Why we cannot RIP..

We cannot rest in peace..

A precious life has been lost.

This cannot and should not be the end.

She cannot be forgotten, we cannot move on with life as usual.

Lets question, Lets challenge, Lets Protest.

Why are our laws not strong enough to prevent this.

Why are women unsafe on streets, why are they expected to take measures to keep themselves safe, why cant they feel protected, safe.

Is it only the streets, incidents have happened at home, perpetrators being close “family” and “friends”

Do we not need special squads that will be dedicated to protect women..

Sqauds that will not be wasted on “bandobast”, protecting people who dont need protection?

Do we need a change of mindsets.. who is going to protect women from their own “family” and friends”

They cannot be told what to wear, they cannot be asked not to step out of their houses, they cannot be told they are responsible.

No, we cannot RIP

Those who ignore the past are condemned to repeat it, we cannot afford this to be repeated.

No we cannot RIP, lets not RIP

Weekly Writing Challenge – Just do(ing) it

The one picture that instantly came to mind when I came across this weekly writing challenge was this one..

A

Just doing it.. Answering nature’s call. The picture is at once Hilarious but also quite sad.
Sad because it reminded me that there are many in my country who are still homeless, who don’t have access to decent sanitation.

Here are other’s ..

B

C

Just doing it .. Hanging on to dear life..
Probably because that’s the only train that could take them to freedom, to a new tomorrow.

D

E

Just doing it.. Earning a living , making sure mouths are fed.

F

Just doing it.. queuing up for water..

But then things are looking up.. because there are people who are also “doing it” making sure things will not be the same..

People Like Sudha Murthy and her foundation who among many other noble deeds, are donating large sums to building toilets across rural India.

Metro Man E Sreedharan, who has made pictures like the below possible.

G

Heartening pictures of Express ways getting built…Infrastructure being strengthened

So really .. this ones just a tribute to a nation, a people who go out there , find a way and “just do it”, day in day out.

And also a hope.. that if we just keep on “doing it”.. getting it right in small things.. we might eventually, together as a nation ..“just do it”

Image Source, credits
Images A, C, D, E, F – With Kind Permission from Shalu Sharma

Image B – Skycrapercity.com

Image G – asiabizz.com

Image H – walkthroughindia.com

This post is for the Weekly Writing Challenge – Just do it

In love with a Super Blogger-my entry to the GetPublished contest

He had decided to attend the IndiBlogger meet for one thing and one thing only, he had come here only for Priya, to hear her speak. He had been amazed by what she had become, an internet sensation!.

Her followers on Twitter numbered in the tens of thousands, her blogs one of the most read. People waited eagerly for her posts, “liking” them almost as soon as she published them.

She didn’t comment on trending topics, topics she commented on became trends.

Leading brands queued up for her, hoping she would write about their products, some hoping that even the merest mention on her blogs would make their products overnight hits.

Even at this IndiBlogger meet she was to be the star speaker, her speech was to be the highlight of this event. The book she had written on her experiences as a blogger had been a runaway hit. The online persona she had built, the followers she had earned, the success she had achieved online was what most bloggers dreamt of.

Yet that was not the Priya he had known just a few years back, that was not the Priya that he and his friends had been so cruel to. The Priya he had known had been a very different person.

After having tried to look for her all these years, he had bumped into her quite accidentally online and been amazed and even proud of what she had achieved.

Back then he hadn’t realized how precious she was, he hadn’t known he was in love with her, he hadn’t even known what love was, he had been too stupid and naive. He knew he had been wrong. He had hurt her; he had given into peer pressure.

He knew he and his stupid friends had destroyed something beautiful.

He had lived with the guilt of what he had done all these years. He had wanted to say sorry, but her family had moved out of their small town almost right after that incident and he had lost track of her.

Today he had gathered enough courage, he wanted to stand in front of her and say he was sorry; he wanted to say he had been stupid; and lastly if she would listen long enough, he wanted to say that he loved her.
He had loved her then and was hopelessly in love with her today.
…….
How had he hurt her?
Should she forgive him?
Will she be able to forgive him?
What will he have to do to convince her that both his regret and his love were really genuine?

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India

Love Betrayed – My entry for the Get Published contest

After years of hard work, painful sacrifices, staying away from each other, their dream of being together, of a happily ever after ending was finally coming true. Both Priya and Raj were finally allowing themselves to relax a bit, allowing themselves to dream about how beautiful life would be together again.

Growing up in a small remote, nondescript village in the rural hinterlands of India hadn’t stopped them from dreaming the impossible.

