Fiercely independent, judgmental, cynical, and rude. Loves rum and coke. Worships Floyd. Has a sub-conscious thing for mallus and blue socks. Wishes she were unschooled. Thinks that Dr.Gregory House/ Homer make for the ideal guy.
She was thinking of her own journeys. Of arrivals and departures. The light diminished now, to a filament tender as Edison's first miracle held between delicate pincers of wire in the glass globe of the bulb. Chhutki. It glowed a last blue crescent, then failed. The room stifled her. It stank. Of fear and loneliness. Perfectly exposed. Just like her naked body. Her naked soul. Gudiya. And while she cried to the pillow, he slept, snoring into the night. The moonlight fulfilled its promise of being the virtual divide, every night. Him one way, her the other. Rounding the corner, meeting each other again, turning away again. The pink bedspread.
Murdered whispers from the photographs called out to her. Time might have died in the house that sat on the mountain ledge. Well, she didn't give a damn about time.When had time, or its creator, done justice to her? When had justice been done to thousand others like her? When had 'fuck' ever felt like 'love making'? She couldn't even scream the pleasures of the sweet pain fearing she'd upset the perfectly balanced world in the next room.
Space and sun crashed through the windows.Ear-rings.The hills glimmered under the pure 24 Carat rays. Reflections magnified and echoed the light, the river, each adding angles and colors to the other. Barbies. Thank you, she weakly murmered as she said her morning prayers and thanked God for the beautiful world He had made. Just a few patches, here and there. Just a few more days and the world would have been perfect. If only he could've rested on the 8th day. Maybe 9th. If only he'd have given Eve equal powers as Adam. If only her daughters had been allowed to take birth.
3 abortions in 4 months. This is a true story.
I could've begun with her name, but why waste time? It doesn't matter, in this nation of 2 billion names. And of these, 300 million continue to fear the dark. Marital Rape. Yes. It fucking exists.
Yes, I know its my umpteenth post on crimes against women n children-jabber jabber jabber..whats the point?
Anyways, I promise, my next post, which shouldn't be long, will be a happier one!
61 long years and we continue to rant, 'developing nation'. And then we ask, when? When will this country doff the 'developing' tag and come out bright and shiny adorned in the DEVELOPED attire? The answer is NEVER. You ask why? Well not because this country doesn't have potential. Not because we don't have resources. Not because we don't have human resources (now, that is something we have in abundance!). But because I'm a Bihari first and then an Indian. An Iyengar first, followed by my Tamil pride and then if my bloated ego allows, a wee little bit of Indian. Because Holi is a North Indian festival and Pongal South Indian. Because Carnatic music is practiced by South Indians and Hindustani Classical by North Indians. Because Malayalam is better than Bengali or vice versa. Because the Marathi in me has forgotten Tatya Tope and Rani Laxmibai. Because the North Eastern in me doesn't have any sense of belonging. Because the Hindu in me will willfully snatch University land meant for (Muslim??) students in Amarnath. Because being Hindu gives me the birth right to rape a Christian nun or better still, burn a man with his two innocent sons alive. Because for the dickhead Laloo, feeding his 11 kids and snatching food from buffaloes was more important than the bloody development of Bihar. Because for the asshole Karunanidhi, death of fellow 'Tamils’ in Sri Lanka is way more important than the stability of the government at the center of his own nation. Because for the bitch Mamta Banerjee, opposing industrilization is the number one priority. And because for the bastard Raj Thackrey, Maharashtrians come before other fellow Indians who are working day in and day out to make two ends meet. Where was all the 'Biharis-are-the-lifeline-of-this-nation' bakwaas, when the Bihari in me was being treated like a toe rag in my own state? Where does the Tamil pride vanish when the Tamil in me is molested in bus? Where the fuck was all the tribal rights talk when the tribal kids were being fed insects as food? Where the hell was the Maratha land talk when it was being made the hub of the underworld?
Yesterday I was stripped naked and plundered by the British. Today I stand at the mercy of my own sons. Tomorrow, I'll have a new telangana, away from the present Andhra Pradesh. Day after tomorrow, all Muslims will be driven away from their motherland. And the day after that, India will be pronounced dead. And maybe then, we'll listen to our souls, I was always an INDIAN.
