Choice vs Choice

This is not something that comes from me…its an excerpt from a letter which a girl had written for her boyfriend… but somehow didn’t manage to give him…because by the time she could give him it was too late….

You broke your promise again! You promised me that you will never do this.. I wish I could just scream at you and fight with you but every single time I look into your eyes, I need to search for a reason to fight with you all over again… why do you do this to me every time..I thought you had realized your mistakes and you made me believe you all over again….

Why do somethings never change…
Why do some promises are never made….
Am waiting for the day..
When things will change
and promises will finally make their way….
And I will still love you all the way…

Coz one-day things will change and so will you
But don’t make me believe if it ain’t true..

Things never changed nor did you..
But why the hell didn’t I stop loving you..
I drape my love with seclusion
so that time doesn’t wither it away..
but something rolls down your eyes
and begs my heart to stay…

But I still wait today..for the promises you made
And the ones you broke….and as I sway past you,
How do I get through one night without you..
if I had to live without you what kind of life would that be…..

There are choices and there are choices…there are choices we make and there are choices that we would like to make….what matters is how conveniently we let other people decide our fate...because when it comes to something like love....there are no two ways about it..I wish you had made your choice a little earlier.....

"T"

Illusionary Vision or visionary illusion.

How many times have you dreamt of running naked on the streets? How many times have you visualized yourself unaided amongst thousands of people?

This is a dream that I see very often. It is too weird to see yourself in your own dreams without clothes. I mean come on being a girl I should be embarking on better flights of fantasy with some good men. But no, some anti- sexual fantasy element in my genes is not too happy or I wonder, is that so-called (or uncalled) element in my body another MCP. Ok now I am not an avid fan of sexism so back to my wired dreams.

I have always been a petrified child when it came to listening to ghost stories. Even the best of brainless horror Hindi flicks gave me sleepless nights. I used to dream of a massive orange kangaroo peeping into my room who always tried to scare the shit out of me. I visualized obese aunties with open hair and white chiffon saris with a candle and a yellow set of teeth walking towards me at night. These descriptions make a good laugh and the senseless visualizations is like added masaala but I know for a fact that I was only less of shitting in my pants when I dreamt of all this.

As I grew up, the aunties in my dreams transformed into Veerappans and some funny looking guys. One of those funny looking guys from my nightmares transformed into a horrendous skinny man who wore only a thick beard and red chaddis…I was busy shopping with my cousins for New Year’s Eve. I was no older than 12 years. The entire scenario still dances in front of my eyes..

We had finished shopping and were on our way home when my cousins (read: pretty girls) abruptly increased their pace. The sloppy girl that I am was lost in my own customized world when they asked me to walk quickly for reasons I did not bother to ask. I agreed and started hurrying up when I realized that I could not walk anymore. There was something funny holding me back. And all of a sudden, my heart sank when I realized that I was strangled with a thick rope around my waist. And when I turned around to see who was the person to do this Tarzan act, I was in for a déjà vu. That man was a living nightmare, (let me call him Skimpy) with no flesh and all bones covered with red chaddis and long hair and beard was staring at me. His bloodshot eyes were giving me the worst gawk I ever got in my lifetime of 12 years. I was flummoxed, I didn’t know if it was a nightmare again because I had never heard of anybody strangling girls in daylight on a highway..

It took me a minute to get my voice and senses back on track. I started with a squeaky shriek, which later transformed into the loudest roar. My cousins who were on the other side of the road were asking me not to move from the path. I was bewildered and didn’t know what to do. I started running towards the highway with Mr. Skimpy tagging behind me like the pug in of the commercials (Only the pug is one of the cutest forms of life and Skimpy was one of the ugliest). I had lost all my sanity (i.e. whatever I had gathered so far) when I was trapped. So the sight looked like: I was yelling at the highest notch level with my hands in the hair and running in long tight skirts and boots (whoever made long tight skirts for teenagers) towards the highway and Mr. Skimpy in his chaddis getting dragged. I know its too funny of a sight and I thank my luck that I didn’t bang into one of the trucks and buses speeding on the highway. There were traffic cops, hawkers and my cousins running behind me asking me to stop but I was on a different trip altogether. Maybe I could have outshone a marathon runner at that moment.

Had it not been for a street hawker then, I would have easily rammed into another bus speeding towards Skimpy and me. The good Samaritan caught hold of me and slapped me while Skimpy was smiling at my back. He took out the rope off my waist and slapped Skimpy and I think that was the most non-reactive slap I have ever seen. Skimpy was still grinning. What the hell did he think of himself that a teenager was eloping with him or was I his Jane? The traffic cops took Skimpy along and asked my cousins to take me home safely. My eldest cousin hugged me and I started crying my heart out. I was shivering, trembling, and passed out in my cousin’s arms.

I opened my eyes after couple of hours with the most soothing comfort of my parents around me. I was aware that I was out of Skimpy’s territory but the fear of him stalking me gave me creeps. This incident shook me and I couldn’t speak to anybody for couple of days because every time I opened my mouth to speak I thought that people would think even I am insane like Skimpy.

After a month, one of my mom’s friends told me that Skimpy was a mentally retarded chap who used to jump on the ceilings of the slums around and shit on them. He wore only his famous red chaddis and sometimes gave them an off too.
His hang out places were in my neighborhood and that gave me all the more reasons to get paranoid.

It took me quite sometime to put this silly (I can proudly call it silly after 12 years) incident behind me. I wonder what I would do now if Mr. Skimpy came and stood in front of me with his famous red chaddis. But this incident helped me bid goodbye to all the aunties, kangaroos and infamous personalities from my dreams.

I am and will always be indebted to Mr. Skimpy for the reality check that he gave me. Now as a grown up girl I have better personalities and bodies and…….. to dream about……J

P.S. Did Skimpy ever change his chaddis?

