PT Turns ONE!!!!

Happy Buddday!!!

It all started with an idea of sharing the thoughts and ‘smaller pleasures of life’ with all the like-minded people around. The idea was conceived in November 2011, when four pals discussed it for the first time. It took five months for PT to develop and acquire the name. The idea became visible in April 2012 and within weeks, PT got its own identity. Today, PT turns One and we. The Authors are damn proud of it and glad to see the family – its readers and those who like it. It is still growing and we know there is a very long way to go.

Looking back, though the first entry was posted on 11^th of April, we still cannot call it the ‘birthday’ as, I remember, the preparations started earlier. Also, as we look up in are Archives section, we see the very first entries written in April. Thus, its not a day that we are going to celebrate, instead we are celebrating the month.

As, it turns one, we look back and see the success stories of PT. The Five TOP entries of PT. These were liked by so many and PT grew a bit every time a post was clicked…

1. Half of Halves & Ace of Spades - 

http://panwaditales.blogspot.in/2013/03/half-of-halves-and-ace-of-spades.html

2. Jaan Pehchan - 

http://panwaditales.blogspot.in/2012/04/jaan-pehchaan.html

3. Farewell - 

http://panwaditales.blogspot.in/2012/05/its-been-quite-long-time-thati-penned.html

4. Waiting in C.P. - 

http://panwaditales.blogspot.in/2012/05/waiting-in-c.html

5. India is walking stark naked - 

http://panwaditales.blogspot.in/2012/12/india-is-walking-stark-naked.html

Wishing PT a bright future and unlimited number of Posts... 

and of course, long life to the Authors... :)

And Now I see the Face of God

Photography:  Devadeep Gupta

Author: Anusha N.

"And now I see the face of god, and I raise this god over the earth, this god whom men have sought since men came into being, this god who will grant them joy and peace and pride. This god, this one word: 'I.'" | Anthem- Ayn Rand

I sometimes wonder what is it exactly that makes the spiritual. Like the journey to the temple. Did it really just start with the first step I took into its compound barefoot? Or did it start when the thought of worship was first seeded in my mind… or is it just the act of folding hands in prayer in front of god?

I have found God in the face of men. I have found God inside me. Every man who has a belief has a God. Every belief counts. It is like a higher collective conscience. Where every man is an end in himself. If you think you are contributing to a greater cause which is undefined, I counter that dream. Can you really work wholeheartedly for a purpose that isn’t your own? Can you vouch for anything with conviction because of hear-say? You are here to fulfill yourself. And it is in the self-satisfaction of some religious or spiritual or emotional or metaphysical part of you that you feel like a higher power surrounds you. How you turn out may or may not be related to that stone that you pray in front of. But for those who believe, it is so for them.

So what is “I”.

There was a girl I once knew. We were both really young. Like the age when pebbles and raindrops are our secret friends and we talk to an imaginary class with a chalk and a stick in our hand? Ribbons and frocks? That young! I met her in a place where we were all equals. And with each day that went by we discovered newer things about each other we hated. They knew her for her predecessors but I didn’t know them neither did I know her. I was the insufferable know it all. An out-of-towner, so I was as much of a misfit in this place as the place was a misfit on me. We were like an odd-pair of socks – black in one foot and white in another. Just never a match.

I envied her for her family. They seemed too happy to be true. I envied her voice. Much louder than mine. I envied her lunch. Much grander than mine. I envied her bag, her clothes, her sport and her smile. Much prettier, fancier, fashionable and cooler than mine. So was that how it would always be? But that is the age when we think of ourselves to be what we possess. Where we feel where we come from is all that we are. When I neither knew what was I nor who was She.

But all this while that I envied her possessions and her fame; she silently wished she was me. Because she knew at that age that this would not last and that day, what would last was I, myself and me.

Then we welcomed adolescence. By this time we had managed to co-exist. She had a fair share of drama. Boys falling around her left, right and centre. Sometimes she’d reject them even before they could speak. Sometimes she’d reject them the first time they’d meet. As I tagged along on her fun filled teenage I envied her every bit. And deep down I knew she loved my library, my books and my petty little tantrums. She’d smile at me and take to my nerdy whims. And she’d rather spend the PT class playing ping-pong in a hall. When the whole bunch of ‘Them’ was busy playing in the sun; she’d always meant for me to see. That they all had fun… but she had hers with me.  

