A Salute to the Very Very Special Laxman

I remember returning from school after my Class X board exam, way back in 2001, pondering over the answers I had written to the rather incomprehensible questions, and trying to calculate the approximate marks that I would obtain out of all this labor. The March sun was shining brightly, when I suddenly heard the words "Laxman scored a double century, Dravid a century." I couldn't believe my ears. This was in regards to the 2nd Test Match being played between India and Australia at the Eden Garden Stadium, Kolkata. India had lost the first Test, which was quite expected as the Aussies had the "Invincible" tag around their neck. We were expected to lose the second test again, as its too unrealistic to expect victory after being asked to follow-on. And then the miracle happened.

India won the 2nd Test, Laxman scoring a mammoth 281.

Till this happened, Laxman to me was just another Indian batsman, who sometimes opened the innings, scored 30 or 40, and then gave his wicket away to some rash shot. He was always regarded as a stylish stroke player, but never a match winner. Moreover, critics had always slammed him for lack of proper technique and had regarded him unsuitable for Test Matches. He was always a run-getter in the domestic circuit, but he failed to get big scores in the International Arena.

This, however, changed with that historic epic innings.

Almost a decade has passed since then, but Laxman's role in the team hasn't changed. He is still the savior when the team is in dire strait. You expect Sachin, Sehwag and Gambhir to blast centuries when the pitch is conducive for batting. However, when your top batsmen are back to the pavilion with not even a 100 on board. you will expect Laxman to stay on with the tail-enders, and provide a match-saving innings. He may not be technically correct like Dravid, nor he is a century maker like Tendulkar, and neither is he as explosive as Sehwag, but he is one player India will always find tough to replace.

After all, saviors are not born everyday.

Myriad Grains

Myriad Grains. Grains those lie low in the oceans, beyond the depth of vast expanses of water, hiding from the mob. Grains those lie beyond our foot, brushing the rough skin of beach people, travelers and nomadic creatures. Grains those are there in the air, flowing via the thick rays of sunlight, through open windows in the early hours of the day, signaling with them the dawn of a new era, an era marked by hope and ambition. A day heralds that brings with it unparallel enthusiasm, zeal and the desire to succeed. Yet the grains lie low, far away from the crowd, in their own desolate world, uncharted and desolately safe.

High up in the sky my gaze goes, and I am blinded by a sudden gust of wind. I rub my eyes in pain; confusion and anger slowly rising in my body, traversing the entire length of my vast torso, till it finally rests on the back of my mind. Dust winds are frequent in this part of the country, and are at their mischievous best at dusk. I standing on the beach, with my fists rolling over my eyeballs, perfectly resembled one of the monkeys of The Father of Our Nation, which symbolized “do not see bad.” However, I was in no mood to crack jokes on my own helplessness. Grains of sands, though tiny, can make you cry, as I realized now.

My vision blurred as water started flooding my eyes, in pain, despair and helplessness. I tried to look through the tiny hole created by the joints of my fingers, and my vision stuck on a stray dog barking aimlessly at the roaring waves. Towards another side of the sprawling beach, I could see a couple getting cozy in the sand, pretty oblivious to the prying eyes that pierced through them. Finally, after much rubbing, I was able to vanquish the last bit of dust grain that had invaded my eyes. My vision gradually cleared, and the perception of view that I had earlier, changed. The dog was not barking at the waves. Rather it was howling at an emaciated human body that had some how been washed to the shore by the cruel waters. I stepped ahead and looked down straight at the decaying mass. It was withered, like a dead rose crushed on the roads under the wheels of a speeding truck.

It started to rain. However, I was in no mood to return. I looked around, trying to fathom and decipher more meaning in this unspoken land. The clouds billowed, attempting to shake me off, but I was not willing to run away. The dog was now galloping ahead in full speed, perhaps too scared of being gobbled up by the deathly combination of rain and sea. I moved in the direction of the cozy couples, but they were gone. Gone were the people surrounding them, and also gone were the other passers by who were aimlessly strolling the beach. I looked up at the sky, and it was dark. The rain had suddenly stopped, making a mockery of my derailed condition. There was no moon, no star, just a thin veil high up in the horizon, which engulfed the entire beauty of the night. Somewhere far I heard the distant chatter of monkeys, probably enjoying a hearty meal with their families, reminding me of the loneliness that I was dwelling in. I wandered in the dark, blindfolded by a blackness that I was unable to get rid off.

