Friday, March 11, 2011

This is not your CID episode

She stalls the streets knocking door to door. It’s been 2 nights since she hasn't slept. Probably might not sleep at peace for the rest of her life. She can’t eat food, can’t swallow water. She’s not bothered about how she’s looking or what she’s wearing. Her heart bears pain, worry and a nightmare! She splashes her face, checks the time and date and starts to walk.

After 2 hours of walking. ‘Knock knock’ “Is my daughter here?” she asks with misty eyes and a lump in her throat. “Nahi! Why bhabhi? Is everything alright?” the lady opening the door replies. “Anita hasn’t returned home since Monday evening. She left for tuition and hasn’t returned since.” the mother replies as a tear trickles down her sleep deprived eyes.

She turns around helplessly and walks to the adjoining door. To ask the same question hoping for a positive response or hoping to see her 15 year old girl run towards her and hug her from behind each door. Each knock gives is a ray of hope. Each no crushes her. She visits the tuition, school, park, friends and all the distantly possible places her daughter could be at. She has complained at the local police station, and put up endless posters reading “missing” and a picture of her daughter from her tenth board admit card. She has checked with everyone.

Daily the mother cooks Anita’s favourite dishes and lays the table along with Anita’s plate. Hoping her daughter will be back. Anita’s room lies the way it was left, comb on the dressing table, half opened drawer, two opened text books on her study and list of 26 children Anita was going to invite for her birthday party. "My beti...she wanted to be a doctor" her mother sobs, talking to one of her neighbours. The young girl's father visits the police station pleading, every three days. It has been a month now. Her mother hopes one day her ‘beti’ will be back.

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She faintly remembers leaving her tuition and walking around the corner…the second left was her lane; 6th house in the row. She wanted to be a doctor; she wanted earrings on her 16th birthday. She was going to throw a party, invite her friends and distribute the finest candies. She had it all planned, she’d take biology and study hard.

A bout of acid comes into her mouth and she throws up. Sitting in a cheap dress (nowhere close to what she’d hoped for on her birthday), hair messed up, feeling dizzy…dry tears on her face, Anita has turned 16 today. She begs to God, hands joined, pleading as she stares into the night sky from the room she is locked in. ‘Please’ she says in her mind ‘Please take me away from here. I’d rather die. Please help me God. Please.’ Sometimes she’d wish she would die and sometimes hope she’d escape and meet her mother, make something out of her life. It had been a month, and what Anita was going through was something she’d never imagined. It was hell, worse than her worst fears. She never imagined studying hard and being an obedient child all 16 years would land her in the incorrigible state she was now in. Everyday she’d wake up to her appalling reality after a sweet dream of her college graduation like she’d seen in the movie 3 idiots.

The memory races in her head. Eyes closed, she recalls; she was walking and someone grabbed her by her waist and covered her mouth, sprinting into a van. No one could hear her muffled screams and the next second a soft cloth was pressed against her nose.

Her eyes flutter open on hearing a sound. The door is thrust open and a drunken man stumbles into the room. She sneers and gives him the most contemptuous look. She would've spat on his face had she not learnt in the past month that doing that she might be pierced with broken glass bottles into her face or back or beaten black and blue. She was helpless. She breathed; her heart ached.

The man sprawled on top her and ripped her blouse hungrily and ruthlessly. He looked as old as her father. Her eyes pleading and hateful simultaneously. That dirty look the man beheld, the filthy grin across that man's face. She knew what was coming. It had been a month now, she ought to. Never in her dreams had she imagined that this is how it would be for her.

This is not a description of a CID episode!

If you’re surprised…well then keep it low as this is the tale of woe of thousands of children across our country. An increase after the count of 40,000 in 2004, in 2009 about 60,000 children were lost and NOT found. What the newspapers say is that this count too is probably an underestimation. Security is distant but what seems like is that the police aren’t really bothered about missing children. After a study in 2005 it was found that there is a need for a separate investigating agency to track missing children but just like another issue, here it wasn't considered necessary. Probably because we already have too much youth population that a loss of a life or a potentially good future of a few children can definitely be over looked.

