardrobe and streak your mane a golden brown. The color doesn't compliment you but you're satiated with the knowledge of it being different and new. You're not an amateur, I know that, I believe in you, even when nobody else does.

They love and they care, irrespective of what you decide to do with your life. Yet, somehow, you feel obligated; you think you owe it to them. You don't know how to accept too much love and care but you do complain when they don't come along your way. You hear people complaining and ranting about severe headaches that might explode their heads, and until today, you did not know how one felt like. It's like somebody has been paid to hammer your head at regular decided intervals, and there is nothing you can do  to stop it.

Someday, it'll all start making sense and all the missing pieces will fall into place.

You'll sleep like a baby.

Maybe, someday...