Life Lost

I look behind at the place I called home,
Now just a pile of rubble, a mountain of stone.
The place where my son laughed and played,
Now reeks of his blood and his pain.
We were happy, with the little we had,
Now left with nothing but sadness in hand.
It took one strike, just one blow,
To reduce us to another number, another story of sorrow.
The ground where we once played,
The street where we freely roamed,
All turned to a war zone,
A place that's just become a shadow of my home.
Now sirens fill the radio waves,
Smoke, the once starry skies,
In the fight for peace and humanity,
I lost my home, my identity died.
I held my bloodied son once when he was born,
Now I hold him again,
This time though his lifeless corpse,
Leaving me numb, leaving me bare...

By Zoha Tapia

Reasoning

Time has passed,
Years gone by.
But it seems like just yesterday,
When you were by my side.
The ups and downs gone through together –
The miseries and turmoil we fought for each other.
But destiny has its twisted ways
Of making us realise what we share.
In just one second we drifted apart
With no part to play and no fault of ours.
I try to question “why me this time?”
Still in disbelief of what went by.
Every dream came crashing down
As your flight came to the ground.
You were one of the 150 on board
But our lives were taken, not just yours.
Alas! I must live and move on.
In the hope that time will heal my wounds.
But with every second that passes by,
With every candle that in your memory I light,
I find it difficult to comprehend
Why did our journey end.
But I have come to understand,
Time doesn’t heal all the pains.
It simply teaches us to live
With what we cannot understand.
So, I live as time goes by,
With the flicker of your memories by my side.

By Zoha Tapia

In search...

I walk the streets all alone,
Looking for someone I can call my own...
But all I see are strange faces,
Looking at me like I am another specie.

I wander about the streets looking some more,
For another like me but there seem to be no more.
I crave for a friend to end my loneliness,
So I don't seem alone in this male dominated wilderness.

All around are mothers loving their sons,
Groups of boys playing and having some fun,
Men working in their stores and go-downs
But not another girl can be found.

I go back home lost in my thoughts,
Wondering if my existence was something wrong.
Was being a girl so much of a fault,
That not another could be found?

Why were we disappearing? What did we do?
They were just babies, like I was one too!
When my parents brought me in with happiness and glee
The parents did all they could buried them, burnt them or sometimes just abandoned them and flee.

Now, when I look around, it is in sorrow that I do
I have may brothers but from sisters I have been kept aloof...

Remembering Madiba

Bitter battles fought across

With words, with silence or through force.

We talk about moving beyond the hate,

Resurrecting the future, forgetting what went.

But pent up somewhere deep inside,

The remembrance of the past still lies.

Blaming each other for the miseries ensued,

Squabbling about the past and the blaming continues.

We live in the present talking about the past,

Dream of a future built on graves of what has gone past.

But one man stood above that all,

Looking ahead and standing tall.

He unified all in what he believed

He went through turmoil in an apartheid regime.

Yet with a smile he bore it all.

Rose up stronger every time he would fall.

With humble steps every mountain he climbed.

Only to find another to conquer in sight.

He didn’t need force

Or a slugfest of words.

Just a bit of humanity and love for all.

While others talked, he walked the walk,

And did what people only dreamt of.

To build a strong future, with unity in the fray,

He broke the bridge between conflict of the past and peace of today.

Fondly known as Madiba to all,

Though Nelson Mandela has gone, his spirit will live on...

Living in the shadows of hell

I sit alone shaking like a leaf,
Praying for someone to give me some relief,
Relief from the pain I have endured,
From the hell which has been my home for three years.

I came here to escape the exploitation at home,
To a country where poverty was supposed to be untold.
Where people were just and money would come by,
And I could bring light to my family and life.
But here I am stuck in what seems to be hell,
Living with my enemy and making darkness my friend.
 
I am frightened and unsure of whether I will live,
Ever see any life beyond the four walls I am in.
I have been threatened and warned not to move out,
Not to speak a word and stay locked up.
 
I crave for the days to put the dustbins out,
To get a glimpse of the sun and my whereabouts.
I ask for my wages to send back home
But all I get is abuses in return.
 
