Silent tears

Have only a sad song to sing, /Have only pain to sting. /Though water I have, /It doesn't make the flowers bloom,/But makes roots reach up to groom. / The moist earth is as inviting /As a bed with mother's kiss under the moon shining.

Kindness with honesty

It was a day like any other. I got down from the train. Longing for the warmth and aroma of a cup of tea to wash away the tiredness,took the subway with fast paced steps.Like on the other days,I ignored the aged couple begging in the middle of the subway. Then as I climbed up the stairs leading the way out from the station, I saw a lady sitting with a child. The child was lying prostrate on the ground, with a bandage on his forehead. The white bandage was soaked in red..a red which was too red to be blood! Yet, people were dropping coins at the feet of the lady,lending her a 'helping' hand. I gave a glance filled with disgust at the two fine actors and walked past.
The following day I did not find the aged couple begging.However the blockbuster actors were still there and their box office raking in the moolah from people's 'kindness'.
With the people rushing to get their train,running to get their bus and struggling to get home the constant clanging of money at the lady's feet was like 'mesto'.I felt a sudden irritation at the entire scene. I stood there in the middle of the stairs realizing that no one really cared. People were acting like robots. They were attuned to believe that they were helping the poor lady who was suffering with an injured child.They were stocking up their good 'karma'. However, not a single soul gave a thought as to why a seriously injured child is lying here and not in the hospital. Not one good Samaritan turned up to offer help and take the child to the nearest hospital!
It was a moment of epiphany. These people were doing the same thing as I do on the social media.Somebody is suffering in a war torn country I share it along with a very profound statement. Somebody is stricken with poverty or stuck in calamity I promptly complete my duty by hitting a 'share' or a 'like'. Most of us comfortably carry out our moral obligations thus, without disturbing the normal routine of our lives.However, we are there to extol the efforts of some one who does.
I approached the lady and sat in front of her and asked "What happened to your child? Why is he lying here since yesterday?Why is he not in the hospital?" The lady did not move. Her face was covered with her saree. I looked at the child.The bandage was clearly not soaked in blood as by now the blood should have dried and formed clot. What hit me was the tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. Were the tears fake or was it caused by the pain of lying prostrate on the ground for hours.I couldn't tell but here he was, a small child of barely 3-4 years,acting sick instead of running about carefree,playing or studying. Getting no response from the lady, I got up to go. Onlookers enquired about the problem.I remarked that it was nothing but a new begging tactic.However, the kindness kept shining and money kept ringing!
I walked towards the comfort of my home with a tug of discomfort in my heart. The tear at the corner of the child's eye had moistened the earth beneath my feet. I could not take a step forward without feeling helpless and guilty. I dialled Child helpline on 1098. A representative picked up and I explained the situation to her and gave her the address. Moments later a member from the rescue team contacted me for the specific details and location.He asked whether I could join them once they reach.I excused myself citing weariness.
After about an hour and half I couldn't help myself thinking whether the call had any impact.I dialled the rescue team member.A lady replied. She introduced herself as Seema and informed me that they found the lady in question.She tried to run away when they confronted her.The child was fine but a bit traumatized. The lady claimed that the child was her own.The commotion resulted in a mob.The rescue team wanted to handover the lady to the police,however, the crowd insisted that she be pardoned. So at the end they threatened the lady of dire consequences if she repeats and left. Seema remarked that she was sure that the woman would be found begging again in some other location using some other tactic.She added that the helpline team offered her a job but she declined. Seema remarked that they prefer begging to a job for making a living as the former involves less hardship. I could not help but feel admiration for Seema and her team members and equally ashamed at myself.It was almost 10:00 pm at night and she was returning home after attending to a rescue call made by me and here I was at the epicentre of the problem and could not spare 5 minutes to walk down!Life and its way of teaching lessons!
After talking to Seema, I grew thoughtful! How did these people have so much faith in begging as a job? It was because of 'us'.As long as we try to build up our short cut to heaven, they will thrive, wasting not only their god gifted strength and abilities but also by snatching the joys of childhood from many. Seema's words were true. After few days of 'actor' free subway, one afternoon I spotted another lady with a few months' old baby.I tried taking a snap of them which did not come out well.However my action had the expected result. They realized that somebody was watching and have not returned till now.
I am sharing this incident as I realized that the real power to stop this evil lies in our hands and it really does not take much effort. We need to be aware and raise the alarm at the least.Complaining about situations lying snug in our comfortable sofas will not help. It is a good thing to be kind hearted but it should be shown to people who really need it and not wasted on those who fake it. We are empowered in many ways to make someone else's lives better if we sincerely want to. If we are not honest in our kindness and just want to earn some fast blessings,its better to keep our hands inside our pockets and not mete out easy money to beggars. If we really care then we must dare to question and understand the situation and help in a constructive way.
We may argue that some of the NGOs,rehabilitation centres,orphanages etcetera are equally corrupt. Agreed. However, if we do not turn on the ignition, our journey will never start and if we do not hit the road we shall never know of the hurdles to be removed.It is a choice you have to make.Happy journey!

