Breaking the Silence

 So recently Barhka Dutt, a journalist and author, recently opened up about being a child sexual abuse survivor in her new book 'This Unique Land- Stories from India's Fault Lines.'

 And as expected, our highly esteemed and sensitive Indian masses, especially men won standing position in their all rounded compassionate comment and behavior towards her story. One man wrote at that way a women can earn sympathy in the public eye is by making up false allegations of being a sexual abuse survivor while others told her to shut it and stop fabricating stories to get attention. Or even one very detailed comment about how the abuser must've been abused by Barkha and not the other way around as even his street dog won't look at her. I mean let’s not drag animals, who have more class, sympathy and brains than this crass young man, into the picture.

Can everyone please... just take a moment of silence and look at these internet trolls and absolute insensitive masses who live in our country?

Here is a woman journalist, who personally speaking, I too am not a fan of her but sympathy is what makes us humans, and a little sympathy can go a long way. She's got her fair share of mistakes and black clouds that have marred her for some, but does that give the right to anyone, and I mean anyone, to laugh and joke about a weighty issue as her being sexually abused as a little girl? THIS. This is exactly why we as an India society are still backwards when it comes to talking about issues of mental health and child abuse as we have been taught from the start to respect elders and how elder can never do wrong, be wrong and are our superheroes.

Imagine an uncle or an aunt, who you know is immediate family and see her/him on a regular bases when it comes to a family event, as you are almost forced to greet them with a smile and touch their feet, worshipping them, and always giving them their due respect as expected from societal norms.

Even though, the last time you met, you hated the way they touched your tender body but you kept quiet as you being a child thought it was your cousin Riya or Rahul also went through. This is normal. Maybe I am a little abnormal as he's/she's family. We're bounded by blood, and this person cannot and will not hurt me. I mean, blood is thicker than water, right?

But maybe, over a game of hide-n-seek you chat and realize that your cousins don't go through what you went through. You think to yourself, maybe I'm his/her favorite and should feel special. You try and you try, but you just can't let go that vile feeling and you hide the disgust of being touched. You will try to tell your mother or father, who will shun you for even thinking that your uncle-ji/ aunty-ji would even do such a thing. I mean which human is ready to accept that they are related to a monster?

Years and years pass by, your brain must've crammed this to the back and you move on in life but suddenly you read something, see something or let a boy/ girl touch you and you feel like you're chest is a coil which suddenly breaks and all you're left with is anxiety and flashbacks of the past you never truly escaped.

When you finally have the courage to share it as an adult, people hate on you and ask questions as to why you never spoke up before. Just like we're taught, we can't speak when not asked. But when we finally are asked, it's too late? There must be some loophole you could use to voice your opinions without getting hate, but there never is.

Here's some statistics for you:

Of the children interviewed by a 2007 survey conducted by Humans Rights Watch, more than half (53 percent) said that they had been subjected to one or more forms of sexual abuse. Over 20 percent of those interviewed said they were subjected to severe forms of abuse, defined in the report as “sexual assault, making the child fondle private parts, making the child exhibit private body parts and being photographed in the nude.” Of those who said they were sexually abused, 57 percent were boys.

The survey also found that very few cases are ever reported. The vast majority of victims (72 percent) said that they did not report the matter to anyone and only 3 percent of them or their families told the police. In most cases the perpetrator was known to the child. The 2007 government survey found that among abused children, only 25 percent had told anyone, and only in 3 percent of the cases had the police been informed. As in many other countries, deep-rooted cultural norms discouraged open discussion of sex and make it hard for a child to complain about older relative or a person in authority.

Now, do you understand how vital this topic is? By making jokes and trolls on the internet on a woman who finally got the courage to speak out, you are actively propagating in shaming victims of child abuse and bullying them to keep their silence. It's time we talked about the big suffocating and disturbing elephant in the room. It's time we broke the silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

India Untouched

So as most of you know, the Indian Constitution has abolished laws regarding untouchability to keep in terms with the constitution which states equal opportunities to be given to all irrespective of creed, cast, religion, sex, etc.
But sadly, in reality, the pictures isn't black and white.
Just as my exams were approaching, I was asked to watch a documentary for the Dalit Movement in India. The documentary's name is "India Untouched" and can be seen on YouTube.

First things first, I would like to implore everyone reading this to take out some time and watch his documentary. Let's get out of our urbanised shells and realise, India is a country based, formed, enshrined and ingrained about the caste system.
Now you and I living in our apartment in cities and town, reading this on our phones and tablets may not feel that our country, our very dear motherland and its citizens do not practise ''untouchability".
Oh come on, that is an archaic vile concept which nobody practices in society, but my dear fellow urban Indian, drive a 100 kilo-meters away from your homes and you'll realise that India is just the way it was when the British left. There is no change.

