Have you ever noticed the ‘Ayyappans’ – the devotees who are observing the fast and abstinence rituals? There are so many shades that we can observe in them. Why do they not smile?
Mainly the Malayali Ayyappans who come to the temple that I frequent, are such sad creatures. They come with their wives, who seem to be more keen and happy about their husbands going for the pilgrimage. It’s the women who carry the various accessories of her husband, it is she who follows her Ayyappan husband in the rituals and helps him like an attendant does… holding the towel, handing over the prasadam, arranging the ‘malas’ (necklaces for the devotees ) and assisting him in even wearing those ‘malas’. And this makes me feel all the while that the wife is more keen, dedicated and having more of the spirituality quotient that him. I have yet to see an Ayyappan smile. It is as if they are being forced to do something against their wish. Strange !!!!
On the other hand are the bachelor Ayyappans who seem to care two hoots about anything that is going around them. They are the most happiest of the lot. They joke around with each other, pray hard and generally are more seemingly at ease being a swami.
The Tamilians are again an exception… they seem to be more ‘into’ the stuff than their Mallu counterparts. It has been a unanimous observation that the number of Tamil devotees at Sabarimala outnumbers or at least equals the number of Malayali devotees. If you stand on the highways connecting Tamil Nadu and Kerala then you will find every third vehicle to be carrying Ayyappans. They are also more vocal and more active in doing the things that go into completing the pilgrimage. Their ash smearings on the forehead are more pronounced, their attire has more of black colour, their cries of “Swamiye” more vociferous and piercing. Why?
I am not saying that we Malayalis need to compete with them in such a silly thing as degree of devotion… but I in fact am observing the attitude of the different sets of people who are doing the same things, but each in a different way.
Then we come to the question of why to go to Sabarimala?
Some people say that they go to mala every year and hence they are going this year too. Now that, to me, seems to be a confused statement. One does not go to a pilgrimage, keeping in the frequency or the numbers in mind! One goes there because; one has to feel the devotion and the need to meet the Lord. ( I know some might say that there is no need to go to a temple to meet the Lord ! , well I agree but let us just overlook that argument for the time being)
I do not feel like going to Sabarimala because I know that I cannot maintain the rigorous demands of this pilgrimage. I cannot keep my mind off certain matters that are forbidden for an Ayyappan and I know that I will take a bit of time more to get these thoughts completely out of my mind. So is that a crime? People love troubling anybody who does not plan on going to sabarimala. "Why are u not going? Young people like you must be going there."!!!
A case in point is one of my colleagues. The chap is going to get married in few days and he cannot stop gushing and blushing at the mention of his fiancée. His father-in-law and brother-in-law are hardcore Ayyappan devotees and go on the pilgrimage every year without fail. Now they both are pressurizing our poor fellow to join them and that too, just a few days after his marriage !!
Now, one is supposed to observe abstinence and celibacy during this period. How can you expect a newlywed man to keep off from his rightfully deserved pleasure? Now even if he sincerely wants to go, yet, is it possible for a newlywed guy to keep the “impure” thoughts out of his mind? I do not think its possible. Yet the world will never take into consideration, all these aspects. They will just ridicule him and everyone who does not go. I believe once must go only when one is mentally ready. It is more a test of our mental resilience than physical.
Make no mistakes about the fact that I would love to go to Sabarimala. Such a beautiful and enchanting experience it was the last time I went there a couple of years back. It a different adrenaline rush altogether. The calmness of mind that is achieved on those 18 steps is just indescribable. But one needs to do justice to the God’s demands. So since I am not fit to be doing that now, is that such a crime to be not fasting, or abstaining and not going to the pilgrimage? Again am asking a question … but this time the difference is that I am also trying to answer it too.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Questions for our 'Ears'
What you want to do and what happens are propositions having a probability of 0.5.
If you know the ear-bud seller that I have written about in one of my earlier posts, then you would know how I felt that it was futile to sell on the roads of bangalore.
A couple of days back I was in the auto, waiting at the traffic signal. There came our small girl with her ear-buds. One look at her and my heart melted. I reached out into my pocket, found a 10 rupee note and immediately bought the buds.