SECOND CHANCE

Somehow train journeys do not really tire me. If I had the magic wand to freeze time I would have definitely taken the train more often. But Alas! Money can buy even love and happiness these days. Time remains ever elusive. Therefore the memories of train journeys are cherished.
On one such wonderful journey home I met Trisha. She was travelling to Kolkata with her two daughters, Anwesha and Shanti. Trisha had big doe eyes which made her so adorable that you could pour your heart in front of her without any second thoughts. (Well, I tend to do that with almost everyone because I cannot shut up once I start!).Her daughters mirrored the sunshine happiness that she radiated. Anwesha and Shanti were gleeful. “They are excited.”She explained and continued” After all how many get to attend their mother’s marriage”.
My head screamed “What?!” For a minute I thought I am really suffering from the “Kanpur mein hartal” syndrome that my friends ascribe to me often. But, thankfully she continued.” You see Pinky, I am getting married in seven days. I had so much work to wrap up before coming! Everyday my parents were like ‘Are you going to turn up for your shaadi in some old salwar of yours?’ Well, I didn’t tell them that I wouldn’t really mind that. She animatedly continued. ”Alllll are ready for me. The tailors. The jewellers. The boutique lady. The parlour lady.”
I was in a fix. “Do I ask or not ask?” Then I reconciled with my better sense to not assume anything and I mouthed the words ”Trisha, so Anwesha and Shanti are from your first marriage?”I quickly added “I hope you don’t mind my asking”.
“Not at all.” she exclaimed.
“I came to Mumbai seven years ago. It was a move that I think was the turning point of my life. Till then I was leading a very protected and ordinary life. My life comprised of nothing but relishing the comfort of my home, lapping up my parent’s love and chilling out with friends. I was waiting to get married to my then boyfriend and was not really interested in pursuing a career. Then, out of the blue I got a job. I could not figure out for several days as to how I landed up with a job when I never applied for one!?I thought that maybe my ever devoted mother prayed so hard for my job that God appeared with Her enigmatic smile and uttered the magical words ”Tathastu !” Well, I for one am an engineering graduate. I was sure that other than my mother’s hands joined in prayer there must be some other hands involved. Aha! Then I remembered. It was none other than my own digits. I did appear for an interview in college after writing some tests. The delirium of my semester exam fever was such that I completely forgot about that brief encounter with the grim looking interview panel where I blabbered something about doing something and taking “Duniya Apni Muthhi Mein”! I did not understand why they got back to me with an offer after so many months. Anyways, it was good money. My parents were happy that I’ll at last do something fruitful in life. And I landed in Mumbai.
The initial days were very difficult. People around me were always walking or running. Their footsteps sounded so busy that I was scared to ask for any help. Once the initial apprehension was overcome with the help of the ever helpful HR at work, I started settling down. I made new friends. I enjoyed my new job. I started a journey of self discovery. I realized my mother’s sacrifice of her ‘me’ time and rest when I started doing all the chores, including cooking, myself. Back home, even if I had known cooking, my hands would have rejected the plea of my heart’s cravings. But Mom, never! I missed my family very badly.
My parents could not come to visit me because my Mom was Mom to my Dad and brother as well. So, the first bold decision of life was taken. I asked my boyfriend to visit. Amaan and me went back to our schooldays. We were ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ since the time he had offered me his umbrella on a rainy day back home from school. After he came to Mumbai, our no-holds-bar Bollywood style romance rolled out. I took leaves for few days. We went for Mumbai Darshan. We walked together hand in hand on the beaches. We tasted the famous “vada-pav” and “pani-puri” which was just “Alur Chop in Bun” and poor cousin of our “Phuchka” respectively! (The path of demystification kind of started). Kissed on Marine drive. Got soaked in the Mumbai rains. Sang together till our voices became hoarse. Made love till we lay spent. Amaan’s stay got extended by few more days as the Mumbai rains had created havoc and train services were disrupted. My workaholic days and our passionate nights continued for a few more days. Life was simply perfect. I was so happy.
Couple of weeks later my office colleagues were getting ready for office fun party in a water park. I opted out. Well, it was that time of the month and I was expecting the pain and following days of discomfort ( inspite of the comfort stories whispered) to start anytime soon. To my dismay I missed all the fun for nothing. Nothing happened. Life! Another week passed. The fruit vendor found a regular customer for ripe papaya in me. It was a “totka” that I picked up from my cousins. But still nothing happened. My universe shrank to a prayer for a red dot. I started getting worried.
