Accept we are racist

‘Racist’ has become a popular word in urban men dictionary soon after the brutal attack on North East student Nido Tania left the teen dead in our very own national capital. From the front page headlines to the prime time talk show, all have geared up to discuss the fact—“are we racist?”

Nido’s death forced all-from smart TV anchors to our parliamentarians to finish litters of water discussing the origin, facts, figure and reality of racism. The incident sparked a nationwide debate and discussion on racism. North eastern students have started protests asking justice for Nido. There is also special Face Book page dedicating the deceased soul. We can hope that this young innocent lad will get justice soon. And his killers will be punished. 
But what next? Will this punishment stop us from being racists?

Yes, accept the fact that we Indians are racists. It is the reality and a known fact that we –the citizen of ‘mainland India’ keep step motherly attitude for our people from North East and keep calling them by funny names following their physical appearance. But there are others also in target.

A large number of north east people are leaving from past a decade in Delhi. Those who came to pursue their college now have started living there and like others of our generation have no plan to leave the city. But yet they are ignored by others in the capital and sadly, also a subject of fun. 

If you have come for the first time in Delhi, the shopkeepers in busy Canaught Place or Lajpat Nagar or Sarojininagar market will teach you one word promptly-‘Chinky’. And you will adopt the word without knowing the effect. I also learnt the word in same way. And one of my north Indian friends explained the appropriate meaning of the word. We both have a few very close NE friends from our college. But that could not stop her calling them (of course behind them) ‘chinky people’. 

But what made me astonished is the regular discussion forum on racism in our country. We don’t have the guts to accept the fact that yes, we are racists. We not only have hatred feelings against our north eastern friends but also our colleague from Bihar or our next door neighbour from Bengal. We basically hate each other. We call Bengalis ‘Bong’ and spend hours disgusting their food habits or if we are under the Bong category, we will start shouting slogan explaining how rich Bengali culture is and why we are supreme among others? 

We know how ‘kanjus’ Marwaris are? Or we never like the food habits of Oriyas. And so on...

You might not call it racism as it is not physically hurting someone, or we might have become so accustomed with this hatred attitude against each other. But this attitude we are carrying in our blood, in our vein and only becoming more racist every day.  

We demand justice as well as we hope to get recover  from the illness of 'racism'.

Her death… the death of issues?

I am ashamed, I am surprised, I am unable to express my feelings. Her death is not a single case of rape victim’s death, but it is the ‘news’, which creates many news, raises many issues. Spoiled media people’s happy sleep since the day it has come to the light. After her death, big wigs of our country’s politics ‘expressing their grief’. All prime roads are closed, metros are going to stop service, and who knows how many things will happen to avert last Sunday’s incident. It shows that country has enough number of security persons to protect (if our own ‘very respective government want’) people. It means if they want they can actually tight the security for people’s benefit and their safety. But sadly, they only envelop the city with great security system when it is a matter of their own ‘safe life’. The situation is worse if it is a matter of women safety and rising crimes against women not only in the capital but also in the entire country.

The Indian politics, which is the main source of bread and butter of people like us, every day gives birth many surprising issues or news but this time it looks even tired with the heavy load of issues that came after the gang-rape of this 23-yr old paramedic in a moving bus in South Delhi. ‘Congressists’ to Communists every one took their own responsibility to give speeches and bites on this issue! I am surprised how many of them will come forward with all these issues now after the death?  And what will do the ‘dented and ‘painted’ (according to Mr. Abhijeet Mukherjee) protesters? Will they come again and again to raise the issue and to give Mr. Mukherjee’s satirical remark an appropriate answer?  

Do media will perform its real roll and coming with issues that need to resolve now or will they wind up those issue after the death of this young girl thinking that it is not ‘contemporary now’? These issues were lying in cold store since a long time and came in front after decades only after the brutal incident came in the light. Will these ‘now’ much-discussed and ‘front page’ news end with the death or the sorrowful demise of the girl will spark the movement much bigger, much affective?

No place for us!!

A day that started with the news of brutal killing of a pregnant woman by her 'beloved' husband who forcibly delivered her and later threw the body of both baby and mother in a Rajasthan village.
The man was drunk when he did this devil's work. There were not a single sign of regreat on his face even when he was addressing the press outside the police station.
Cut to the southern part of the country; Kerala-once the most educated state of India, a 13-yr old girl refused to go home from school and told a horror story of abuse.
The girl was raped by her own father, uncle and 15-yr old elder brother for over two years.
Both the incident was the example of much-discussed and 'very common' incident of crime against women in our shining India in this 21st century. How many people will remember
these two incidents.After watching the news they will switch off the TV and will engage themselves in their daily routine. These are not a separate incidents at least not
in my profession where days starts with rape, abuse and ends with honour killings. But today was different as the day haunted me even when I was loaded with work.
In both the incidents victims were victimised at their own home and by their own people. Father, husband, brother- those most reliable realtionships which were meant to
protect those ill-fated girls, actually spoiled and killed them.
Why our society, which worships women in the name of Durga, Lakshmi, Saraswati and others is not ready to respect us as  a common human. Why our society can not understand
that we are also combination of flesh and bloode . We also feel physical and mental pain. But even now when we girls have proven our skills in every area of profession and also managing
our personal life with smile and stamina then also society is not even ready to give us our own place.


