The Last Hug

The handshake crushed her. Not just her hands, her whole soul. What could have been a hug remained just at the handshake.The familial touch was missing. The goosebump-inducing touch was now a cold, firm handshake.
'Hug me now, I'm right before you', she was silently crying. But he simply looked past her and walked away.
She lowered her eyes and turned away her face, only to hear the beloved voice call out in the exact same way her name used to be called - "Shona".
She turned immediately, eyes red and tear-rimmed. But no, the hallway was empty. What was happening? Who shook her hand? She tried to remember. It was him. It was definitely him! Or was it?
Dr Mittal opened the door to his chamber, which was one of the doors in the hallway that read 'Senior Psychiatrist'. He called out, 'Sonali, please come in, we'll begin your session. I hope you're feeling better after taking medication for a week.'
'Does the medicine which you prescribed have any side effects, doc?' she enquired, feeling unsure of her entire being now.
'Ah! It's a very strong medicine. It sometimes accompanies a slight headache and sometimes even hallucination in rare cases. That's why I had written very low dosages for you. I think the medicine has worked for you. You look much better today Sonali', Dr Mittal remarked.
'Now let's move to our session. Is there anything specific you'd like to ask or discuss?'
'I met him today, doc', Sonali replied, still looking down as if guilty.
'Where?' Dr Mittal asked calmly.
'Just outside, in the hallway, while I was waiting for my appointment with you.'
'Did you talk to him?'
'I couldn't. I just froze. He just shook my hand and left.' Her eyes welled up. 'I can't take this anymore, doc, no more. I want him so bad. I want us to be together again' she broke into intermittent sobs. 'Enough!' she said and hastily wiped her tears. 'He's mad at me, I'll apologise. He can't deny me. He just can't. I'm his weakness.' A faint smile appeared between her sobs.
'He can't be with you', Dr Mittal said even more calmly.
'Why not?' she asked indignantly. 'What have I done so bad that he would leave me for good? I'll make up to him.'
'He's dead. You're hallucinating, dear. He was bashed to death saving you when the goons attacked. Don't you remember?' Dr Mittal pleaded with her.
'Why aren't you believing me? I just shook hands with him!' she said in a whisper thinking to herself, 'Am I hallucinating now or was I hallucinating then?' and ran out of the doctor's chamber, to catch up to Rohit before he vanished again.

And that's monsoon!

A perfect sunny day with nice, soothing warmth and perfectly azure skies.

Sitting by the window, you're reading.
When you look out the window after finishing a page, all you see is darkness.

And while you're still thinking when did this transformation happen,
you feel droplets lashing against your skin.

Rain is the stimulus for lovers and writers.
It's the catalyst that washes away the masks and unveils the vivid colours.

And while you're gazing out the window,
an unpretentious smile has already taken rest on your lips.

Gradually the skies become brighter, you notice.
The velvety grey clouds making way for a patchy blue sky.

And only the drenched leaves quivering as the raindrops slide down
to make splashy puddles on the drunk ground.

Because monsoon is not when you run to take cover;
it's when you rush outdoors to take a swig of life!

Broken Walking Stick

The lady was in her late thirties. But she looked nothing like it. The courtroom audience assumed she must be around sixty. She looked composed, more like dejected. Not a hint of relief, that justice was going to be met out that day. Through the proceeding, her head was propped up on her left hand, while she gazed at the floor before her, like a fatigued old lady. When all allegations and cross examinations concluded the fate of the convict, she was asked if she had anything to say. She walked with a slight stoop, to the witness stand and took her place. And for the first time, looked at the man across the room in the opposite witness stand and spoke.

“She was only four. She hadn’t learnt to walk one foot before the other. She tottered as if balancing each foot on two parallel lines. She hadn’t caught up with the latest trend of pouting. She opened her thin lips and grinned showing her milk teeth for the camera. She wore an oversized frock, nonetheless. What did you see in her..”, her face was flushed and her voice choked on the last word.

