The Raindrop Destiny

He looked out of the window tightly clutching the pen he held in his hand. It was the first heavy shower of the year. A great relief from the scorching heat. The wind, or the zephyr as he called it, rushed through his face.

He lived in the thirteenth floor thanks to which he was always a witness to city’s activity. He wasn’t interested generally. The activity outside in contrast to his passive life kept him away from the window most of the time. And, there was work.

The rain hadn’t emptied the streets of Calcutta at all. In fact, a number of people were actually out there enjoying the shower. He spotted Mrs. Misra with her 10 year old daughter by the windowsill chattering away holding a cup. Tea or coffee, he could not say. In the garden, four girls pranced about in the rain, taking full advantage of their adolescence. He recognized one of them, Akshi, his next-door neighbor. The song on his ITunes DJ changed. I’ll follow you into the dark – Death Cab for Cutie.

Adhikansh Mehra had always been a music addict. Any genre, any artist, if the song managed to touch his soul, it was his favorite. He had songs playing all the time. Morning, noon and night. Work and leisure.

His eyes hurt. He realized that he had been holding back his tears for a long time now. But he didn’t want to weep. He was a brave man, or he thought so at least. The song, the rain, the wind- it was getting into him. He looked into the photograph, and for the first time in months, he cried.

He cried holding the photograph close to his heart thinking about how much wrong he had done to her. How much he had kept her away. He remembered her first touch, so welcoming, as if she had already accepted him. Her beautiful eyes, curiously popping out. Her twinkling smile. Her first cry. Aditi. His daughter, Aditi. The reason why the chapters of his life closed, Aditi.

***

Adhikansh and Niyati were childhood sweethearts. They met in school, kindergarten itself. By class III, they were best friends. She gave him the notes she had written for herself; he gave her the chocolates, he had bought for himself. He called her Pie, she called him Pinky. She was four when he had asked her whether she would marry him. He had apparently read the word ‘marriage’ in some lesson and wanted to do the same with her.

They were perfect- individually and together. The hazel-eyed, tall, fair and handsome Adhikansh and the curly-haired, smart, sweet and beautiful Niyati. Chivalrous Adhikansh and Elegant Niyati. The only time they had been torn apart from each other was when Adhikansh’s father had been transferred to Delhi for 3 years. 36 months later, their love was intact.

Not that they were not different. He studied science, she studied arts. He was an athlete, she was a dancer. He played the mouth-organ, she played the piano. But the differences hardly mattered. From being mere school mates, they went on to be family friends, till the day they were declared ‘Man and Wife’. Their marriage was perfect. Yes, they did have the usual ‘You shouldn’t have’, ‘Why always me?’, “Don’t you know!’ quibbles but otherwise, it was P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

Perfect, till it lasted. 4 years of marriage and 17 years of a relationship lost its soul. He was 25. She was 24. And she was 8 months pregnant.

It was raining that night. Adhikansh switched on the music. “I’ll follow you into the dark”, he sang to her. “I don’t want you following me so soon”, she teased. “Maybe I won’t follow you at all, maybe I’ll lead”, he teased back “Let’s walk together.” The rain started getting heavier. The streets like any other of south Calcutta were jammed with water. Aditi-Aditya, the argument started. She wanted Aditya. He wanted Aditi. Niyati felt a jerk. Her breathing became heavier. “I think my water broke”, she spluttered.

He took a lot of time to reach the hospital. A little more than he should have. Niyati had almost choked by then. Taruni, her gyne and their family friend, consoled him. Don’t worry she said and the OT closed. Two hours passed. Taruni came out. “What… wha..?” Adhikansh couldn’t wait anymore. The entire family was waiting on the other end of the phone. “I could save only her”,. Adhikansh sighed sadly but relieved. “Your daughter Aditi, I could only save her. Sorry” Taruni said softly. That was it. Life, as Adhikansh knew, had ended.

***

The force of the wind increased. The zephyr, it seemed to be talking to him. Seven months back, he had cried – for no rhyme or reason. Once again, tears washed down his handsome face. The adoption papers were lying in front of him, the pen in his hand. Aditi would be one tomorrow. Adhikansh’s sister, Akanksha had planned to adopt her. In fact Aditi had been with Akanksha since birth. He would just have to sign to avoid further legal complications. He saw the photograph. She had his eyes. His eyes only. The rest of her face somehow belonged to her mother. The twitched nose, the curly hair. Would he ever be able to love this piece of flesh who had taken his life away from him? Adhikansh looked up and stared at the sky, taking in the wind – Niyati. Smiling. Hopeful Niyati. Brave Niyati. His Niyati.

