The Paatti (Granny) in Me Talks...

Okay, so first, I know this is not all that Philosophical and stuff... But it was kind of Paatti-ish. So anyway, even though it is Paatti-ish, it is Aishu Paatti talking, that is, it is me all this, not a whole new person... or a false person.

Life gives you *almost* everything. Noticed the word 'almost' ? Well, yeah, almost everything.

Well, the things not given to you by life are divided into two categories:

1. Things you can get by working for them.
2. Things you cannot get even by working for them.

The second one by itself implies that you can't do anything, helpless. And if you start off with the 'Everything is possible for a human', go lick your elbow. Okay, I mean that literally, 'go lick your elbow'. It is impossible, unless you cut your hand off. if you survive even after you endure the pain, sure,you can. So anyway, you can not lick your elbow. Thus, some things you just can't get.

But going back to the first one. There are somethings you can get by working for them. Here, they are further divided into two categories again:

1. Ones which are worth working for.
2. Ones which are not worth working for.

Now that depends on you, what you find worth, and what you don't.

So this is basically what I want to say:

There are very few things in life that are worth working for, and even fewer which you will like and enjoy working for. Moral of the story: Choose Wise, Work Wise

(oh oh, don't forget, work wise means work-wise, according to work.)

Tears...

All this time, whenever someone has hurt me, or scolded me, I’ve never once refrained from thinking I’m unlucky (note: only in these circumstances) But there are some incidents, which make my problems, whatever silly teenage ones or family ones they might be, seem like nothing, they push them into a dark void. And here are some of them. A compilation of the most disgusting, sickening, gruesome and painful stuff I’ve ever heard.

It was in class 9 that we had a drama to study, called “The Bishop’s Candlesticks”. My English teacher, Dass Sir, the best teacher I’ve ever seen never leaves anything unexplained. No surface study. The story starts with the introduction of a very kind Bishop, who treats Religion for what it is meant to be, Humanity. Helping people is his mission in life. And there is a Convict, who breaks into the Bishop’s house. He threatens to kill the Bishop if the Bishop doesn’t give him food. The Bishop without any hesitation extends his hospitality to the Convict and along with food and wine, also gives him a place to sleep and a blanket to cover himself with. The Convict is confused… He sees two silver candlesticks in the Bishop’s house and he plans to steal them after the Bishop has left. The Convict manages to steal them on the way. He runs away with them. Meanwhile the Bishop notices that the Candlesticks have been stolen. It was given to him by his Mother. But then, the police enter his house with the Convict and make him return the Bishop’s Candlesticks. The Bishop frees the Convict and tells the police that the Convict is his friend. He gives the candlesticks to the Convict so that the Convict can lead a good life. The question arises, why was the Convict sent to prison? His wife was starving and sick. So, he stole money to buy food for her. And thus, he was arrested and sent to the prison hulks for 10 years. And the incident I’m talking about, is about this- the prison hulks.

Earlier on, prisoners and slaves were sent to prison hulks. Prison in a ship. They had to row the ship. Mark my words, it was no mean task. If they stopped rowing, they were whipped. And if there was a storm, they were the first ones to die. These ships were specially designed for these prisoners. They stayed below the deck in long, dark, narrow passages, with only 2 openings at the ends of the passage so that air could enter. They were chained here. All their life processes took place there: breathing, eating, excreting… And just before the “journey” was over, they were brought up to the deck. Water was poured on them and they were rubbed with huge brushes. They would develop sores and rashes all over their body. They were given one good meal on that day. During the journey, if they fell sick or were not healthy enough to row, they were just forced to walk the deck and jump into the sea, if not, they were pushed in to the sea.

And then: Guantanamo Bay. The famous 9/11 attacks. Innocents were killed after the attacks. In the prison, they were treated like… like no living thing ever should be. When the prisoners fasted as a sign of protest, feeding tubes were shoved up their noses. Suicide attempts were passed as “self-injurious” acts. They were tortured with glass pieces, and barbed wires. They lived in the same room as their feces. The men were… sexually assaulted by some women officers/ whatever they were. Religion defiled… they were forced to eat pork. Three words described all this “ Extreme Psychological Stress”. And I read about Jamil al-Banna, one of the prisoners, and his children that evening.

