Poli-'acid'-itize..

It all started with a plain sms last night asking different students, girls especially, to gather near Indira Park to sign a petition regarding stricter laws and stringent action against those who commit atrocities against women. This was being done in the wake of acid attacks on 2 girls in Vijayawada, one of whom is battling for her life. So far, so good. I slept last night thinking that something constructive will be done the next day and I had the opportunity to show my solidarity for the cause. I enthusiastically messaged many female friends of mine and finally went to bed.
I started for college earlier than usual ( I normally end up missing the first hour, intentionally or unintentionally). Once I reached, I told every girl I know to come to Indira Park. The lecturer in charge of this event(Ms S) asked me to gather few more students to which I gladly agreed. After a lot of cajoling and convincing, many girls agreed. Many were ready to come, but ultimately just 20 of us made it to Indira Park(some lecturers played spoilsport by not allowing students to leave classes). I could have become disheartened, but I thought atleast a few of us would voice our concern. Little did I know that I was horribly wrong.


We reached Indira Park at around 10:30, the event was supposed to start by 10:30 and we were bang on time. We went to the place where it was supposed to take place. The woman who had asked our college students to come there was an ex-lecturer of our college. She immediately came up to us and made us sit in the front row. Ms S was yet to come as she was busy gathering few more students at the college. Meanwhile, the ex lecturer came up to us and asked us if any of us would be interested to air our views. All my friends asked me to do it and I agreed.
So we sat there waiting...waiting..waiting. It was now 11:30. We had a lab at 1. The stage was still being decorated. The mikes were still being tested( HELLO,HELLO 123!! went on for an annoying 10 minutes) To make matters worse, they started playing weird songs singing praises of "Praja-rajyam" (Chiranjeevi's political party) at such a high volume that I could feel the sound vibrations. Just when I thought that I had gone partially deaf, the music stopped. By this time I was extremely pissed. Then, out of no where we saw a truckload of women get down and make there way to the seats. These women were villagers from different areas who had come there to watch their so called cinematic "hero" Chiranjeevi.I was baffled, then it hit me like a cold hard stone. This was not an event to support those girl students who were victims of brutal attacks, but a party campaign for praja rajyam. When it struck me, I read the poster in telugu a little more carefully and it confirmed my suspicions. By now a bunch of folk singers got onto the stage and started singing( making strange incoherent noises would be more appropriate) at the top of their lungs. I was beginning to get wary of the whole thing and I had made up my mind to never vote for a person who had no respect for someone's else's time. I had made all those friends of mine to bunk the classes for this and the way it was going on was not looking good to me at all. I was mentally picturising myself kicking Chiranjeevi's shins and breaking his bones, just the way he beats up the bad guys to pulp in his absolutely senseless movies. I now totally regretted my decision to come there. Most of my friends got up and left when they saw that we were the only students present there. Just 5 or 6 of us were left. I wanted to leave as well as I felt totally cheated. But the ex lecturer wouldn't let me leave saying that the purpose would not be served if I left. Ms S finally reached the venue and the look on my face made it very apparent to her that this was a very bad idea. Both of them now started trying to convince me and my friends to stay. The ex lecturer said that those village women had been made to come because for someone like Chiranjeevi to "grace" a particular event, enough crowd should be gathered.( Balls to him! I thought). After dilly dallying there for another 15 minutes, we finally decided to leave. We were just in time for the lab mercifully.

I have briefed out a first hand account of how an issue is politicized in this country. The women who had gathered there had no idea about the girl student Swapnika who was battling for her life. They had no clue about Srilakshmi who was brutally hacked to death by her stalker in broad daylight, in front of her classmates. Nor did they know about Ayesha who was pushed to her death from her hostel balcony and later her head was smashed with a boulder, just to make sure she was actually dead.
There are many such ghastly incidents. But this was cleverly circumvented into a political agenda with a rally comprising these illiterate women. As I watched the hapless faces of many women who had come there, I couldn't help but think how hopeless our political system was. These politicians thrive on the gullibility of these ignorant people and piggy back their way to the top, conveniently forgetting the promises made, which we educated people call the "political rhetoric". How easily these people get fooled by it all and we educated people actually pride ourselves in seeing through the sham.
I felt sick to my stomach when I saw that the whole premise of the event was just a political propaganda and nothing else. I was rendered deeply sad by the fact that whether we like it or not, it is us, who elect these blood sucking leeches to power. Its a miserable tragedy where we are forced to choose a lesser evil and hope for the best. I'm totally disillusioned today and I have every reason to be so.

I have a dream..

Just a song which I thought I'll share


I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder, of a fairytale
You can take the future, even if you fail
I believe in angels,
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels,
When I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream
I have a dream, a fantasy
To help me through reality
And my destination makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness still another mile
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream
I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairytale
You can take the future even if you fail
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream

-a soulful rendition by ABBA

The woman who got up again..

