The world is still a better place to live because there are people who still understand and empathize the world.
The world is still a better place to live because there are people who still understand and empathize the world.
Her fingers are clutched refusing to open to feel my fingers. Her curly hair slightly waved in the mild gush of the wind coming through the window. She looked calm yet stubborn showing reluctance to know her new world. I mildly played with the fragile curls of hair without letting her wake up from sleep. The serenity created by the nature to put a baby asleep made me wonder about the mysteries unknown to human beings. Her foot looked like a strawberry pastry with tiny toes as almond slices. Her fragile body made the mother inside me blow off completely.
I looked at her closely to find whether she has any of my traits. She looked exactly like her Father inheriting every physical feature of him. She has a broader forehead, tiny pointed nose and narrow chin exactly like her Father’s. Her fingers are long and thin. Every time he touched me with his long and thin fingers, they gave shivers of pleasure and happiness. His hands are strong and his chest is warm. The only thing she took over from me is the habit of sleeping on his chest tightly hugging him. I leaned over her and softly kissed on her cheeks. Did she smile in her sleep when I kissed or was it just an illusionary prejudice?
“Ragini, how many times I have told you not to sit next to the baby in your dirty clothes?” Her Mother shouted at me and my smile faded away in air.
“Go to kitchen and do your work.” She held the door opened for me to walk out of the room. I looked back at the baby once and slowly walked away.
He stood outside the room and said nothing. I didn’t want to look at him.
And that night when he knocked on my door, I lied down as if I didn’t hear any knocks.
The Last Time I gifted someone was a week back,
The Last Time I kissed my parents was three weeks back,
The Last Time I watched sunrise sitting on the sands of beach was a month back,
The Last Time I helped a stranger was two months back,
The Last Time I walked in the rain without an umbrella was three months back,
The Last Time I dipped my legs in a flowing river was four months back,
The Last Time I held a baby in my hands was five months back,
The Last Time I took a long walk was six months back,
The Last Time I sat with and listened to an elderly couple was seven months back,
The Last Time I did a night out to finish a book was eight months back,
The Last Time I sang to a small crowd with butterflies inside my stomach was ten months back,
The Last Time I wrote an exam was a year back,
The Last Time I allowed a kid to experiment her Mehandi skills on my hands was two years back,
The Last Time I tried cooking something new was three years back,
The Last Time I traveled in the metro train without getting down until I finished reading a book was four years back,
The Last Time I went for a trekking was five years back,
The Last Time I wept like a kid missing someone was six years back,
The Last Time I got terrified when back stabbed was seven years back,
The Last Time I jumped out of joy of getting something I longed for was eight years back,
The Last Time I looked deep into somebody’s eyes was nine years back,
The Last Time I enjoyed the purest form of friendship was ten years back,
The Last Time I played cricket with friends was twelve years back,
The Last Time I saw death right next to me was fifteen years back.
When was the last time you did…?
This is a message which I got in my blog’s Facebook page.I felt that his message should be shared and read by others.So sharing the message as a post with his consent.
This is S, born in India and living in Canada.
Hi, you have a great blog I must say.
I liked your post about I hate being Indian woman.
Indian women are so much repressed that it’s so sad. Who is to blame?? I will tell you from my observation.
The core reason for the degraded status of Indian women in Indian society is the Caste system.I have observed that the only reason why we have arranged marriages in India is to keep the caste system alive. There is no other reason for that and the pride of the family is associated with the female.If people from different caste are allowed to mingle freely, the status of women will improve dramatically. But elimination of caste system won’t happen because it will destroy Hinduism, and don’t even think for a second that in Ancient India the status of women was better .We all know about Droupadi, Sita , Kunti etc…
Indian parents (In India and aboard ) do pay for our tuition fee etc. but the real reason behind is ,by doing this and pampering us with money ,they buy us and make us their obedient dogs. They at the core are extremely evil. And all of this is done, so we will get married in our own caste ( inter-caste marriage cases in upper caste, marrying a lower caste is a BIG NO), so Indian parents do all this to keep their status in the caste society.