During the day all I do is sweep,
And when the mistress sleeps, I silently weep.
Hiding my tears when she is around
She said I will be jailed if I cry out loud.

I want to escape, to be set free,
But she said if I run they will arrest me.
I cry for help but there is no one to hear
And though it’s been three years, I feel I have wasted a lifetime here.

I am tired of cleaning, my body is giving way
My wounds aren’t healing but am still beaten every day.
I wish to talk to my family, know they are alright,
But my memories of them are diminishing and turning blight.

I tried going to the police, but was sent back
It’s her word against mine, and I am just a servant who is black.
Yes, I was poor but that was still home,
Today, for money I have lost it all.
I lost my family and my friends,
But more so my freedom to live like a human.
 
But here I am all alone,
Slaving for life and trafficked to clean someone else’s home.

Battered

I look around in disdain,

As I walk across the uneven terrain.

This was a place I once called home,

A country which I regarded as my own,
With family, friends, my daughters and sons,

But today I am all alone,
Wounded scarred and broken down.
My eyes have dried, I can't cry no more.
They say the worse is over, but I have nothing to live for.

They said it was war against the bad,
To uplift us, to free us, to fulfil our demands.
They invaded my country, brought soldiers and drones,
They killed the rulers and innocent souls.
Before my eyes I saw my worst fears unfold,
My sons prosecuted, my daughters disrobed.
Saw houses and trees that lined the streets,
Dissolve into dust and craters and covered with bloodied bodies.

I lost everything I ever had in this world,
Been tortured in ways that cannot be told.

Now like a prisoner wrapped in chains,
With other civilians I am dragged away.
"Why me?" I ask, "What have I done?"
But all I get is silence, being part of my country is reason enough.
Reason enough to think I am trouble,

Even though I am old, wounded and crippled.
Now all I am is a living corpse,
Hoping my end will come fast.

Distraught in despair

She sat in solitude
With tears strolling from her eyes
Not knowing what to think
Who she was to stand by.
On one side was her dead daughter, wrapped in white,
On the other her daughters supposed father, who let her die.
Three months ago she gave birth to her bundle of joy,
Her baby girl for whom she had dreams, to whom she gave life.
But little did she know how short lived her happiness was
When grief struck her and she plummeted into remorse.
But to add to her pain and excruciating despair
Was the identity of the murderer, for whom she also cares.
She thought the tiny tot would bring about a change of heart,
The want for a son would be overwhelmed by her innocent laugh.
Her husband who was to be her child’s father and guide,
Made sure her presence from their life was wiped.
His hatred for her knew no bounds,
As mercilessly, in poison he let her drown.
Now grief stricken, and all alone
She lost not one, but two pillars of her home.
On one side her daughter lay before her dead,
On the other her husband with handcuffs, away from her was being led.
Who was she to cry for, for what was she to be in pain,
Her daughter who was no more or husband who was taken away?
Who was she supposed to complain to, on whom could she blame
Her husband who killed her daughter, or her ill fate?
Questions hounded her and a long life at her stared
Where was she to go from here and who would understand her state?
Generations of hatred and one ill fated day
Took both her pillars - her daughter and husband away.

By Zoha Tapia

Estranged

I stood still as you walked away,
Every step taken trampling the memories we made.
I hold out my hand wanting you to stop,
But all I could feel was my pulse drop.
I wish I could rewind the sands of time;
Bring back the happiness, get rid of the grime.
Live each moment like it will never end
All the way through till our last breath...

But now I stand here alone
Waiting for you to turn back but I know you won't.
I loved you for the person you were
But will remember you for leaving me at the altar.
From the moments of love we spent together,
It's the pain you caused I will remember forever.

I will never forget the twinkle in your eye,
The way you laughed and made me smile.
The way you saw me through my highs and lows,
Supporting every step I took.
But more than ever I will never forget
The way you turned my love into pain and regret.

By Zoha Tapia

In memory of...