And then we were adults and we parted our ways. Trying to see what really was I and Me. I went and searched the earth, the soil and stones. She went her way down science, logic and streams. We let time mould us and somewhere in this Apart; is when the whole “I” in me and the “She” in her came together. Like a patchwork of dreams and a board full of post-its, our memories just pinned up on the timeline of our past. We left.

And somewhere in all this time apart, I saw when we came back… it wasn’t the same Her. She was lost slowly like specks of sand from a fist. She had gone through the shredder on her own as had I. But this time, it was nothing I envied, nothing I could perceive.

She’d been a mother to a family that refused to grow up; a child to elders who refused to exist. She’d been a lover to lovers who didn’t know love, a faithful friend to friends who would never yield. She’d fought battles that weren’t her own only to realize. There was no such fight when enemies patronize. She’d been a pillow to sleep on for so many maniacs. When she had barely slept for herself in years. She’d patiently suffered for those who couldn’t for themselves. She’d listened and heard and battered and bruised. She’d never demanded of those who were incapable to provide because they were just that - incapable. She’d never expected from those born to disappoint – because they were that - disappointing. She showed me her wounds one by one with a sardonic humor. 

She’d told me that these weren’t badges from battles she’d won. She’d only meant it as lessons she’d learnt. She’d say she wants to shield me. But I wondered how could she- She hadn’t even seen what they’d done to her. She hadn’t known what she was to me. To her this was never her journey so far. Because all she’d done unknowingly was play hundreds of roles at people’s demands compensating for those who lacked the decency to play their own. 

What am “I” she said, she didn’t know. No belief. No faith. No expectation. No oars. Am I the same “I” you envied all that while? When I knew I envied you…because at least you knew there is “I” in you. They let you be and reveal the true you. But I, I am solitary and that is what is me. I don’t know how else to be anymore. Because all the while I should have spent in finding me... they and I never let me.

And she said “they gave me wings to fly. But all they forgot was that “I” too need a sky.”

She said something that she could never take back. Because the truth is we all exist for ourselves. Peace is not borrowed, like faith or belief or love or happiness or sorrow or pain. God can’t be borrowed. It has to be yours. It has to be born. I can’t just be. Every “I” that plays at least ten of our million dutiful roles with a little more conviction would relieve so many souls trapped like her to just be; in their due time to be “I”.

You aren’t the “I” you want everyone else to praise. Your identity is not that which is in my eyes or his. Because if my eyes envy you today tomorrow they could say pity. If my eyes love you today, tomorrow it may just be sympathy. You aren’t the “you” I see. You are the “I” you see. Even when you think the ones who loved you do not anymore. Are you even sure you know yourself well enough for them to?

If all you search for in the eyes of strangers is love and praise, you will never be satisfied, because the “I” in you knows better than that. 

“I am. I will, whether you like it or not, exist. I shall not apologize for my abilities, neither for success, nor for my dreams. Not one of those is what you owe to others. ‘I’ am the one you owe to satisfy. Because without a satisfied you, you will never fully be one of the ten “I” you Have to be.”

God is within you and me. I search for “I”. There is no bigger religion and no bigger God.

Half of Halves and an Ace of Spades

Photographs: Devadeep Gupta 

Author: Anusha N.

“I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”-  J. R. R. Tolkien, the Fellowship of the Ring.

There was once a Half of Halves- a man half understood. A man for whom no one stayed through his weak. A man few could see become all he wished to be; The Half that longed to be admired- to be wanted, to be needed or just to be seen. As anything more than that Half which finished the incomplete; as the Half that completed the queen bee. The Half that finished the unfinished halves. A Quarter that many longed for, but a Half of Halves just was he.

There was once an Ace of Spades. A woman of many shades. A girl who found her way into the hearts of men. Sometimes with little effort, sometimes with none. And even when she laughed, or wept or slept. It moved the pawns deep into their chests. She was like the deck of cards that always won. Either because of the deal or because of her veil. They’d either lie their cards all down so she could walk on their trumps. Or they’d let her bluff and let her win. She was like that queen of chess, who had many a pawns a bishop and a king. An army to defend her as she sat in her tower. An army to die, to kill for her, while she looked deep in her mirror.