As I sat watching this documentary, I was beyond ashamed and helpless of belonging to this nation, of calling its citizens fellow humans with the aim to develop our country. But sadly, this bubble was popped. I was stripped off my rainbow and urban developed glasses and handled out a vision I couldn't wrap my head around.

I would like to formally apologise  to ever complain about the reservation system and how it effects the general masses, if the Dalits or the supposed lower casts have to live a life of slavery under the pretence of religion based on the caste system. I'm sorry for ever thinking the Dalits had it easy in case of never studying as much as me and getting seats in educational institutes. I'm sorry I ever though Indians could see past caste and religion. I'm sorry for thinking we have traits of being decent human beings.
I'm sorry for ever thinking casteism had been curbed and things were finally looking better. I'm sorry I never understood the reasons behind the Dalit movement and the Naxalite movement. For straight away figuring the Naxals were just bullying the government more to give them more reservation. (No, I don't in any way support or propagate naxalism, but more like understand where all this hate against the state is coming from) . I'm sorry I've been blinded by the urban media and the society and its propaganda, to think everything was okay and India was getting better. That India was actually developing socially and the stigma against caste was slowing rising.

Little kids from the age of 4 being taught that if they touched a Harijan they would be polluted. Their innocent smiles speaks of a gentle touch but their vile words coming from their mouths strained of the archaic caste system is a sight to see. The feelings that arise can't be described as reality that suddenly tastes bitter in my mouth.

 Dalits in parts of Bihar, Andhra Pradesh, Kerala, Punjab and a few more, cannot walk on the grounds of the upper caste with slippers, they cannot enter houses, they can't take milk or water without touching the vessel to avoid "polluting" the upper caste. The list is never ending and it just gets worse. To top it off- when asked why they practise Untouchability? -one unanimous answer. We don't know why, but our elders have taught us so, so we listen.

Even the way the scholarly pandits of Varanasi speak about how the caste system came into existence. God created the world and the people who live in it by first and the top- making the Brahmin's (priest) from his body, his head. The Kshatriyas (rulers and warriors) from the arms, the Vaishyas (artist and merchants) from the thighs of God's body and the lowest Shudras (labour  class) from his feet.
As biologically speaking, the feet is the lowest part of the body, hence the Shudras or the Dalits are considered the lowest caste and so are untouchables for the upper castes.
Hence it is written in the Vedas and so every Hindus' must follow it. God is the supreme and what he says is written in the books and so we must follow the books said one religious head.
Even Muslim and Christian converts are not spare. Religion may change, but caste is almost engraved in the soul and Dalits are time and again reminded of their place, on the ground. Literally and figuratively.

The sheer ignorance on part of us and the silent acceptance of the Dalits into a more than a decade long history of slavery is something that sends chills down my spine.

The horrific stories of employment given to the Dalits is spell bounding.  From doing the dirtiest jobs of cleaning bathrooms, to picking up death bodies from train accidents, to cleaning up after a delivery of a child from throwing away the placenta to cleaning up the residue blood on the child, everything is done by them. The lowest of the lowest or the dirtiest jobs which nobody wants to do, is ruled by the Dalits.
Isn't it funny how we call the garbage cleaning woman as "kachrawali" meaning (waste producer) when in actuality she cleans up your crap and you're the one that creates it. Maybe its time we call ourselves kachrawalas, since we even treat our fellow humans as crap. We're the ones that produce all that waste and dirt, but they are the ones who clean it, feel the brunt of cleaning it while facing systematic oppression  from the upper caste.

Dalit in literal translation means broken people. It is heartbreaking to see that your own countrymen follow the absurdities of caste and treat their fellow beings worse than dogs. Even dogs are allowed to eat, drink, enter the houses of the upper caste, but god forbid a Dalit touches you.

Dalits aren't broken by choice, but broken by us. The supposed upper caste who run over them blindly, just because of a few words attached to our name, which is of more importance than the self respect and dignity of another human being.

If this is the world we continue to live in, I refuse to sometimes to associate myself as a human anymore. Even the jungle has more class than us. 

It's a horrible world we live in friends, a truly misguided by religion, absurd from the start of it, which I am to now almost forced to call as home.

Dear India, is this really the 21st century you want to live? 

Until next time readers.

Here is the link on YouTube. The documentary is divided in 10 parts. 

 https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL42E6CDA90AC45951

Maybe

Maybe its just not meant to be.