It doesn’t matter how far you go,
Whether you leave me standing all alone,
With all those memories, from childhood till now
The tales of me growing up and the support you showered
You will always be there in my heart
In my thoughts even if time draws us apart.
You accepted me for who I was
For my happiness you put the world on pause,
The things I gifted you big or small,
You kept them with you till you were gone.
You held my hand as I walked along,
Through each moment I lived you were in my thoughts
But today all of a sudden, you aren’t there
You left me for a world in which I don’t exist.
Though I am shattered, I try to be strong
I need support but you aren’t there to hold on.
But I know no matter where you are today
You are looking down on me like you did yesterday,
Smiling at ever ladder I climb,
Wanting to hold me through the dust and grime.
But more than ever in your heavenly abode
You are shining down on me protecting my each move.
Though life seems empty without you here
I know you are in a world where someone needs you more than me down here.

The ray of hope - Malala

In a world of conflict,
Filled with violence and gore.
Where there is no hope for peace and justice is an unknown word.
Bigoted men, with heathen like masks
Wreak havoc for those who bring upon their wrath...
There she stood, alone, undeterred
With a pen in her hand, ready to face those with swords.
She seemed like another school girl, all of just fourteen
But beneath her fragile demeanour, was a person of steel.
Men stood back, when there was blood on the streets,
Women hid behind the veil, and suffered the atrocities,
Children were hidden and told not to speak a word,
The government just spoke, while the heathens planned war...
But she was different, courageous and empowered,
Malala wasn’t just a little girl, but an inspiration to all...
She took to the streets with her books and her pen
Spoke words of wisdom and tried to make people comprehend,
What was going on was wrong and they had to fight back
Not through blood, but through actions that would help them resurrect.
Education and empowerment is what she spoke off,
But to the heathens she was a threat, they must get rid of.
They threatened her and bullied her,
Tried to get her out of their way
But though she was little, her heart was brave.
Today, she fights between life and death,
As a bullet of cowardice they fired through her head.
And though she lies on the hospital bed
She woke up the people who were living yet dead.
She showed the world what words can do,
She showed them the power of knowledge and resolute.
Today, as a symbol of hope she shines,
For those seeking an end to the heathens regime...

An ode to a superstar

After a dry monsoon spell, today the skies looked down upon Mumbai. The skies swelled and the clouds burst and it rained. But today’s heavy downpour was symbolic in a way, today, India’s first superstar – Rajesh Khanna passed away. I wasn’t even born when his films released but I can still say that I have grown up on his songs and watching his movies. It is not because my parents or grandparents thought he was a star but because there was a charismatic quality about him, which he exuded on screen. While maybe most of the golden melodies of Hindi cinema have been picturised on him, there was something in the way he acted that made you want to sit up and watch. The fact that he has had 15 back to back solo film hits is enough to speak about that.

At a time when image consultants were unheard of, when there were no PR strategies and publicity gimmicks, the entertainment industry witnessed the meteoric rise of Rajesh Khanna whom we all fondly know as Kaka. He took us away from the socialist era of Dev Anand and Guru Dutt and introduced a new facet of romance to Indian cinema. Long before the Khan’s or even Rishi Kapoor – it was he who was the king of romance. His pairings with Sharmila Tagore, Mumtaz and Asha Parekh are unforgettable and movies like Aradhana, Amar Prem and Kati Patang you feel like watching again and again. He created hysteria amongst his fans, his mere presence during his heydays made time standstill. Women swooned over him and maybe for the first time police had to be deployed to keep his fans at bay, some cried when he announced his marriage to Dimple Kapadia, while thousands turned up to congratulate him and countless number of parents named their children after him – such was the euphoria of this man. It was something people hadn’t seen, which made BBC at that time want to cover his rise to fame – where he very nonchalantly said “Who doesn’t like stardom”.

However, with fame and stardom come the pressures of dealing with it, which is where unfortunately he fell back. Though, in movies like Anand and Namak Haram he even overshadowed Amitabh Bachchan, what he couldn’t do was transform from the romantic hero to the angry hero – which was became in vogue then, but that was partly also due to the fact that though Indian cine goers moved from romance to action, they did not welcome his transition. From the pinnacles of stardom he dropped into the shadows. Not only did his personal life go astray but so did his professional but one thing that never did was his iconic superstar status.