These past 4 days, I was (and still am), angry, frustrated, pissed or any other term which you would associate with sheer fury when I learnt about the attacks in Mumbai. But today after an extremely tiring day, as I sat down to read the newspaper, a small story of courage shown by one of the terror victims moved me so much that I cried inconsolably and my eyes are moist still.

This is the extraordinary story of Ameena Begum:

Shanu Begum, her husband Abdul Rehman, thier daughter Ameena Begum and her niece were waiting for for the Devgiri Express at the CST station in Mumbai to return to their hometown of Nizamabad, here in AP.
At around 10:15 in the night 2 armed terrorists entered the CST station and open fired at all those unsuspecting people. Instinctively everyone ducked to the ground for safety. But Ameena got up, to bring her father who had suffered bullet injuries to his knees. She was hit by the bullets but was still alive.
Suddenly, she realized that her niece was missing, and then she lifted herself up to bring her niece to safety. She was hit by the bullets again, this time she did not get up again. She suffered injuries to her head, chest, stomach and her teeth fell on the platform when one of the bullets hit her in the jaw.
"Ameena asked for water and breathed her last in my arms within a few seconds after consuming water." the wailing mother cried.


Ameena Begum was 20 years old. She was not trained in mortal combat. I'm sure her job description, if she did have one,had nothing about facing adversities like death. She was not a NSG commando, she was not an army jawan or a police officer, many of who carried out their esteeemed duty in sacrificing their lives. What made Ameena different, was that she was an ordinary citizen like you and me.

Her story has filled me with emotions that I can't fathom. I don't consider myself competent enough to pay a homage, that she rightfully deserves. But I shall try:

Today, I write with all my soul
With tears flowing down my cheeks
like never before..
A heart wrenching cry comes out
from deep within my core,
to salute a woman so pure..
She took in as much pain as she could endure..
had fallen once but got up again,
despite her frail body screaming- no more..


Now her death is a number,
in the many facts and figures around those who lay slain..
This humble poem is a tribute to her indomitable spirit,
her sacrifice wont go in vain..
Because,
the world may never know her,
but her courage will always be remembered by me..
For, I know, being the same age as her,
I am not as brave as she..

A View From Outside...

Its been more than 60 hours now and the siege over the Taj seems to have ended. I did not want to blog about anything but this certainly made me change my mind. To say that it did not affect me would be an outright lie. But to also claim that I can understand what an ordinary Mumbaikar is going through, would again be a lie.
For most of us outside Mumbai, it was three days of television drama which even the perverse show like Big Boss cannot match. I'm talking about my friends and many of the people I know here. Everybody condemned it and made some politically correct statements. But none admitted that it did not make any difference to their lives. Which for a fact, is true.
The conversation was something like this..
Me: "Did you hear about the attacks??"
Friend: "Haan..In Mumbai."
Me: "I was shocked!!"
Friend: "Yeah, me too( makes a sad face)."
Another Friend: "What attacks?"
Me:(flabbergasted) "You don't know!?"
AF: " No, I did not watch the news, nor did I read the paper."
Me:(trying to control my anger-I don't know why I was angry) " There were terror attacks in Mumbai"
Af:(Totally aghast)" Omg! Really?!"
By this time the lecturer had entered and the conversation could not proceed any further. The lecturer came in and went on with the lecture like a zombie and we just sat and stared. All the while I was thinking about the latest developments in Mumbai but my friends did not share the same anxiety. After a while I forgot about it too. We went about making fun of the lecturers, smsing funny msgs, singing and pulling each others legs.
It was so easy to forget about it.
"How do you motivate people to agitate when they have no personal connection to the atrocity?" Another question which I asked myself after letting go a bit of the anger, " Who am I to question people's ability to move on despite such heinous acts of terror?" I'll share a bit of the mail that my project guide wrote to me from Mumbai

"you are dot right, about indifference and "spirit". most of us are complete cowards (myself included). there is no dignity in such deaths; the only commendable thing people do is not abstain from their work but forge right ahead the very next day. whether out of necessity or defiance, the motives can be different."

Somewhere, deep down, I know that this doesn't affect me much. But I refuse to accept it. I remember feeling like an idiot when I was walking down the streets of Hyderabad with a placard in my hands condemning the blasts, a year ago. I was constantly experiencing mixed emotions, emotions of pride, foolishness and hopelessness of it all. People had gathered there for different motives. Some were like me, others wanted to come on TV and claim their 15 minutes of fame. Some others had come because their friends were there and they did not want to look bad in front of them by their absence.
Yes,people are different and each has his or her own agenda. But what the situation demands, is to forge those differences and find a common platform.

Mumbai will bounce back for sure. But this time it has to make sure that this never ever happens again. The true spirit of any city does not lie in being able to get back to normalcy, it lies in being able to move on and annihilate those sources which caused so much agony.
A brave NSG commando said," Hamare liye kuch mushkil nahi hai.." with a smile on his face. It brought a tear to my eye. I salute all those bravehearts and I sing a silent prayer for Mumbai.

"Whether or not a terrorist should be forgiven, should be left to God but fixing their appointment with God is our responsiblity." -Indian Army. AMEN.