She longed to be finished, to be as complete and then one day she met the Half of Halves. She knew that she had found what she lacked. She knew she too had that which he wished. A beauty, a charm and an innocent smile- a surreal dream which only she could provide. And so they walked hand in hand. Through the Poppies, and the Ivy and the Sunflower fields. Sometimes she’d drag him through minefields just for the thrill. And despite his defenses he’d always give in. And sometimes he’d carry her through and pull her out of the craters she’d always fall in. They walked and walked, never really seeing where the road leads. Never wanting an end, never wanting the road to bend. They walked till they hit a village carnival. And the Ace of Spades felt like a scene from a dream.

The Ace of Spades had been in her tower all her life, so she’d never realized. That the world outside had so many shiny lights. The Half of Halves felt her pull away, but just for a while. He let her go so she could see her clowns, her genies and her trippy lights. And he smiled as she laughed, and laughed as she blew bubbles that popped. He walked two steps behind her all the while. Not too close to steal her thunder. But neither too far to let her go unwatched. He knew the eyes that were on her galore. And yet he knew deep inside, it was the Ace of Spade they all saw… not the girl that this Half of Halves had fallen for.

They walked from one carnival to the next, just company for the duller parts and so much life at each stop. Till the day a man, an aimless wanderer took her hand… and showed her prettier lights. He showed her camel rides, elephant trumpets and a coveted throne. He whispered to her, as she pulled away from the Half of Halves, half a mile half a second… he told her of how many princesses and queens who’d wanted that seat.

His stories of battles, and trades and adventures were something the Half of Halves never had told her of. He’d rather been busy guarding her, while she’d dance with the gypsies. But he’d never really shown her that he too could fight and kill. So she said to Half- I thank you my friend. If not for you… I’d never have left the tower where I’d forever been. You’ve brought me to my King of Hearts and with him now I shall proceed.

But she never really dug deep enough to see the Half of Halves for what he was. Never deep enough to see that he wasn’t a mere Half. He was more than the Half that she could see, much more than the Quarter she had unlocked, and an Eighth she’d ever revealed. Not just the man who made her the woman she was. She never realized that the Half of Halves was a man who could complete any heck of a woman whom he’d chose to be. With just as much grit, passion and poise, The Half of Halves took it in his stride.

He waved her goodbye and carried on… but now he was just too lost. All this while, he’d never seen the side of him that she’d made him see. All this while he’d never enjoyed for adventures that were his own, they’d always been his queen’s. So when he stepped out of the Castle of the King of Hearts he turned around just once towards the porch. He saw her wave an innocent goodbye with a childlike smile, unaware of what she was letting go. And for what? A King of Hearts? A man, a chameleon, a trader of shady delights? A man one could trade for a broken barrel and two hollow dimes. A man who was that trader in every carnival. That trader who’d poach on unaware girls. A man that the Half of Halves had always feared for his allure. But the Half of Halves wasn’t half as cunning as the King of Hearts. And he’d never put a foot out of line with his Ace of Spades. So he left her putting up a happy face. He hoped that they’d meet again.

So they did as he walked head down. Aimlessly wondering, he hit another bend and another Carnival it shall be. And as he wandered aimlessly, his eyes wandered- for whom, he could not see. From one carnival to the next to a village he’d never seen. Where he’d heard tales of traders stop for pleasures and sins. He had no choice for he was too tired. And there he saw her- like a showcase doll. Wrapped around like a precious shrug, on a throne next to her King of Hearts. He asked around as to who the King had been. A woman next to him said, he is the one- the provider of Sins. His job was to show pleasures to men and women alike. A spell so toxic that no modest men could cast off. So he waited and waited on the sidelines. Till one day the King of Hearts threw his ashen Ace aside. While she lay there too weak to speak or to cry. He just put his hand out again and said… Come, you’ve seen enough.

But she hadn’t seen enough as it seemed, as she would later tell him. With each trippy light of a different color, she’d leave his hand. And with each new taste she’d forge his guard and let men in who weren’t worth a penny, a pebble or a speck.  And yet he’d watch with just as much passion as pain, with just as much anguish yet try to be sane. He’d watch till he’d seen enough and then turn the other way. Even then The Half of Halves stood his guard, whether she liked it or not. He’d stay because that’s what he’d always promised to himself. He wasn’t that Half of a Half – a man who walked off unfulfilled. He was that Half who stood his post in whichever way she demanded.