I thank Ambedkar who wrote the Indian constitution; he was the first Indian who provided a document to give equal human rights to women, low castes etc. And this is the reason he is hated by upper caste Hindus. India is a Khap country in itself. I can guarantee that there would be hardly 1% of the people who are commenting on your article who would be willing to get their brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, married to someone outside their Castes. I can guarantee that. And as for me, I have told my family from the beginning that I will never get married. All married Indians look depressed and unhappy to me. Till this date every Indian is just silently biased towards me. Hindus at core are superstitious, conservative, orthodox, and stupid. They have a Mob Mentality; they are terrified at the thought of doing anything independently. Even Independence was given to them by BAPU, who took them kicking and screaming and trying to knock sense into them, but they finally bumped him off, yes it took a stupid, religious fanatic, and idiotic Indian to Kill Bapu. That is an Indian. Indians like to talk about others and comment but have a separate rule book for themselves.
Treatment of women is just a blunt, naked, crude, brutal and shameless reflection of the Indian masses who are Racist Pigs.
I have decided to stay unmarried even before teenage, I am 25 now but, I know that Indian people won’t let me live in peace.So after completing my B.E I left India and came to Canada for higher studies. To my surprise, I met Indians here and it’s the same story. They keep their sexually repressive and conservative tradition with them here as well. I am sick of this pathetic Indian culture.
I had a relationship with a neighbor girl but she was from another caste.So when she came into college she got afraid and broke up with me.I proposed a girl in my college, she liked me but as her caste was different and she refused; because her parents won’t allow her to marry me.
Since then I have built up a hatred for Indian girls. In my world they do not exist, they are not individuals, they are like a herd of sheep. I am so happy that I am in Canada, at least you can talk to a girl (East Asians, African-Americans and Americans) who have a personality , you can date them, they don’t give you a rape warning or a marriage ultimatum like Indian women.
After completing my studies I got a good job. There are some Indian women here I know who are still unmarried (college students and above 25), they see a good slave and a good provider in me and try to lure me into having a relationship with them, I can’t say F***OFF on their faces but I know what they want, they want a good earning slave.To avoid them, I keep a low profile. I try my best to ignore Indian women all the time.
Being an Indian, I like Indian women the most, but our social, religious and caste system is so f***d up that as a man you don’t even want to try. An Indian male (like an Indian female) have to live a sexless life in his teens and college years and his only way to get some sexual pleasure is marriage. Such a bullsh*t evil society we have. I have a question, do Indian women know there is a thing called sex, or are they just sexless creatures?
If you talk to an Indian woman she only thinks you just want to have sex with her. Young Indian women are taught by their mothers that men are sex crazy dogs and you have to withhold sex and they will act like an obedient dogs to get sex.That’s exactly how Indian women see men.I swear I was extremely surprised when I talked to women from other races and nationalities, they were so respectful, friendly, open-minded and they did not treat me like I am a sexually pervert animal.
However after reading your blog I have come to the conclusion that, it’s the society, religion and caste system that makes Indian women the way they are .So I have changed my status to “I hate Indian women” to ” I am indifferent to Indian women “. They just don’t exist in my world (and in my Indian friends world) .We want to be with Indian women but their mind is so brainwashed and controlled by their parents, society, religion. Stupid traditions and caste that we don’t even try .Only they can break the chains of slavery , and they must stop being obedient cows of their parents, if your parents don’t respect your free choice they should go to hell. But are Indian women ready to take the responsibility into their hands???
In Indian society, caste is respected and not individuals.
Caste=group=mob mentality. Lack of individuality; it’s so deep-rooted in Indian culture that even NRIs are terrified when some other guy try to do something different like, dating other races, trying to have non-Indian friends, buying a different type of car (sports, coupé), buying an expensive liquor, buying expensive stuff, taking a cab, buying organic food, having roommates who are from different nationalities etc.
As far as Indian women are concerned , no angels from the skies are coming to help them, to hell with those emotionally torturing parents, until new generation does not challenge their parents (like I did) nothing is going to change.