Now ever since I have never stopped wondering as to why I did that? Have I encouraged her to sell more on these roads in what probably is, according to my limited business sense, a low revenue, low yield business? Its the age old dielemma that most of us face ... 'should I give alms to the beggar ' dielemma!
I have always been instinctive all my life and thus I guess I will keep on doing such impulsive acts... good as well as bad.. but it would be nice if I could have the ability to figure out the answers to these questions that keep raising
Asking questions is always the easier part.... why do we not answer them once in a while for a change? So many ppl appreciate persons who have a ' questioning attitude '... but I , ironically , am asking a question... "Why is it so fashionable to ask questions ?"
If you know the ear-bud seller that I have written about in one of my earlier posts, then you would know how I felt that it was futile to sell on the roads of bangalore.
A couple of days back I was in the auto, waiting at the traffic signal. There came our small girl with her ear-buds. One look at her and my heart melted. I reached out into my pocket, found a 10 rupee note and immediately bought the buds.
Now ever since I have never stopped wondering as to why I did that? Have I encouraged her to sell more on these roads in what probably is, according to my limited business sense, a low revenue, low yield business? Its the age old dielemma that most of us face ... 'should I give alms to the beggar ' dielemma!
I have always been instinctive all my life and thus I guess I will keep on doing such impulsive acts... good as well as bad.. but it would be nice if I could have the ability to figure out the answers to these questions that keep raising
Asking questions is always the easier part.... why do we not answer them once in a while for a change? So many ppl appreciate persons who have a ' questioning attitude '... but I , ironically , am asking a question... "Why is it so fashionable to ask questions ?"
Monday, November 12, 2007
Salt, Pepper, Chillies and Sugar
Woman #1 – “I have been a receptacle for children. If I count the moments I spent with my husband of fifty years, they would not amount to more than a year of our married lives. The rest of the fifty years was spent in breeding and caring for children, relatives, the house, the neighbourhood.”
Woman #2 – “When I became his wife, I became his property.” She has never spent time talking to her husband. They have been married for ten years. “He does not talk to me. He will speak to a woman in the village. But then he is not married to her. He does not love me. He rapes me every night. How can I say no to him? If I do I will be thrown out of the house. “
The act of love for her, as for millions of women, is dumb duty as compulsive as being a good wife and a good mother.
I do not know what I feel more intensely – sympathy for the women faced with such a situation or hatred for men (me included) who subject their women to such mental agony.
Now sample this –
Aneesh Jung's dhobi is an illiterate man. In the early mornings he picks flowers from large gardens and distributes them in different households where mornings begin with worship. He then leads his blind wife to an open space where she relieves herself. He bathes her, cooks for her, and leaves her sitting in the sun when he goes out on his daily rounds. “I don’t like to leave her alone in the dark,” he mumbles. “In the day there are birds and children and sounds of people moving. She is not alone. After dark she senses the silence.” Days have thus gone by for twenty long years. He never refers to his wife by name. She is his wife, a woman he brought home when she was twelve with flashing black eyes and strong brown hands. She ironed the clothes he washed, gave him a son and a daughter. Son tills the land in the village. The daughter is married off in another village. The dhobi lives with his blind partner in the old shed – days of dal and roti, nights that freeze in winters and remain airless in summers.
“Love has nothing to do with a house that never leaks and butter on your bread each day. Like the seed,it grows - rain or no rain, sun or no sun, house or no house,” says the old man embarrassed to put into words a feeling that he has always felt but not articulated.”
Why do we even try to find out the real meaning of love or Love? I think its relative. To every man/woman, his/her own, i guess ! some understand its real meaning in suffering while some in joy. Both have their own ideas and beliefs, of course shaped by this very own experience ( suffering and joy ) Now how does one tell the other that, " Look what I think is the real thing and my experience says that. And what you think or believe is not practical"
We all have this habit to actually try and understand love by its ' practical ' nature. Says our smart alec #1 - " Dude, I am telling you out of lots of practical experience of seeing people and also my own experience. Love actually is .... blah.. blah..." and says our smart alec #2 - " Look, all that you think is the bookish notion, theoretical and highly idealistic. In reality nothing of this happens. Time , give it time and then see how you become like me"
Yiikeeees , now do i really want to be like him after 'time' . What the heck ! maybe i will be like him one day... i shudder at the thought... but what again escapes me is the real answer... now there is no reason why i should actually be trying to find the answer...