Any complaints of 'missing' are taken in as diary entries and unlike an FIR the police aren’t compelled to investigate it. The lodging of an FIR also depends on the socio economic background of the parents. Of course there are those rare instances where the parents have evidence that their child has been kidnapped and then the police can do nothing but file an FIR. In all states except Delhi the police are not required to file an FIR in case of a missing child. The Delhi high court made it mandatory in 2009.

The sorry state is that among these, are children who could probably get into politics and change the system, help in scientific development, do social work, could be doctors and engineers saving lives or just be good human beings, but all nipped in the bud. Every city's streets and chaurahas are thronged with children begging. Thousands end up as beggars on the streets. Somewhat like the story in Slumdog Millionaire, where in they’re handicapped or made blind and are compelled to beg for money to live another day. Or maybe just taken away too young that they probably don’t even remember where they’re from. Some end up as bonded labourers in shoe, oil and drug factories. You never know the young boy that comes around to clean your car or to do any other domestic jobs for a menial monthly wage might just be a son taken away when he was small and now…he doesn’t know his way home.

The country is thriving today considering the sex business. Don’t pity the hungry, deprived and frustrated souls. Pity those adolescent boys and girls who are helpless, live toys for these animals. Finally, man has found a price tag for another man…life is no longer priceless…you pay for the night you pay to buy. The one who’s been bought and sold has been drugged so heavily that the naïve adolescent can’t even stand properly let alone talk or fight.

It’s not just the adolescents you see…there are people so gifted (I mean it in pure sarcastic terms) that they can trade with infants. About 10% of the missing children population constitutes of infants. A new life…an infant…opens his eyes, unaware of the evils of the world and he’s harmless, hasn’t even got teeth, sleeps, babbles, smiles, cries, eats and sleeps again…he doesn’t even understand what’s happening around him. So, while an hour ago he was smiling at his mother as she sang him a lullaby he doesn’t know he’s now sitting in a lab and is a part of a forced organ trade.

This is the ALARMING truth, and no one can deny that. They’re human… and they’re still in the becoming stage…. Not even fully grown adults and yet their lives are being snatched away from them. A potential politician, scientist, teacher, doctor, engineer, writer, thinker, artist, musician, police man…a potential HUMAN BEING is being crushed, killed and destroyed even before moulding. Everyone has a right to lead a life and it’s snatched away from these children. WHY? Why then are we complaining about our country’s development? Can this matter be looked into? Missing jewellery is such a serious matter; missing capital is a serious matter then why not missing children? The way it has been made mandatory in Delhi it should be made so in all the states. Indeed, a special agency should be created to trace these children.

Now that’s where my brain wrecks, I need more ideas more thoughts more suggestions more solutions! What do you think, can be a solution for this brutal fate of the children and the helpless state of their parents? What can be done for these children?

Friday, January 7, 2011

still not merry land

“…so aes to c…c…conclude, I would say the cammon weelth games didn’t went well”…a few laughs and the boy stepped off the podium returning to his seat. The others clapped along with the teacher who noticed some muffled laughs. “When some one is ispeaking” she addressed the students “…do not intervine and embrace him!”…my mouth fell open as I wondered why my teacher thought that the audience would embrace a speaker. I turned to my friend sitting next to me and whispered to her…”ma’am we won’t embrace the speaker unless of course he’s ravishingly cute…hahaha” and she and I laughed again. Yet I was still wondering what ‘intervine’ meant and WHY on earth was she talking about embracing…an hour later did it sink in that the word EMBARRASS was pronounced EMBRACE!!! And that’s when the question dawned upon me…am I even at the right place?
Okay! That was pure outburst…here’s a tale…not your usual but something sort of twisted. A battle against the odds i.e. my life at college.
No! Not a piece of cake… not a memory ride…not merry land…but something a lot of people can relate to…
When you’re going to college… it’s to learn, to rise and to raise your standards. I’m no one with extra knowledge but a little bit of level…but after twelfth grade and 2 weeks into my grand college I was well speechless! Education today has turned into a business stunt…and considering institutions mushrooming every second…education is long gone but here’s a race to prove which college is better…premises…students…but what about the educators…a lady who is supposedly an M. Phil. In English is mispronouncing every second word. Ask a question in ma BME class and the answer to that will be “you needn’t know… it’s not in the course!” wow! What an encouraging environment? Talk about activities or opportunities, we have an annual function! Delightful! I doubt that happens. Incase students want to participate for representing the college…the authorities have a NO painted across their faces.
So much of drama…I’m not saying they don’t have good teachers, I’m not saying they don’t have placements what I’m saying is I’ve come here to rise not to fall…if one knows too much in class…problem…one knows not enough marks gone. If you question too much it’s a problem…if you’re quiet it’s a problem. Threatening tool are sessionals. A straight kick out from the class incase you point out a mistake or argue on your innocence. You have to attend anyhow…and oh wait… EVS class…talk about studying… 60 students …60 presentations and I don’t know how many chapters were finished…as of now… they taught us 2 units out of 5. Are the rest open to what? Subject interpretation?? On top of that they put it in the examination…and writing a 5 page answer…the teacher is dissatisfied and gives a 4 on 10! You ask them what do they expect… answer “should we spoon feed you on everything?”
It’s an abysmal well of unanswered questions…unexpected potential threats and a downfall for students those who are good enough…and those who hope to get good enough.
My conclusion is just what I’ve been trying to say throughout…and the question never leaves my mind…”am I at the right place?” I still worry and hope that I don’t lose my present stand. And it isn’t only me but others who are with me… some from good schools…some from not so good ones…we’ll score in our exams and manage sessionals… but one question “am I in the right place?”.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

