Few days ago, I was watching television and came across a beautifully directed advertisement of Kaun Banega Crorepati? (Indian adaptation of Who wants to be a millionaire?) What I saw was really painful (Yes, it was). A man’s sitting outside a maternity ward expecting his wife a baby. a lady doctor comes out of the ward and congratulates him on becoming the father of a girl child. the man gets disappointed and saddened by the doctor’s statement. As the girl grows up she gets avoided and ignored throughout her life by her father and family. Why? Because she was born as a Girl. Just after that there was this advertisement of Crime Patrol saying: “Is being born as a girl child, in our country, really a curse?” [I can discuss this sentence in many ways than one but as of now I’ll go with the flow.]

I pressed the mute button and threw the remote on the couch. I asked my father, sitting next to me, “Dad, is being born as a girl really a curse?”

“No. Nothing is a curse in this world. Its onto you how you take things.” He said.

“I mean, C’mon dad, you know what I mean. Tell me why does it seems like the female population is insecure? They get abused both physically and verbally? They get raped, murdered, molested and dominated by the male caste? Why is it that when a girl walks in a gallery she gets stared by hundreds of evil eyes? Why do girl child gets killed after birth and why there is this thing called ‘female foeticide’? Can’t those people see that girls are also human beings as same as we boys are? Isn’t it all inhumane?” I asked. (Not actually asked, it was more like a speech.)

He could possibly judge the tone-of-a-rebel within me. He simply smiled at me and said, “Son, you’re too young to understand this adversity. But I must tell you something…” He quoted, “… You cannot simply sell mirrors in the city of blinds.

What he said was worth giving thought so I couldn’t argue much after that. Here I won’t write in the terms of statistics, surveys and calculations as I’m very poor with numbers and graphs. This is a very easy to read simple article which, I think, will force you to think about the topics I’m discussing.

Let me tell you something; When I was born, my mother wasn’t happy to know that her second child is also a boy, because she always wanted a daughter. But you see, my parents did not kill me. They love me I’m still alive, happily pressing keys of my keyboard. What I want to say is that you cannot challenge the God. You ought to accept His ways. After all He’s the one who writes your destiny. If it’s a girl, then enjoy and celebrate. You’ll eventually learnt to love her and one day it’ll become your habit.

For a minute we can accept that a man wants a son as his child but the question here arises why do their wives agree with them? What causes them to pray for a son? One one hand women are fighting for their rights and reservations and on the other hand the same women are engaged in female foeticide. I must not say this but the truth is that most of the doctors who practice this unfortunacy are themselves females. Most of the people involved in such activities are well educated people form high class society and developed ares. One can now clearly say that being knowledgeable doesn’t mean being wise. Wisdom comes from brain, heart and soul. Not from money, calculations and accuracy.

If you’re a girl and reading this, then I salute you for you have lived through the conditions a male cannot imagine; and yes you’re always beautiful and lucky to be born as a girl. Thank your parents that they allowed you to live this live.

If you’re a boy and reading this, then I request you to respect girls and apologize to them if you’ve ever hurt them. I’m not getting biased, it’s just that I know the consequences of hurting a girl and not apologizing. I know you’ve hurt a girl, in one way or another — we all have.

One last thing: “Mubarak ho! Ladki hui hai!”


Happy Independence Day???

Giving a break to my unconventionalism I’d like to share something on the 65th Independence Day of my country, my mother, India.

Today, 15th August 2012, is the 65th birthday of Indian independence. This statement truly justifies the present state of India. Our country is now aged; it is toothless, retired, corrupt, full of shit, its own people don’t take care of it and….. And there’s much more to say but I can’t.

Gandhi saw an independent India, Bhagat Singh saw a young revolutionary India, nehru saw a democratic India, Ambedkar saw a constituted India, Rajiv Gandhi saw a developed India and I see a sold out, aged India.
Today we talk about the bravery of those people who spent each and every cell of their body for the independence of this country, but we ourself don’t want to become one of them. Why!?

When we talk about ‘Indian Independence Day’, a school going child smiles, a mother who lost her son in war, cries. An army man salutes the tricolor, a mobster mobs with high collar. A common man reads his daily newspaper, a bussiness man deals with his official black papers. A five years old ragger learns to count and a politician checks his swiss bank account.