The light seemed to drift from no apparent source. Into the deep dark tunnels. The heavy smell of disinfectant overwhelmed her. She knew she was scarred. But did she have the power to heal them? She wished to be reunited with the soil. But she wondered of the endurance of the soul after the end of life. There was a sound in the distance. The sound of gushing water. The sound of a roaring truck. And a scream. Ripping through the void. Ripping through the innocence. 'It pains'. She howled, 'You bitch. You complain of pain now. Where was all the pain when you were doing it with him?' But what did she know what it was like to have a pervert pedophile uncle? That, behind a vegetarian smile, there lies an evil face that betrays. Trust. Relationships. Respect. Family. Love. All these words seemed meaningless. And then there was darkness. She dreamt that she was a giant piece of glass. Trying to catch the sun in remote corners of the mountain. In remote corners of the government hospital. Someone was bending over and loking at her. Another unknown face demanding trust.'Don't worry. We'll take care of you. We'll take you to the sorority where you and your daughter will be safe. You'll have proper food, accomodation and education. You'll be able to fulfill your dreams'Dreams. That seemed like another meaningless word. And she nodded. At 14, she didn't know what sorority meant. But she knew why she nodded. She wanted to live. For her new-born daughter.
With all the dead words We carry and cannot use He holds up mirrors From which our reflections fall Half battered existences Where we lose ourselves For the sake of the other
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There was a lot of death. A lot of noise. Like smoke hanging from the air. Full of ghosts. Filled with voices of the dead. She always wore white. The colour of peace. Of her faith. And they came in saffron. In all the glory. Raised slogans of the glory and sanctity of the very nation she had grown up in. And today she was to be deported. Her screams were drowned under the shouts of 'Bharat Mata ki Jai'. And the entire nation was shamed.
But then the nation is shamed every day. Every minute. In buses. In dark alleys of the narrow lanes. In cities. In villages. In homes. Every single time we ask the girl to shut up.
We continue to accept a rapist amongst us, but the very idea of a girl coming into existence seems outrageous.
The child molester laughs, but our sense of pride comes with honour killings, when we decide to kill a girl because she chose to elope with her love.
Has suffering become synonymous with womanhood??
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DURGA POOJA was brilliant. I got lucky all the time. Got to do the pushpanjali. Got to light the 108 diyas. Made it to the sandhya artis almost everyday. Got the prasad even though I had not offered it. Loved the evening sessions of the Robindra Shongeet. Ma enjoyed the Shindur Khela. The food was good. Well durga puja evenings is all about good food and lot of chitter chatter yackety yack! I enjoyed it. I loved it. Just like every Bengali-Bihari does. I felt Her power, Her blessing, Her presence. Every thing was present. Just the 'shakti' was missing. From within. And I prayed.
I know I'm not making much sense. But I should. I must. Period.
When you're down in the dumps and life blows everything damn thing in your face..what do you do?? I say you cook!! And you scream! And you scream at unni for getting tomato noodles. You watch a mallu flick and guffaw over comic news channels while you eat. You recall the past. Upma-de-souffle'! Fight for the last remaining bit of noodle stuck to the bottom of the wok. You laugh for no reason. You revisit F.R.I.E.N.D.S. "Could I be wearing anymore clothes?" Behahahahahahahaha. And you eat Divya's GOD-level chocolate pudding! Celebrate Shil's (read Mayya :P ) budday! And you watch The silence of the lambs. And you scare Divya everytime she attempts to go to the loo. You chat all night long. Eat Frankie at 2:00 a.m. Admire Hannibal Lecter, life, college days,love, singledom et al et al. Sleep in wee hours of the day. Wake up at ten. Put on Lata Mangeshkar on the lappy. Start preparing for lunch. And as you take snail steps towards cutting, frying and trying not to burn stuff, you try waking Shilpa. And for that you should be presented with a gallantry award (cuz even Lata's high pitch fails to budge her!). Then you finish cooking rice and dal tadka. Just when the sabzi makhanwala is about to be done, Shil walks in all the glory, touches the spatula, stirs it and claims preparing it!!