Every day when we travel in bus or visit crowded area, a fear always haunt us that may an unnamed hand touch our private body parts. Generally we  avoid that touch and try our best to keep ourselves stay away from that unnamed hands. It haunts us even when when we are sleeping.

  

Seeking a reply!

We always talk over phone when I am in professional trouble

I just call you up or sent you a text, even sometime a mail

You reply urgently amidst your thousand ton of work load.

I know you are my savior in my profession.

Without thinking twice I can message you to help me out to take right decision in wrong time.

You reply always.

To motivate me towards my work which I love the most, you are always a phone call away.

But what if I want to share the hot summer of my place and the leaves which has just fallen from the tree, its pain after become alone

Or maybe it’s my recently completed novel and my tears for the main protagonist woman of the book?

Will you hear all my madness and give me the place and space to share my all happiness and sorrowful cry with you?

Now I want to tell you, here its monsoon now, but I can’t enjoy it without something or may be some one.

I want to sing my favorite song with you only. I want to hear the MaghMallar while touching your finger.

Here its dark cloud in sky, I am sending the letter through ‘Megh dutaam’ to you

A letter to you, monsoon....

An open but secret love letter to you monsoon

Open because any one can read it, but secretly we- u and me will share our feelings.

Monsoon, you are always my first crush, I believe

When I was a kid, I used to try my best to make a paper boat with friends

But never became successful, but I tried my best to give a love gift which will floats on your chest

And through my unfinished boat I wanted to send my eternal love to you

You never disappointed me

From the balcony of my school I eagerly tried to find out my paper love on you

And… finally I discovered that it was trying its best to send my messages to you..

Then I crossed my naughty childhood days and entered into the teenage era of life.

The time when life become so dramatic that we see the World with the colorful glass.

Then also, you were my only permanent lover… amongst other small natural crushes, my feelings for you were the only true love in my love…oh,,,its not a joke..I agree that there were other worldly humans and fictitious character in my dream, but only to you I gave the permanent address in my heart.

From my window, I waited for your touch in my fingers. I gave my complete energy to welcome you. I sang all my favourite songs…and expressing my arms I waited till drop of your love came to kiss me through a drop of rain.

It will never end, Today even, when I am sitting with some extremely worst people in my tough period of time, you came and made me happiest,,

There are so many words I have written and more are in my heart for you..

Whenever I saw in the corner of sky that you are coming, an unknown smile comes to my face.

  

A letter from your true lover and best friend

J

Meri awaz...jo kisi ne nei suna...

में देख सकती हूँ तुम सबको सरको पे चलते हुए, पानी में विगते हुए कवी दोस्त का हाथ पकर के
कवी अकेले
में महसूस कर सकती हूँ इस धरती की मीठी एहे साँस को
बहती हुई हवा जो हमारी साँस बन जाती है
में महसूस कर सकती हूँ वो सब
 पर तुम मुझे नि जानते हो
किउंकि में तुम लोगो की तरह इन्सान की आकृति नि पी
में एक कवी न जनम लेने वाली कन्या हूँ
मेरे व् कुछ सपने थे
माँ के शारीर में पलते हुए ही मैंने दुनिया को निहार न शुरू किया था
उनकी आँखों से
सोचती थी इस खुले असमानों में में व् साँस लुंगी
स्कूल फिर कॉलेज जाउंगी
जीने की बहत ज्यादा  ख्वाइश थी मुझे
माँ के आँखों से कोशिश करती थी सूरज की किरणों की ताप लेने की
जब पहेली सूरज की रौशनी खिरकी से घर में झांकता था
में तो खिल ल्हिला के हस उठती थी
पर किसीने मेरी हसी की आवाज सुनी ही नि
पर माँ को शायद महसूस होती थी मेरी झरना जैसी हसी की आवाज
वो डरती थी.
उसके हर रात बिना नींद की गुजर ती थी
वो सोचती आपने ही मन में मेरे पहले वाले बहनों के बारे में, जो कवी नि देख पाई थी धरती में गिरती हुई सूरज की किरण
जिन्हें व् मेरी तरह मार दिया था मेरे आपनो ने
में सुन सकती थी मा की आवाज
बेटी हूँ ना!
मा के दर्द को केसे नि समझू!
 में आपने ना बोले शब्दों में मा को समझती थी.
बोलती थी मा इस बार थोड़ी सी हिम्मत कर लो..
मुझे नि जाना किसी हॉस्पिटल के दुस्त्बिं में
मा में जीना चाहती हूँ
....पर मा तुम कुछ नि कर पाए..मेरे आपनो ने ही मुझे तुम्हारे शारीर से जबरदस्ती निकल दिया..
जेसे एक पैर को जर से निकल ते है.
जैसे ख़राब हो जाने वाला शारीर के अंश को कट देते है..
तुम सबने मुझे निकल क फेक दिया
पर में तो कोई शारीर क अंश नि हूँ
में तो खुद एक शारीर हूँ
बेटी हूँ तुम सबकी
आगे जाके किसी की बहिन, किसी की माँ बन सकती थी
मेरी आवाज़ तुम ने सुना नि
कल भी nehi
नही अज...

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