Queer’s Pride

Somewhere stuck between frequent violations of traffic lights, carefree rather careless denizens, KFC advertisement banners and tintless white buildings was a candour cast congregation of “community and supporters”, a term i’m keen to explain so as to how I got to it, but the tenets of a marginally good raconteur wouldn’t let me present it now, I promise we’ll get to that assuring anecdote. The congregation or the band of people belonging from a sundry of culture, nations, states and age groups screams that the awareness concepts have not been barking against the wrong tree.

The first step into the realm of an ‘eccentric’ culture territory that demands to be normal, physically, was followed by me asking for a pamphlet of the Delhi Queer Pride. The guy, absolutely courteous, passed on two of them. I was further scintillated and provided with the accouterments consisting of a nose deep mask and a badge that squeaked “NO GOING BACK!”. The best thing about the Delhi Queer Pride would be that it came prepared with an instruction manual a dyslexic would find to be a cake walk. No offense, heh.

Speaking of simple logic.

The experience, motivation and actions are awe astounding.

The actions of the Pride Parade were simple, Demands, Acknowledgement, Celebration and Protests. It was a few miles long walk filled with chants against the law, society, moral policing and a plea for acceptance into the motley and assorted society of India, dance with transgenders, homosexuals and often with people whose orientation you wouldn’t know or care about because, hey, that’s the target! A gregarious society. Not an egregious one. Chants louds enough to if not shatter but to cause a few ear drum solos oxidized the air into an aura of candour.

Wit’s ever pervading, is candour?

But question, WHY am I writing this? Why should you give a Four-letter-word? Why are you reading this? What’s up with people who knew and could but they didn’t go? Why doesn’t Abe Lincoln come alive and execute a few four-scores?
Questions. Questions need to be asked. All the time. Because “What’s the most important thing I should do right now?” is pretty debatable but “Why am I not doing it?” is not. The people present in the Queer Pride apparently did not believe in dick measuring contests. They were there for the cause. The whole lot of them.  Pictures can always explain what happened but the quintessential cardinal gist of the place and what you absorb when you leave cannot. It answers a lot of questions and it provides umpteen.
You get what the homosexual society wants, that they’re even more closer to regular human beings than we thought, that they ARE regular human beings. A bit aberrant perhaps. We’re all. We’re all mad here.

Sight for the gods. Or the bible thumpers atleast.

It answers a question I was asked while returning from a Death Metal concert “What is democracy?”, and you get light from the weirdest shitholes to the glory ones, pun intended. Democracy is getting down to the streets and asking for what you think you need. And keep on it until you get it or are told why.
That’s the purpose of getting down. Newspaper and Television are the regular KeysarSoze, something to keep the apes in the line. This is the point of Delhi Queer Pride, to embrace what’s real. Because questions need to be answered.

Also, because relaxing your posterior by sitting on it at your home is a paradox.
True to my word I would now explain why I called the congregation “community and supporter”, A gay guy comes up to me, and this is not a premise to a joke, So a gay guy comes up to me and checks me out and says “Community or Supporter?”, it took me a while to understand the guy was hitting on me, so yes folks, this could be one of the best pick-up lines in the season.
What you need to do in reply is embrace their sexual orientation and say “No, a supporter” with a hug or two, or embrace yours.

Awareness In My City

||Gonzo|| – Sanat Srivastava

A program to spread awareness & protest against rape in Lucknow City [In Picture, Pictorial Inferences]

After 17th July’s brazen madness, somewhere stuck with post-pubescent conversations, idiotic Selfies, smiles & chortles, crackling cops ignoring with all the patience taught in the academy [none], somewhere the campaign to spread awareness and displayed the ire against the brutally vile and horrendous crimes against women and rape with huge energy, and with a success to match. I promise you all, infact implore you all to discern the story in all the pictures i would present shortly.

“I would learn how to tackle procrastination, but i would do it later” is Uttar Pradesh police’s joke and serenade to assuage themselves and well, sleep like a baby as women of our city, state and nation die a merciless death. Enraged youth and unsettled elders join to form a gregarious congregation to protest, and in my opinion, spread awareness.

