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.

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!

This doesn't seem the end..

Howrah Bridge from Howrah Station

Every time I've come to Kolkata, it’s reluctantly. And every time I've left Kolkata it’s even more unwillingly.

The numerous trips have been for work, studies & holiday too! Notwithstanding the heat, I remember having come to Kolkata for a holiday during summers once! But, there is no particular time to be in Kolkata. It’s all the year round.

The dusty pale roads that suddenly become crowded and jam-packed during pujo seem just the place to put your feet on. The innumerable melas on every open ground. The paper-boys selling old newspapers for a Rupee to sit on the wet ground when it rains during the pandal-hopping days. The festivities do not die. “Come rain, come sun, we won’t cut down the fun!” This seems to be the motto of every Kolkata-dweller. 

Would you rather be at any place other than Park Street during the Christmas? I bet not. The festivities capture you and you just can’t go home. Nobody seems to mind the night out on the streets, stretching into the next day. The lights, fun and food beckon you.  The entire street closes to traffic from evening on, and every shop glows up in merry Christmas lights. The carnival here is a never-miss!

Calcutta University, opposite which the historic Coffee House is located

Old city Calcutta is a storehouse of historic assertions. It is full of buildings, old and dilapidated. But each of those is a heritage with some story that etches it’s connect with its past glory. I think the College Street Coffee House is probably the only place that allows smoking inside its premises. But again, it’s the only place that had the geniuses of Netaji Bose & Satyajit Ray come for a cuppa coffee too!

Inside the College Street Coffee House

The generous bus-conductors will spare you change for a 500 Rupees note even for a 6 Rupees bus ticket, if you call them “Dada”. And the smile never wipes from their faces. Every lady on the street-side chai-cigarette shop is a “Maasi”. She’ll pour steaming tea into an earthen cup from a metallic kettle that we had last seen in our alphabets book where we learnt “K for Kettle”. It is a visual delicacy. And the scent of Kolkata is undisputedly tobacco. Some person will definitely smoke on your face, to give you more than just a sniff.

The numerous puchka-walas at every street corner and the roll shops at the road-sides, every few metres provide the just right evening time snack. And every true-blooded Calcuttan will have a favourite shop in some ‘galli’ of some ‘para’.

One of my friends observed, “This city grows on you”. And rightly so. This city embraces you and doesn’t leave you. In case you still have to move on, it’ll go with you. How often in a new city have we bragged by saying- “But back in my hometown...”? For me Cuttack & Calcutta have been used interchangeably, in a complementary kind. 

Again providence has deemed it fit for me to move out of Kolkata. Still, this doesn’t seem the end. 

A Place Called HOME!

It is a matter of great pride that Indian minds are among the brightest in the world. But it is also a matter of utter shame that in India itself, young students are so pressurized that they choose to rather give up their lives, than (even) see their results.

A recent news article highlights this.

Our dreams for them are so big that their inability to achieve those dreams makes them totally insignificant in their very own eyes. Are we stretching it a bit too far?

Atrocities on kids are something we are highly concerned about, especially with the recent increase in the same. Let’s put little extra effort to save them from parent pressure, which leads them to inflicting punishment on themselves. And this is significantly high in the southern region, which has a higher education rate compared to the rest of India. 

We argue, that it’s for their good we ask them to study. But how do we ask that? Do we emotionally blackmail them? Do we compare them with their fellow students & humiliate them? Do we shove the burden of our reputation upon their little shoulders? An eye-popping statistical report shows 40% student suicides in India alone.

To all the talented (in their own way) students who have high potential in their lives, I have some questions. How important are you? How do you access your unworthiness? Who gives you the right to take away your life? You didn’t choose to come into this world. You can’t justify taking it away. More so, for a petite reason like marks. The world will not collapse

Why don’t we encourage students who haven’t got excellent marks in 10th/12th to look beyond and pursue a career path they might excel at? We tend to become so obsessed with meagre figures that we fail to see that our kids might be excelling at something else. It could be sports, it could be music. But do we care? Some parents do cross the fine line between discipline & despotism, who make their wards take a plethora of classes to excel at everything!

 I definitely don’t commend kids who have been assured of immense family wealth that they conclude that education is not important. Education is the foundation of a person’s identity. It refines character. But is definitely not more important than life!

 Why is it so important to take pride in our children’s achievements that we utterly forget to cherish them? Which parent would agree that they would rather have an academically outstanding child than no child at all?

Let’s give them a place to return to, no matter what they have done-home!