It Rained Bliss

Well in the beginning of the day I had an absolutely different thing in my mind, that I was going to post to my wall…everyday matters some happy some sadder… but everything drained out by evening…
It rained today…and though it probably is the most ordinary thing to some people… but every time it rains…it rains as BLISS to me…
The most loved aroma of wet mud fills up the atmosphere…and it makes me smile… even in the worst of my days…
Invariably even the busiest of people find time to feel the rain…and that makes it all the more worth it…
However much of the ACID RAIN label is given to the first one… I love it the best…

And as I’m sitting here in my room typing… I take glance back at the window… and I’m just waiting to race out…to be soaked wet… to be drenched in the rain from head to toe… but well my mom will scold :P…

I sometimes feel the rain is actually a way to drain all the petty pasts people have had since it rained last…It brings a smile to the faces of one and all…and that is something not a single one of us would ever want to miss…would we?

Indeed of all the seasons I love the rain the most…
And every time the sun comes as soon as the rain goes…
To feel the wind surge up around… my eyes begin to close…
And after that I open them to scrutinize the sky up-close
Because deep within and right then right there I want to see a one or million rainbows




And as much as I want to write more now… I’m helpless…it’s raining again… and the wind is calling out to me (seems so!)

And hence later then…I need to go
Get wet and smile before it rains no more

Hope you feel the rain as much as I do!

Priyansha
(in her moment of eternal bliss )

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

What next? :P

It’s 2:02 am on my PC’s clock…
And this turns out to be the beginning line to one of the most foolish dilemmas of my life…beginning to write my blog.
It’s as difficult as striking a new conversation with someone… you can’t judge me… I can’t judge you…though inevitably both of us will…but then I need to see you through and that’s the case for you..!
And that my friend is one of the craziest situations…prima facie :P

No pun here…but those who write the most gripping starters… hat’s off to you guys… you’ve got to teach me that…but then again…I’m just another person in this so called small but BIG world.

I’m Priyansha… I’m 17 going on 18. I fancy writing and it’s as much a part of my life as the atmosphere, if I may say so.
As much as that I have a lot of adults I meet almost everyday, who put up the infamous question of “what NEXT?” to me.
I suppose you’re accustomed to the most known question put up to those my age that have just finished school.” What do you want to become in life?” or more profoundly put “What do you see yourself as ten years down the line?”
Incase one doesn’t have an answer to that. The expression on the questioner’s face is rather demoralizing. (Trust me it is!)


Any which way… I usually don’t have an answer to that. But I most definitely have one thing… the most known and rather clichéd line of “you never know what’s coming around the corner” so as of now… my answer to what next shall be about my college but more than that it would mean “live the moment” …
Put in a situation like mine, I wonder if you have anything better to say to “What next?”

Then again! I do not know what NEXT you might hear from my end..

So long, then…I hope you reflect upon that .

Thank You!

(Just another one of you)
Priyansha