Matter of Choice or choice of matters

This is my first blog and I don't know what should I start with....I don't have an opening line either...but I have a thought which has been making frequent trips to my conscience.

I don’t know how much is too much for a woman to take things in her stride. I do not believe in moral policing but sometimes wonder at their tolerance intensity. Though I have never been on the receiving end of physical abuse but I have seen, heard and read about such mind shattering abusive incidents that I can’t help but wonder what would I do if were her…..

Sarika*was (I am using the term was because that is what she was) an ordinary girl from a middle class family who was always treated like a son since she was the only daughter. Her parents thought she was a blessed child since they were in their late 30s when she was born. She grew up with a large extended family and enjoyed every bit of her life. She was a pretty looking girl who was a tempting choice for guys since she led a fearless life…… (It was life till she got married…)
As she grew up, she got her share of attention from guys and had couple of encounters with the ones she liked. but the guys never got the good of her since she had her own reservations towards physical intimacy.

Soon after her last break up with her boyfriend on mutual basis, she got in touch with an old childhood friend who somehow always had a soft corner for her. She started living the phrase, “Love is blind”.. because with her beauty, brains and strength, she could have got any guy she wanted. But what she got was something (I stand by using the term something for Mahesh because referring him as somebody is not even human) loud, possessive and huge. It was a combination of beauty and the beast. she swore by his love and passion and he swore by her love and attention…they swore till all they could do was swear at each other….
She knew what she was getting into..because after some years of their relationship he started abusing her and accusing her of luring other guys towards her. He got so insecure within himself that whenever she blinked her eyes and smiled, he thought she was doing it for somebody else. For sometime he held on his horses but soon afterwards he let his imagination run wild. Every time he met her, he would get drunk and accuse her of sleeping with some guy. He started calling her names. She threatened to end things up but every time he cried and begged for mercy only to return to his sick behavior. I know you must be thinking that what kind of a girl would take anything like this. I have known her since ages and till today I regret that maybe if I had encouraged a bit more she could have broken up with Mahesh. The reason that fixed her feet on the ground was the relation that Sarika’s & Mahesh’s family shared. Both the families knew about their relationship and had started discussing it internally. Mahesh’s parents couldn’t have been happier as they had never expected a guy who drank, smoked and misbehaved would get a girl like Sarika. They were convinced that Sarika was the balance that Mahesh needed to stabilize his life. Little had they known……..
Post their relationship of 3 years, Mahesh and Sarika got married. The last time I saw the real Sarika was during her Bidaai…It’s been one year since they are married now. The first few times I got to meet her in rushes..and every time I met her, all she said that there is too much happening in her life and she wanted to speak to me about it. Finally after the 4th month of her marriage, I got to meet her alone. The Sarika I knew was gone long. What stood in front of me was the pale, fragile and frail version of Sarika with marks on her body. I was appalled to see the sight and wanted to take her in my arms and let her cry. But I chose the contrary..I somehow gathered the guts to ask her about the marks on her body
But she casually changed the topic. It took me lot of persuasion to finally get the truth out of her mouth. Her words still ring in my mind, “Khush, Mahesh has been drinking every single day and coming home. He expects me to work like dogs throughout the day and do all the chores and after that listen to his accusations and bullshit. Yesterday, when I warned him that I would leave him and go, he tried choking me and dragged me out of the room. He threw me like a useless piece of paper in front of his parents, brother and bhabhi on the floor. He started abusing me and went on calling me names. And you know what, instead of his parents & other people stopping him, they started blaming me. You know what they said; they accused me of instigating him to behave like this. Do you think they would have said the same thing if their son in law would have done this to their daughter? I was shocked. My mouth just went dry and I felt like committing suicide right there. I still have my parents to think about. I am their only child. I slept in the guest room last night & nobody bothered to even come and check if I was alive. How can somebody be so cold? You know Mahesh has been forcing me to have sex with him in spite of the fights we have and whenever I have refused to do so he has imposed himself upon me. A newly wedded couple makes love, go out for dates and help each other adjust with the changes. I didn’t know that this was transformed into getting raped by your drunken husband every alternate day, sit at home all day long doing household chores and then listen to all the crap that your husband gives you.”

For the first time in my life I didn’t have words to say. Female abuse happens in Hindi movies, it happens with illiterate and uncivilized section of the society. It cannot be happening to Sarika. Sarika, who slapped guys at railway platforms if they acted fresh, who shot back at anybody who stared at her, Sarika who was always proud of her straight forward attitude. That was my last conversation with her. Today I spoke to her after 9 months of her so called marriage. My heart skipped a beat when I heard her voice. She was sounding calm and indifferent. I asked her how she was and how were things with her. All she said was that she is used to everything now and has adjusted herself to Mahesh. She said she will speak to me later and hung up.
“Adjusted to Mahesh”……was a concoction of all the emotions that she wanted to express but couldn’t. Was she getting adjusted to being molested or raped every single day? Was she getting adjusted to Mahesh thrashing her everyday? Was she getting adjusted to her in laws treating her like inanimate object which is put only for display in front of the guests? Since today morning all these thoughts have been ringing a bell in my mind. The Sarika I knew is a hazed image of fearless life and fun. The Sarika I spoke to today is a dead soul trapped in a fragile body. I tried calling her many times…but of no avail….

As I said in the beginning that I do not have an opening line for my first blog, I shared something with every single person reading this or ignoring this thought which opens your mind.

Urbanization doesn’t imply civilization. In a city like Mumbai, there are people around you who have been a prey to abuse. What we need to realize is that for how long will they stay accustomed to this? Do you think that they will not get help if they ask for? How much is too much…is it a choice of personal matters or is it just a matter of choice…Who decides?