THE fOOd!
Lots of LOLs n ROFLMAOs n masti n music n mazaa n dhamaal! 24 hours well wasted! :D :D :D
The awwww moment ^_^
Yum-mmyyyyyyyyy!!!
A day fully enjoyed. Fully lived! :) Thanks you guys..I SO needed this break :) :)
So The Bing Bang Theory-Season 2 and Heroes-3 will begin airing day after tomorrow. And because I’m obsessed with both the series, I’ll be glued to the television/system watching all episodes back to back. Till the time, I bounce back from romancing Jim Parsons and Sendhil Ramamurthy, here’s a piece of absolute crap!
"There are 10 kinds of people in the world. Those who understand Binary and those who get laid" -Law of Technosexuality
He last took a bath 20 days back.
His last computer game: the one released 0.5 seconds before I end writing this sentence.
Survival Kit: Star Trek, Feynman Lectures, Apple Macbook Air...42 items in total
Last contact with the XX chromosome: ho-hum-Bleh!
So the protagonist ventures out on an adventure called:dealing with people (if you choose to call them that) with an IQ less than 150.
Isaac Asimov in one hand, bespectacled, he walks in a very non-noteworthy manner. Enters the coffee house and orders his favourite milk shake. And there she was in all the beauty. Perfect. The survival kit fails. Nothing out of those 42 could help him muster enough courage to approach the girl. Our hero has fallen in love!! Trying to prove that every law has an exception, he dropes the book (Bollywood's profound effects you may say) . She bends to help. He bends too. His hands slightly rub against hers. Perfectly Isothermal. But thats not possible. Not a good day for science he thinks. And in his quest for conquering her, he holds her hand a for a little too long and C-H-A-P-P-A-A-A-T-T.
Humiliated and embarrassed, head hung low, our guy comes back to his table and waits for the damned milk shake.
Heart v/s Mind
Her legs. Smooth. And he doles out his analysis. What would it be like to project them each in 2 different planes mutually perpendicular to each other? Ah! Potential double differentiation!
Jots down that he has to explain laws of differentiation to a lesser mortal at the university.
Overwhelmed with his analysis of her legs, he moves up. Avoiding all the eyes staring at him to certify him a creep, he moves up! He gazes intently at the lady, eyes dilated, frothing at the corner of his mouth, he begins his dimensional analysis yet again. The number 362436 somehow seems to be related, but he can’t remember the reason.
He moves up and his gaze falls upon the bulging deposit of fat just beneath the shoulders. 36C, he decided. Isn’t 36C, the bus which takes him to the National Institute of Advanced Studies in Particle Astrophysics? That reminds him of observing the effect in the orbit of Mars due to the unlikely conjecture of Saturn and Uranus, which will happen the next day. He quickly jots it down lest his heart started playing its games again!
Her eyes. Beautiful blue eyes. Two eyes. Brain rules over the heart yet again. Two eyes. Too ice. Dry ice.Versatile cooling agent. -78.5 °C. Solid Carbon Dioxide. Carbon. Fullerenes. And he reaches for his pen again. He reminds himself that his paper on the strength of nanotubes is yet to be submitted.
Unknown to him, a fierce battle is being fought. Heart. Mind. Heart. Mind. Heart. Mind. Heart. Mind. CHAOS!
Her hair. Beautiful black hair. Shiny, voluminous and straight. Sun's rays being beautifully reflected from them. And then his mind wanders to the greener pastures of technology. Information racing down at the speed of light. The hair is an optical fiber!!! The heart brings the mind back to the current space and time and unknowingly he starts penning down a poem..
Tonight I draw your hair,
A hair of simplicity,
With a mysterious beauty,
That no one can ever resist,
A hair that blooms with the sun,
That always shines every sunrise,
And turns into deep black at sunset,
A hair of smooth silk,
That touches my face like a baby,
And comforts my soul into a sleeping baby,
Like the lullaby that can put me into sleep,
Your hair blooms unlike any other.
and he blabbers it all in his hopeless delusion. She walks in quiet beauty and looks at him in the eyes. His hidden talent has paid off. And they both live happily ever after.