I went to a medical store far away from my locality . The tremor within me was so much that I stumbled on the road. I could not control my tears. What was I doing?! What was I worrying about?!How did I come to this juncture in life?! I had no qualms about sex before marriage. After all it was the act of love between two consenting adults. However getting pregnant was never in the picture. The thought of my father’s Amrish Puri eyes and my Mom’s Lalita Pawar type scolding was disturbing my sleep. I bought the pregnancy kit that we always made fun of during our college days. I waited with bated breath for the sun to rise. I tore the packet and went inside. My tears broke the dam. The dreaded line appeared.
My world was in a whirlwind. I could not tell Amaan. I should not tell Amaan. I had insisted that it was safe. He overstayed the safe period by a day. I was blissfully happy in my bubble to realise that. However, Amaan understood. My period was delayed for more than three weeks. He told that there is no other option but to abort. None of us were settled to take up that responsibility. I understood. It was sensible and practical. I had to go to a doctor to confirm and carry out the process. Suddenly I felt weak and lonely. My lacrimal glands seemed to be working overtime. I went to a clinic. The attendant looked at me in a way that I felt he was judging my character. I could not control my tears. I ran out from there. I prayed to God for forgiveness. I prayed to God that nothing should happen to shame my family. They will never understand.
I went to another hospital. It was a reputed one. I did not want to die an ignoble death at the hand of some quack. I gave the sample. She asked me to come the next day with my husband. I cooked up a story about my husband being out on a trip for 6 months. Even if the doctor had seen through my lie, she did not make it evident. I gave my name as Trisha Singh.
The next day I had to face the harsh lesson of being reckless. The doctor confirmed my pregnancy. I took the first step towards hell by giving Chitragupta the opportunity to log the murder against my name. I had to arrive early morning the next day for the procedure. I opted for the surgical one as it was more reliable. We decided that it would be prudent for Amaan not to come. I switched off my mobile as I did not want my parents to know that I have been crying. Why life could not be like a movie?! Why could I not be as brave as Preity Zinta?! I cried myself to sleep.
Next morning I promptly reported to the hospital. The attendant asked about why nobody has accompanied me. She was concerned as I will be weak after the procedure. I repeated like a zombie that my husband is out of town and that I don’t know anybody else. She listened with the “all knowing” expression clearly showing on her face and went inside to inform the doctor. I just wanted to end the agony. The doctor called me inside. Then what followed made me reinstate my faith in God. The doctor apologized for a goof up by the testing lab. Apparently, there was another patient of the same age as me. Her name was Trisha Kale-Singh and she gave her name as Trisha Singh. The hospital tried contacting me. However, my phone was switched off. So they waited for me to report to the hospital. My report was negative. It was coincidence that the pregnancy strip turned out to be faulty. It was God’s design to make me go through the turmoil before giving me a second chance at being responsible for my actions. I thanked God. Second chance exists only in movies. I was lucky to get one in real life.”
I listened with tears welling up in my eyes. It was like I could feel Trisha’s emotional upheaval. Then I enquired about her two daughters. She told that, after the incident she was very distraught. She visited Siddhivinayak temple for forgiveness. She went to Ajmer Shariff to seek peace. On the way back from Ajmer Shariff she saw a child lying beside a beggar lady on the platform. That sight of love in poverty(scam was possible but the thought did not come up)prompted her to make her decision.
“After reaching Mumbai I took the first flight out. I reached home. I poured my heart out to my parents. They listened to me patiently. My parents turned out to be Farida Jalal and Anupam Kher!”She laughed.”We went to the adoption centre. I completed the formalities without much problem. Then I came back to Mumbai with my two daughters who brought my search for peace to an end. Inspite of my protests, my mother tagged along to take care of her daughter and two granddaughters, Anwesha and Shanti. Well what I said about Moms? I was proud of my mom and knew in my heart that I would be a good one too.”
I was elated and filled with admiration for this doe-eyed beauty. All of us make mistakes. However, how many of us live to turn it into something beautiful?
I congratulated her on her marriage to Amaan. “No. Not to Amaan”. She corrected me.”Amaan’s family could not gather the courage to accept my decision to adopt. Amaan could not go against them. I forgave him. I moved on. After facing the ordeal alone, I was ready for anything. My heart was in place and throbbing strongly with love for my children and also had a beat or two for my partner who I knew will come one day.”
“My Anwesha and Shanti are God’s blessings for me. I was applauded at my workplace for my ‘brave’ decision. I met Qaizar. He was my children’s paediatrician. He was so enamored by me. I did not let him go. Now we are getting married. ”She laughed again.”Oh you must come!”
I could not go. However, we have kept in touch. We meet up regularly. She said she did not mind me sharing her story. Her story taught me to take life as full of opportunities to live fuller and not live like a fool because of one mistake. Mistakes happen but if repentance is true then with God as the director, a happy ending is just round the corner.