Maybe it was just a bad day.

Maybe its not you.

Maybe its god finally having enough of your tantrums.

Maybe this world is a conspiracy.

Maybe you're not enough.

Maybe you're thin.

Maybe you're ugly 

Maybe its meant to be

Maybe it is a good day.

Maybe it is you.

Maybe its god having a ball with you're life choices.

Maybe this world is a decent place.

Maybe you're enough.

Maybe you're fat

Maybe you're beautiful. 

Maybe you respect traditions.

Maybe you just don't give a shit.

Maybe you believe in a God.

Maybe you don't.

Maybe you believe in religion.

Maybe you believe in science. 

Maybe you have future plans.

Maybe you can't plan at all.

Maybe you talk back to elders.

Maybe you are just plain rude.

Maybe you are nice.

Maybe you like a boy.

Maybe you like a girl.

Maybe you like both.

Maybe you need love.

Maybe you want love.

Maybe, your maybe is not enough.

Maybe, your maybe is good enough.

Maybe, your maybe is a guarantee.

Maybe, your maybe is a lie.

Maybe, your maybe is a turning point.

Maybe, your maybe is a steep fall.

Maybe, I really should stop caring about the world's maybe's.

Maybe, just maybe, it is what it is.

A loophole. A maybe 

An Unlikely Diwali

I noticed him, sitting on his bed, lazing around while my mother ran around the house, yelling at the maid to dust properly as she herself cleaned and washed out the curtains and bedsheets. November had begun and so did the cold, but with Diwali just around the corner and the yearly house cleaning had begun. I could see him clearly annoyed at the fact like his house was being topped over and being scubbed nice and shiny. Just like me, he didn't like change. Maybe he'll miss the smell of the old house, as mother saw to it that house smelled of new paint and turpentine. A makeover to wash over the old. He stuck his little nose out in annoyance as I laughed in amusement.

Even though he didn't fit under the normal companions-to-have in society, little did he know that he meant the world to me. He didn't talk much and couldn't understand my language, but our eyes did all the talking. His brain might have lacked the normal intelligence of a normal human, but he was in every way smarter than any other person I'd ever known. His beady little eyes looked up as he caught starring at me as I quickly looked away and pretending like he wasn't there. He and I were on a time out. He had, after all, spilt a whole carton of milk on my favourite sweatshirt that very morning. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing I was staring at him, let alone thinking of him. He always got out of tricky situations but this time I didn't want to give in. I couldn't almost feel his mischievous eyes on me, as I imagined him laughing his heart out.  I couldn't stay mad at him for long, even if I tried and he knew that; so before he could approach me, I quickly walked out and locked myself in my bedroom as he yelled my name. I'm sorry, but you mess with my favourite sweatshirt, you get the silent treatment.

Somehow I managed to nod off to sleep.

Not knowing how, or for how long, I found myself waking up to the noise of firecrackers and rockets as people all around me we're celebrating the festival of Diwali. I sat quietly and stared out of my window to the multicoloured and glittery skyline as the smog got heavier and the burnt smell hung in the air. I knew mom would soon come up demanding I dress up and come to the pooja so I decided to get ready. 

When I suddenly heard him scream in pain. I ran downstairs and took him in my arms as I hugged him and whispered soothing words in his ears. Nothing seemed to work. My mom then quickly shut all the windows and doors in hopes of making our house a little more soundproof but alas, nothing worked. I brushed his soft brown hair as I tried to put on the TV to his favourite channel but he just yelled lounder and hid under the bed. Little did I know that my little furry friend was going to be this scared of crackers. The sound of his cries made my heart bleed as I sat helplessly trying to soothe things for my little furry companion as the sounds of the firecrackers just got louder as his cries got softer and he whimpered in pain. Maybe the festival of light isn't really a festival for him at all. "Hey there buddy, I'm right here. Right here with you." I whispered as his terrified eyes looked at me in question,"But my ears hurt. Do something." 

Atleast I can lessen the sounds for my dog, but what about his other furry friends on the street? Who will look after them I wondered.  

PS- so as you know Diwali is just around the corner and you may be tempted to go and spend thousands of rupees on buying firecrackers. Not only is it harmful for the air, but it's physically and emotionally painful for all animals. Not only dogs, but birds, cats etc. So it's my humble request that you have an eco friendly Diwali and say no to crackers. I don't have a dog, but I wish I could have. This little short story could not cover even half of what dogs go through, but please I urge you to think about them and hope you have a safe and happy Diwali & a happy new year. 

Hope you enjoyed this. 