 He picked up the phone. “Akanksha?” He asked. His voice cracked. “Yes Adhi.” “I want my daughter Akanksha. I want my Aditi back.”

The 'Girl Child' and Life

This other day while I was coming back home from school, I saw 5 children, most likely siblings or friends, the youngest one was about 4 and the others were say, 7-8 year olds.

Three of them were in school uniform, two of which were boys, and the third was the youngest one- a girl. They looked like any other under-privileged school going children. Shabby dress, torn bag, wrong shoes. However, it gave me a sense of pleasure that at least they were getting to go to school.

This pleasure was short-lived, as my eyes drifted to the other two, both girls. While one wore a torn frock, the other one was in a tattered salwar-kameez. The younger one was carrying a bag of vegetables. The second one, probably an year old,  was carrying a heavy pot of water. What irritated me even more was that it was very evident that they were from the same family or at least closely related otherwise.

The bus I was on, moved on but the scene I witnessed,has been on my mind ever since. There was nothing special about it; it was just another unnoticed random scene.

27 hours and 38 minutes later, the same scene is still pricking the shackles of my brain. It is not a surprise, but I fell extremely difficult to accept the fact that five children who are being reared up in the same background, who live in proximity, are not getting equal amenities.  There might be other reasons why the other two ‘girls’ have not been allowed to study, but my mind, it refuses to believe exceptions.

In spite of all the promises and the laws and rights and other political stuff, the reality has not altered. And, this reality is harsh. Even today, a girl is not exposed to education, she faces extreme discrimination irrespective of her religion or caste or economical background, because she is, erm, a girl. Even in urban educated families, women are forced to give up their girl child. Female foeticides and infanticides are followed as traditions in some villages. In India, on an average, a girl is raped every half-an-hour. The dowry still prevails, in some places as a compulsory custom, in some places as another way to make money. Flesh trade, Child marriage,  marital rape, the list is endless. The fight against women, by men, by women themselves or by the society has turned into a never-ending war. The woman, today, is not much different from where she was yesterday.

This harsh reality definitely compels me to raise this question.

Which is worse - Female foeticide, Female infanticide, Rape, Gender Discrimination or BEING BORN A WOMAN?

This Sky is my life

Bit by bit I have finally rebuild this page... which brings me to the actual concern of doing it. Three years back, things weren't the same. Take the blog for instance - I didn't even care about the layout or the font or the color or any other stuff. And now... I painstakingly went through hundreds of backgrounds for three hours and finally chose the one I found most appropriate. And ow, I am concerned.

Why have little things started mattering to me, who once upon a time hardly gave a damn to the 'big' things. Some years back, the sky was just an entity of nature for me. Today, if I look at the sky, a thousand thoughts pass my mind. I feel a sudden bout of energy, of grit, as if I could gaze at it almost forever. The sky is no more blank for me. It is full of fairytale creatures, abominable monsters. The sky has become a mystery for me. A mystery which keeps getting interesting as it unfolds

One could take it as an inspiration also, as it is this sky which helped me view things from a photographer's perspective. It is this sky which motivated me to write. It is by the sky that I have thought about my family, my friends, my crushes, my non-friends and others. It is by the sky that I learnt to dare. It is the sky which gave me the rain. It is the sky which taught me how to count stars.

The sky taught me how to dream.

Back to Blogger

Two years and I haven’t blogged! For all those who had followed my blog (though I doubt you might be still following it) I have deleted all my previous posts except for the first one. Don’t ask why. Those posts were the primary reason why I quit blogging and now that they are no more, I find a good start to blog again!!

Two years, and a lot has changed. People, friends, school, ideas, values, habits, hobbies, and so have I. As a person. Call it change or evolution or growing up, it’s all the same.

I don’t really know what got me back to blogging. For one, I was reading through my friend’s blog and then I was like “I miss mine!!”, so thanks Pooja. And secondly, Sweta got me into the habit of talking again. I seriously have started blabbering a lot nowadays. This seems to be the best substitute... :)

Love,

Pie

Misery of Solitude

Laugh and the world will laugh with you;

Weep and you weep alone.

There are all present, to share your joys;

But tears, you must drink on your own.

The world is ready to take your pleasure;

But for your woe, they have no measure.

Throw a party and all come to feast;

Starve and they look upon you as beasts.

So, learn to rely and depend on yourself;

Do not act according to your mood.

Because when the world will pass you by;

You will understand the misery of solitude.