Today, in 2012 when he passed away at 69, not only have tributes poured in from the industry and politicians but from fans beyond his generation. His iconic bungalow – Aashirwad in Mumbai was thronged by many. When the news broke on the 18th of July, it created a sense of disbelief along with frenzy. It wasn’t just social networking sites, news channels and radio channels that were abuzz with the news, but so was Bandra, Mumbai. For all those who stayed in the vicinity of his house, will be able to vouch for the fact that though he is no more his superstar status lives on – with both the young and old gathering to get a last glimpse of the man who showed us what super stardom meant. The road near his sea facing bungalow was blocked, and there were traffic snarls in the neighbouring vicinity. As it poured, the traffic came to a halt and his house once again seemed like what it was when he was in his prime, only this time he wasn’t there to witness it.

Stars will come and go but Rajesh Khanna was, is and always will be India’s first superstar. Though his life came to a halt but his movies, dialogues and songs will always be etched in the history of Indian cinema. Like he himself said Zindagi ek rang manch hai aur hum is rang manch ki katputliyaan hai, jiski dor uparwale ke haath mein, koi nahin janta woh kab inhein kheenchta aur kab dheel deta hai – RIP Kaka.

Resurrection of ruins

Broken from within, completely forlorn
Nothing to look forward to, nothing to hang on.
Alone as ever, in pieces and despair,
With the heart and mind seeming to be beyond repair.
After all the time that has been spent
After all what’s been given and that has been felt,
Today on the path of destruction I stand
In ruins, on this lifeless barren land.
To resurrect myself seems like a task
I try pulling my self together, pushing the destruction in the past.
Forgetting the painful moments that brought me here
Cremating the memories that now at me jeer.
Detaching myself from those I called mine
Only to realise that they will drift away in time.
I look down at myself shrivelled and curled
Like a little foetus, craving warmth from the womb.
But I need to rise like the phoenix from within
Come out and live and not be hidden.
I have nothing to lose, nothing to hide
No prewritten rules, no societal guides.
A new journey I can now begin
The road to transformation starts with ruins.
With an open mind, I take my first step
For new pastures, experiences and relationships.
I may fall once more, and be scathed again
But every time I am ruined, a new beginning will beckon.
Ruined I maybe, but resurrect myself I will
Till the time, I haven’t risen, till the time peace within me I haven't felt.

A silent prayer

He held her mercilessly,
With no remorse in his eyes.
Wrapped in a ragged cloth,
She stared, trying to understand his wrath.
An occasional quiver, a slight shiver.
Though tiny and speechless, she was intuitive about her impending future.

Pushed onto the side
Her mother stood stoic in silence.
This wasn’t the first and neither the last.
Though grief-stricken, her tears dried with experiences of the past.

As she drew closer to her dug-out grave,
She let out a whimper and wished to speak.
Her heart jumped - leaps and bounds,
As she hoped someone would notice the tears that rolled down.

Each tear held an untold plea,
A plea to let her live and see.
“I know you look me as a burden,
An expenditure, which would increase as I turn maiden.
I seem of no use besides being in the four walls of your mansion,
Just like an old piece of furniture or an oil-stained utensil.
Constantly reminding you how fruitful it would be to have bore a son,
Who would take care of your farm and not make you bear a dowry amount.
But I still beg for that one chance.
The chance to live, watch, feel and dance.
The chance to prove I am more than just furniture
That I can do all that your son can in the future.
Make a difference in your lives
And be the apple of my daddy’s eyes.
To let my mother relive her childhood,
And be your caregiver all through.
The chance to flip through books old and new,
Learn new arts and my worth prove.
To leave my footprints for others to follow,
And fill your hearts with pride and honour.
Give me a chance to live for others,
As a daughter, sister, friend and mother.
I know it’s tough but I continue to plead
And ask you to break the barriers to which society heeds.
As you bury me under the soil,
This same society you uphold will live in turmoil.
It’s not just a daughter you are killing,
But future sons, whom without a daughter would not come into being.
I pray for the last time as you lay me down
Spare me and save your future now.”