White Light

Yet another incident of religious intolerance in the newspaper catapulted my thoughts to a memory in the good old days where long train journeys were the norm for travelling long distance. I was going home after drawing the final curtain on my life at the "Garden City".
There was a lady travelling in my compartment. She was travelling back to Kolkata after meeting her daughter. She struck a chord with me after knowing that I was "Bangali". An animated conversation followed about her daughter and her life away from her. I participated enthusiastically by sharing details about my family and my years away from family. The banter continued. Then she asked my name. After hearing my name she stuttered a little. You see, my name revealed that I was a Muslim and not a Hindu as concluded by her, after my acknowledgement of being a "Bangali". Though genuinely taken aback by her shocked expression, I was patient and polite. I explained that in Bengal there are "Bangali Muslims" as well as "Bangali Christians". After that revelation she took time to recover. However, soon she realized that I was a "good" girl or possibly 36 long hours of journey makes it difficult to ignore somebody and warmed up to me again. The journey ended with us exchanging numbers. The fact that I lost the number and she did not contact me either is another story about the times of "short attention span" that we live in. Coming back to my story, getting that shocked look was not new for me. For some reasons Muslims are expected to be Urdu speaking (the knowledge of Arabic being a given!). However getting it from a person of my own state was new for me! I was appalled to realize that people around whom I have grown up did not know about the diversity around them, leave aside knowing about the melange in the country.
Mind you, by people around me I mean the entire mosaic population. Most are ignorant about the other groups’ lives, cultures and beliefs. Most live in their own islands of some "Hindu pada" and some "Musolman Pada". Most form opinions from half baked information or from vacuous depictions. Away from home, the jarring contrast of the memories of revelry and the surrounding silence on the days of festivities aggravate the pain of solitude for people who need to live in the other “pada”. The most depressing part is that this phlegm is prevalent in the entire country.
One might argue that there’s no problem with living in isolation. All concerned parties are happy. Well, no problem at all. However, the pandemonium starts when one steps on the other's tail. We have allowed ourselves to be tied down by the shackles of religion, caste, status and innumerable other differences. Miscreants in various forms have been taking advantage of this apathy and inflicting wounds on one community or the other time and again. Generations carry the grudge and pass it on like some valued inheritance. Even after crossing the half century mark after independence years ago, we are limping towards a future which appears to be bleak due to the recent spate of events.
In our families we have siblings who are of the opposite poles. During disagreements we do not kill one another. Our parents teach us that we are different individuals and that we should respect the differences and love one another, come what may! If reconciliation is possible in families, then why not in our societies?!