My mind wanders and asks the question - " what if someone had asked the dhobi's wife about this same thing...? What would she say of her husband's actions and 'love'. If my imagination is allowed to give an opinion then she would say - ' Balls love !!! What love... I do not want to sit in the sun, I do not want to be taken care of... what does he think of me.? Am i not capable of taking care of myself? he trying to own me. I think i will put him in place once i get my eyes operated upon by the "bada daaktar" in the city. My friend Raju - the potter, is arranging it for me. His daughter got him operated upon in the city and now he can make pots with beautiful shape that fit into my hands like a child in a mother's arms. I love holding pots. I think I trust Raju more than the good for nothing dhobi who justs wants me to rot like this and not see the world again !"
Jesus ! Ayyappa ! Muruga ! Pray tell me ppl, what is right here? What is love here? And believe me what the wife of the dhobi said is the ' practical ' comment that ppl make about their relationships. Its the truth. And that is what she told me.
Think about it. I may have heard it wrong... maybe i am wrong, but still think about it.
Woman #2 – “When I became his wife, I became his property.” She has never spent time talking to her husband. They have been married for ten years. “He does not talk to me. He will speak to a woman in the village. But then he is not married to her. He does not love me. He rapes me every night. How can I say no to him? If I do I will be thrown out of the house. “
The act of love for her, as for millions of women, is dumb duty as compulsive as being a good wife and a good mother.
I do not know what I feel more intensely – sympathy for the women faced with such a situation or hatred for men (me included) who subject their women to such mental agony.
Now sample this –
Aneesh Jung's dhobi is an illiterate man. In the early mornings he picks flowers from large gardens and distributes them in different households where mornings begin with worship. He then leads his blind wife to an open space where she relieves herself. He bathes her, cooks for her, and leaves her sitting in the sun when he goes out on his daily rounds. “I don’t like to leave her alone in the dark,” he mumbles. “In the day there are birds and children and sounds of people moving. She is not alone. After dark she senses the silence.” Days have thus gone by for twenty long years. He never refers to his wife by name. She is his wife, a woman he brought home when she was twelve with flashing black eyes and strong brown hands. She ironed the clothes he washed, gave him a son and a daughter. Son tills the land in the village. The daughter is married off in another village. The dhobi lives with his blind partner in the old shed – days of dal and roti, nights that freeze in winters and remain airless in summers.
“Love has nothing to do with a house that never leaks and butter on your bread each day. Like the seed,it grows - rain or no rain, sun or no sun, house or no house,” says the old man embarrassed to put into words a feeling that he has always felt but not articulated.”
Why do we even try to find out the real meaning of love or Love? I think its relative. To every man/woman, his/her own, i guess ! some understand its real meaning in suffering while some in joy. Both have their own ideas and beliefs, of course shaped by this very own experience ( suffering and joy ) Now how does one tell the other that, " Look what I think is the real thing and my experience says that. And what you think or believe is not practical"
We all have this habit to actually try and understand love by its ' practical ' nature. Says our smart alec #1 - " Dude, I am telling you out of lots of practical experience of seeing people and also my own experience. Love actually is .... blah.. blah..." and says our smart alec #2 - " Look, all that you think is the bookish notion, theoretical and highly idealistic. In reality nothing of this happens. Time , give it time and then see how you become like me"
Yiikeeees , now do i really want to be like him after 'time' . What the heck ! maybe i will be like him one day... i shudder at the thought... but what again escapes me is the real answer... now there is no reason why i should actually be trying to find the answer...
My mind wanders and asks the question - " what if someone had asked the dhobi's wife about this same thing...? What would she say of her husband's actions and 'love'. If my imagination is allowed to give an opinion then she would say - ' Balls love !!! What love... I do not want to sit in the sun, I do not want to be taken care of... what does he think of me.? Am i not capable of taking care of myself? he trying to own me. I think i will put him in place once i get my eyes operated upon by the "bada daaktar" in the city. My friend Raju - the potter, is arranging it for me. His daughter got him operated upon in the city and now he can make pots with beautiful shape that fit into my hands like a child in a mother's arms. I love holding pots. I think I trust Raju more than the good for nothing dhobi who justs wants me to rot like this and not see the world again !"