Until next time readers 

xxxx 

Secularism: an ancient terminology.

Secularism: According to the internet, "One manifestation of secularism is asserting the right to be free from religious rule and teachings, or, in a state declared to be neutral on matters of belief, from the imposition by government of religion or religious practices upon its people." 

I'm sure most of you have heard about the recent events happening in our so called 'secular' and democratic country, where a man was lynched to death due to the suspicion of the fact that he might have cooked beef in his house in UP.

Wait, hold on a minute, WHAT? I'm sorry but when did we get the authority and the right to publicly lynch a person to death due to something he has done inside the confines of his own house? Unless he's cooking meth or raping a minor or cannibalism is in the picture or any other such humanly unaccepted behavior; nobody, and I mean nobody has the right to kill someone. Can someone also tell me as to why there was an official check by the police force to see if he had beef or not, before they could arrested the mob that lynched the man more important than just throwing the culprits into jail? I'll eat beef, pork, chicken, octopus, lizard too if that’s my fancy within the premises of my house, but what I cook and eat is my business and my business only. Not my religion, not the government, not the police, not my neighbors, not anyone. What I chose to cook and eat is none of the outside world's business? Understand that please.

Do people understand that a Muslim man eating beef inside his house, does not in any way related remotely to the fact that he is demeaning a Hindu's religious sentiments? Dear Hindu extremists, the world does not revolve around you or your religion. Sincerely, the rest of the world.

 If a man wants to eat beef, he wants to eat beef. It's that simple. Stop hiding behind your religion curtain and giving us Indians sad excuses for such kind of barbaric actions.

India for centuries is known for its secular society with its various culturally diverse groups all living together without any extreme incidents like this? Even our ancestors are better read in this topic than the present society.

I mean, all that talk about development and digital India and we can't stand someone eating beef inside their own house? *slow clap*

The Maharashtra beef ban is one of the stupidest ban's our government could have ever come up with, and seeing the recent attacks regarding this issue; seems likes the rest of India wants to catch up to it too. If you really gave a shit about our sacred cows, maybe try to get them off our roads and stop them from eating garbage. Cows in India die more from road accidents and consumption of plastic from garbage cans than anything. If they're so sacred to you, then please see that you spend money on the cows and their hygiene and give them grazing fields to feed on, give them the respect you think they deserve when you argue how lynching a man for eating beef is justifiable. Can you do that?

I think we all know the answer to that question.

So before you go spewing rubbish and giving us speeches as to how you did that to protect our Hindu religion, remember you're in a secular country. A country where a Hindu can eat pork in the same room as a Muslim can eat beef. If you're going to ban beef in Hindu majority states, then please ban pork in Muslim majority places too. If you're going to ban sale of chicken for a few days to protect the sentiments of the Jain community, then please by all means ban the sale of liquor and pork during the month of Ramzaan for the Muslim community.

If you still don't get the meaning of secularism, dear government, please go back to history books where India and Pakistan were one and we lived with the Muslim eating beef community just as they lived with our pork eating Hindu community. What a person's eating preferences are, is something not to be even thought of or let alone debated on. But I'm ashamed of being in a country where what I eat can be the very reason I can be killed. Just where is my country heading too?

So here's my take on this debate.

Dear government and so called "Hindu-religion-protectors", first things first, bans do not work in this country. Instead you promote the cause of the ban to a level even Salmaan Khan's films don't reach.

Second, anything and everything a man of the religious minority does, is not related to Hinduism, especially if he's a Muslim. I mean even the Arabian country's allow a man to have pork inside the confines of his house. Saudi Arabia countries are better off than us in terms of such tolerance. Let that sink in.

Third, you call this society we live in as a secular society. Learn the meaning then, or just don't call yourselves secular. If there was a secular India, it's sure gone away now. There's nothing secular about our nation presently, so stop being foolish and trying to sell us out delusion. Nobody is buying it.

Sincerely a-18-year-old-girl-whose's-scared-for-the-future-for-her-country.

Until next time readers

xxxx

Drown

 

He didn't know where this little boat was taking him, but he was glad to get some piece of quiet from the dark nights back home. His little ears couldn't take anymore gunshot sounds or wailing. His Papa always told him to put cotton in his ears and sleep, but the cotton itched his skin and he often spent nights scared out of his mind as he feel asleep to the wails of women all around him and firing. He always wondered if this is what children all over this world listened to as they too slept but Papa always told him that children across the big blue ocean from his house slept to the sounds of crickets and frogs croaking and on most nights to no sound at all.