But alas! Her pleas were left unheard
As the sand suffocated her every whimper.
No one came forth, for her no one stood.
But continued to call themselves custodians of customs and all that’s good.
Like her, nameless, more girls will be buried alive,
And live we will in the darkness and die blind.

-By Zoha Tapia

Reminiscing.....

As I sit back I wonder why
Why do I keep thinking about you as each day passes by?
Why is it I still remember those times we spent
Analysing everything you said and meant?
It’s been a while since we parted
But the thoughts haven’t yet from my mind departed.
You hurt me enough and made me cry
But it was you who also made me smile
You gave me enough pain to last me a lifetime
But at the same time you moulded me into the person I am
You covered my weaknesses and brought out my strengths
But it was you who made me weak again.
You made me feel special after a really long time
Made me realise that I have someone I can call mine.
You made me walk with my head up high
Without any worries, troubles and nothing to cry.
I fell in love for the very first time
And dreamt of my future with you by my side.
But the dream was soon over and my nightmare begun
You left me stranded, alone and stung.
You made me cry and I hated you for that
You left my side when I needed you real bad.
It didn’t take you time to say goodbye
Forget the love, there seemed to be no remorse in your eye.
But even after all that pain
About you I still feel the same.
I still want to see you coming back
To hold my hand and love me back.
I cherish those moments sweet and sour
Which made me and you whom we are.
I try to analyse how much ever I can
Wonder why I feel for you through so much angst.
However, complicated my thoughts seem
The answer is simple and the only reason I need.
You are the first and will always be
No matter how much pain you have inflicted upon me
Those happy memories will make me feel complete.
You have taken my heart and I don’t want it back
Because without you in something my life will always lack.
Someone else may come and liven up my life
But you will always remain special, the first love of my life.

A prayer for death

She stared out of the window, looking at the setting sun changing its colours and showering across the sea various shades of crimson. A tear rolled down her icy white wrinkled skin from her colourless eyes which seemed to be filled with thought and sorrow. She clenched her teethless jaws together and she shut her crumpled eyes tight. Her mind ran back into the past and she drowned herself into the oceans of the past. Those horrid but very vivid memories came back to her as though they had freshly taken place. Her mind reversed fifty-nine years into the past where she experienced one of the most inhuman activities of the world.

It was the month of July. Hiroshima was warm with a tinge of humidity in the air . Doctor Huts Nakamura stood near her kitchen window packing some botamochi: sweet rice dumpling with bean sauce for her daughter to take to school. It was around six in the morning. Her husband left her two years back and since then she lived a life of a widow and her life since then only revolved around her daughter, Mohawk. Mohawk was ten years of age and studied in the City Grammer School. She was a petite girl with the most amazing big grey eyes. Her poker straight shiny black hair was tied back into a thick braid and she had adorned her blue and white striped knee length uniform. “Hahaoya,” she called her mother, “is my lunch box ready?”
“Hai, darling. Here you go. Put this in your bag and let’s go.” They walked to the Yokogawa Station which was five minutes away from the house. “Hahaoya” said Mohawk. “Do not come to fetch me from school because Mrs. Yakamako will drop me since she wants to meet you.” Huts nodded and gave her daughter a smile. A loud horn in the background disrupted the silence in the air which was till now only occupied by the moving trains. A coloured bus came to a screeching halt right in front of them. The door opened and a friendly looking conductor popped his head out and ushered Mohawk inside. For some strange reason today Huts did not want to let her daughter go. She feared something which was not right was going to occur today. Her mind was in some sort of turmoil. On one side she termed this feeling as idiocy on the other hand she thought she should have listened to her mind and not let her daughter go.

As she was walking back home she heard a warning siren. A shiver shot down her spine. “Oh my goodness we are under attack,” she thought. “Oh Tentei please take care of Mohawk.” She prayed as she ran for shelter. The siren cut short and relieved she emerged out of her hiding thanking God for answering her prayer.