Jesus ! Ayyappa ! Muruga ! Pray tell me ppl, what is right here? What is love here? And believe me what the wife of the dhobi said is the ' practical ' comment that ppl make about their relationships. Its the truth. And that is what she told me.
Think about it. I may have heard it wrong... maybe i am wrong, but still think about it.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Simple Somethings !
In a book that I was reading yesterday, the author asked me this question. And for once I could say " yes sir,I have done that/felt that even before you suggested"
Well readers....
Have you ever stood with your back leaning on to the trunk of a tree and felt the swaying of the branches in the wind, and looked up to find the sunlight steaming in through the branches? How does it feel?
People who have not yet tried it, take this small, whimsical suggestion coming from ChutKut World and TRY IT !....also come back and tell me about it.
Well readers....
Have you ever stood with your back leaning on to the trunk of a tree and felt the swaying of the branches in the wind, and looked up to find the sunlight steaming in through the branches? How does it feel?
People who have not yet tried it, take this small, whimsical suggestion coming from ChutKut World and TRY IT !....also come back and tell me about it.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Individuality & Universalism - ponderings of a looney&lonely mind
We have been preached and also we have read that the state of Nirvana preached by Buddha is through love. And then we know for certain that Nirvana is the highest culmination of love. So is it right to say that love is an end unto itself? Everything else raises the question “Why?” in our mind, and we require a reason for it. But when we say, “I love,” then there is no room for the “why” ; it is the final answer in itself. What say?
Many among us have wondered about power of Man ( Man includes both sexes, for clarification of the feminists). Then why the question arises in our minds that - Man is a distinct personality with a will of his own had not the least influence upon what was happening?
Well, the existence of this “I” has made me wonder too many times. The “I” in us seeks for a relation which is unique/individual to it. Is it not that our individuality by its nature is forced to seek for the universal? Our ‘self’ can only die if it tries to eat its own substance, and our eye loses the meaning of its function if it can only see itself. Is it not?
What about imagination? Is J K Rowling’s imagination merely imaginary? I say, the stronger the imagination, the less is it merely imaginary and the more is it in harmony with the truth. Her writings delight us because it creative imagination and not just plain vanilla imagination being stretched to its limits.
Similarly, the more vigorous our individuality is, the more does it stretch towards the universal. For the greatness of a personality is not in itself but in its content, which is universal, just as a depth of a lake is judged not by the size of the pit/cavity, but by the depth of the water. What if the cavity is very deep, but the water level is quite low? What would you say about the depth of the lake?
Let me form my thoughts more on these and I will surely write more. I might not be making much sense here as its just bit and pieces that I am thinking currently and writing them. Maybe as I put these on paper, I will get more chance to think about it and then I will edit or maybe rewrite. For once, now I wish some one actually reads my posts (chuckle!) this is one post on which I need some feedback. And with the sure knowledge that I have about the readership of this blog , I know it’s a futile wish. Anyways ….
When I am in a crowd I want to be lonely and when today, I am lonely here in my comfortable apartment, I feel the urge to be with somebody. I am finding a deep void, a chasm that resides deep inside of me and is eating away something inside of me. I don’t know what, though. Lets see….
Many among us have wondered about power of Man ( Man includes both sexes, for clarification of the feminists). Then why the question arises in our minds that - Man is a distinct personality with a will of his own had not the least influence upon what was happening?
Well, the existence of this “I” has made me wonder too many times. The “I” in us seeks for a relation which is unique/individual to it. Is it not that our individuality by its nature is forced to seek for the universal? Our ‘self’ can only die if it tries to eat its own substance, and our eye loses the meaning of its function if it can only see itself. Is it not?
What about imagination? Is J K Rowling’s imagination merely imaginary? I say, the stronger the imagination, the less is it merely imaginary and the more is it in harmony with the truth. Her writings delight us because it creative imagination and not just plain vanilla imagination being stretched to its limits.
Similarly, the more vigorous our individuality is, the more does it stretch towards the universal. For the greatness of a personality is not in itself but in its content, which is universal, just as a depth of a lake is judged not by the size of the pit/cavity, but by the depth of the water. What if the cavity is very deep, but the water level is quite low? What would you say about the depth of the lake?
