Bangles

Prologue:

This piece talks about feelings of a woman who is ill-treated by her husband. She lives in a society where being a woman is a curse. I won't tell you more. Read on and find yourself. Maybe write something about this piece in the comment column.

Today was just another day-the same routine, the same thrashing. Though, it was a new weapon today. He used a hot iron. The ice soothed the burn, though my soul still burns. The usual also happened; he pulled my hair, slapped me, and raped me. I don’t remember what he said to me after burning my bosom. But I do remember him mentioning that this was his new way of showing his love to me.

I don’t want to talk about that monster anyway.

It was late night. The daughter came to me, with a question. It was both uncomfortable and comforting. She had to see this happening every day. I don’t know if she loves her father or not, she definitely seems puzzled of the customary proceedings of the place. And this she made obvious with her question to me today. “Is my husband going to do same things to me Ammi?”

I did not want to answer her. I did not want to answer her in positive. She is eleven now. Six years from now, she will be a married lady. Red bangles.

I love red bangles. They hide the bruises on my wrist. Twelve years back when I came to this place, I had a different reason to love them. They are so beautiful. I had dreams; dreams where my man loved me. My life is a living nightmare now.

I don’t want to answer my daughter. She is beautiful; reminds me of my childhood days. I was just like her. I don’t want her to be like me.

She sees the monster killing me every day. What if she starts believing it is okay for the man to hit the woman? Good for her. She should know her destiny. But is this her destiny? Oh lord! She is like a flower. She should die before anybody else eyes her. Daughters are a curse.

The mother in law curses me every day. “You are a witch.”

I wish! I would have killed your son in no time then.

So yes, when my daughter came to me, it felt good. I am a sinner to seek comfort in a daughter’s presence. She is not my property. She has to go. She belongs to her husband.

I am hoping against hope, to have a son-in-law who loves my girl. I know it mostly won’t happen. In this land of brutal beasts, God is really cross with girls. ‘Girl’ is a dirty word.

A Blue Moment

These days I have been feeling too low. It isn't winters yet so I am a bit worried as to what brings these blues into my life which otherwise come only in the cold times due to SAD. I have been pondering every night if ‘this too shall pass’ applies to this dull phase of my life. Apparently, a thought also crossed my mind few days back that this moment of blue was not self-invited, rather it was created by certain events, or you could say, certain ways that our lives today go on.

I would in fact say that too much ‘ambition’ could be a reason why we feel low so often. Or is it our lifestyle that most shrimps claim to be the reason behind the ‘unusual depressing times’? In relatable terms, is it about that almost perfect girl who fits into 26 inch denims, and walks in with all that panache wearing Mango, Mac and Mary Kay? Or that boy, who with his uncanny ability to score a 100 almost all the time, is the one whom your parents talk about always? Or that group of yours where your mobile phone looks like the one from the Stone Age? Or those from the family, who, you don’t know how, always know when your result is coming?

My god! The world is a brutal place! At least if we put it that way. I just don’t get why there is an extreme pressure on all of us; a pressure not only to fair well, but to be perfect- with perfect bodies, perfect jobs, perfect paychecks, and in fact with perfect partners. I suppose we are in a generation where we want to create robots, and not better human beings.

Acceptance the word is. Beyond the long spelling, there is a long context I wish to draw your attention to. Acceptance to what, you might ask. I would say, acceptance to everything, tall or short, ugly or pretty, classic or mediocre, good or bad and most importantly acceptance of our own self, which in fact is the most difficult kind. The only thing that stops us from accepting things, living or non-living, is that we judge.

The girl in the short skirt? What a slut. The guy with that female accent? So gay! The lady who negotiates at the neighbourhood grocer? A cheapskate! The man, who complimented you in front of his wife? Such a flirt.

Everyday, as people go places, and meet other people, they tend to form an opinion. We tend to frame people into specific images in our mind, that aren't motivated by any logic. The reason why we do it, is because the reality appears to be like that.

Short and simple, we perceive and believe, not wanting to know the truth. Most say, “don’t worry about what people think. “ I have personally found it impossible. What college I get into, what man I marry, what company I work for, what car I drive, would matter to my aunt as much as it does to my dad.