She reached home and made some tea. She had taken an off from the hospital today. Huts sat in her veranda sipping her jasmine tea. The sun had completely risen by now and it seemed to be promising a pleasant and calm day. She laughed at her earlier intuition but little did she know that this day would be completely different and would not only change her life but also the life of the entire country.

The morning was still, warm and beautiful. The shimmering leaves reflected the sunlight from the cloudless sky. She was admiring the environment around her when suddenly, a strong flash of light startled her and automatically her hands rose to shield her eyes. The stone lantern in the garden lit up brilliantly. She debated whether this light was caused by a magnesium flare or sparks from a passing trolley.

Where a moment before the view had been bright and sunny was now dark and hazy. Through the swirling dust she could see a huge mushroom shaped cloud of smoke form in the sky. The wooden pillars of her house were leaning crazily and the roof sagged dangerously. She moved instinctively, and tried to escape, but the rubble and the fallen timbers barred the way. She fought her way through the debris and ran out into the garden. A profound weakness overcame her. She stopped to regain her strength. Very reluctantly she turned back to have a look at the pile of shattered debris which was sometime ago her house. She looked down in despair and noticed torn pieces of cloth attached to her arms. Huts, in total agony was wondering what happened which not only destroyed her house but also shredded her clothes. When she glanced again she noticed that it wasn’t cloth which hung loose on her hands but it was, her own flesh. To her surprise she discovered that she was almost naked. “How odd!” She thought, “Where is my kimono?”

The right side of her body was cut and bleeding. A large splinter was protruding from a mangled wound in her leg, and something warm trickled into her mouth. Her cheek was torn and her lower lip cut. Embedded in her neck was a glass fragment which she managed to remove. After she regained her strength she got a sudden brain wave and thought, “My daughter, Mohawk. Oh gracious Tentei please save her.” Saying this she scrambled onto the road and walked towards her daughters school.

In thirty minutes or so she reached her daughters school only to be devastated to see it in crumbles. Teachers and students were trying to get out of the debris while ambulances from the red cross hospital surrounded the place. “My daughter, where is she?” She thought and yelled, “MOHAWK, where are you my baby.’

Blood began to spurt. A vein in her neck had been cut. “Would I bleed to death?” Frightened and irrationally she thought and called out for her daughter once more. A pale and frightened Mohawk appeared staggering towards her. Her clothes were torn and blood stained. The very sight of seeing her reassured Huts that her daughter was alive but yet her heart weakened at the sight of her daughter. The poor little thing was exhausted and in pain. She took her daughter into her arms and ignoring her panicked mind she assured her daughter of life. “We'll be all right,” she exclaimed. The minute she said this Mohawk dropped unconscious into her mothers arm. Huts heart pounded and she quickly reached out for her daughters wrist to feel her pulse. “She is alive” she sighed in relief.

She accumulated all her strength and she carried her to the nearest hospital. She had to make much effort from not stumbling. Tears rolled down her cheeks. An overpowering thirst seized her but she ignored it as she ignored her naked state. She couldn’t think beyond her daughter, her only reason for living. Her journey to the hospital was horribly slow. Suddenly the clot on her leg got dislodged and blood started spurting out again from there. She stopped in her tracks and tore out a piece of cloth from her daughters ragged uniform and tied it tightly onto the wound.

It was like a nightmare. Her movements were slow but time of life seemed to be passing fast and her mind running was racing. She didn’t want to think of the possible but it was the only thing that kept hitting her.

She finally reached the hospital. There were shadowy forms of people walking like scarecrows, their arms held out from their bodies with forearms and hands dangling. They had been burned. A naked woman came into her view. She averted her gaze. It occurred to her that some strange thing had deprived them of their clothes. Suddenly from the back someone called her. It was a ward boy. Through him she got to know that the hospital was in a bad state and going in would be useless. She got up to fetch for medical aid but something stopped her. From the time her daughter had fainted till now, Mohawk had held on tightly to her finger. Huts eyes welled up and her heart formed a lump in a throat. She bent down and held her hand. Her worst fears had come true. The world around her shattered into pieces. Huts clutched onto her daughter tightly and cried her lungs out. “I couldn’t save my daughter. What use is being a doctor when I cant save my own daughter. Oh Tentei you have taken my Mohawk from me, now take me.” She wailed but there was no one to sympathise with her. Her entire world turned hollow. She dropped unconscious as though dead but unfortunately she wasn’t.