(Sarcasm of the year) First time part of something so strong, i was imbued in rapture and happiness to not just see Lucknow’s Finest but also our very own crowd to blatantly make fun of the peaceful procession that was chanting and actually doing something for the betterment of the crowd. It was a pity to see ladies, girls, men and boys laughing at the pathway as they pass us by to attend to all the braindead re-iteration of their sorry-ass errands they had to complete.

The whole protest was  a success, oblivious to so much, i reach there to learn a lot, a lot of laws, awareness, proper algorithm to go through and actually support in a case of you or your loved one dealing with rape. Unlike, UP Police i’m acting on the promise i just made and here’s the lore-of-the-day.

The sketch was directly in opposition with what the protest stood for, but it held something.

The inflation of cigarette price certainly doesn’t affect yours truly.

Show’s on, folks, Government functionary or not!

The peaceful in the “peaceful procession’ was maintained in an organized order.

The candle march wouldn’t do much or anything for that matter for amendment of law or expedite the process but it teaches you the rights and so much more, none for the ignorant, but a lot still stand that allow chock-full of awareness to perforate their minds. This, as an awareness campaign was a success.

 

Rape In My City

On 17^th of July, Bill Clinton sanctified the soil of Lucknow, our very own Constantinople of the East by his presence, his vehement international congregation to eradicate “educational backwardness” was followed by an extremely strong beleaguering of the Jabroli village, Mohanlalganj Area by Uttar Pradesh Police Force.

Sounds exquisite, doesn’t it? The aroma of fresh & intricate argots describing world’s bureaucratic demeanour? Like the front page of a brilliantly snobby newspaper. Well, what wouldn’t sound like a dulcet to your ears is a sound of a widow begging men to stop lacerating her vaginal area with a baton or the sound of her intestines eviscerating out or so could be the only excuse for the Police reporting 2 hours late to such a gruesome and severely atrocious brazen crime.
Her intestines. Her. A female. And or a rape. Seem to complimentary and complementary to some.

On 17^th of July, as Bill Clinton was ostensibly or apparently for that matter canvassing for the betterment of Indian Education, a widow mother of two children was raped, defiled, murdered, desecrated… Pulverized, 8 kilometers away from where the Clinton synagogue occurred. What happened to her may put Nirbhaya Case to a shame, what happened in Lucknow may supersede Delhi in its vile impurity.

Somewhere between the advertisements of Amul Macho and Barnala Cement did I see the breaking report of a woman’s body found by the villagers of Balsinkheda,
Lucknow. Clinch your fists, Grind your teeth, vituperate the fine gentlemen who did this, go back to whatever errand the almighty has ‘chosen’ you for and move on is what we do, but a Rape in your city is different, a Rape in your city also demands “He Bhagwaan, Itna baar gaya/gayi hu uss road se” [Oh lord, so many times I’ve been on that road], irrationally as I went ahead, packing my bag and grabbing a notepad to report what really did occur there, I commute once again on that road.
Indian men specialize and insist upon decorating and embellishing their victims or ‘co-Asked-for-it” by crossing every limit of sanity by disemboweling the victims’ intestines using a well-equipped inventory of Baton, Knife, Rods.

As I reach to the gate of the school in the village, yes a school, where the woman was raped I see a blood-trail atleast as long as 40 meters, pieces of clothes everywhere, a little Kurta here, a little undergarment there which is absolutely common for the Police cracking jokes at the crime-site. Pushing the hordes of people I see a blooded baton with flesh upon it a classroom and a corridor where no one treads, restricted.

What happened in a nutshell, was the lady was abducted in a car, taken to the remote school area that displays a pre-delibration and planning of the crime, as she tried to struggle, the clothes were torn off the she was repeatedly stabbed with the knife and dragged naked for about 50 meters where she was taken to a bench outside a classroom, held like a rabid-dog about to be put out of misery and shown what humans are, misery began as she was raped by taking turns, hit with a Lathi as she begged in the name of God, Allah, Bhagwan, Wahe-Guru, I’ll not go deep into it, as religion could cause rape just like cellphones or chowmein, only to be shoved a baton in the vaginal area that was twisted repeatedly, anally too if you may and taken into the classroom, raped again and left to be bled out from the twelve wounds she had.