“She was going to be my walking stick after a few years. Instead, I had to bury her in a small coffin. You killed two people that day. What you did to her will flash before my eyes every day, for the rest of my life. It’d have been better had you chosen to assault me and not her. I might not have been alive today. But that little one, who had just begun her life, would have lived to fulfil it. Maybe, I’d have survived. This is an old rugged body, it might have endured your abuse. Then might be I would have taught her forgiveness someday. But now, forgiveness has forsaken me.” Her voice had become a croak. She muffled through the cloth that she kept dabbing her eyes with.

“She would have been twelve this year, and grown to be a compassionate, strong girl. But today, you have snatched all compassion from me. These eight years while you bragged about your conquest over my little girl, I writhed in pain and shuddered at the glance of every person who looked at me a little longer than usual. I had never seen you until this moment. I only knew your name. I didn’t want to put a face on my most excruciating horror.”

“It is not mine to show compassion seeing those tears streaming down your mute face. You grew up a vagabond, never knew who your parents were. Is that even an excuse you offered in pleading not guilty? Nobody is bereft of conscience, my boy. As you can’t stop those tears today, my daughter too must have..” she squeezed her eyes shut, and gripped the bar of witness stand tightly as if saving herself from being overthrown off a precipice.

“I’ll not demand a capital punishment if the court decides otherwise. A life for a life would leave the whole world dead. And your death wouldn’t give life to my daughter. But given the prerogative, I’ll not let you roam the streets free. Else people will get the idea that taking a life in such a brutal manner is not a big issue. And that it can be attempted again and again to satiate one’s lust, and then one can walk away scot-free.”
“Had I been more relieved if this case hadn’t taken eight years? Definitely. Am I satisfied that you’d be finally condemned today? Not exactly. Nothing gives me satisfaction anymore. Nothing gives me hope anymore. My world was crushed and broken that day and nothing has been any better since.” She fell on the floor, wailing inconsolably.


Also published at The Dilettante Author.

Conversations #2

"I am not going to sit quietly and take your crap" she fumed.

"You have me, but you don't want it", he replied mollifying.

"After all these years, is this all I'm worth? she demanded. "We're talking alimony here. This is not some joke."

"You're worth my life", he replied.

"Oh stop it!" she banged the table between them. "I'm no more the besotted in love, naive girl, who fell for the broody genius of college."

"But I'm still the nerd who fell for the matured and extremely beautiful college fresher" he quipped.

"Do you think you can woo me by such gushy, eloquent speech of yours?"

"I did that once. It was extremely difficult. I know how hard it is to convince a strong lady like you. I don't know how to do it again for the lady who can see through me now."

"Remember, our daughter stays with me. We can discuss your meeting arrangements with her once my lawyer comes”, she snapped, ignoring his statement.

“Can we work out an arrangement where I can stay with you too?” he grinned apologetically.

“You find this funny, isn’t it? I am leaving! Do you realize that?” she said exasperated.

“I know that”, he replied gravely, “and I desperately wish you don’t.”

“We can’t work it out” she said, looking into his eyes.

“We’re meant to work it out. You just don’t want to see it” he sighed.

Silence ensued for a whole minute.

“We don’t talk anymore”, she complained in a tone barely audible.

“You’re right. And when you thought of putting that right, you didn’t say it to me, but got a lawyer instead” he retorted.

“Were you even there to listen to me?” she felt the anger, hurt and neglect welling up inside her again.

“Okay. I want to propose something again, today. And this is a promise”, he said, going down on one knee and taking her hand in both of his.

“I am sorry! I am extremely sorry! I went back on all our marriage vows. But today I promise you, from now on, I’ll be a husband and father first, before anything else. I am not a man of letters, you know that. But I strongly hold the adage that when something breaks, we mend it, not throw it away. So, trust me if you still can.”

She was sobbing uncontrollably by then.

A minute later, her lawyer walked into the room. He saw both of them holding hands across the table and talking. Confused, he hurried towards them.