In many ways they felt blessed because they never had to fight for their love to be accepted, they had been childhood sweethearts, a match made in heaven. Their families were highly respected in the village and were very close. Their love was just an extension of that strong friendship; they had already been accepted as a beautiful couple, meant to be together forever.

They had infact had to fight their parents to put off their marriage. Marriage for them was just a formality that society demanded of them.

Their struggle instead had been to achieve a dream, a vision that they had both seen.

The relentless pursuit of that vision had taken Raj from the charming little gulley’s of his village to the big mean street of wealth and power. Wall Street

Priya had been just as bright and ambitious but had made the sacrifice and stayed back in the village, building the foundation for their vision.

But on the last stretch, on the last leg of the race, when they were a hair’s breath away from achieving their vision, something happens, something that leads one of them to betray the other.

An act of betrayal that was really tragic and ironic, because it had actually meant to be an act of supreme love.

What happens, what leads a strong and beautiful relationship between two mature, committed individuals like Priya and Raj to end in tragic betrayal?

Why does one of them give up on the other?

What makes this story real..
We are today citizens of a global village. Like never before we have the opportunity to participate in and influence global events. The flat border less world that has opened up roads to economic resurgence has also however redefined our relationships. Our relationships today face a whole new set of challenges; global events impacting us like never before.

The story is inspired by all globetrotters, for whom staying away from each other, being separated by oceans is a conscious choice, a choice that is necessary to achieve goals, fulfill visions.
Priya and Raj are one such couple, eager and active participants of the global game, hoping to live their dream together.

In the end however the dangers on the streets of the global village, the surprises that lurk there prove fatal for their relationship.

Other stories that this one has been inspired by have ended happily, this one has a sad ending to highlight that like so many things in our world, our relationships too have gone global.

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

Note: The length of the post and the declaration at the end have been amended in compliance with the rules for the contest.

Happy Birthday Dad.. Why I hadn’t said anything..

On his birthday I had posted a picture of the small little cake that we’d got him (he would have obviously frowned on anything bigger..). He’d made his internet debut with that on his 76th birthday.

I happened to show it to him the other day..

In what is the characteristic super eloquence that Father’s normally reserve for their sons, looking up from his reading with just the faintest of nod’s he managed a “oh good”, looked at it for a few seconds and then went back to his reading.

In turn with the characteristic eloquence and show of “cool” that normally son’s reserve for their father’s, I managed a “yup” with a shrug of my shoulders.

I quite suspect he had wanted to say a lot more than that..

I definitely had a lot more to say than what I had managed..

I wanted to tell him that cake actually stood for all the goodness that he had blessed us with all throughout, the abundance he had striven to provide for us all his life.

The beauty and sweetness he had filled our lives with.. the many birthday’s he made sure we celebrated with everything we wished for..

Those candles standing for how he’d led his life, himself burning, sacrificing, making sure darkness never touched our lives.

That was my way of saying thank you to him, telling him I was proud…

But am I actually going to say all this to him.. have him read this post even?

Naaah.. because then he’d be embarrassed, and then Id be embarrassed, and everything would be a little awkward and then we wouldn’t know what to do..

I guess some thing’s are best left unsaid..

They are best, just felt!

Daily Prompt: The Perfect Flaw

I obsessed about my flaws, looking for the smallest blemish.
Obsessed about finding every one, finding it, worrying about it
Worrying about what people thought about it..
Did people think it made me less worthy?
Could I do anything to correct it, hide it maybe?
I spent hours looking, analyzing, searching, seeking..
Then One day I found it.. the biggest flaw, the one perfect flaw.
In obsessing about my flaws and imperfections, In worrying about them endlessly..
I had forgotten on thing..
I had forgotten that inspite of all those flaws, all those blemishes, I was Precious..

I was a diamond..

Beautiful, priceless, wonderful

I had forgotten that those very flaws and imperfections had infact made me even more precious..
They had made me unique..

Now that I had found the one perfect flaw..I did not have to worry about the others..

Our Posts

Happy birthday dad…

Weekly Writing Challenge: Shift your perspective: Had to, Father hadn’t liked it..

He was mystified as he walked over to Father’s.

Father had said he wanted to talk about his recent post -> In the loving memory of.. A Blog

He wondered what Father had to say .. especially because Father hadn’t sounded too pleased.

What you have seen as an end is actually a wonderful beginning father said to him as he entered.. Father never really had time for pleasantries.

Come with me father said to him, leading him outside to the dandelion plant in the garden. As he looked on father blew gently on a flower head and they both watched silently as the little florets flew away looking like tiny angels, as white as father’s flowing beard.

Like so many little angles..