That’s the question, are Indian women ready to challenge their own parents, caste system, stupid male dominated religions and rituals etc. Are they ready to take responsibilities into their hands?? are they ready to think and act as a group (women of India ) instead of being from upper-lower caste women ??”
(Sorry for such a long post… and yeah it does not matter if you are a man or woman, our society don’t let us and our parents live peacefully, when are you going to get married ??apke ladke ki shaadi nahi hui ?? SIGH).
Thank god I don’t live in a psychopath society like India, and here in Canada I avoid Indian families and Indian girls , sorry no disrespect to Indian woman but they are just looking for marriage on the other hand I just want to live my life freely and I make a good economical slave. (And sex is not a bad thing, thankfully unlike Indian and Muslim women rest of the womankind of this planet do enjoy sex just for the sake of having & enjoying it with no secret plans in their minds to trap a man)
Anyway have a good day,
Writing twenty-six posts is an exhausting task and that is why I didn’t take up the A – Z Challenge widely happening in blogosphere. This post is a hood to hide my laziness to write separate posts.
This is an ornament which I love a lot and end up not wearing it. The silver thread which adorns a girl’s ankle is a beautiful frame. May be it is all about what I feel about my legs that I avoided them since my late teens. I love listening to the tinkling of them when my Mom walks around in the house and sometimes I even decipher her mood from the rhythm of the tinkling.
People close to give me looks when I get excited like a kid every time I hear the word beach. Beach has been always my weakness that I never get bored with walking in the beach. The waves, the wind, the way my hair go out of control, the way waves come behind me to soak me, the feeling of solitude and romance in watching a sunrise in the beach make me way too attached to beaches.
I am not talking about the Zodiac sign Cancer but this is about the disease Cancer. Though there is no history of Cancer in my family, my intuition tells me that down the lane in my life, cancer would eat my life and I would lose my beautiful hair. I am purposely writing this so that years later, if I am down with Cancer I would know that even my intuitions are right.
There is a poem in Malayalam which says “Velicham Dukhamanunni,Thamasallo Sukhapradham” which translates to “Light is sadness, Darkness is better”. Darkness has its own beauty and charm. The amount of solitude that darkness gives to life is incomparable with the brightness of life.
There are times when I like to talk things exaggerated;it is fun.The memes wouldn’t be this hilarious if they were not exaggerated.In a nut shell,exaggerate if you want to get noticed.
Fear holds me back from doing, thinking and seeing a lot of things which I actually want to do, think and see in life. Now are you asking me what I’m feared of?Then,there is a long list waiting for you which I am not planning to let out.But,I do think that fear is the biggest obstacle which makes people reluctant from doing things they love and at the same time, fear is the biggest boon which makes you refrain from doing things which are wrong.
The relationship between Kerala women and gold are much stronger and deeper than the love women have for their men.(Un)Fortunately, gold has always failed to impress me despite it enjoying the limelight from rest of the Malayalee women. If women go crazy about the yellow tint, then it is the same yellow tint which makes me dislike this expensive metal.So, if you want to impress me, do it with a Diamond.
I love History. I love my family’s History. I love my state’s History. I love my country’s History. If I had enough money to travel around, I would be glad to go in search of the roots of my ancestors. I would like to know how good or bad people they were, I would like to know how they lived, how they loved, how they earned, how they disintegrated and how they died.
I’m a jug head though I don’t admit it very easily. I make people drop their jaws by making blunders in life. Let me not explain more about this for a safe side but you can still get a sneak peek here.
I have not flown a kite in my life. The book, The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini taught me a lot of facts about kites and flying kites. The book made me to yearn to fly like a kite with a broken thread, to fly among the clouds enjoying the breeze and then to slowly fall down on the floor once tired.
A close friend advised me not to tell lies and I asked him why. He told me that I don’t know how to lie to people and it was just an illusion inside me that people believed me when I lied to them. The ability to lie is an innate quality I guess that I have seen people talented enough to make lies sound better than the truth.