“We won’t be needing your services anymore, thank you”, he smiled at the lawyer, and turned towards his wife and winked.

Conversations #1

"Don't dance before my eyes," he said.

"But I'm just sitting and reading," she replied, glancing up at him.

"Yes, but the way your lips move silently, as if whispering a reticent prayer. The way your eyes vacillate from the pages, to the open window, and to me. The way your fingers slip through your auburn hair and you rest your temple on the heel of your palm. And your words weigh down, carefully aimed to knock down any defence of apprehension. They are nothing less than a rendition. And you say you're just sitting?' he said amused.


Also published at The Anonymous Writer

Rape Is Justified!

Absolutely!

And why not?

Ours is a country hailed for its rich cultural values. Ours is also a country where marriage is treated highly sacred. And to protect these values and the sanctity of matrimony, our leaders, (whom unfortunately we have voted into such absolute power) have decided, marital rape cannot be criminalised.

But sadly, ours is also a country where any form of sexual harassment (especially towards women) is overlooked. Ours is a country where the husband is (supposed to be) treated like a god. Ergo, there can be no complaints against him.

Not even when he forces himself on his (supposedly) better half. Not even when he derives sinister pleasure inserting objects inside his wife and wounding her within and without.

In a written response to MP Kanimozhi’s query, whether the government will amend the Sec.375 of IPC which does not include marital rape within its purview, the Minister of State for Home Affairs stated-

“It is considered that the concept of marital rape, as understood internationally, cannot be suitably applied in the Indian context due to various factors, including the level of education, illiteracy, poverty, myriad social customs and values, religious beliefs, mindset of the society to treat the marriage as a sacrament.”

When we say that poverty and illiteracy, our social customs and values, the mindset of society, doesn’t admit the concept of marital rape, we faintly agree and accept the wrong that goes on in our society. We not only shy from taking notice after the UN had suggested that there is a huge number of marital rape cases in India, we take no responsibility to change it. We can only sit comfortably before our TV sets and participate in the women empowerment debates through the LED screens.

The Nirbhaya disaster was not the first of its kind. It was one like the many unreported incidents that, fortunately, everyone took notice of. The Verma committee which was constituted as a result of this, assumed a maternal fairness in dealing with such heinous crimes. Barely any of its recommendations have been made law. The lowering of the age of juveniles, for instance. So now, if a 16-year-old rapes, he can be tried as an adult. But what about the 14-year-old boy who rapes his 10-year-old classmate? Doesn’t that count as gruesome an incident? Or, the victim isn’t actually a victim because the culprit was a ‘juvenile’?

There should be a crime-based justice system, not an age based one. A juvenile and an adult for cases like rape should be tried equally. When a juvenile can commit an adult crime, why not be punished like one?

Although the Verma committee suggested criminalising marital rape by doing away with the exception to Sec.375 of IPC which states-

“sexual intercourse by a man with his own wife, the wife not being under 15 years of age, is not rape.”

The lawmakers again dismissed it as a piffle saying that- “it would destroy the institution of marriage, perhaps doing more injustice”.

Well, isn’t it already an injustice to not only be bound to live with a rapist but also acknowledge him in the society as one’s husband? The exclusion should anyway be done away with, since, at the outset, it permits a wife to be of 15 years, whereas the legal age of marriage for girls is 18. Contradiction!

The other arguments in favour of keeping the law as it is have been coming thick and fast.

•   If accused, it would be difficult to prove charges. -- So, make no law against it at all?
•  Let injustice prevail because we cannot take the pains to examine the charges?
•  Many might misuse such a robust provision. – So let the majority suffer this prejudice?
•  It defiles the sacrament of marriage. – So keeping mum about the ruthless debasement of women preserves the sacredness of this divine institution of marriage?

·      We have voted our leaders into power to represent us. Not to refute us. And this is the voice of the 620 million Indian women. Let’s not wait until it’s too late!