Being commitment-phobic

There's no such thing as an untimely death. I'm not an expert on death but i know a thing or two about being alive. And trust me, it's tough. Particularly when you're not the person you could have been. More so, when you've become the person you once so famously dreaded. As you turn older, you acknowledge the growing hollowness in you and the sheer amount of fakeness that goes in to it  just to cover it up. It doesn't and can't heal itself on its own. That's sad, undoubtedly. What's sadder is some young Bollywood actress going ahead (climbing upward, to be precise) and killing herself just because she wasn't finding enough work and her relationship status sucked. But are these reasons valid enough to die? Nope. When a farmer from Vidarbha dies, your heart slows down for him because a part of you knows that he couldn't make the clouds rain or farm with his tears. So, you need to come up with stronger excuses. If someone from a privileged background won't deal with failures, then what's the point of luxury? Or maybe we're missing the point here. On a daily basis, 170,000 of our species die on this planet. If five of them committed suicide, one of them is of Indian origin. At least that's what the statistics dictate. Of course, death has nothing to do with one's racial or regional identity but it is a matter of great concern to see youth being so disoriented and callous to jump to such fatal conclusions in the face of dire situations. Furthermore, suicide is something that Indian culture has remained alien to for the major part. Even our mythology is rife with stories where suicide is not an option. Even a brave soul like Bhishma delayed his suicide. Coming back to the present, becoming the person of your choice might be arduous but it requires one to be breathing—not hanging onto a dupatta from the ceiling fan. 

If we could...

If we could smell poetry, 
If we could see music,
If we could touch others' pain,
If we could hear their eyes rain, 
If we could taste sunlight,
If we could run wild, 
If we could do what we really like, 
If we could believe in ourselves,
If we could depend on no one else,
If we could speak our mind,
If we could age like the wind,
If we could smile, 
If we could stand up for our rights,
If we could wait for sunrise,
If we could remember our past life,
If we could overcome desires,
If we could settle for less, 
If we could breathe a bit deeper,
If we could feel the dark sunset,
If we could hold hands,
If we could let our souls dance,
If we could share,
If we could cry without maudlin,
If we could laugh without malice,
If we could, we'd have done a lot more than this.

Deeply offensive

Nearly two decades ago, Kurt Cobain came up with his semi-controversial song Rape Me. There was a remarkable touch of lonely pain in those lyrics. But all things sung and done, it was a song. That's it. Flash back to today's unmusical reality as something terrible happened in Delhi recently. The horrific details that emerged out of this incident (mind you, not an accident) makes one's soul turn sick. Those who committed this unpardonable offense won't be able to forgive themselves. We shall never forgive them in any case even though we might forget them in the long run. And the girl who was the victim is going to find it unbearably difficult to move on. Our society—despite its righteous hue and cry—is too stigmatic to be conducive enough for rehabilitation. Rape is infamous for doing that that to the fairer sex. More so, men who do that give rise to questionnaire...endless trail of queries that question us.

    So how do we deal with this horror as a pseudo-society? Where exactly does the problem lie? Are we so sexually regressive that our very sense of morality gets clouded at times? Good apple, bad apple? Does sadism constitute an inherent part of our DNA? Don't we keep evolving as a species? Who are we? Misogynists? Unabashedly patriarchal? Can the media do a bit more than worrying about its TRP? Would the government show its spine for a change? Where are the fast-track stringent laws that'd discourage repetition? Will the real feminists please stand up? What role did our parents play? Religio-socio hypocrisy? Have they raised their daughters at par with their sons? Why do the former feel so insecure then? Kung-fu someone? Shall our poor victim become the physiotherapist she always wanted to be? Which direction might lead to a nobler world? Were we lost? Or we are going to be lost? Gun control in US and penis control in India? Go Shariah for a change? Castration? Damn, wouldn't that hurt? Isn't pleasure from others' agony is what this is all about? Let's redeem ourself, whatsay? Set up an incorruptible fund-raiser instead? Discuss? Abort misconceptions and inseminate knowledge? Open up our mind a little and embrace our imperfections? Shout a bit softer and listen a bit louder? Do we really don't need education? Sex education, huh? Mutual respect is dead? Smiling can be dangerous? Can't trust anybody anymore? Wasn't Gandhiji right? Didn't the Mayans just fooled humankind? Do you hear that? That's animal kingdom laughing at us. 

    As a nation, we are very angry. But this understandable rage has very little to do with the crime (or the criminals) in question. On the contrary, the somewhat hapless emotion reflects strongly on the kind of frail structure we've built over the years. When a system fails, it shows. Sadly, it requires a tragedy of such momentous scale to hold our attention for long. Ergo, we've failed somewhere and that bothers us. We don't know the answers to the questions this widely-reported anomaly (although the word is an euphemism) has given birth to. And that makes us more than furious. Perhaps it's high time gender equality is offered a job and rape, retirement.