Blame it on my Mother who injected the beautiful feeling of Motherhood. She always searches for words to make me understand how she felt every time I kicked the walls of womb. Last year, when I made an announcement ”I want to become pregnant” ,my friends freaked out. They asked me for the reason and I replied them ” I want to wear the maternity tiered dress Vidya Balan wears in the movie Kahaani“. And they sighed.
“Nights are beautiful and days are dull” is my theory. Except my craziness about sunrise, I love everything related to nights such as dinner, moonlight, late night walks, darkness and night life.
The feeling of oppression cannot be understood or empathized unless if undergo it. Oppression manipulates you, fakes you and defeats you.I do know a lot of people who lived without breaking their silence and the stories are horrendous.If only they had used the will power to live through the bad times to speak up for themselves.
Past is past but, is past always forgotten? Present is considered as a gift but, then even your past was present yesterday and why wasn’t it a gift?
Quilts make me lazier and the energy to beat out the temptation is always lost in the battle.
This word is as high as the sky, as deep as the ocean and as good as an angel. You get stabbed in front by the dagger of regret, get burned in the fire of guilt and then get into the state of redemption where you are healed from the wounds of mistakes.
I’m not an innocent person but, I can fall asleep in a flick of a second anywhere, anytime and anyway. Sleep and I go hand in hand everywhere making my life much simpler and easier. Now don’t be jealous, your green stares don’t touch me at all.
Not many people talk about toilets and for me, toilet should be cleaner than the bedroom. I compromise on everything else in a house but not on toilet. It is a big turn off for me when I’m forced to use unclean toilets.
I have seen uterus. Yes! I have seen my Mother’s uterus. Though I saw it in terrible pain, I still wonder how such a mass of flesh accommodated me.
This color makes me smile which even a red rose fails to do so. The beauty of my Mother is incomplete without the vermilion color on her forehead. If you ask me what the color of love is, I would say vermilion instead of red.
Work is LIFE. This sums up everything. I do take occasional vacations to beat the heat of work, but life without work is as boring as life without meaning. Though I rant about the tensions and frustrations of my work, it is still an essential part of my life which gives me a reason to start a day. Let me thank my work life for making me love weekends a lot.
This word was not selected to fit in for the alphabets X.I do have xenophobia and I’m trying my best to overcome it. If I was not suffering from this, I would have been writing this post from New York.
I shamelessly yawn and I know it is very weird but can’t help it. If you make me bored, you have no choice other than undergoing this one.
According to me, zodiac signs and readings manipulate our mind. If you read this post, you would understand why.
Aditi: I wish you were not married.
Ayan: Three years back I called you up to propose you but, you cut my call the moment you heard my voice.
Aditi: I never knew that you had called me up to do so.
Ayan: Even I never expected that you would wait for me this long.
Moral of the story: Think twice before you cut a phone call.
He looked at all of us staring deep into our eyes. Cold wind blowing turned warm due to our tensed breath outs. Before joining the college, I did ask a lot of people about the ragging sessions in this national pride and the prestigious engineering college. To whomever I asked, for a difference, everybody told me the truth and sleepless nights turned me into a zombie by the time I joined the college. Two days, the seniors found no time to set up a meeting with the fresh batch of students. The name Unni spread like a virus among us and finally on the third day when we almost slept peacefully, the time to meet him was ticked in our fate book.
‘Who is Ajmal?’
Unni’s voice traveled like a bullet in the midnight hitting right on my chest.
He stood in front of me and gave me a handshake. Rest of them was told to make a circle of nearly 2 meter radius and he made me kneel at the center of the circle. Before joining the college,my well wishers had told me that for a boy(man?) like me, ragging would not be a problem because seniors would respect me for my terrific academic track record.
‘Tell us your intro‘, Unni commanded me.
Once I finished telling my introduction, he told rest of my batch and his batch mates that India’s brain in our college.
‘S.S.L.C 1st rank, 12th standard 1st rank, Kerala Engineering Entrance 1st rank,AIEEE 1st rank and IIT-JEE 1st rank. Wow!!‘
His batch repeated his words in chorus.