Let me form my thoughts more on these and I will surely write more. I might not be making much sense here as its just bit and pieces that I am thinking currently and writing them. Maybe as I put these on paper, I will get more chance to think about it and then I will edit or maybe rewrite. For once, now I wish some one actually reads my posts (chuckle!) this is one post on which I need some feedback. And with the sure knowledge that I have about the readership of this blog , I know it’s a futile wish. Anyways ….
When I am in a crowd I want to be lonely and when today, I am lonely here in my comfortable apartment, I feel the urge to be with somebody. I am finding a deep void, a chasm that resides deep inside of me and is eating away something inside of me. I don’t know what, though. Lets see….
Friday, October 26, 2007
Inside the Church
Not a post that I am very happy about, but I just cannot stop myself from posting this. Primarily because its a true expression of what was going through my mind at that point in time and secondarily because I believe my blog will not have any edited, 'good on English' content. It will have only heart-felt 'material'. And this post is a prime example of that. I wrote it inside a church where I spent close to 2 hours, first observing and then writing in my notebook whats reproduced below ( without any changes )
The sound of the buses, autos and scooters is something one cannot shut out from your ears in a city like Bangalore. Most of us have come to terms with it. But in this place of worship, all the sounds are turned into music. It just helps in accentuating the peaceful environment inside the hall.
St. Patrick’s Church is my refuge these days. A curious pattern of gongs emanating from the bell atop the church - 3 rings – 3 rings – 3 rings and then 12 consecutive rings indicate that it is 12 noon in this oasis of Bangalore. An old man walks in with his shirt’s front pocket looking like a gunny bag. So full is the pocket with “ god-only-knows-what and all” that its making him stoop forward even more than his actual stoop. The lovely looking man, has one week old stubble, tattered trousers that were once navy blue in colour but now resemble the colour of the water on Marina beach. He roams around the place touching the feet of each statue inside the church and then sits down in front of me. All I can now see is the tuft of hair sticking out of his ears. He is busy in his prayers with his rosary and so I shift my eyes away from him to another character that has walked in. The little lady as we will call her from now. She sits down on the benches diagonal to mine and immediately takes out a book to read. I thought I was the only person who reads in the church! But she seems to me a mystery.
There is a tremendous sense of calm and goodness on her face but still she seems restless and disturbed. Ironical!. She does not read for more than 20 seconds and looks up; here and there her eyes wander. She seems to contemplate, plays with her fingers, and then again gets back to her book. Is she thinking about what she is reading or is she pre-occupied with her thoughts that actually brought her to this wonderful place of peace. Why did she not pray? Is she also a non-Christian like me in search of some place where she will not feel like a lesser person. There is another woman, most probably in her late twenties or early thirties who has also come in. She too goes and sits but, I can’t see what she is doing as she is far away from me. This lady has a lot on her mind. Her face is like a mirror! But since I can’t see her anymore I return to our little lady who has her face buried inside her hands. Why my dear are you here? This place is for losers like me to come and ask for forgiveness. It is not for benevolent creatures like you to come and cut a sorry figure. She cries wipes her eyes and leaves. I feel sad at the fact that she has left so early.
I am a bit disappointed that I could not talk to her or have her interesting company for more time. I keep my eyes away from her so as to not embarrass her. I feel like telling her – “my little lady, I am even worse than you are. I too cry a lot. It’s ok to cry. We should never be afraid to show our feelings in whichever manner that it manifests in. For me tears are the only way I can express my pain, sorrow and happiness. Are all these people also coming here to share their sorrow with God, just like i have? Who are these people and how are they different from me? How are they different here inside the church from what they are outside? How is it that they are facing their sorrows bravely while I am not able to? What is courage in these circumstances - Is it running away from your troubles, moving on to different things, or facing your sorrow, thinking about them and trying to sort them out and find a solution to them?
Where is my self respect, if I cannot redeem myself by atoning for my sins? Is it possible for me to live peacefully without showing to my loved ones the true feelings that I have? The again the question arises that is it really necessary for love to be acknowledged? Is it necessary that your repentance of your sins must be realized by your loved ones? Is it not enough that you know that you have cleansed yourself of the impurities and that you have filtered your love and are now clean in your soul and body? Cleanse yourself; wash yourself of your sins. Then this new clean self will be able to shine with light. All will be transparent. Then the true souls with goodness and pity in their hearts will be able to see your pure self. Even if they do not, still you can be happy with the fact that you cleansed yourself and offered your self to them. Now if they take or not depends on how much this 'clean you'is visible to them.