And then I read about a Child Soldier at Sierra Leone, a girl. In her “camp”, a boy was forced shoot a person, apparently, for practice. He refused to do so. All the other children were ordered to beat the child with sticks and kill him. And then smear his blood all over their body, to remove their “fear”, or they would face the same fate. The girl whom I’m talking about was there, hitting the boy. The boy knew her, and looked up at her timidly and asked her, with tears in his eyes, “Why are you doing this to me?”. The girl was sobbing as she replied, “I don’t know…”

And as I recollected all these incidents, my eyes were moist, tears were rolling down my face. Why? Didn’t I have problems? But what are my problems after all? Some stupid teenage obsession, some silly fight with a friend? Some cousin I fought with? Oh no, they were nothing. They were on the left side of the number line. These… These were problems. Killing your friend, being imprisoned for nothing, being enslaved because of your skin colour, being tortured 24x7. Waking up in the morning, knowing that you will be whipped, knowing that you are going to be sexually assaulted, or tortured with barbed wires…

And today I won’t say I’m lucky, I know I am. No point stating it here. Today I want to cry out loud, to say, “STOP, is this what your religion teaches you? Is this what you learnt when you were a child???” My voice is soft, its not loud enough to reach the world.

As my eyes are clouded with tears, I can still see. Even through these bars of rage, I can see that this is wrong. Being such an emotional person, I can still SEE, what is right and what is wrong… And yet, some others can’t, mainly those who have the power to stop it!!!

JAAGO RE!

Twilight

I know I’m late, but what to do? It takes time for me to sort out my feelings.

When I was in class 3, I used to fall ill very often. Thanks to these periods of time when I was ill and stayed back at home, I read a lot of stories. My favourites were the ones with a moral. I am ashamed to admit that I don’t remember any story very clearly.

I do remember one, vaguely. This was a story about a battle between the beasts and the birds. They fought relentlessly, I do not remember for what. They fought for years together, not stopping for a moment. The bats were the only specie, in the whole battle, who never stuck to any side. They kept changing sides, according to who was winning.Finally, the battle ended in a compromise. All the beasts birds condemned the bats. They were shunned and ex-communicated, neither accepted as birds, nor as beasts. Not only were they pushed aside, they also had to agree to one condition: They were allowed to come out only at that part of the day when it was neither fully dark, nor fully lit- Twilight.

Recently, the IPL finals took place, on the 24^th of May (wonder why I remember the date, never been a cricket fan, or should I say fanatic, since its religion in India) Ab who will miss the finals yaar? I watched it with great interest, for Deccan Chargers were playing. And Deccan Chargers WON! YAY!!! But, why was I feeling happy. Earlier on, I was supporting the “Mumbai Indians”, I don’t know why, I felt that… by winning the IPL 2, Mumbai was making a point, even after the 26/11, they were one… Hah! Like they even need to prove themselves or make a point, I was just being silly. But suddenly when Deccan Chargers won, I was happy…Maybe it is because I stay at Hyderabad, but is it? I guess not… I’m not afraid of accepting the truth. I think I supported Deccan Chargers because they won. I felt like a… like a hypocrite, like a bat!

At school, I always stood up for my friends, and my brother. When I was in class 6, and my brother was in class 10, we used to go to school and come back in an Auto-Rickshaw. When we were coming back home, some prefect was saying something to my brother. I didn’t hear what he said, but I didn’t like his expression. So I yelled at him. I was so silly! I was 4 years younger, and he was a prefect, he could have punished me without any reason, and plus, he was 2 times my height, one blow and that would be the last sunrise I ever set my eyes upon! Nothing to feel proud about.

Yet, was this an act of loyalty?

I don’t know… I am confused… Am I a bat, or not? Is twilight the right time for me???