But one fine day he said he had let her see enough. That the Ace was worth more than the Ones and Two put together. That they’d never cherish her as he did. Because he was that Half of Halves that did indeed her complete. But the Ace in all her childish charm, forgot to realize one true fact. He didn’t say “I complete you” which was the truth… he’d said “you complete me” which rang a bell. So the Ace said Ah, Well! If I complete you… then you are Just a Half. A Half of Halves, that’s not as complete as I thought of you to be. I’m sorry but you’ve been a faithful friend, but I have my journeys which you can’t bend. I have adventures that scare you and give you nightmares. I like the lights but you cast a shadow too long.

The Half of Halves was never just a Half. He was twice of what you saw. Tomes more to write about, Stories that she could not explore. The Ace of Spades never really foresaw. That the day the Half was complete again… he wouldn’t need as elusive a trump like the Ace of Spades. Because in every deck of cards there is an Ace of each Color. But there is only one Half of Halves who wins the game. He is that hand that holds his cards close enough and long enough. Till his hand is filled with cards of his choice. And then while she shall still be an Ace that all kings and pawns would kill for. He’d become the Winning Knight.

Do you know why Knights fight with an unrevealing armor? Because they only want the world to see the Half that they wish to reveal. And the one who goes beyond that armor. That is the light that fills the Half of Halves and makes him complete.

“Hindustan ko lunch kha jayega!”

[Text and sketches by D.B.]

The credit for the title goes to Mr. XYZ who was sitting next to me at the Reception of the ABC office. The identity of the individual has been changed as per his request as he fears strict action against him for being offensive to such a high – level office. And the identity of the office has been changed for the sake of ‘smooth’ working and bright future of this blog and long life of the authors as the office mentioned above really belongs to a verrrry high – level.

Actually, we were waiting for the receptionist at the office reception who had gone for lunch (1-2 PM) and it was already 2:30 when he said, “Duniya mein log lunch khaate hain… par Hindustan ko ek din lunch hi kha jayega”. For that particular moment it was the most distressed statement that I had ever heard in 24 years of my career. It was enough to define the anguish of the person as a citizen of this country and I got as numb as if I was asked why India lost to Pakistan in cricket? I mean, you can never find a come-back to such things. The only thing I could do is to write about the ‘lunching’ habits of India in order to appreciate the country for being dedicated to at least one thing i.e. Lunch Time. Also I wanted to appreciate the person for actually ‘thinking’ about the country.

Bhayi ek baat toh maan ni padhegi… India is known for its variety of foods and the ways to prepare it. Thus we do not have any right to book the people for eating lunch! But we have another trait – ‘Evolving’! We evolved the ‘lunch break’ into something which is so complicated that even if we try we can’t define it within the lunch time! Figuring out what actually a ‘lunch break’ means for us, I found few funniest facts about the Indian Lunching tradition. Digest them well!

Rituals

This is the second most interesting thing to look out for (first being the tiffin itself). Lunch is treated as a time of celebration in our country. It is never too early to start a lunch. We literally get ‘ready’ for it! For example, people start moving towards washrooms – very normal. Some have special cloth (and time) for cleaning the table before the lunch while others just start looking at the clock at least 15 minutes prior to the actual lunch time.

Once it has started, the whole country comes to halt. Nothing works during the lunch time. Sometimes I feel that Indian government might have got the idea of ‘cease fire’ from the concept of lunch time only. Talking about government how can we forget our dedicated government officials? First of all you won’t find any on their respective windows. Even if you get hold of someone, ask the receptionist and you’ll be replied with a most helpless face and a tagline, “Abhi toh lunch time hai na… Abhi toh nahin ho sakta!” And why not, the delight of gulping that one bite after the tedious work pressure is incomparable to anything and is priceless.