As the crescendo of wails, deviant chortles, brazen laughs and uninformed humming of how unfortunate she was passed me, I went back only to see the most prudent people acting wise with the single digit IQ and a mind as open as a Snailshell and staying away.
The Rape in my city happened because the Police, one kilometer away let it happen, because the government let it happened, because somewhere you and I let it happen when we endure the small amendments we can allow upon ourselves.

Rape in my city is nothing but just another rape with seriously ill comments. Rape is only affected by its gravity and victims not geographical demarcations.

As for me, I saw something yesterday that took something that’ll never give it back. My ignorance.

An Open Letter to Men on the Hills

An Open Letter to CM Uttrakhand- Virbhadra Singh & CM Himachal Pradesh- Harish Rawat
Sirs,

My deepest regards to the demise of your fashion statements, the cap is too mainstream, Virbhadra ji, but irrelevant as it may be, I intend to contend my views upon the quagmire of frequent accidents and no measures or incentives taken to reflect any sense of alarm in your incumbencies, so less important than the cap as it may seem I beg to converse upon the accidents and their frequency in Uttrakhand & H.P.

Uttrakhand & Himachal Pradesh are beautiful and awe astounding places, the beautiful rivers, tall mountains, exemplary job by the creator. But complimentary with beauty has the danger. It’s prone to landslides, Floods, inundations and various other deleterious “act of god”, which not much to be deduced or astutely observed as it’s been up on the nature’s wrath way too frequently to be ignored, whilst I’m not implying you to thwart the emanations of such catastrophes, that’s universe, but Mr. Virbhadra Singh and Mr. Harish Rawat, given the fragility of the civilization in such states where tempest “act of god” occurs so frequently why is there not a constant check about the state of roads, dams, buildings and/ or any form or structure or edifice.

 

Bus accidentally slides and barges into the tributary.

Students die in dams that fail to alarm the warning hooters before strewing the water, “allegedly”, people die in bus accidents because the vocational Police on the mountain regions fail to comply and in fact, conduct “tire chain” rules, the inundated areas are constantly lackadaisical of the basic amenities that are pre-requisite to an aftermath while you’re playing babe in the woods on the incumbent furniture.

Your chairs, sirs, isn’t a piece of glorious figurative furniture, it is a responsibility, which comes with your duty in concomitance to our prerogative. Another two die in a bus accident where the bus slid off the road, and that is the daily yawn of 2014 as bus accidents continue to remain utterly predicted throughout.

Not further elongating the matter i urge you to follow what i implore you in the letter you’re never going to read, in a special circumstance, of any nature, we require stern measures as urgency demands a catalyst. Roads need to have warnings and regular checks for tire chains, the river bodies should at least have two barges and a cement lining with no certain crevices, which is pretty much possible to construct given the state of economy in the state. Other formulations of exhorts should be a top priority as advisors are seriously getting good at swatting flies.

 

People die every day, nothing to freak out about, sirs, but this just doesn’t help the population growth quandary of the nation, that is some other matter, I implore not the ones I’m addressing to because they’re busy looking away, but also the ones I’m not addressing to: common people. The ones who die on school trips or commuting for simple reasons that somewhere between the lines in some print media’s Newspaper.
To not be blind towards your own safety, caution where discernible should be practiced, this latter is just ire when I see M Kiran Kumar’s bravado in saving four fellow students in the face of death.

The “Missing” hero M Kiran Kumar [Click to view]

 

Watch Dogs Review [2014]

The following content has been rated for PS3 and not PC.

Watch Dogs is a good, fun game to play, which technically is an amalgam of some other fine games with an ubiquitous AC style Missions and presentation, especially the Assassin’s Creed’s touch.
The game has till date, the best cop chase mechanics and what you can do to deter the cops from chasing you down.Amazing bridge pull-ups, steam pipes is amazing with beautiful smoke popping out.

Graphics isn’t much but the way smoke pops out is amazing. Check PC for graphics.