I see a sold out and a still selling India. Each day politicians are selling our nation to each other in the name of scams, donations, election-publicity, fraud, bribe. Not only politicians but every single indian is selling his nation with his own hands – bribe, commission, dowry. Need I say more?

Though it is a very sensitive topic, anyways I’m gonna comment on it in one line: What kind of independence or freedom is it which gave birth to the Hindu-Muslim rivalry?

Independence means the state or quality of deing independent. Yes, we are independent, we’re free, we even have to of our rights in the name of freedom, but the question here rises that – What are our achievements in these 65 years?
I know there are some, but, then what about: numerous scams? 3G in the age of much more advanced technology? 1 lakh car nano which was never sold in its so called price? IITs — which, every year, produces high quality engineers for USA? Reality shows? Scanals? Murders? Rapes? Molestation? Women emopowerment? Metros?

We’re independent and free on papers, but every Indian is mentally boxed by the feelings of insecurity, recession, terrorism and corruption. God bless India.

The question is… Are we independent and free?
If yes, then what is independence?

Prologue of a new Beginning

I’m an unconventional writer, an atypical writer or just say an abnormal writer. I write for my own sake. Not to please anyone, not for none. I don’t know how to, where to and when to use nouns, pronouns, verbs, adjectives, etc. All I know is how to sew words and make a beautiful garland out of it.

I work off-the-wall and I like off-beat working people. My archetype is very difficult to find. I, myself haven’t yet found any. It’s funny. You can take an angle from this: “When the world is busy with comparing notes on ‘technology’, I write about a bald cat.”

Oh! I just realised that all the time, here, I write about myself and what I write is quirky but not absorbing. De facto, this all comes out candidly as I’ve spent a billion of my priceless words on those people who once belonged to me and the few, who never did. I’ve got to charge them with a balance sheet for the damage and tell them that the future’s holding revenge in its Gucci.

So, people, now onwards your eyes will get a nice treat of soothing delicate words and my opinion, or say thoughts, on many topics with a pinch & punch of science, truth, love and life.
(you’ll never know what it’s going to be.)

Burden of Words

I came into writing at the age of 11. It was a drug for me and I, an addict. As compared to most of the children of my age group I was pre occupied with the sense of literature and humour. It’s always fun writing about the things that excites you, the things you can relate to, the things that belongs to you, the things you love.

I wrote about love, life, me, myself, my girlfriends, my family, the society, surroundings, mother nature, the sun and the moon. I wrote short articles and stories, and now, they are all lost. Lost in the midst of the never-born past and the never-ending future, rashing cars and flying planes, chirping birds and dying trees. All lost. I don’t know where.

Present, always, is something that don’t want discuss about. I don’t have time to discuss about the past. And can’t say anything about the future. Everything is discussionless.

Nobody ever criticised me. Even if they did, I never took that as criticism. The critics can only encourage me to write something more better, and better. It was always a game; a never ending game. Since then I’m my own critic. People can become the reason behind my writings, they can be my writings but none can certainly affect my writings. It’s mine, and something that none can steal. The sense of positivity and optimism was and is always there.

May be this makes me different from others. I look different, I talk different, I think different and I act different. Some are jealous of me, some envy me, few love me and most hate me.
I enjoy all the flavours of life. If this what people call a burden then I can carry it for many more years, years and centuries.

Volatile Thoughts

Millions of thoughts speed up in my mind but they often run away before reaching to my finger-tips. I don’t know where. Sometimes I just sit in front of my laptop, stare at the blinking cursor. It irritates me, it aggravates me.

So I just close my eyes, gaze into my own brain, try to channelise the anxiety, the brainwork — the thoughts.

Is it the sun who rises up or is it the horizon that goes down? Is it the love that created us or is it us who created the love? Is it our eyes which sees all what it sees or is it the things around that lets our eyes see them as they want it to be? Are we form this planet or this planet is from us? Why the left is not the right? Why the black is not the white?

More I explore my inner-self, more complicate it becomes. I know it’s flustering but I believe that one day it won’t be the same. Time washes the all the hurdles in our lives; be it good one or bad.

I love my life as it is.