An old couple comes and the lady is smiling looking at the God, happy on being close to God. The man is happy that he could make his mate happy. That’s what love is for and is all about. And that's what is and will always be my unfulfilled wish. :-)
The sound of the buses, autos and scooters is something one cannot shut out from your ears in a city like Bangalore. Most of us have come to terms with it. But in this place of worship, all the sounds are turned into music. It just helps in accentuating the peaceful environment inside the hall.
St. Patrick’s Church is my refuge these days. A curious pattern of gongs emanating from the bell atop the church - 3 rings – 3 rings – 3 rings and then 12 consecutive rings indicate that it is 12 noon in this oasis of Bangalore. An old man walks in with his shirt’s front pocket looking like a gunny bag. So full is the pocket with “ god-only-knows-what and all” that its making him stoop forward even more than his actual stoop. The lovely looking man, has one week old stubble, tattered trousers that were once navy blue in colour but now resemble the colour of the water on Marina beach. He roams around the place touching the feet of each statue inside the church and then sits down in front of me. All I can now see is the tuft of hair sticking out of his ears. He is busy in his prayers with his rosary and so I shift my eyes away from him to another character that has walked in. The little lady as we will call her from now. She sits down on the benches diagonal to mine and immediately takes out a book to read. I thought I was the only person who reads in the church! But she seems to me a mystery.
There is a tremendous sense of calm and goodness on her face but still she seems restless and disturbed. Ironical!. She does not read for more than 20 seconds and looks up; here and there her eyes wander. She seems to contemplate, plays with her fingers, and then again gets back to her book. Is she thinking about what she is reading or is she pre-occupied with her thoughts that actually brought her to this wonderful place of peace. Why did she not pray? Is she also a non-Christian like me in search of some place where she will not feel like a lesser person. There is another woman, most probably in her late twenties or early thirties who has also come in. She too goes and sits but, I can’t see what she is doing as she is far away from me. This lady has a lot on her mind. Her face is like a mirror! But since I can’t see her anymore I return to our little lady who has her face buried inside her hands. Why my dear are you here? This place is for losers like me to come and ask for forgiveness. It is not for benevolent creatures like you to come and cut a sorry figure. She cries wipes her eyes and leaves. I feel sad at the fact that she has left so early.
I am a bit disappointed that I could not talk to her or have her interesting company for more time. I keep my eyes away from her so as to not embarrass her. I feel like telling her – “my little lady, I am even worse than you are. I too cry a lot. It’s ok to cry. We should never be afraid to show our feelings in whichever manner that it manifests in. For me tears are the only way I can express my pain, sorrow and happiness. Are all these people also coming here to share their sorrow with God, just like i have? Who are these people and how are they different from me? How are they different here inside the church from what they are outside? How is it that they are facing their sorrows bravely while I am not able to? What is courage in these circumstances - Is it running away from your troubles, moving on to different things, or facing your sorrow, thinking about them and trying to sort them out and find a solution to them?
Where is my self respect, if I cannot redeem myself by atoning for my sins? Is it possible for me to live peacefully without showing to my loved ones the true feelings that I have? The again the question arises that is it really necessary for love to be acknowledged? Is it necessary that your repentance of your sins must be realized by your loved ones? Is it not enough that you know that you have cleansed yourself of the impurities and that you have filtered your love and are now clean in your soul and body? Cleanse yourself; wash yourself of your sins. Then this new clean self will be able to shine with light. All will be transparent. Then the true souls with goodness and pity in their hearts will be able to see your pure self. Even if they do not, still you can be happy with the fact that you cleansed yourself and offered your self to them. Now if they take or not depends on how much this 'clean you'is visible to them.
An old couple comes and the lady is smiling looking at the God, happy on being close to God. The man is happy that he could make his mate happy. That’s what love is for and is all about. And that's what is and will always be my unfulfilled wish. :-)
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
She - The Woman & he - The Beast ?