Nice try. The protagonist goes back to his lab, trying to figure out the possibility of communication using hair as an optical fiber and does not emerge out of the room for seven more years. And then The Wheel of Time will be back to where it all started!
PS: You guys, please do come back! You know I can do better than this!! ^_^
Its a paradox. Paradox is a part of our nature.Think about light, now if you look at Huygen's, light is wave, as confirmed by the double slit experiment. But then, along comes Albert Einstein and discovers that light behaves like particles too. See, paradox.
I sit there. In the winter, that seat is close enough to the radiator to remain warm and yet not so close to cause perspiration. In the summer, its directly in the path of the cross breeze created by opening windows there and there. It faces the television at an angle thats neither direct nor too far wide as to create paralax. I can go on but I think I've made my point.
I’m a Sagittarius, which probably tells you way more than you need to know.
Yes, it tells us that you participate in the mass cultural delusion that the sun’s apparent position relative to arbitrarily defined constellations at the time of your birth somehow affects your personality.
There's a sarcasm sign.
We tried kissing but the earth didn't move. I mean any more than the 383 miles it was gonna move anyway.
You have about as much chance of going out with Penny as the Hubble Telescope has of finding that at the center of each black hole there's a little man with a flashlight trying to find the circuit breaker.
Every Saturday since we’ve lived in this apartment, I have awakened at 6:15, poured myself a bowl of cereal, added a quarter-cup of 2% milk, sat on this end of this couch, turned on BBC America, and watched Doctor Who.
You have a TV in your room, why don’t you just have breakfast in bed?
Because I am neither an invalid nor a woman celebrating Mother’s Day.
Our kids will be smart and beautiful.
Not to mention imaginary
I'm a male, and she's a female.
But not of the same species.
Great idea!
Uh, no. The wheel was a great idea. Relativity was a great idea. This is a notion, and a rather sucky one at that.
At least now you can retrieve the black box from the twisted smoldering wreckage that was once your fantasy of dating her and analyze the data so that you don't crash into geek mountain again.
I’ve spent the past three-and-a-half years staring at greaseboards full of equations; before that, I spent four years working on my thesis; before that, I was in college; and before that, I was in the fifth grade.
Love is not a sprint, it's a marathon. A relentless pursuit that only ends when she falls into your arms. Or hits you with the pepper spray...
I'm a perfectly nice guy! There's no reason we couldn't go to the restaurant and have a lovely dinner. Maybe we could go for a walk afterwards, talk about things we have in common: You love pottery? I love pottery! There's a pause-we both know what's happening-I lean in and we kiss; it's a little tentative at first, but then I realize she's kissing me back and she's biting my lower lip, you know? She wants me! This thing is going the distance, we're going to have sex! Oh, God, oh my GOD!
For LOL, ROFL, LMAO and all other forms of laughter, watch THE BIG BANG THEORY
The house overlooking the sea was an object of envy for many. With many wind chimes adorning the patio, every passer by taking his evening stroll wanted to own her house. The huge expressionist painting hung on the wall. She was an art enthusiast. And loved her evening glass of red wine just as much. Her cigarette rested on the receptacle, still burning..and she looked at her reflection in the large French window..at her face and at her fingers, without a wedding ring.
The same face which appeared on the cover of tens of magazines neatly laid upon the coffee table. Some eulogized her, some termed her the dragon lady, career obsessed..The same table which he had picked out for her when they had gone shopping.. The trouble with lies is; each one begets another, into a spiral conundrum, confusing and hard to get out of. The trouble with trust is; you believe each of these lies. And the trouble with ambition, she thought, was, you are left alone at the top, with no home to go back to...
But all this was already clouded in mist and merged into the boundless grey sea..the undulating sea, gleaming under the moon and then roaring against the flaring crimson..
She waited for the phone to ring..technology had always eluded her. She knew that this small device would connect her to the world. Bring her opportunities, success, money and fame.