My legs slipped and I fell in the sea. Sea not of water, but of sands, distant sands that looked so close now. I didn’t realize when I had become a part of them. The transformation had come too soon, too fast to be true. I felt relaxed, my mind finally gaining its composure, attaining a state of rest. There was no fear, no worry, no greed, no desire, no anxiousness, just a distant light that peered through the darkness, commanding me to embrace its formless structure. It promised me a new world, a better world, where dog won’t drag out decayed bodies from water, where people wont become animals for their little greed and hunger. It promised me a new territory where I would rule according to my wish, and I pledged to fulfill the expectations that it had on me. Slowly it asked me to close my eyes. I obeyed, and in a fraction of second, had become a grain. A Grain among Myriad Grains.

I have not been taught to complain. I can only tolerate.

I have not been taught to complain. I can only tolerate.

I unbuttoned my blouse and looked at the mirror. It was me, bruised and battered. My pale skin was marked with purple scratches, my eyes were sweltering red. Red because of the crying I had to go through. Well it had become a daily routine now. I was raped, again.

I looked into the closet and took out the first aid box, my only companion these days. It contained a roll of cotton, a Dettol bottle and few pills. I soaked a small amount of cotton with Dettol and applied it on the first mark on my chest. Dettol burns, and my soul burnt too.

I needed a good bath. In two hours time my husband would come home for lunch. I had to be presentable. I love him, a lot. He is my protector, my savior, the man who has given me a new surname, along with food and shelter, the man who is supposed to be my Lord of worship. He is the man who has every right on me. He can do whatever he wants to me; after all I am his wife. He is the stronger species, I am the weaker one.

Last night I resisted. I was punished. My husband raped me. I deserved it, ‘cause I am a woman.

I have not been taught to complain. I can only tolerate.

15 Years Ago

I was 12 years old.

While returning from school, I boarded an auto rickshaw.

Two men were already sitting in the back seat of the auto rickshaw. The bald uncle whispered something to the younger uncle. The younger uncle got out and let me in. I think they let me in because I was a small girl, and sitting in the corner of an auto rickshaw can be dangerous at times, with vehicles passing by you at full speed.

I sat in-between, with the younger uncle sitting on my left and the bald one on my right.

I owed them a thank for their gentleness.

As soon as the auto rickshaw started, something happened. I didn’t know what and why, but something wrong seemed to be happening.

Both the uncles pressed closer to me. The younger uncle was constantly trying to take out something from his right trouser pocket, but it seemed he was not able to find it. He kept on searching frantically, his fingers brushing against my waist, quickly creeping to the upper part of my body. The bald uncle stretched out his arms, his fingers touching my thigh.

I sat stiff. I was too frightened to react.

When I returned home, I told mom. She said “Try not to get close to men, and don’t think of such things. It will corrupt your innocent mind. Forget and ignore these. You are a girl, you have to face these. Concentrate on studies. Anyways, you should be more careful, you are growing up.”

Two days later, I woke up with blood sticking on my leg.

My mom saw this and smiled “Don’t worry, its normal. You are a grown up girl now. We will go to the chemist in the evening”

I couldn’t understand then what the relation between “blood in leg” and “growing up” was.

I understand it now. The more you grow, the more blood mark you have on your body. I counted 27 such marks on my body in the mirror today.

I am 27 years old. I don’t want to grow any more. It hurts.

10 Years Ago

I met Raj in the school canteen.

He was a cute guy. He had a cracking voice, but that would change as he grew up. Guy’s life changes for better as they grow, but it’s just the reverse for a girl.

We were introduced by a common friend, and it was love at first sight. I liked his lean athletic frame, those bright eyes that spoke a lot, but most of all, it was his mischievous smile that bowled me. The friendly canteen gossip soon turned into outings with common friends, and subsequently to romantic dates.

It was on one such date that he held my hand. It was an electrifying sensation, and felt different. I had never felt the same before. It was uncomfortable too, didn’t know why, and so I quickly freed my hand from his grasp.