But what we actually love is the ‘post-lunch’ phase. Your lunch might finish in 15 minutes but the story actually starts after that. It is just the way we love having rayeta after the main meal. Yumm! What we do in this phase - Chai, gossip, cigarette, a small-walk, chatting on phone, deserts, playing cricket and dedicated to the winter season - moong-phali and dhoop mein baithna! O ho! Mazaa hi aagaya! Some even have the ability to take a nap in that period – remember the ‘power-nap’ of Viru Sahastra Buddhey from 3-Idiots? This is the phase which unintentionally increases the time written on all notices from 2:00 to 2:30. All this started from the schools-life. That is when we learned the habit of reaching the class ‘five’ minutes late knowing that the teacher would be late herself. Wonder why don’t they have bells or alarms in offices ‘trinnnning’ and telling people that its 2:00 already?      

Waiting in anticipation

Have you ever been to a government office at the time of lunch? [Na… I am asking to the public, not the Babus or the working class] I have been to many and that is when I love to see how people wait for the officials to be seated on their office seats officially. Even the beggars would lose to them in terms of facial expressions. On the other hand, as it is a ‘public’ office, the cabin is also made up of glass. Some people who are waiting sometimes start gazing the tiffin instead of the official. Chain se khane bhi mat dena?    

Punctuality

No one can beat us in that. We are already damn punctual in everything else and now Lunch Time! The only time we realize that we are late is when the Boss reaches his cabin on time. All, from the Head to the Peon, everyone takes it verrrry lightly ji. The only office I have seen which has the minimum time for lunch i.e. 15 minutes is the Indian Railways Ticket Counters. It is ‘written’ in red-paint on all the windows on every counter but how well it is observed is the big question! If you have lesser minutes dedicated to act of eating, please dial 911 for help!

We Indians have another remarkable habit of finding faults within ourselves and looking for perfection in others. Thus following the Indian tradition I would like to mention what I observed while comparing our work culture with the countries in west. Here it is - the western countries have only two things which keep them ahead of us –

1.       They know Angrezi by birth, and

2.       They eat fast food

Chai piyo... Mast jiyo!

The author has tried to bring out the sweet realities of Indian lunch time (as if you didn’t know) but still the author feels proud to be a lunch – freak himself, in fact, half of the above mentioned incidences are the one-hand experiences he had during his training period. The author himself loves to have a cup of tea after lunch with Aloo Bhujiya – for table booking please contact panwadi.tales@gmail.com  

India is Walking Stark Naked

According to Sigmund Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams, dreams of walking around stark naked have positive connotations (apparently). They meant that one was spiritually so liberated, so uninhibited that he/she was parading around naked- like breaking through the cosmetics of outward appearances.  Dreams are some figment of our subconscious or maybe a collection of anomalous memories, desires and imagination.  Just that…Then I read somewhere that a cop called fully-clothed women “Haramzadiyon” and I snapped back to reality.

When we started with Panwadi Tales – we started with an attitude to shed cynicism and talk about the simpler and smaller unspoken pleasures in life. It is obvious we all go through a great deal everyday to have to parade our wounds around so we made PT our anti-battleground. At the end of the day, it is our god damn personal blog…if this gets personal, so be it.

Ashamed. Abandoned. Agonized. Anarchy. Proud to be a Delhite; Utterly ashamed by the falsely ‘democratic India’.

This triggered off from an argument I had with a couple of friends/ acquaintances over a status update on Facebook a few days (before the angry protest at India Gate): “If you're a girl child in this country... there's a chance they may kill you before you're born, rape you after, never send you to school, molest you on roads, in buses or even classrooms, harass you in office, molest you / rape you some more -verbally / visually / physically, beat you or throw acid on you, burn you for dowry, or throw your newly born baby girl down a staircase - because It is a Girl Child. So don't walk alone, don't walk after dark... or with anyone less than a Schwarzenegger for a friend, don't look up, heads down, don't talk loud, don't talk on the phone, don't party, don't wear short clothes (like dressing has anything to do with 6 year olds getting raped)... don't be visible - just don't exist!” .

I think I say now, “This is what I meant in anger when I said “they”… “us” it is all the same.

Three days of continuous agitations at the India Gate and I was glued to the TV channels that brought direct images from the grounds of a Colossal Youth-led Leaderless Self-initiated and Socially-and-Morally-virtuous protests of all time. For three days I disappeared from Facebook and Gtalk and just delved in each minute of what unfolded into a prime-time Strip Club of the various agencies that “pass-the-buck”. It stripped naked everyone sparing none who came its way- be it the Muted Prime Minister, the Eccentric Home Minister, a CM and a Lt. Gen. on ‘vacation’, a non-existent 'Youth Icon' Rahul Gandhi or a brute Police.