Only today, she knew, it would bring her hope..and life..
How hard could it be to say, I love you too Cecilia..
And the phone rang...
...and without waiting for the chauffeur, she drove the Benz..
Next day, the papers read.. “… head-on collision…she was two months pregnant...."
Here are the rules for the Blogging Friends Forever Award: 1. The winner may put the logo on his/her blog. 2. Put a link to the person you received the award from. 3. Nominate 5 blogs. 4. Put links to the blogs. 5. Leave a message for your nominees.
This was one funny tag!! The rules are: 1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search. 2. Using only the first page of results, and pick one image. 3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Big Huge Lab’s Mosaic Maker to create a mosaic of the picture answers.
The questions: 1. What is your first name? 2. What is your favorite food? right now? 3 . What high school did you go to? 4. What is your favorite color? 5. Who is your celebrity crush? 6. What is your favorite drink? 7. What is your user name? 8. What is your dream vacation? 9. What is your favorite dessert? 10.What do you want to be when you grow up? 11. What do you love most in life?
2:00AM I miss you, you know. The times we've spent together, the promises we've kept, are my most cherished memories...
2:02AM Do I have the privilege of choice?
2:06AM I badly need a hug. Or kiss.
2:10AM I need a plan. Bloody career talk. Joker's world would be way much more fun.
--Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it! You know, I just, do things. The mob has plans, the cops have plans, Gordon's got plans. You know, they're schemers. Schemers trying to control their worlds. I'm not a schemer. I try to show the schemers how, pathetic, their attempts to control things really are.
2:11AM Chaos.
2:15AM Wouldn't it be easier for me to just get married n go to a far off elysian land?
2:20AM Am I travelling in the fond hope that I'll be able to cross everything off my list??
2:25AM "Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, And I will try to fix you"
2:35AM I'm a fungus. A parasite. Thriving on my parents' money.
2:40AM "Leaving the myriad small creatures trying to tie us to the ground To a life consumed by slow decay" FLOYD is sheer brilliance......
Only a person whose speech borders illiterate would make such statements:
"can we make friendship??"
"I Wanna Frandhap U"
"hi u r u like to add me ?u can add only if u have ur hotmail id other wise thax. bye tc"
" i don't do frandshap bith estrnger butt bhen i met u i feeling i know u.theirfour pledge becum my frand."
"u luk beutifull u luk pratty u luk like my mummy , can u pleas allow me to be ur fraand .plz .plz.plz . i waiting for your massage . u take care and take care of mine .bye and dont forgat to replay and i luk like SHahruck Khan also so plz talk okay bye"
oh and i HAVE to mention this..this is one of a kind
"hi...I Was going through ur profile, found it interesting, so am writing to u..... As a normal routine, I know u must be tired of people saying, "hiii there, u r cute, u r pretty, i like ur smile, i like ur eyes....... and stuff"......and i can imagine how irritating it can be when someone out of know where jumps up and says....... "DO u wanna be my friend, or can i be ur friend" and u feel like, Man DO i KNow u .......... Hence i would definately not do the same, neither would i ask u to be my friend... All i shall say is, "WHy dont we start a conversation and let friendship develop on its on....."
all I have to say is.. MAN!! DO I KNOW YOU?????????
YAY!! And with this, my existence as a blogger is established!! :D :D
was tagged by div n farah simultaneously!! Thank you guys for tagging me at the same time and saving me time! :P
These are the rules:
1. Link the person(s) who tagged you. 2. Mention the rules on your blog. 3. Answer all the questions asked below! 4. Tag 5 bloggers by linking them. 5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.