Unfortunately, that’s one of the very few things you’ll have something to recall and love alongside the living, breathing Chicago.With Dump truck vehicle mechanics and sloppy cover system, the game at times crosses the boundaries being more pain than pleasure.Story is slow and utterly clichéd but you don’t pretty much require one.
It’s a grey hat hacker taking his revenge on the people and ultimately, the system.

Graphics for PS3 is near-Saints Row, below average for its time and well I didn’t care much, the graphics weren’t taken much into consideration as console gaming was the purview.
What pissed me off were intermittent graphic glitches at times but, well, in comparision to the utterly loathesome story progression, it’s bearable.
Gameplay is not extremely fine in quality but it’s super fun and all the credit goes to Jesus’ cellphone!
From Bridges to personal conversation, hack anywhere, everywhere. It’s so fun to mess around for hours that the story mode and campaign missions become a unavoidable pain-in-the-ass, like the asshole with popcorn next to you on a friday night release of a movie.

Mobile’s the only center of attraction with a massive magnetic pull though.

All in all, Watch Dogs is an innocent lamb caught in the ire of stupid fanboys giving it the hype it never wanted proving yet again that some people have the smart IQ of a single digit. It’s a lot of things, the game, a surveillance satire, a patience test at times and occassional frenzy at times, but not the whole package.
It’s nowhere near GTA V, and how can I compare? Because as a gamer who likes going in with guns blazing and plotting stealth approach equally, I liked GTA V way more than Watch Dogs.
Having said all that, it sure is a different experience.

[7.5/10]

Godzilla [2014]

“Watching Godzilla 2014” is the new opposite of “watching paint dry”.

[9.5/10]

This really stands on its shoulder to be the best monster movie of all time.
What happens when you churn Star trek and Star Wars?
Or an amalgam of Spartacus and 300?

What you get is a millionth of how cool is it to see a Shinomura getting tail whipped like the Thor home-running a bowling ball.
Screw King Ghidora, Monster X and even Kaijus from the past, Godzilla, truly earns his reign of the Alpha Predator Daikaiju.

Since, the inception of the movie as the credits begin, amazing tapes- a stellar recreation of 1956 scenes and amalgam of past works roll in.
The movie has an exciting cast for the two scientists, the relevant ones anyways, starting screenplay, as a prose, at times prolix, continues to flow, respecting the background information and a heads up to the casual audience. From the radiation infested southern sea near Japan [or is it not infested, GO WATCH?] to spectacular presentation and revelations of sequences keep you awe-astounded.

Godzilla is perfect, he is 50 years older [50 Million + 50] and has digested further radiation which also serves as a satire to the present world, as the sudden rise in the dissemination of radiation waste, from acerbic nose thumps to the unending-war growls, Godzilla is all in for grandiloquence and fanfaronade. Details on the face, expressive actions, amazing presentation and brilliant brilliant back bone scaling, makes Gojira diversified. And well, we can’t forget the tail.

Godzilla is not your regular monster, the dude/sir even amplifies the respect and obesiance in the viewers’ eyes, and this is where the movie acts as an aberration to the 1998’s sorry-excuse-of-an-IceCream-truck-Godzilla, he is huge, wise, and much more badass, enough to qualify Heisenberg as a civilian, res ipsa loquitur.

The story is brilliant and anyone who hasn’t seen the movie till yet should read Godzilla:Awakening to be further psyched.
As for the presentation and screenplay, at times jaw-dropping and a few times anguishing, the fragmented presentation of Godzilla makes you chomp your seat for the next appearance and at-times kazillion times frustrated like a straight nympho caught in a gay parade because you need MORE of the Daikaiju.

Godzilla is not a random monster, he isn’t exactly a saviour either, and no, he is not your regular Spiderman, it is a satire and a godly creature, living long enough to get wise enough, because Darwin and Theory of Evolution, the movie offers the viewer and the creature itself, the respect and a super-hero qualification it deserves.

Everything said, you need to watch the damn movie, because in 1954, we awakened something and it’s dying for attention ever since.

Chicken Soup for the Insecure.