Still my neighbors in Baroda preferred dry commentary with, “Yeh, Dilli mein ho raha hai? Dilli toh bahot unsafe hai ladkiyon ke liye… aap kaise rehete thhe?”

Shame people! When are we going to wake up and realize that it is not about Delhi vs. the rest of India? It is about a simple word- Respect. Something which we as Indians have become insensitive to - despite being educated. It is when we choose to act like 'a sheep in the herd' that our education flew out that window. Really, “they” and “us” is a shameful concept. And that was bravely showcased by all those thousands of young/old men/ boys who formed a large proportion of a seemingly unaware crowd. And let’s put a few things straight. Not all men are totally useless.

1. This 23 year-old girl’s rape is the instigator- it was the last pebble that was thrown into a pot that was brimming with crimes against women in recent times and it overflowed. It is not THE ONLY REASON why people were gathered that day. And Delhi is not the ONLY place where this happens. It was a show of solidarity which needed a spark to fuel it and which was manifest in this very case. And this is not the only heinous crime or the only time it has happened. It was just beyond a threshold limit this time.

2. The protest was not lead by “hooligans” and “goons” with an agenda to bring down the House of the “hardly-citizen-like-(to even be called) the First Citizen” President of India despite what people like the politically correct “Vishnu Shoms” or “Barkha Dutts” of an even more “calm and responsible” or the "brave and on-site" channels portray. It was a spontaneous reaction of people. In this case a mass reaction of a large majority whose actions peaked into a fiasco precisely because (once again) the Govt. of India failed to admit to its FAILING ADMINISTRATIVE SYSTEM. We are the largest and most populous democracy in the world. It is time we act like one.

3. The crowds were pretty composed till the police- like a BIG FAT BULLY- or a self-demonstrated MORON started spraying water cannons and tear-gas shells on an unassuming, young and morally wronged crowd on a Cold Delhi Winter Morning. I mean really!!! It won’t take a General to figure out what panic can do to a frenzied crowd…will it? And if you don’t have the balls to own up to your mischief then don’t commit them in the wide open in broad daylight, in front of a 100 cameras, thousands/millions of witnesses nationwide and expect to get away with it. Really Moronic Acts of Ass-ness here.

4. Don’t lathi-charge an already panicked crowd and don’t keep doing it five times over due to a general lack of Brains. The crowd will react. It really made me wonder if this was the plan in the first place? To just aggravate people so that they give a reason for the police to get violent? Also don’t go around calling unarmed girls/ women “Haramzaadiyon” and “Randiyon” while charging lathis’ at the crowd. The whole point of the protest is to demand Respect For Women in India - from the judicial system, the people, the men, the women, the politicians and the police. Calling them prostitutes in whatever fit of anger or momentary lapse of control it may have been, just proves the protest right, a grand case of “Paer ko kulhadi pe khud maarna” by the Delhi Police again.

And then the Police Commissioner says on National Television that yes, they have “training programmes” for “gender sensitization” of the police. Well clearly Mr. Commissioner- It Aint Working! ; Your or should I say OUR “Trained” officers/ constables seem to forget what the word “sensitization” means as opposed to the words “Haramzaadi /Randii” which they seem to involuntarily use to describe women. It is not just them it is a general mediocrity of mentality in many people- not all but many- that it is okay to lash out abusively at women this way.

5. Infant mortality, Sexual Abuse, Physical/ Mental Abuse, Domestic Violence, Genocide, Rape, Gender Bias aren't just Delhi's problems- they happen all over the country- if we remember Satyamev Jayate and the episodes. And why do we conveniently forget that Delhi is a multi-cultural city- Its has a lot of floating population- people from Other Cities who come to earn there- So this does get general and national and not just regional/ Delhi-Centric because there are people from all over the country in this city- anyone could be a criminal and a victim- so why just tag "Delhi- the City?"

