Anonymity

He sat in his room all day long

Amidst the scattered pages and his books

Always listening to that same old song

He cared neither about the world nor his looks.

Woke up with the first beam of the sunlight

Every single day, challenging his own might

Never had anyone, had the courage to step in there

Neither did someone ever, even thought to care

Kids of the colony were scared to death

With stories about his lost might and wealth

For those who had tried to get inside

said, “It is like going to a dark hill side”

He never came out of the room

Be there a flood or a doom

He kept talking to someone unknown

Nobody knew who that soul was

And one morning, as the sun rose

Everything happened the way it always did

Yet, something was different, something missing

Still I could not figure out a thing.

Years later, as I passed by those lanes

A sudden jolt of curiosity engulfed me

I somehow wanted to know about that old man,

Though no one really seemed to know

Looking for some solace, I strolled in the cemetery

Reading the random names, who once, lived.

In a corner, it stood distinct from all others

For it had no name engraved, nor any dried flowers.

Probably, the old man passed away alone

With no one to hold his hands as his heart gave in

No one would ever know who he used to be

No names, no story, and absolutely no legacy.

Neither was I a consanguine nor an affine

Yet drowned in melancholy and yet something divine,

I sat there silently in the grave of anonymity

Trying to fathom life and its (lost) dignity.

---Sriram

Reminiscing with Water Balloons

Today, as I was walking back to my room, I got hit. And not once or twice, but it felt like there was an entire platoon of army kids waiting for the vulnerable, unarmed and unguarded people like me who walk lost in their own thoughts unaware of the surroundings. And it was only after the almost after being hit almost 5 to 6 times totally drenched and yes in a little pain as well, that I realized that Holi is just round the corner. For all those who have not really experienced it, please do not be fooled by the size of the balloons which appear to be small and harmless. Even the kids throwing them are small and mostly cute little Punjabis. But the balloons and the kids happen to be way too smart and certainly not harmless. I literally ran, saving myself from the other planned attacks and everytime they missed, I was so damn elated. After all I still could manoeuvre and save myself from those little goons. J

As I reached my flat safe and sound, I couldn’t help but remember those graduation days. As a matter of fact, it is not the kids alone who are into this tactical balloon game. Even the adults enjoy it as much as these kids, only under the camouflage of those innocent faces of their kids. The 3 lovely kids, staying right opposite to me are a little lazier than the others. They do not take the pains of filling in the balloons and so use a Pichkari instead. After all its much more efficient when it comes to wetting people. And surprisingly, they have a strict code of conduct as well! I heard the eldest among them scolding his younger brother when he tried to wet a man on the scooter. The only ones they target are the people on foot or on rickshaw for they are safe.

I couldn’t help but smile, for we had our own code of conduct. No balloons to be wasted on Men. Not even a single one. I was a blessed soul to have a flat, 3 sides of which had girls hostel. And I need not say anything about the DU girls for it would take me away into some dreamland... Almost 10 days before the real Holi, a lot of us used to gather at my or friends place with hundred of balloons. Those with not so good target practise were made to fill them while rest of us had one sole objective. To wet as many beautiful hostel girls as we could! Hitting men and those on vehicles was a strictly prohibited. And just like all the platoons needed a safeguard as well, we too had ours. After all, none of us want to be caught by the Delhi Police. So there stood 2 female friends for no one really bothered to complain when they look at girls standing and laughing on the top floor with balloons in their hands. And the best part was, the girls rarely used to mind, except a few weird ones who always had a reason to crib and complain. After all they never spared us when we strolled down their hostel. And we never complained either. J I guess, some things never do change.

---Sriram

International Women's Day: A day alone isn't enough

SIGMUND FREUD once remarked, “The great question that has never been answered, and which I have not yet been able to answer, despite my thirty years of research into the feminine soul, is “What does a woman want?”

Probably, if only Mr. Freud would have been born a century later in the era where, radical feminism of all kinds seem to have been growing and setting in the internalized character of women, he would not have had to remain in this unsolved mystery and the pandemonium surrounding the enigmatic nature of women won’t have existed to that intensity. Of course the enigma as propagated by the literature and mass media will continue to exist for it has its own capitalistic manifestations in helping the bourgeoisie. And so would for those who claim to be treating depression among the so called poor innocent male members of the society caused by the so called shrewd, self serving female members. Pardon my generalization, for I too stand firmly against it, but at times I take a little liberty to be a hypocrite. After all it’s still a debate whether it is a virtue or a vice. More on that later.

Now, the reason I quoted Sigmund Freud apart from the fact that he is one of the most amazing thinkers, I know a little about, today happens to be International Women’s day. Call it a manifestation of patriarchy, self defence mechanism with a flavour of my ignorance, the first thing I did was to Google. I wanted to know, if there’s an International Men’s day as well. To my pleasant surprise, it does exist. If I recall, it is 19^th November.