‘So tell us, do you study round the clock or do you actually do things which we men do?‘ Everybody laughed including the new boys.
‘Do you have a girl friend?‘
I said no.
My mind wandered that night and reached my 7th standard classroom. When I looked to my right, she was sitting there and writing down the notes.
Shalini, the heart-throb of the school.
The day when the teacher announced that Shalini would sit next to me that year, it rained inside my heart. I thanked my heavens for the new rule the Principal Madam introduced saying that in each bench a girl and a boy would sit for an entire year. The boys of my class flushed with jealousy and green vibes hit me all over.
Shalini wasn’t beautiful; she was amazingly beautiful. Her neatly braided hair would touch her nipples point. Her smile made me touch me every single night.Her fingers were long and the way she held the pen was cute.When power went off, I would wait until a line of sweat flowing down from her hair, behind her ears and then slowly flowing down her neck. During Wednesdays, I would secretly stare at her pink knees as girls wore shorts for the P.T.She talked with no one, including me. The girls in my class were equally jealous with her I guess and she always roamed alone. Few boys in my class did try to talk to her and she faintly smiled.She was bad at studies and though teachers would tell her to take my help, she never approached me.When teachers scold,her face would turn into a darker shade of pink.My hands would want to hug her and make her feel good. But,she behaved as if she has no clue that she comes in every boy’s dreams daily.
When the school, family and the state celebrated my rank in 10th standard, all I wanted was a look from her. But she wasn’t in the crowd. Even during the tight schedules of 11 th and 12th standard, I made time to think about her. My happiness roared to heights when she shook my hands after the series of 1st ranks in Engineering Entrance Exams. Her hands were smoother than mine and felt like I’m holding a two days old fragile kitten. I wanted to kiss her at that moment.I wanted to hug her tight and share my happiness. The white salwar which she wore that day made me feel that she is an angel.
I decided to find her and propose her. The religious barriers didn’t stop me from taking a decision as I knew where my career would take me. Money beats every religious barrier. The decision was to find her house once I go home for the vacation and then talk to her. My Mother would agree because she loves and understands me more than anybody in this world.
This time going home felt very special. Love was in air and I could feel its warmth.
Phone calls were made to my classmates and nobody knew her house. One told me that her family has moved out of the town. Though I was disappointed, the urge to find her and make her my own made me study like a maniac. I wanted a good career to make her live like a princess. Imaginations made a family inside my mind and there wasn’t even a day without thinking her. My friends wondered how I still remembered every feature of her even when I don’t have a clear photograph of her except the class photographs which are kept like a treasure in my trunk.
During my 3rd year engineering, there was a school reunion happening together with a wedding reception of one of my classmates. There is no better opportunity than this, my mind told me. If it was possible to marry her at the same venue, I would have been glad to do so. My eyes searched hard to find her in the crowd and finally after trying to sound casual and normal ,I asked my friend about her.
‘Oh so you didn’t hear the news?‘
My heart beat faster and I asked, ‘What news?‘
I wiped my forehead with my handkerchief. I gasped and made myself ready to hear the special news.
‘It was a suicide‘.
My vision blurred, my hands trembled and tears rolled out of my eyes.
‘Don’t be so emotional, buddy’.His hands on my shoulder didn’t console me at all.
‘You will not feel like crying if you hear the complete story.’
My ears reddened and my face showed the determination to kill the one who forced her to kill herself.
‘Do you remember our lab assistant,Biju?‘
‘She was having an affair with him and she got pregnant. Her family moved out from here and then it had come in the newspaper that she killed herself consuming rat poison.’
She cannot do so. She is fragile. She is an angel. She is innocent.She is ignorant.
The news about her is wrong; my mind struggled to believe it.
The reason to live has gone. My Mother held me close and tight until I cried my eyes out.
Going back to the college didn’t interest me at all. Friends did try to cheer me up but the blow on my life was too hard to heal.
Most of the days, I drank and slept on the terrace of the hostel. I would look at the stars searching for a brighter star which smiles at me. Friends laughed at me saying how an intelligent man like me could believe that dead people turned into stars.