Media. Journalism. Realism.
Such words are the last serenade to the hopes when we’re on the downs in the vicissitudes of life. 
Journalism is a method of inquiry and literary style used in social and cultural representation. It serves the purpose of playing the role of a public service machinery in the dissemination and analysis of news and information. Journalistic integrity is based on the principles of truth, accuracy and factual knowledge.

We reside in an asphyxiating world which slowly is getting characterized by repetitive diminutives. Where legends, or so i opine, like Julian Assange make words like “dereliction” as non-existential to the columnists of present world. To certain other kind, the governing little toddlers, world is different.

In the recent editorials of “The Washington Post” and a Chinese editorial, which upon, witnessing potential the ‘threat’ or whatever the logical interpretation of their intellect might fuel them, the progress in this certain demarcation of the world, India has made them to comment on India’s space program as an “iniquitous” act towards poor?

And while some of the big shots of journalistic world self-deprecate the quality of their critical analysis by mocking India’s extremely brilliant frugal approach as an “economic wastrel”, What they fail to discover is the mission successfully was conducted under 1/10 of the ISRO budget. 
Where was the scrutiny when AGNI-V launched? So the journals are supposed to mock the Indian conduction/allocation of budget when we open a can of space whoop-ass over the other countries?

So it has come down to this that the people will “criticize” ONLY when we introduce pioneer methodology of something better? Has not the world become a cesspool of insecurity? and if so then Jack Canfield should seriously be required to publish a certain “Chicken Soup for the insecure soul”!
Something which such malaise-stricken editors require.

That’s just outright jealousy over something you desperately covet. Spitting on someone’s orange juice because you can’t have it or recalcitrant attitude towards your “mummy” for she wouldn’t allow you to play on your Play station like the neighbour’s mom does.

Such media, including and especially ones with the repute and repartee like that of The Washington Post desecrate the very sanctity of the word “Journalism” for they’re “critical interrogation” is merely a Machiavellian vagary of their a simple subterfuge to condescend other’s progress. Should such media be allowed to flourish? Flourish and compete in a world where journalistic doyen like The Hindu prosper? And let such pretentious tara-diddle promulgated into international media? 
The question arise because we originate from a certain balkanized area of the world is not by gibing, scoffing or pulling down the others, where we give second chance to strident, discordant ones no matter they don’t ‘deserve’ one or any.

Because even though the unsuccessful launch attempts of AGNI-V were unscathed and unfettered by the world media and though it was NOT a waste of money, but an expedition to Mars with much lower budget sure is. 

As once as fine man said, “A man who goes into a restaurant and blatantly disrespects the servers shows a strong discontent with his own being. Deep down he knows that restaurant service is the closest thing he will ever experience to being served like a king.”.

The dissident and the Mahatma

The dissident and the Mahatma

And that calls for the Mahatma in us all, but maybe not Gandhi.

That governing little toddler.

Verse (5:32) sūrat l-māidah (The Table spread with Food): Because of that, We decreed upon the Children of Israel that whoever kills a soul unless for a soul or for corruption [done] in the land – it is as if he had slain mankind entirely. And whoever saves one – it is as if he had saved mankind entirely. And our messengers had certainly come to them with clear proofs. Then indeed many of them, [even] after that, throughout the land, were transgressors.

But what of the mercy? What of the humanity that has been subverted and into the gaping hole of lost, abandoned virtues? Yet another?

There was the child, now merely a languished carcass. A scavenging avian feathering away the dust from the body, scalping off the eye from the socket and flying off away from the emerald intoxicated atmosphere, the dismemberment of my arms did allow my body to crawl and ingress near the body of my child, I wanted to rest there, but they wouldn’t let me.

It was just another day when the Al-bashar coup was in alliance and war agitated in the vicinity, the whole country. As the cheap burnt orange coloured whiskey trickled down my throat barely, it ignited my fretful mind like a kiln as it catches the wood, reminiscing me of the war, my family, my son, all’s what left of my family, the revolt in our minds steams out like the ire of the steam in a kettle. I gave the change I received from the innkeeper to my son, to fulfill the that amiable child curiosity. It was time to go home, what was left of it anyway, barely had I put down the magnetic bottle of ‘my aid to the escapist tendency’. I walked out the door, Concomitant to my first step outside the bar was a push from the army personnel yelling with the strident army charisma about the alley being a part of a bullet storm and extremely dangerous; I took a step back but spontaneously pushed away the man as I saw my child go, they are unaware, of the war, politics, devils, I took cover behind an APC unaware of what would follow and last I remember was a terrible hoarse of a plane dropping something above us, knocked out.