The next day he again held my hand. I didn’t resist this time. I had started to love his warm presence. He made me feel like a girl.

Time flew. Our relationships flourished, and love augmented by leaps and bounds. Those were the happiest days of my life. We kissed a couple of times, at school toilets, in empty classrooms, and behind thick bushes in desolate parks.

Then one day I committed a mistake. I made Raj angry.

We were sitting in a park, kissing each other. Suddenly his hands started moving down from my neck, towards my chest. I panicked and my heart beat started racing. I got frightened. I had not anticipated this so quickly.

I moved back.

Raj tried to persuade me a lot, that he will just touch me; he won’t do me any harm.

I said “I am not prepared for this now, Raj. Please try to understand. Let’s not do it before marriage.”

As always, I realized I was wrong. After all, how can the fairer sex ever be correct? We are supposed to be slaves of men, to obey all their orders. We are not allowed to obey our heart and mind. We are not allowed to think and feel.

I decided I would let him do whatever he wants the next day. The next day never came. We broke up. I loved Raj, but he loved my body.

5 Years Ago

I got a good job in a reputed software firm. It provided me a decent salary, and a designation that sounded good. But nothing changed really. Hungry men still stared at me as a prospective prey. I was still made to feel uncomfortable in public transports. My male colleagues talked dirty about me in hushed tone. I kept following what my mom said – to ignore these. It had become a part of my life now.

I learnt to cope with these day in and day out. I tried to think that everything was normal. But somewhere deep within me the pain and humiliation had formed a deep crater. A crater which I dreamt could be dissolved by the love of a man, whom I would marry. We would be a happy couple. I dreamt of giving birth to two boys. I wished I had no girls. I couldn’t see my girls facing the evil which I face.

Present Day

I got married a couple of years ago. The crater is still there, only it has grown bigger in size. The dreams that remained have been burnt to ashes. I am no longer a human; I am not supposed to live like one. I am a woman, a sex object, nothing more.

I love the festival of Durga Puja. Those 5 days my husband goes out partying with his friends. I don’t go. I love the solitude that I get. I remain at home and switch on the TV. I look at the different idols of Maa Durga and am mesmerized by her eternal beauty, the absolute power that she signifies. She appears to be so strong and dominating.

It surprises me. How can Maa Durga be so powerful even though she belongs to the fairer gender? Why is she worshipped by millions of men across the globe? Is this worship by men fake?

I don’t have any answer to these. I return back to the present time and prepare to take a bath. I love my husband. I can’t complain about being raped by him. I, being a woman, am born to endure, not to defy.

I have not been taught to complain. I can only tolerate.

************************************************************************

I Fear Sleep

I Fear Sleep

I fear sleep

‘Cause it shows me dreams

Unreal dreams

Dreams too fascinating to be true

Dreams about me and you

It was the last time we met

The last time we held hands

The last time we kissed

The last time you said I will b missed

The last moment of joy

The last pathos, the last cry

The last drop of tear

Falling from your eyes

And disappearing in my lips

We promised to meet again

We promised to be together

To b inseparable, forever

I promised you the moon

And u replied too soon

"No I want the sun"

I tried bringing you the star

But u went away too far

The summer heat

The September rain

The intense crowd

In the metro train

The long queues

The ticket counter

The myriad movies

We saw together

Those long hours

With hands clasped

Resting your head

On my shoulder

The silent whispers

Filling my ears

With countless dreams

I shudder 2 remember

Come back, please, again

Come back, please, again

Things were never again the same

Even though I tried, but all in vain

Why did you go away dear?

You shouldn’t have, but you did realize me my greatest fear.

I dream of us, you and me together

In a distant reality, promising love forever

You broke the vow, pierced my soul

Lonely me, I sank into a deep dark hole.

The sun is sinking, drowning my hope

Without you in my life, I can never really cope

Love to me meant loving you

Come back to me my life, let me have you in full view.

From the garden of love I plucked a rose

The thorns hurt me, yet it created the prose

Last chance is what I need baby

Trust me my love; I will do whatever you want

Just to get you back, my fairy.