But, empty terrace, beer and billions of stars consoled me better than the human beings. At times, when I see a shooting star, I would wish that she was alive in some world. At least alive so that I can tell her how much I still love her.
Image courtesy : Vinod Velayudhan
This post is part of the Chennai Bloggers Club(CBC)’s Flower Friday series initiated to keep the spirit of blogging alive and challenging.
In my third standard,I learned few lines of an epoch-making poem written by Mahakavi Kumaran Asan for the recitation competition for that year’s school cultural festival. The poem won no prize as I forgot most of what I had mugged up. The poem’s name was “Veena Poovu“.Veena,the musical instrument and Poovu,the Malayalam translation for flower.One of my classmates asked me whether I have seen this flower.My ego didn’t allow me to accept my ignorance.As she belonged to my rival gang,she forced me to bring the flower to the class next day.I told my parents to get me Veenapoovu to save my pride and status in the class.
Sadly,I came to know that there is no flower named Veena Poovu.The meaning of the title of the poem is “The Fallen Flower” because in Malayalam veena/veenathu means fallen/dead.
Nobody understood the tensions of an eight year old and still no one knows the brunt of losing a challenge;problems when we learn to recite poems without knowing its meaning.
Explanations of the poem in English could be found here.
She looked beautiful and her face glowed in the turmeric she has applied before her bath. The yellow tint made her face look fairer. She chewed a chocolate and saliva slowly flowed from the sides of her mouth in light brown color. She didn’t make an attempt to wipe it off, instead she looked outside through the window of the share auto. Her nose pin shined like a small diamond when the sun rays fell on it. The reflected light made patterns on the roof of the auto. People noticed her and she became a short time celebrity though she didn’t realize it. Her fingers were long and fragile and they were tightly held to a yellow cloth bag. The orange sari on her added her beauty but the sari was worn carelessly.
The auto driver shouted at top of his voice.
Suddenly she woke up from her day-dream and said that she wants to get down there. She took time to get up, her fingers took more than 30 seconds to hold the bag, she fell on one of the passengers when the auto moved a bit to give way to a bike, the auto driver shouted at her for wasting the time, and the passengers murmured for making them late to office. She struggled to manage her bag and sari. Somebody opened the door for her to get down. She got down and searched in her cloth bag to find the money. It took a considerable amount of time for her to realize that she has forgotten her purse at home. Her eyes told us that she doesn’t have money. Somebody who was very eager to reach office said that he would bear her share. The driver’s wrath fell straight on her face and her wrinkled face stood expressionless. Her cheeks puffed with sadness and her Glaucoma affected eyes flooded with tears. The auto driver didn’t wait to listen to her apologies and he sped the auto away.
When I looked back, I saw myself in an orange sari, with a slightly arched back and a yellow bag hanging from my broom like hands.
PS : The way we treat old people is pathetic. Once, an auto driver took an old lady all the way to Mount Road when she actually wanted to get down at Velachery. We had to shout and fight with the driver for not taking money from her. We collected some money among ourselves and put her in another auto and sent her to Velachery. All the charm, energy and stable mind won’t be there in our old age unless we are lucky enough for them. We are not spared from not undergoing through old age phase of life. So why are they treated badly? Remember that even they had a wonderful and energetic youth some years back.
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சும்மா பொழுது போகாம அப்டியே
"Enlightenment of Consciousness": My cerebration, slant, recital, perspective, persuasion, vox populi about my surroundings has been digitally posted consistently thru my puerile tweets (twitter.com/simplychitti), Tamil blog posts (www.sengalsithan.tumblr.com), picture Uploads (Instagram > iCTSK), etc. This is a primary extension of my Self. @சித செந்தில் குமார் / CT Senthil Kumar
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British Asian, Healthcare Professional, Property Developer, Entrepreneur, Student, Blogger, Reader, Traveller, Photographer. The world is my oyster....in short "the coolest apna on this planet"... follow me on Twitter @TBABlog
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