So our lives are not our own, and henceforth, the pressure, the pressure to be acceptable, to be laudable. No one likes it that way; at least most of us would not. But then why do we struggle every day, to make ourselves more perfect? Or why do we look in the mirror, and wish we looked more like Diaz or Cruise? Most of us are walking on the path of life in a direction taken by majority. We are scared to experiment, scared to not be accepted, scared of the outcome, and scared of what people will think.

I am not excluding myself from the ‘WE’. I found the reason behind my troubled times. Sometimes making too much effort is fatal. You tire yourself, and you still aren't enough. You would never be. There is always a scope of improvement, they say, but to what extent? To what extent do you have to drive yourself, and what makes you ask for more? The fact that ‘more is better’ or the fact that ‘success is all about growth, all about improvement’ ?

This makes me dream of a different world; where no one was ‘obliged’ to be somebody, where imperfections were good, where I did not have to write such pessimistic stuff.  I wish for a life, where your loved ones were happy in your happiness (no, this does not happen in real life).  By the way, I just figured out how to get out of grey- omega 3 fatty acids, dark chocolates (yum), sunlight, cod liver oil supplements and the most important thing of all-connect and create!

I just connected and created something as I wrote this piece (Feeling so much better). You might try it as well as I fetch dark chocolates and flax seeds from the market! :-)

The Best Of Both Worlds

I remember the time when learning proverbs used to be a tedious job for me and my peers."Don't count your chicks befohey hatch." Why does the whole world have to get all metaphorical?  We wondered at the incongruity of our syllabus- the logical mathematics and the illogical proverbs.

Off late, certain events have been constant reminders to me of one such adage-The sun cannot remain behind the clouds for many days.

The sun cannot remain behind the cloud for many days.It shows up once again, brighter than the last time the denizens of this beautiful world saw it;to lighten up the lives of people, to help plants make their food, to let the travelers enjoy their trips, to give light to the moon and most importantly- to retain its supremacy over the world.

It is good to be back on top.After a year of downsides and humiliation, it feels great to have finally proved myself once again to the world. They left no effort in pulling me down; it is implied they needed company at the bottom of the ladder. They thought stripping me off my wings will help them. They crushed me, under their feet, in front of this entire ugly world. There was no dearth of humiliation and mockery, as I went down and down and down....And they were successful too; Paranoia hit me. The mockery, the insulting news reports, the unkind critics-everything happening around heightened the extent to which I was broken, till I was broken completely.

But even God has his own way of being benignant, of mending my broken self, the vulnerable self!
She was beautiful indeed, like a morning bird. Her face radiated peace. Her eyes gleamed; they showed the faith she had in me. At a time when everyone believed my story to be that of a befallen star, she held my hand.

Ours was an arranged marriage.When I met her for the first time, I was speechless. The very Saraswati on Earth! Here was the perfect Bengali girl every Calcutta must have dreamt of! The kohl lit eyes, the melody she created with her Veena, her beautiful lustrous hair, everything! Everything seemed to have cast a spell on me!

And then, an other picture of that beautiful lady whom I saw once back in Calcutta, came to my mind. Not a pleasant one...

I never thought it could happen to someone as chirpy as herself.She breathed life! She was somebody whom God must have created to epitomise the spirit of being! She was the life, the spirit in me. She went away, taking away my soul; gifting me my world-the world of fame, glitterati, the world where I am the sun and the others are the clouds.

I miss her.Even when my world turned upside down, when everything was stormy, she held my hand. And there was a sense of comfort. A belief that I won't hit the ground!That she would save my soul! Now that she is gone, I feel all bare!

Her swing, the one which I pushed while she sat on it, is empty; so is the life of the man whom she gave life to.

Its god's way of justice that prevails, yet again.

Maybe you cannot have the best of both worlds!

The Race

I don't like this race.
Someone endeared pushed me into this.
This race..
I don't like it!

He forgot to give me shoes;
I asked for the best ones!
But in turn got none.
And now I am running this race-
bare foot,
on a spiky land.