6. Like we hail our laurels... we should also own up as a nation- a network of systems- failed systems- that failed to protect its citizens. My point is the President of America made a tearful speech to bring hope to the people within hours of the tragic Connecticut shooting.  Do you or I have such leaders who would openly say they will get rid of our insecurities? Even when they do the PM looks like a chicken(no doubt a halal ka murga) and the CM like a blushing school girl when saying things like “As a father of three daughters I am deeply…”

WHATEVER! Had the timing of the speech been appropriate to the gravity of the protests, we would have had a  so-called-mature frame of mind that we all accuse each other of lacking, but now I just don’t care if you have three, two or no daughters… How does it matter now? Are you going to do anything about bringing judicial reforms in his country of not? Don’t throw sentimental bullshit at people after asking them to "Control their actions” a day ago. And mind yourself- If you were that deeply disturbed as a father of three daughters, why didn’t you bother to address a simmering crowd when it would have counted? At the precise time when all they wanted was security for their daughters the same as yours?? A country- is not just people- it is their sentiments, their reaction as well. It is also a system- the failing system. Just ADMIT IT already!

8.  Is it okay to say "Delhi is not safe for girls" because rapes don't happen in Goa or Assam or Chennai or Kashmir? Going by the personal argument that general statements should not be made because they offend personal sentiments; What about the sentiments of responsible Delhites? They are All To Blame? Where is that argument when we blame the whole city for the shortcomings of some goons?

Deeply disturbed and highly aggravated as I am by the shameless vocabulary used by people right from higher up to lower down in our society, it is a long road to redeeming the “Izzat” of a woman because each day we involuntary commit a crime against her be it in our gender bias, our prejudice, our assumption/judgment or our actions. Till then we are all walking around as naked as any other victim. Like victims of our own thoughts.

The fact remains the fastest I have ever seen cops in Delhi budge his ass was when running with Lathis in their hands. 

The 'Ghosts' of Delhi

[Text and Sketch by D.B.]

Wednesday morning, 4 A.M., I debarked in Delhi after finishing my ninth semester. Visiting home in winters is a delight to the senses always. Experiencing Delhi’s winter chill is one of the favorite jobs on my ‘Things to Do’ list. The early morning chill, a cup of hot tea outside Old Delhi Railways Station, winter breeze, all could be called as the ingredients of ‘happiness of being-back’. The happiness, however, didn’t stay for long. The moment I saw the newspapers, I was ‘shocked’. I have seen such news before also but this was ‘limit’. The whole newspaper was filled with the news of the ‘Black’ incidence that happened a day before. Indeed, it’s a Black-incidence as it’s not less than killing people brutally under the name of terrorism. It took time for me to understand the whole story as I went through the news.

The incidence took the shape of an outrage when I was sleeping after the night-journey. Staying ‘inside’ prevents you from knowing what’s happening outside. I spent the whole day at home with family. At night, when alone, I checked the whole story again on net. I was ‘ashamed’ of what happened. As I have always been the first in taking pride in being a Delhi-ite, I now confess of being ashamed of what happened in my city. It is brutal and intolerable. The incidence has actually put a scar on the faces of all the ‘Dilli-wallahs’, who love their city by heart and are proud to be called as one.

Newspapers today, filled up again, with the news of outrage in the city and country. One compared the stats of the security guards for the VIP’s and a Delhi-ite. It is shocking! The fact that the city is not safe for anyone after 8 PM is known to me since years. I am using ‘anyone’, as it’s not the case for women only and that comes from my own experience of travelling in DTC bus from Janakpuri to Ashok Vihar at 9:30 PM, when half the bus is occupied by drunkards and those who are not in their senses to get down at the right stand. Being the national capital, the city still has not taken any measures regarding the issue. Ok, yes, the metro plies till 11:00 but what after Metro? The same Auto, car-pool, vacant bus-stops or a ‘white-charted bus’? Being a guy, I know that if I am in CP – the so-called ‘heart’ of the city, I have to leave the place by 9:00 in order to reach home safely. For girls, reduce the time by one hour. It’s pathetic.

But then I don’t want to be the one, like many others, just writing a blog post sitting in the quilt, in order to show that they ‘support the cause’. I am and have been a part of incidences, not as severe as these, and thus I am already a part of the voice against it. With this post I just want to spread the word of being careful and aware of the happenings ‘yourself’ instead of waiting for the politicians to pass some law or something. There are few measures that I follow myself whenever I am out there. I want you to please keep all this in mind and also tell others to follow. I know many a times we do not listen to our parents or feel bounded by ‘their’ security tips, but at the end of the day it’s not ‘their’, it is for OUR security.