“I called them Anna, Anna (Brother, brother) and all they did was pounce on me like beasts!” – a rape victim who is the wife of a priest, recounts in her testimonial to the media.
Rape is one crime that I personally deem to be the gravest of all crimes. I can never forgive a person who is guilty of rape. I understand that for murders, robberies, highjack, forgeries, fraudulent practices etc, there can be many compulsions and reasons. But I cannot fathom the reason for raping a woman who is a sister, a daughter, a wife and a lover for somebody. I cannot understand as to how one man can think of himself as so powerful to exercise his secret fantasies on the hapless body of a small girl. I can never stop shuddering at the reports of 2 year and 4 year old children getting raped. I have always felt strongly about this particular injustice meted out to the fairer sex, just because they happen to be physically the weaker sex.
Think about this – a woman who is in her teens or in her twenties - irrespective of whether she is beautiful or just ordinary looking, each girl will have her own ego as far as her body is concerned. A girl takes time to adjust to and become comfortable with her body. She observers, during her teens, the rapid and sometimes alarming changes that happen to her body. She is a bit apprehensive of how she will look like ( maybe for the first time in her life she gets bothered about her looks). She is also a bit apprehensive of how people around her will behave to her, a bit apprehensive of her own self. She slowly starts coming to terms with her physical appearance and start becoming more and more comfortable with what she looks and more importantly feels like. This can be seen in the way that she carries herself. But now starts her own admiration for her own body. She fiercely protects it from all kinds of intrusions from outside. The village girl might quickly cover up even a small glimpse of her legs whereas the city-girl might not be too bothered about her legs showing. But what binds both these women together is the sharp consciousness of the fact that some element of their countenance is on display. (I will write more on my thoughts about the greatest masterpiece of God – Woman, in a later post sometime. This was just a background to my thoughts, so that you can try and relate to this post like I do with these thoughts in mind. )
Recently I read in the newspaper, that the honourable high court has ruled that the victims of rape will be getting Rs. 20,000 as soon as the case is registered. This is primarily aimed at helping the victim to face the various processes, protocols and trials that she has to undergo while her case is heard and judged.
Now, is that really helpful to the victim? Can we really give her what she has lost? Do we even realize fully the ‘ real loss ‘ that she experiences? I being a male will never understand it but I doubt that even a woman who has not undergone this trauma will ever be able to truly understand the thoughts that cross through the victim’s mind?
My body to me is very sacred, very private and very very very my own. I have protected my body from all sorts of abuses and invasions all through the time that I can remember. I can never share my body with anybody whom I do not love. To me, my body is the extension of my soul and I will subject it into someone’s hands only if she is the one for whom I am ready to sacrifice anything and everything that I have, including my soul. It’s a way of my respecting her for what she means to me, by sharing with her my most private possession apart from my thoughts.
I can recount an instance way back from school. One of the girls in my class happened to walk past me by wriggling through a narrow gap between where I was standing and the blackboard. She brushed herself against my posterior and this immediately inflamed me. I felt abused and my private space was invaded upon. In my fit, I grabbed her by her throat and threw her disdainfully away on to the blackboard, almost injuring her badly. But luckily she was unhurt and stormed away muttering all along about how crazy I was and how she felt that I was a pucca asshole. So true ! Why did I react so wildly? It’s an answer that I have been trying to figure out for many years now and that explains why I remember it still.
I had started this blog as a way of expressing my anguish for the poor women who are getting raped every 4 minutes in our country ( according some report that I happened to read). I am writing about my take on my personal self because that is how I relate to this issue. Only if I imagine what I feel about my body, will I be able to relate to those victims. There are lots of thoughts and views that I will write about this topic later on but for now I am just leaving you with what Tori Amos says in a website -
“Rape's not something where you just go, "Well, get over it" or "Believe in love and peace, my child, and it'll all be over." Well, fuck you, that isn't the answer. It's a great thought, OK, but you can go and stick crystals up your butt and get on with it. I'm all for love and peace, but that's not the side I work on. If somebody would talk about it, or worse, joke about it, I would be ready to kill. That's not healing. It was a very long time after that before I was able to be with anyone again. And it has never been the same as it was before”
My question is, dear readers – Does rape, make a woman have doubts about her faith in God?