Now, ignoring the reason for the initiation to have such a day, which is somewhere related to all the socialist movements and the revolutions in the Western Europe, I rather pondered about its relevance and affectivity. Is it relevant? Yes, it is. Is it effective in terms of serving the intended purpose? I am not sure.

Talking about the effectiveness of this day, there are certainly some beneficiaries. One of them without a doubt is the bourgeoisie, who always stand to gain with commercialization of any kind of feelings or for that matter even a possible movement.

I am not very well versed with the affairs all around the world so would abstain to venture in that. However, taking about the Indian scenario, it certainly is very much in need and relevant. And I am not just thinking about the general oppression of the incapacitated rural women and the hardships they suffer ranging from violence to exclusion. Neither am I, focussing on the urban sophisticated women who are busy climbing the corporate ladder on one hand and still subjected to domestic violence and very much a part of the society involved in female foeticide. Case in point, we have south Delhi which happens to be one of the most developed regions and have one of the lowest sex ratio and increasing cases of female foeticide. And, hence the only change or the so called development and liberation is from infanticide to foeticide. Probably we all know about it, even if we might not be aware about its intensity. But what concerns me more is that we know it and yet we are not even close to a visible mobilization. Or else, we would have had a pan India women’s movement by now.

To all those who call themselves (radical) feminist, I only have one question. Do you expect to achieve any kind of equality be it financial or social until you do not stop bashing the men folks. And more than that, do you even think about the majority of the oppressed who happen to be domesticated in the rural hinterlands and have no idea what does the word feminism even means. Or is it just a page 3 chaos where, you look forward to sit on the highest corporate throne built on the corpses of the existing family structure and the very foundation of the social fabric. And for those intellectuals, who find the family the biggest oppressor to the cause of women, ask the mother in laws about their significant roles in the dowry deaths or of all those mothers who knowingly or unknowingly teach all the socially construed feminine values to their girl child. And lastly, is the liberation of your womanhood possibly only at the cost of the total chaos at an individual family level? For your actions, do not give me any hopes either.

You really want to bring a change.

Stop treating the children just as boys and girls. And I do not mean it only by sending both of them to school and letting them work and inherit property. It is only a symptomatic cure and just waters the roots of capitalism without actually addressing the real problem. The very first gender divide comes in the family when a boy with tears is laughed upon as being a little girl and the girl with short hairs and dirt on her face after a dual is asked to be only elegant and soft. The only real difference is how one does it. Totally ignorant families do it with strict enforcement of rules and compulsory domestication of women. While, a little educated ones do it with tact, stores and a book of morals describing the expected behaviour.

It is not enough to show some superficial respect to women on days like this. Would a friendship sustain, if the only time we show it is on the first Sunday of the August? Would a relationship sustain, if the only time we kiss or hug or care for our loved one is in the second week of February? Or is it justified and enough for a kid to respect his parents and teachers only on a Father’s day or a Mother’s day? And imagine how we would have had grown, if the only days we were loved or cared as a kid were our birthdays and the children’s day? It is great to have a day to express one’s sentiment on a given day. There’s isn’t any harm in that except that a few die hard Marxist would degrade it to mere commercialization. (I did too, but I am no way a Marxist. There does exist some element of truth in what they say).

But the fact remains, only a day isn’t enough. The present condition is a manifestation of centuries of misguided thinking and actions and which today is still deeply engraved in the minds. It is easy to learn new things. But it is a herculean task to unlearn first and then imbibe new ideas in practicality and everyday life. We need more than a day. We need more than an organisation. Probably, what we need is a new thought new idea, a new plan and all of this to be internalized by the 1 billion Indians. Yes, it is not women alone who can, or rather, should fight the fight. It has to be a fight for the mankind by the mankind.

आखरी सांस

ये काले बादल, ये घनघोर घटाएं

दिलाती है याद उस हसीन रात की

ये कड़कती बिजलियाँ, ये बहती हवाएं

भूलाये न भूल पाता, बातें उस आखरी मुलाकात की

हम तो समझ बैठे थे प्यार को भगवान्

दे दिया उनको, अपना दिल अपनी जान

मगर देखो उस खुदा की खुदाई

सज़ा में मिली तो सिर्फ दर्द-ऐ-जुदाई

नादान थे हम जो ये समझ बैठे, कि

हमसे जादा प्यार न कर सकेगा कोई

मगर क्या पता था इस नाचीज़ दिल को

ऊपर वाले की मर्ज़ी से, कभी जीत न सका है कोई

कहते है हर रात की सुबह होती है

हर दर्द की एक दवा होती है

मगर ऐ खुदा पे भरोसा रखने वाले बन्दों

एक सवाल था, क्या होगा जवाब आपका...

जब खुदा ही छीन लेता है ज़िन्दगी की वो हर रौशनी ?

जब अँधेरे और रौशनी के बीच का फर्क, फर्क नहीं रहता

और जब रौशनी की वो आखरी किरण,

अक्सर ज़िन्दगी की आखरी सांस होती है

---श्रीराम