The traumatic episode she experienced fifty-nine years back never left her thoughts. The hapless and pale face of Mohawk still revolved around her eyes. She opened her eyes. Her leg had been amputated and her face was disfigured. Her body was small and seemed lifeless. She prayed to Tentei hoping he would answer her prayer today. Her eyes closed.

Walking on

I walk…
Leaving the past behind.
Envision a future,
Which will be only mine.

Burn the memories that haunted my head
Detach from those who left me stranded
Forget those regrets and resentments
And awaken to the light ahead.

But before I move on
To the new horizon that calls upon
I look back one last time
To see the trail of ashes, I leave behind.

The black path, is now just dust
But there still remains a certain glow.
In the ashes of the past, that lay before
Remained a few cinders of memories that glowed with warmth

I walk behind, one last time
Picking those cinders,
Etching them in my mind.
Leave the ashes, leave the past
Turn around and walk on….

A poem on Female Infanticide

She is the creator,
It’s through her that life evolves.
She is a caretaker,
Thanks to her a house is a home.
She is the epitome of love,
And sacrifice, perseverance and strength.
Yet she is looked down upon,
Yet she is tortured and made to mourn,
Yet she isn’t given her worth,
Yet she is killed before her birth.
Before she sees the world around,
Before a tear can even crawl down,
Before she has taken her first step,
Before she could breathe her first breath.

She could have grown up to be someone big,
A Kiran Bedi or a Madhuri Dixit.
A child prodigy she could have become,
But she wasn’t even given that one chance.

We closed her eyes and along with it ours.
We ignored the reality and lived in beliefs of the past.
“Why burden ourselves?” Is what we thought,
When killing that tiny little tot.
Not once did we weep,
Not once did our heart bleed.
We just witnessed the merciless act
And chose to ignore the fact.
Today, the equal society we live in
Has around thousand men to pitch in.
But for every thousand of those males,
Exists only 850 females.

The number is dropping as years go by
But we just ignore it and let it pass by.
We need to wake up and see the truth
Female infanticide is still rampant, in urban areas too.
The change needs to be made, one needs to take a call
Stop killing her now or it won’t stop at all.

Will Shiney Ahuja know life behind bars?

Bollywood and crime have always had a strange connection, not only in reel life but also real life. Recently, Shiney Ahuja’s conviction to seven years of jail for raping his maid, made many celebrities cry foul stating that they are being made soft targets and at the same time the common man rejoicing the fact that maybe, finally it is the end of celebrity feudalism.

To be quite honest, yes, many times celebrities are easy targets and at times them being famous doesn’t go in their favour. With people filing frivolous PILs (public interest litigations) over unimportant issues and sometimes the paparazzi going overboard highlighting their scandals to garner more eyeballs, some what justifies their viewpoint. But in the case of Shiney Ahuja, with not much money riding on him, and with not many hit films to his credit, what will one get by framing him and secondly parts of the industry that are vehemently supporting him, will they remember him and if he is released will they give him roles following a bad public image?

Well, that’s a separate issue all together. The question here is this has our judiciary finally agreed on the fact that justice needs to be the same for all, or are celebrities still allowed to be let off the noose.

Going into flashback mode, one of the first few actors to be caught up in the cops tangle was Sanjay Dutt. Being the son of yesteryear actors Nargis and Sunil Dutt, Sanjay Dutts arrest under TADA for owning AK-47 rifles in 1993 was a big blow to the industry. Currently, he is still fighting for his innocence in the Supreme Court against his 6 years punishment. As of now he is out on bail and though he withdrew his candidacy he did wish to contest for the 2009 Lok Sabha elections. However, what about the others who aided him or who were caught for the same offence? Either they are still languishing in jail or have completed their term. But Sanjay Dutt still continues to enthral us with his Munna Bhai acts.