P.S. : the title of this post has all caps except " he " . That shows my opinion.
Rape is one crime that I personally deem to be the gravest of all crimes. I can never forgive a person who is guilty of rape. I understand that for murders, robberies, highjack, forgeries, fraudulent practices etc, there can be many compulsions and reasons. But I cannot fathom the reason for raping a woman who is a sister, a daughter, a wife and a lover for somebody. I cannot understand as to how one man can think of himself as so powerful to exercise his secret fantasies on the hapless body of a small girl. I can never stop shuddering at the reports of 2 year and 4 year old children getting raped. I have always felt strongly about this particular injustice meted out to the fairer sex, just because they happen to be physically the weaker sex.
Think about this – a woman who is in her teens or in her twenties - irrespective of whether she is beautiful or just ordinary looking, each girl will have her own ego as far as her body is concerned. A girl takes time to adjust to and become comfortable with her body. She observers, during her teens, the rapid and sometimes alarming changes that happen to her body. She is a bit apprehensive of how she will look like ( maybe for the first time in her life she gets bothered about her looks). She is also a bit apprehensive of how people around her will behave to her, a bit apprehensive of her own self. She slowly starts coming to terms with her physical appearance and start becoming more and more comfortable with what she looks and more importantly feels like. This can be seen in the way that she carries herself. But now starts her own admiration for her own body. She fiercely protects it from all kinds of intrusions from outside. The village girl might quickly cover up even a small glimpse of her legs whereas the city-girl might not be too bothered about her legs showing. But what binds both these women together is the sharp consciousness of the fact that some element of their countenance is on display. (I will write more on my thoughts about the greatest masterpiece of God – Woman, in a later post sometime. This was just a background to my thoughts, so that you can try and relate to this post like I do with these thoughts in mind. )
Recently I read in the newspaper, that the honourable high court has ruled that the victims of rape will be getting Rs. 20,000 as soon as the case is registered. This is primarily aimed at helping the victim to face the various processes, protocols and trials that she has to undergo while her case is heard and judged.
Now, is that really helpful to the victim? Can we really give her what she has lost? Do we even realize fully the ‘ real loss ‘ that she experiences? I being a male will never understand it but I doubt that even a woman who has not undergone this trauma will ever be able to truly understand the thoughts that cross through the victim’s mind?
My body to me is very sacred, very private and very very very my own. I have protected my body from all sorts of abuses and invasions all through the time that I can remember. I can never share my body with anybody whom I do not love. To me, my body is the extension of my soul and I will subject it into someone’s hands only if she is the one for whom I am ready to sacrifice anything and everything that I have, including my soul. It’s a way of my respecting her for what she means to me, by sharing with her my most private possession apart from my thoughts.
I can recount an instance way back from school. One of the girls in my class happened to walk past me by wriggling through a narrow gap between where I was standing and the blackboard. She brushed herself against my posterior and this immediately inflamed me. I felt abused and my private space was invaded upon. In my fit, I grabbed her by her throat and threw her disdainfully away on to the blackboard, almost injuring her badly. But luckily she was unhurt and stormed away muttering all along about how crazy I was and how she felt that I was a pucca asshole. So true ! Why did I react so wildly? It’s an answer that I have been trying to figure out for many years now and that explains why I remember it still.
I had started this blog as a way of expressing my anguish for the poor women who are getting raped every 4 minutes in our country ( according some report that I happened to read). I am writing about my take on my personal self because that is how I relate to this issue. Only if I imagine what I feel about my body, will I be able to relate to those victims. There are lots of thoughts and views that I will write about this topic later on but for now I am just leaving you with what Tori Amos says in a website -
“Rape's not something where you just go, "Well, get over it" or "Believe in love and peace, my child, and it'll all be over." Well, fuck you, that isn't the answer. It's a great thought, OK, but you can go and stick crystals up your butt and get on with it. I'm all for love and peace, but that's not the side I work on. If somebody would talk about it, or worse, joke about it, I would be ready to kill. That's not healing. It was a very long time after that before I was able to be with anyone again. And it has never been the same as it was before”
My question is, dear readers – Does rape, make a woman have doubts about her faith in God?
P.S. : the title of this post has all caps except " he " . That shows my opinion.
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