8 things I am most passionate about: 1. Cleanliness!! I'm a freak when it comes to being neat n organised! I clean my room 5 times a day..maybe even more if I still have time n energy left! 2. READING! I'll grab anything..magazines, newspapers, books etc etc and will stick to it like glue 3. Family n friends: I've the coolest folks and the most adorable n handsome [:(] brother! Best time with the family is at the dinner table with us discussing/debating about the state of affairs worldwide! I loorrrvvvvfffeee hanging out with friends and sleepovers!! Will prefer a good movie with friends over sex. Sex is over-rated :P 4. Making funny noises: I stand next to the window n scream "behahahahah" to innocent ppl talking their evening walk. Poor souls are caught off-guard and search for the source of sound :P *i'm wicked!* I also scream Kaboom kaboom while driving. This one time, I met with an accident and my last words before passing out were KABOOM!! 5. DANCE: Few extra pounds don't contain me from dancing. I just HAVE to dance at concerts n satsangs..even if i'm the only one dancing!! I can do a jig even while walking in the corridors!! 6. Talking Animatedly: I CAN'T talk with a straight face. I'll incorporate all possible expressions and wave my hands around. Sometimes it even hits people :P phew! so much for a stupid tongue exercise! :P 7. Satsang!!!: i love going to Art of Living satsangs! Trust me..thats how i define bliss. Just lose urself into the music n the meditation. And the afterglow of each song can't be put into words.. 8. Music: I’m pretty prejudiced when it comes to this. I listen to a few favourites and will not try a new band unless pestered! And as far as metal is concerned, I listen to ONLY the gods! Robindra Shongeet is very very close to the heart :) I detest people who mock Indian Classical Music.
8 things I wanna do before I die:
hmmm..before i exit! here it is!
1. Visit Lakshadweep!Every time we plan, something or the other happens!! :( 2. Adopt a girlchild and help realise dreams set in her twinkling eyes 3. Dedicate life after 40, to the society. Maybe open a children's home/empower women + Art Of Living is always there! 4. Ride on The Palace on Wheels 5. Go snorkeling with Ayun in the blue waters of Andamans..trust me..its one of the most beautiful beaches in the world!! 6. Thegondola ridefor my honeymoon!!!!!!!! 7. Blow away money-just for a day :P at a Las Vegas Casino 8. Get atattoo!!
8 things I say often:
1.'Fuck!'I've used it in the presence of teachers, dad's colleagues n god knows who all??!!:O I use it for everything! fucked up coll, the play was fuckin awesome..my substitute for all expletives!! 2. 'Bloody Hell!!'For a funnier version, watch The Bing Bang theory!! Sheldon Sheldon..oh bloody hell!! 3. 'Abey Nautanki!!' 4.'DUH'..well duh..everybody uses it! 5. Behahahahahahaha..laughter :D :D n bruhahahahahahahahaha..*evil sadistic laughter* :P 6. 'Yellow!!'i know Chris Martin will skin me alive! But i just can't say hello offlate! 7. 'tee hee'..my version of the sheepish smile :P 8. 'Listen up!'you know I'm about to scream when i start off with this! :P *** I just had to add this: 'Kyaaaaaaa??!!'..tee hee..bollywood's profound effects!
8 books I last read:
1. Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts..friggin awesome! 2. A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini..this book is a must read for it beautifully potrays the shades and inner strength of a woman 3. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini..innocence 4. The City of Joyby Dominique Lappiere..hope and faith..and cuz i love Calcutta! 5. The Monk who sold his Ferrari by Robin Sharma 6.Honour Among Thievesby Jeffery Archer 7. Rage of Angelsby Sidney Sheldon..finally Mr. Crapster churns out something worth reading! 8. Malgudi Days by R.K.Narayan..cuz i keep reading it again n again n still not get tired :)
8 songs I listen to over and over again:
This is brutal!!!!!
1. Mahadeva-Pandit Jasraj
2. Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho-Jagjit Singh
3. Three coins in a fountain- Frank Sinatra
4. Tere bina zindagi se koi-Lata Mangeshkar n Kishore da 5. Don't know why - Norah Jones 6. Swallowed in the sea-Coldplay 7. High Hopes- PINK FLOYD 8. A case of you-Joni Mitchell
Dedicated to the strongest-willed woman who walked this planet-Sita
I disappear. And everything is silenced. The accusations, the taunts, the weariness. The living down of a sin I had never committed. I disappear and you bind me in temples forever as a goddess and forget the living vital woman that I was. I disappear. And all of you women, who come after me, in villages and cities, suffer trying to live up to my name. None of you question, none of you try to reason. I disappeared, suffering, chaste Sita, into the bowels of the earth. And all of you are the victims of my silence.