Its not good-
this race.
My feet are pricked and pierced,
with stone bits and pebbles.
And I am too tired now.
Alas!I can not stop.
I should not stop.

Must keep running.
Oh I hate the blood and perspiration!
I hate the abdominal pain
after running so much.
But I must win it;
at least complete it!
They say it is important to complete a race.

I am last as of now.
I want to stop;
but I cannot.
I should not!

This race, the pace, this worn out face!
I don't want to run anymore.
I want a break.
There is no tree!
Nor any splendid brooks or stream as the literati calls them.

Oh no!
The way is getting tougher and tougher.
The stones are getting larger.
The thorns have grown taller.
How far is the finishing line?
How far is the loved one?

A Bizzarre Love Story

We both love each other.
There is a lot of understanding.
I have known him for 12 years.
Long time, isn't it?

But off late there have been issues-
he asks too many questions;
Some to which I have no answers,
few others answered wrong repeatedly.
He tricks me every time with such mindbogglers!

And the idiot has taken away my heart as well!
And broken it the number of times there are days in an year.
Don't forget to multiply this number with twelve;
because I have known him for twelve years you see!

And everytime he is disappointed and frustrated-
with me, over me!
Says I have no time for him.
Oh I have other people in my life as well!
They need my love and affection too.

Gifts are frequent however;
this is the best part of our relationship.
But they are only for correct answers.
Yes, he is a typical quiz master!
It is irritating!

But you know what?I am in love with this fellow!
Though am a human being too;
I also need my share of love and care.
(Love it when the received packets are more than the sent ones)

Maybe sometime he realises it-
before I am gone.....
Hope he doesn't let me go;
because I don't want to leave him
.
It cannot go on like that.
The issues need to be addressed.
He has to love me back!
MR. MATHEMATICS, YOU HAVE TO LOVE ME BACK!

Smile Revolution - A Poem

 A dimple dug

Two lines made

There goes a man

To invade

The world with his smile

A beam on the face

Like the lily of the nile

So supple

A mile long one

Such finesse

Say the old ladies

God bless!

Such grace

Such zest

The happiest jowls

Happily recessed

Anger crushed

Egos compressed

Such life-turner

A shoulder to  depressed

Blushes and blessings

Gathered

Colours and fragrances

Slathered

He became a healer

A love dealer

Nothing did he do

But smile

A mould of face

A muscle curve

A narrowing of eyes

Changed the world

If a smile can

Do wonders

All these years

We made blunders

Revolutions were begun

Revolutions did end

But none

Did mend

The soul with fear

The soul lost

The soul pricked

The soul tossed

Neither triggered dilution

Of pain endless

As what was needed

Was a smile revolution!

SMS Language-Too much now!

"Ionic bonds are dose bonds which r formed due 2 transfer of electrons.
This is what I got to read when I borrowed the chemistry notebook from a dear friend of mine. Pretty heavy 'dose' of the SMS language eh? H2O seemed a perfect substitute for water and CH3COOH went well for ethanoic acid, but 'dose' for 'those'?I have my apprehensions!

The other day, a friend of mine regretted writing 'dat' for 'that' in her English examination and losing a mark in the examination.

Dear readers, u oops you must be thinking if the writer herself is careful about using the SMS language. To be honest, my informal e-mails feature more 'u's than 'you's, more 'heya's  than 'see you's and more 'BRB's than 'be right back's.

But let us all be a little less selfish and realize how mercilessly we are killing the English language.What about those beautiful long words whose beauty is in their length and not shortening them? What point is there in skipping vowels in words presuming that the reader is a born Shakespeare or a twin-soul of yours to get in mind everything and anything you write? It is simply preposterous.

Imagine our textbooks writing 'glbalisatn' instead of 'globalisation' and 'elctrfctn' instead of 'electrification'!Nobody gets a dream that their is an 'i' before 'f' in the word if he/she doesn't know it.

Most of the people of my age would agree that using the SMS language in an informal fashion with endeared ones is OK! But let us just not make it a habit!Let us just not let it conquer the original language as it is not a dialect but a pirated version. Being global citizens we must protect the originality, authenticity and elegance of our language which is so much entwined with our lives!