With this I do not mean to offend or ‘teach’ anyone with the Dos and Don’ts. I realize that you are as responsible as I am and thus I want you to be your own guard irrespective of what the officials and governments say or does. All this is not only for girls as it is not THEM who are wrong anywhere, It’s for all of us – the youth standing at India Gate – it’s our problem and we need to fight with it ourselves.

BE IN TOUCH: We use this phrase hundreds of times while texting or talking to someone on phone (I myself use it always). What we never realize is that sometimes we need to mean it. Few years back I read an article on the same issue in Brunch Magazine. The solution was just to keep ‘someone’ updated about your movement. Not necessary your parents, I know that ‘we have our own life’ and thus we do not ‘always’ tell our mom-dad of our hideouts but then we have our friends. Whenever you are out at odd timings just keep texting or ‘be in touch’ with any of your friends, it’s like travelling with someone instead of being alone. Chat till you reach home safely, that’s it. Girls, if you have five guys staring at you then realize that you have ten who would do anything to protect you. And I am serious when I say that. You know it! Even in times when you feeling like being ‘alone-in-the-crowd-types’, after a fight with your guy or a bad day at office, just stay in touch with a friend.

LET YOUR SMART PHONE ACT ‘SMART’: Know the place where you are going. Keep yourself updated about the nearest amenities. Keep ‘watsaaping’ your pals about your where about. Keep the important numbers on speed dials. There are many other efforts that you can consider, Oh come on, haven’t you seen Taken? Yes, that’s what I am talking about.

WHATS THE TIME: As mentioned above also, Delhi is ‘dead’ after 8 PM. It is not that I am telling or ordering you to be back home by 8, it is just that be aware of your surroundings. Know your bus timings, keep yourself updated about the timings when public transport stops working in your area, avoid narrow, vacant spaces in your travel route, etc. Just keep your eyes open and beware after eight.

FOR ALL THE DUDES OUT THERE: Mayn, its High Time! Hitting gym twice a day or having 15” bicep is all waste if you cannot protect the girl standing near you. The newspapers say that there is one police officer to protect 500 Delhi-ites. Come on, that ‘muscle’ is there to flaunt only? Be a man and protect girls and it is not only for your girl that I am talking about. Realize the importance of your presence in a less crowded zone and take responsibility of women near you. We don’t need officers to protect us if we are aware ourselves; after all, we are not VIPs. Try learning ‘free-style’ fighting or just build yourself for a fight. Remember, if women are ‘beauty’ of nature then we are here as their ‘protector’.

I appreciate the effort by the victim’s friend. He failed but at least he tried.

'Z' security for them and 'Zzzzzz..' Security for us!

The whole incidence has made me feel ashamed of my own Dilli. This could have happened anywhere, but what is important is that it has happened, once again! The blog is meant for sharing the ‘smaller pleasures’ of life. I have several posts pending in pipeline but chose to post this first as no one can actually be happy realizing what all is happening out there. With this post I request rather advice all my friends to be active and act smart against such incidences. Guys, it’s a shame for all of us if we cannot even protect our girls and friends. Accept it and Act against it! Also, as the co-author of the blog, I wish for health of the victims and extend my support for them!

   

'December' Rain

It might look as if I am a guide and am promoting my college campus as a tourist spot but NO! It’s just that I am sharing what my ‘Canon’ likes and captures…

So, the Breaking News is that fresh snowfall was seen on the Trikuta hills on Saturday. The site became visible after two days of continuous rainfall when, on Saturday, the cloud cover wiped out for few hours.     

“When the drizzle continues for a long span… It becomes a downpour!” In this weather, a downpour was definitely NOT expected.

 Upar se Exams!!! In weather touching freezing point writing exams is such a difficult task. Especially when  one of the exam is for 18 hours, 2 days, 9 hours each day! Soney pe ‘abhaaga’ ise kehte hain…

Captured from the Studio

Anyways, good thing is that we have the liberty to click photos in exam – Views from my class and college building.

Even typing is difficult in such temperature… Anyways, if not a ‘guide’, I feel I could be a good journalist! Aapke yahan taapman kaisa hai? Mail karein panwadi.tales@gmail.com par aur paayein… Is Christmas ek uphaar! Lols. Happy Winters!