I understand the oft-repeated phrase of childhood- "you are the future of the country" fully only now. I am proud and fortunate to have parents who never tied me down with religious dogmas. I was lucky to be schooled at an institution where the amalgamation of minds was encouraged. I am blessed to have like-minded friends among whom we have shared not only moments of tears and laughter but also the joys of festivities. The knowledge, that there are many others like me or even better than me across the length and breadth of our country, makes me hopeful. The generation who is bringing up the new generation is "US", the "PRESENT". We have the power to change the fate of our country by letting go of the past, embracing each other with new knowledge and not letting it slip into gory darkness. We are at crossroads where the pledge to pull out and bury the stained and tainted hatchet from the attics of each of our memories will give us a united front to ward off other social evils and take us to a brighter and safer tomorrow.
India’s diversity is a gift of history. Let us preserve it by celebrating our differences and stand united just like white light with all its beautiful colours hidden within it.

Je Suis Libre!

The world is a village where many colours, many minds, many bodies, many souls thrive. It is what makes evolution interesting not only in terms of the diverse metamorphosis of the physical form but also the varied transfiguration of the spiritual existence.We have evolved from the times of barbarians to being social animals and then settled into civilised societies. Humanity today is the gift of TIME.
However it is a cause of alarm that some were untouched by the magic wand of evolution.They have not learnt the secret of co-existence.They have not learnt to follow the modern times where you "live and let live".
So we come across terrorists with guns who preach "my way or the highway".They do not have any religion.They do not have any God(If they had then they would not have ruthlessly killed His favourite creation).They have lost the right to be called humans.Maybe they are not humans at all. Maybe they are aliens dropped by all the mysterious UFO's reported sporadically over the past many years!
We also come across some bullies who think "pen is mightier than the sword" but gives a new distorted dimension to the age old adage. No right thinking mind will ever derive satisfaction through derision of somebody's "honzon"!However, because of some misconstrued derivations they suffer from the misconception that 'people are jobless and love to watch others being ridiculed and also wait patiently to be the next in line'.
Both group of inhabitants of this Earth claim to be the custodians of freedom- one from darkness of the soul and the other from darkness of the minds. The France episode brings these two groups together. The irony is that the France episode of expression of freedom was the exact instance of freedom misused.
Freedom does not give one the right to malign somebody. Freedom does not give one the right to juxtapose ones faith on the other.Freedom does not give one the right to judge somebody's beliefs or make a mockery out of it.Freedom does not give one the right to exploit the tragedy of ones country to rake in the moolah!! If it is so then it would lead some to say that the recent occurrence has been a case of "freedom followed and freedom served!" The loss was not of any of the two parties; but of the innocent lives of the more evolved beings.
It is time we stand together and save the world from these detractors of peace and harmony.The essence of being free is best enjoyed with a fine line laced with respect, love and compassion for the other evolved human being wrapped with the same gift of Time as you. Je suis Libre!!!