I woke up to the macabre. Their fire and blood emanating from both artilleries and the bodies, the sovereign dust of my land in my throat woke me up, I coughed it all out and pulled myself away from the snarky puddle of blood. Deafened by the now promulgated war sound, all I could feel were the cardinal thumps of my heart. I could see a tattered limb, cruelly clutched off from the body and horror struck my mind as I saw the muddled pennies near it. I pushed myself with the legs away from the tanks and slightly the crescendo of war wails and police sirens returned to me like the prodigal son after the war. Pushing my body and my heart to live a second more I pushed my debilitated body. Was it true? What I witnessed? I didn’t wanted to but denial couldn’t consume me. It was. Lips couldn’t bite themselves more, the outburst of cries weren’t enough, the bullying emotion of mad fury and insane sorrow had taken over me. There was the child, now merely a languished carcass, a scavenging avian feathering away the dust from the body and scalping off the eye socket and flying off away from the emerald intoxicated atmosphere, the dismemberment of my arms did allow my body to crawl and ingress near the body of my child, I wanted to rest there, but they wouldn’t let me.

On December 17, 2010, With the self-immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi in Egypt took place the inception of The Arab Spring. Some say 110,000 died, some may speculate “ONLY” 1500, died. While the shamelessness of human demeanour and character has pushed us as low as to dare such words to be uttered out of our mouth, This article is not a finger pointing but instead fist on the face to show how the leaders of today are politically cheap, internationally divisive, morally hollow and most importantly, humanly pathetic. How today, snatching a gun off from the hands of a murderous wretch is enough to let yourself sleep in the night, how geo-political location and oil are more important than the blood of our own kind. This is not to show how much a pathetic, diseased-trodden ill minds of world leaders are. They already are in complete cognizance with it. They know the sin and insist on pushing themselves unto committing it again.

How the world’s most powerful leader was spanked by Mr. Putin in order to be rectified that their “Governance of the little intransigent toddler” wouldn’t work here. How selfish and self-centered are such people who spill pretentious taradiddle called Humanity [21^st century definition] and demean it. How just for the sake of bulwarking the words spoken by Mr. Obama, he proclaimed a war when the real intention of geo-political positioning was marred by the Russian insurgency via Mediterranean Sea. And how, we, in such contemptuous boldness, forget about the land which is still plagued by death, by war, by insanity and how we forgot the people still being killed for we are not so un-informative that we don’t know the other ways of killing besides “Chemical Weapons.”. How we tried to accuse “Syrian Government” for the violation of Geneva Protocol ’28 Treaty and cross border Anti-Chemical Weapons treaty, but couldn’t simply save the millions of innocents, weak, victims of physical and mental attrition just by calling it “Crimes against humanity” and saving lives.

Instead Barack Hussain Obama, and governing little toddlers like him across the world who like to spit on someone else’s orange juice simply took the weapons, took a pretentious pat from the “tea party” savages and forgot about the humans still being killed? How instead of an aid in the coup d’état of Egypt, which in fact was a rebellion, they took their $1.5 billion back. How to put a blind eye where families are being killed, their privacy and rights being pillaged, forayed, impinged and their lives encroached? This is not to berate, excoriate or to heave a lampoon towards other countries but us, everyone, how we forget other humans who are still being shot at and living in hostile surroundings, scant supplies and no help. How they still fight almost in vain at the face of hopelessness. Almost. How the world has abandoned them all to their death, to such insufferable eternal hell, and giving true meaning to it, for what haunts the most about Hell is that it’s never ending because as you read this symposia, know that somewhere someone is being killed and lamenting the death of a loved one and someone somewhere in their cradle, is trying to shove dictation down the throat.