Feeling sleepy, he hid his tiny head under his Papa's shoulder as the salty breeze tickled him to sleep. After countless nights of no sleep, he had a dream. He was sitting in a boat just the same as the one he was sitting in right now, as a big wave hit the boat as it rocked dangerously. He felt her eyes on him, burning holes through his tiny back, as she watched his family fall into the big blue ocean. He saw that his mother had stopped struggling to keep afloat, as she pushed him towards a bright orange tube. She suddenly went as still as the body he saw outside his pavement of his house back home, except his mother smelled of salt and sea weed instead of the unbearable rotten smell that came out of that body. His papa was nowhere in sight. When she suddenly turned towards him and almost lovingly waved her arms around his fragile little body as though showering him with kisses. Almost as if she knew that he would fall from the boat and would need support. Not to mention, the stillness and peacefulness that came with her kisses and hugs, almost made him forget that she was a stranger and that she might be dangerous. Throwing caution to the wind, he took her cold but somehow warm hugs and clung to her as everyone else got washed away. He held on with both his tiny arms as she lulled him to sleep. Had he known his wasn't a dream and he had been lulled to death, maybe then his tiny body wouldn't have been washed ashore on the pearly white beaches of Turkey as Mother Nature swept his sleeping lifeless body on the beach, the waves kissing his cold cheek relentlessly, as he looked deep in slumber; for the whole of humanity to cry out in pain. 

Days

The soft wind swept her sticky face, tickling her as she felt her eyelids drop and the humidity and stickiness of the sun made her even sleepy as she dragged her foot forward to the taxi stand. She had just stepped out of the train station and had another half an hour journey calling her name as she sun beat down her back and she cursed herself for not putting any sunscreen as she felt her dusky Indian skin cry is horror as it turned two shades darker. She could almost hear her mother's monologue in the background, "Who will marry you? Nobody likes a dark skinned girl." Her inner snark already rebutting with a "Yes, the whole point of  my life is to marry a boy, mother dear." Her heart panged at the thought of her mother as she became terribly homesick. Living in a PG away from home can only be exciting for so long before one starts miss their family.
Her turn to catch a taxi finally came, as she paid for her prepaid cab and waited for the cab to arrive. The bright yellow taxi almost hurt their eyes in the hot tropical sun as the cabbie smiled amicably and opened the door for her. The chill of the AC offered some respite to her sticky hot skin as he started the drive home. With nothing to do, she studied the cabbie's profile. Long nose, wrinkled skin, a small button nose with a bushy black moustache and curly black hair, he was a stark resemblance of her uncle back in her home town. He smiled politely when he suddenly asked her name. Skeptically she told her first name. His eyes suddenly sparkled and he told his name as Rajesh Kumar and that he was from South India from the state of Tamil Nadu. Hearing stories about kidnapping and rape cases among public services, she was on alert as to why this stranger was telling her all thing about his life. He went on to ask what she was studying and where she was from. Not reading any signs of psychopathic or murderous sign from the cabbie, she curtly gave him one reply words, hoping he would get a hint. But the simpleton not reading her signs, went on to talk about his family, his nephew who is studied in the same college as her and is now in Canada, about his two daughters, how he misses his family who he left back in Tamil Nadu in hope of providing them better, his two daughter who are studying in 10th and 8th and getting all scholarships and straight A's, and lastly his wife's cooking. She may not have been interested in talking to him before, but she recognised something she hadn't before; his eyes. She saw the same sad eyes as hers, eyes that were missing the familiarity of their home and warmth of their family. She politely smiled and nodded and listened intently to everything he said. Just as they reached her destination, he turned back and smiled so sincerely, all her doubts and coldness melted as he said, "Thank you for talking to me so nicely. I work all day and drop passengers from here to there, but most are too busy on their phones or don't want to talk to me as I'm a cabbie. Do you know I wait to go home so I can talk to people? My friends and family are tired of hearing me talk, and keep telling me to shut up, but I need to make up for the silence I hold the whole day. But you listened and didn't shut me down completely. So thank you Miss!" She laughed as she paid him as she felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment for the suspicion she felt for this simple man. His cute crooked smile filled her lungs with cheer as she told him, "You and I, are outsiders who are surviving in this city for the betterment of our families. I know the feeling and hope his helps you to go on a holiday to visit them." as left him a generous tip and she walked to her PG.
"You made my day miss." he said.
''No, you made mine."


PS
This is actually an incident that occurred to me. Just added some spice but I really liked his man. It was such a pleasure to have met him.
Dear Rajesh Kumar, wherever you are, I hope you're doing well. I'm sorry for my indifference and I hope you see your family soon.

Until next time readers
xxxx