The purest, most loving woman who was ever born. Princess and queen. The most devoted wife on earth, the wife who never rebelled. You believed all that? You, women yourselves, believed so many lies?
Of course, I loved my husband. When I came to Ayodhya as a bride I was as much in love as the books tell you, as the songs sung at dusk in the temple courtyards. I look back at myself, in those innocent days at the palace, and smile. I can still smile at it all.
And then palace intrigue and banishment to the forests. Even then I was happy. A sheltered princess, having the great adventure in the deep woods of the great forests. That was possibly the last time that we were so content. Rama and I. The very complicated, intensely insecure man that I had married. Blithely. Without knowing of the deep vagaries of human nature.
Moving out with her husband. That was the best move for a woman in love. But I didn’t think of it as a move in the game then. I didn’t even realize that it was a game. I wonder now. Wounds. Violence. There’re many forms. You don’t have to be physically cruel to a woman to destroy her.
And then the hullabaloo of being kidnapped by Ravana. The rescue. The hope, the joy when I saw my husband again. And I was met with accusations. You cannot be chaste if you had been in another man’s house for so many months.
He couldn’t cast me off then and I came back to Ayodhya . And then. Unexpectedly. Suddenly. “Was he kind to you?” “Yes..” for Ravana had been kind to me. The Ayodhya brothers. Most of their victories had been against women. Taraka, Shoorpanakha, Tara-the monkey queen….Kaikeyi, the queen mother and finally, oh yes, finally…Sita.
I was kidnapped by Ravana who was a ruthless man. But he had been kind to me. Even when his brothers were dying, even when Indrajit, his most beloved son, was killed by Lakshaman, he never once sought to harm me. I came back, unscathed. But my husband didn’t believe that. Or in me.
It was the King I encountered. Not the boy that I once knew.
And finally exile. Pregnant and banished again into the deep forest that I now knew, better than the vast, cruel halls of palace. I did not protest. The laughing princess of Mithila had become a frightened queen.
Could I have changed all that? Yes, if I had been the silent, subservient Sita that you all think of me to be. Yes, if I had realized that loving someone was not enough. Yes, if I had told Rama that I was terrified of Ravana. But I could stand up to him. That was unforgivable.
And then because I had my sons, the twin heirs of Ayodhya, I was summoned back to that bleak kingdom. Did I imagine the joy in my husband’s eyes when he saw me? That fleeting brief gleam of happiness? Perhaps. For again in the open courtyard of the palace, I was faced with the same accusations, the same taunts. And I left.
The earth didn’t open to cradle me in her arms. That is what legends and myths say. Reality is different. I left. My children and my husband. I walked out of the city and into my own life. Sita was no more.
Was the cause of destruction of my marriage Ravana? No. For one day, Rama would probably have been suspicious of somebody else. For I always answered back and suffered. I could never keep quiet. Sita was never silent. If she had been, she’d have remained Ayodhya’s Queen.
I did not say that I never loved my husband. Only that he never did..or trusted enough..or believed enough.
And sometimes in the cool shades of a monsoon evening, when the rain twinkles through the leaves, I catch the glimpse of a golden deer.. I remember Rama..and am glad that Sita vanished.
Manifestation of Silence: "It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell"
Albert Camus
"Those who lack the courage will always find a philosophy to justify it"
Swami Vivekananda
"All that is real in me is God; all that is real in God is I. The gulf between God and human beings is thus bridged. Thus we find how, by knowing God, we find the kingdom of heaven within us"
Fyodor Dostoevsky
"A just cause is not ruined by a few mistakes"
Thakur Da
“Don't limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time”
Joni Mitchell
"..we cant return we can only look behind from where we came and go round and round and round in The Circle Game..."
Mahatma
"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”
Sri Sri Ravi Shankar
"Silence is the goal of all answers. If an answer does not silence the mind, it is no answer"
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