Speaking about the 1993 riots, how can one forget Bollywoods love story with the underworld. Dawood Ibrahim Kaskar, a small time criminal who later became one of Mumbai’s dreaded dons, shifted his focus to the film industry with actress Mandakini. The glamour struck don organized parties in Dubai and Sharjah, which were attended by major Bollywood stars, either due to pressure or out of choice, thus, showing the legal system that he still ran Mumbai even on foreign shores. However, with the arrest of diamond trader Bharat Shah in 2001 and the underworld and Bollywood nexus being exposed, the Mumbai police claim a reduction in the underworld involvement in films. However, what happened to all the actors who were spotted with the don and the producers who made movies for him?

When talking about crime one cannot not talk about Bollywoods proverbial bad boy Salman Khan. The actors first brush with the law was when he was charged with hunting black bucks in Jodhpur. Ironically, he is the only actor who faces the consequences, while Saif Ali Khan and Sonali Bendre who were also accused have been let off the hook. Though he was handed a 5 year jail term in 2006, he has been out on bail since 2007. If that wasn’t enough he was later held guilty for rash negligent driving causing death of one and injuring four people. Though he was found not guilty he still has to stand trial for lesser charges, pertaining to the same case. Ironically, enough we lauded him for his cop act in Dabbangg and speak of him as a messiah due to his Being Human charitable trust.

Even Feroz Khan’s lesser known son Fardeen Khan was caught under the narcotics act. However, a few apologies and a fine set him free in the world of filmdom. But to think of it, if we were ever even suspected of any of these acts, would we have been let loose so easily? I don’t think so. Well, the verdict in Shiney Ahuja’s case has managed to restore some faith in the judiciary and the fact that justice is the same for all, but then again its not like he is a big star.

Well, the least we can do is be hopeful it’s the end of celebrity feudalism and that like Shiney Ahuja we would like it if other high and mighty politicians and bigwigs too face the music.

The power of words

They say the pen is mightier than the sword
There couldn’t be anything truer than this thought.
While wounds with a sword may heal themselves
Words get etched in the memory of the inflicted.
Wounds will bleed and will naturally cover up
The pain felt is then and then gradually leaves without a mark.
Words stay on ringing in the head
Repeating themselves again and again.
Not only has it etched and imprinted itself
But engraves itself deeper as time goes by.
While superficial wounds are forgotten with time
These are refreshed and stay for always in the mind.
Why is it difficult to forgive and forget
Though at times forgiven, there still is that remembrance
The remembrance of that hurt that one word caused
The remembrance of the effect on your psyche and your heart.
Things seem to be normal and life moves on
But the past is there forever and is always brought to the forefront.
Happy memories and words are cherished
But even if regretted, the words which hurt, are remembered with spite and hatred.

The rise of the Zen

Through their small eyes, its devastation they see around
In seconds everything demolished and gone.
As per tradition they stood firm
And bowed their heads to the on coming storm.
Their wrinkled eyes, crinkled further
As generations of hard work crumbled to powder.
But they still stood stoic, and faced the thunder,
With patience, forbearance and profound valour.

The tsunami seemed to have washed away their tears
Just as it did their homes and ones who were dear.
The earthquake seemed to have shaken them off fear
Though it formed cracks within their land and water.
The radiation caused frenzy all over
But within them ignited a spark to recover.

While others looked upon them with sympathy and regret
They took charge, fought and started to move ahead.
While the rest of the world seemed dumbfounded and shocked
They continued living life with a pinch of salt.
What is the difference between us and them
Is it their spirit or their resonance?
Yes, we are human and they are too
But we would beg for sympathy, while damage control is what they started to do
Our vision would be hazy with images of the past,
While they look to the future while resurrecting the past.

Like an epitome of calmness they stand still
The tsunami came but not a tear spilt.
The earthquake shook the entire world
But the Japanese stood their ground and faced the world.
Their sadness and loss knows no bounds
But their silent resistance covers up their wounds.
11 March 2011, could be marked as the fall of the yen
But it also marked the rise and power of Zen.