And if such is the definition and conduction of humanity and ‘care’, then Hilter is better, for whatever he was but not cruel and pretentious. I was told an idiot is a person who lies to her/himself, with that due regard, Hitler, Osama and every other man slaughtering “inhuman” person was the most kind and compassionate and smart human ever. And we all can speculate from the definition about the 21^st Century leaders and the idiocy. One’s Religion, Stubbornness, Ego, Creed, Hegemonic/Monopolistic attitude doesn’t makes one an idolatrous figure. And even if it does, it’s a sham when you forget those “1500” people who died before your sleep and call yourself human. Humanity in true sense, is real enough.

Imbued in the attrition, Misogyny.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident.” (Psalm 27: 1, 3) 

She wakes up to the strident wail of the ambulance, a pandemonium of doctors lie in the vicinity, her eyes unable to endure, the pain, the agony. The Struggle stops with a silence, she begs. Does it?

Walking down the rainy street, her thoughts cobble in her mind, she has a lot to do, a lot to plan, a lot to ruminate; Career, the marriage day after tomorrow, family, as she treads along the dark path, not on it, a shadow from the corner clutches her arm, full of hate and utterly unyielding, there stood the malaise, with lambasting notoriety in their eyes, pushed her around, play with the mind with no remorse, her fighting back means nothing, her tears spate the eyes but he did not stop for that was not anything but a waste for him.

 

Pillaged her, berated her with brazen madness and complete disregard for humanity, furnished their insane desires , laughing at her lament cries for it was a dulcet to their irrational, ill-minds and left her to die. No more the career, no more the marriage, no more. Tattered her clothes, her everything. Embracing her death, rather begging to god for it, passes out. She wakes up to the strident wail of the ambulance, a pandemonium of doctors lie in the vicinity, her eyes unable to endure, the pain, the agony. 

The Struggle stops with a silence, she hopes, she begs. DOES’NT it? Might sound rhetorical, for the shamelessness in our psyche drive us so far as to tell us that we don’t have an answer so it does not constitute as a question. What happens to the rape victim? What happens to her? This is not an article but a question. A question not for the infamous section 377 of the Penal Code penalising “carnal intercourse against the order of nature”, not a harangue, pedagogue and not most certainly a demagogue, but for the simple human.

Post-witnessing Yael Farber’s ‘Fearless’ in the Edinburgh Fringe i’ve heard people mourning, rather inveighling about the society, about the reforms, about everything. Instead of such benign neglect we should try to perform our duties as citizens, as officers, as ministers. We strive in a world where people discuss about the problem, fight to a certain extent and forget about it, and its is justified, we all have lives. We are not Gods, we most certainly cannot act like one but rather perform our duties, for one , be a human. On a recent date in the past, chewing my gum with loud ear drilling metal track in my ears, i reach my front gate, ignorant of the world, i spat the gum and went inside, as i turned to close the gate i saw a little five year old girl, picking up my gum and eating it. For the hunger would kill her, but the frugality in her expenses would’nt let her have it, i quickly rushed and got her all the Gums and Candies i had in my pockets. Little did i know that she would be beaten ruthlessly for taking that from me, not her brother, but she. We live in a world where we fight for the rights we violate. We don’t perform our duties and comment on others’. Asked by a periodical, Japjit Kaur, An actor in the “Fearless”, Why she wanted to take on the role, her response was simple and powerful, “This is urgent work.”.

This isn’t particularly about the most serious, heinous crimes, why is rape not the cause of depraved low morality? A minute hatred such as that experienced by that child constitutes well enough to be condemn in it’s initial stage.

Misogyny prevails everywhere, even within us, equality and sincerity to duty is an imperative for the cure. Instead of talking about it. we should simply conduct what’s urgent and end up forming an organized, safe and less hostile country. Misogyny is one such act, rape, discrimination, all constitute in it and because we are too busy to lax and harass a so-called “weaker” sex, its a war without a cause. Our duties and respect for the opposite sex, which would be determined by the reader itself, is an imperative. Our duty is the weapon. This war against ourselves must be won.

And some may excuse themselves by saying “Only dead have seen the end of war”, but then again, Plato was just a man.