Angels flying away to spread their magic

That’s what you do when you publish a post on your blog father said pointing to the little white fluffs, those are the posts that are published on the all the blogs..People like them as they stay in sight and slowly float away, liking them, following them.

But when they are out of sight, does it mean they have died, fading away in to obscurity? Father asked him..

Your posts just like those seeds have really just gone in search of their destiny, Father said to him, in search of new ground, where they will anchor and fulfill their destiny..

What you have described as a digital grave Father explained to him, is actually a miraculous mine, your posts are the gems that this beautiful mine holds.

That mine is richer than even King Solomon’s mine because it holds riches far greater than any other mine can ever hold.
The mine holds the testimony of someone’s love. It holds lessons learnt over a lifetime by some one..

It holds the wisdom of people who have loved and lost, fought and been defeated, of those people who have fallen but have shown the courage to stand again.

This beautiful mine holds stories of amazing success people have achieved, stories that can inspire others to do the same..

Our Posts

The mine is richer than King Solomon’s mine because you can mine it all you want, but you can never empty it, in fact the mine only grows richer every day..

So you see son, what you had seen as an End, what you had seen as a grave is really a heavenly garden, full of beautiful flowers from all over the world.

Flowers that enrich people’s lives with their vibrant colors, bring peace to people’s lives with their fragrance..

Posts that are as beautiful as these flowers

So there it was, father’s wisdom had again helped change his perspective..

**Written in third person because the wise people at WordPress so willed it..

Daily Prompt: In the loving memory of …. A blog!

Courtesy google images

Now here’s something that might interest you I said to my blog, an opportunity to write your own obituary..
Oh how appropriate it exclaimed..since we do really die such untimely unsung deaths! Thank you it said before launching into this eulogy..

Here in the digital coffins of wordpress servers lies the brave blog who so selflessly strode in to the world… carrying a smile for someone, a few unshed tears for another.

It went out in to the world offering hope and inspiration, spreading laughter and joy, wisdom and love..

It marched on.. Carrying the sad story of someone’s betrayal, of the few intimate and emotional moments shared with a loved one.

Carrying a dream for someone and a dream come true for another…

It strode on, never once seeking glory for itself, selfless in its service, relentless in its journey.

It took in everything with equanimity…
The adulation and praise, the “likes”, the “follows” that were part of its early life. The glory of it sunrise..
The ignominy of people moving on right after… the loneliness of it sunset.

Here in its digital grave lies the brave warrior.. praying that its soul does live on ..
in the heart of the one who created it and in the many hearts of the ones who enjoyed it.

courtesy tumblr, google images

Weekly Photo Challenge, Reflections: Fathers magic mirror

Fathers Magic mirror_clipart

Father I am confused, I said sitting down next to him. For a while now I had been disturbed, I don’t know what I want I told him. Its like I once set out on this journey, all excited, raring to go and now suddenly halfway through I seem to be unsure of the destination. I feel incomplete I told him, sounding a bit distraught.
Father just looked at me lovingly, don’t worry son, I have just the thing for you he said handing me something.
Here take it with you, it’s my magic mirror he explained. As I looked at it, all I could do was stare back at him in disbelief..

Because his magic mirror was not even a mirror It was actually almost a mirror..it seemed to have done everything right, gotten a beautiful wooden frame, was just the right size, the ideal shape but seemed to have changed its mind about becoming mirror at the last minute.

It had everything going for it, except for the glass that would make it a real mirror!, but, there was no arguing with Father. I just picked it up and walked home wondering how this piece of wood was going to help me.

So there it sat all day on my table, with me trying to figure out Father’s mysterious ways. Just when I had begun to doubt father’s wisdom, I realized that I was being unfair to it. Maybe all the while that I was trying to get it to inspire me, it was probably waiting for me to do the same. It was probably looking for a help from me, something that would transform it, making it what it really had wanted to be.

I tried different things, tried on my best suit in front of it, put up my best smile, tried to look happy but alas, nothing worked.

noting Worked

Its own incompleteness a constant reminder of the incompleteness I felt within..

Then one day just I had almost given up hope, I happened to chance upon a weekly challenge at wordpress.. the challenge being to write about “the moment that changed your life” and something told me this was it..
I wrote my very first blog, I felt a glow inside me as I hit the publish button.. just as I was enjoying that beautiful feeling I realized that Father’s mirror had suddenly lit up and there it was finally, my reflection!

Father’s incomplete mirror had helped complete me, it had help me discover the real me..

All along while I had tried my best to get it to reflect me it had waited patiently for the real me..

I realized that up until then, all the “perfect” mirrors around me had just shown me shallow reflections, incomplete images while Fathers “incomplete” mirror had shown me a complete image, a beautiful vision..