Children of Broken Homes.

She shivered. A shudder ran down her spine and she softly murmured, "I don't want to talk to you." It was a huge task. The very sound of his voice was terrifying the insides of her soul. But she had been taught to stand up for herself now. She knew better. You had to speak against wrong, you had to stand up for what was right and most importantly you, and you alone could save yourself. Even if it was from your own father.

She wondered now when it was that all the laughter died and when the man who used to adore her changed so much. When he became a ghost of the loving human he used to be. What could have led to such cruel remarks, such harsh words. Maybe this is why she can never comprehend the point of marriage or children.

For she is the child of a broken home. And she isn't the only one.

She has seen men beating their wives and sons raising their hand on the father, torn between their two 'protectors' not knowing what to do, who to turn to. What does a child do when the people who are in-charge mess up? Whom do they turn to?

Theirs is not a country which does anything against domestic violence. Hers is not a city in which she can refer to an anger-management specialist. Ours is just a world in which you watch as the walls around you crumble, each day, at an alarmingly slow rate which ironically enough still feels too fast. 

In a home where she has had to be the adult for so long, she forgot what it meant to be taken care of. To have a stable pool of unconditional love. She never saw love, all she saw was hate. Hate between her parents, between her relatives, among her peers at school. All she ever did seek was love and that was the one thing that was denied.

She never complained for it seemed harsh. Nor did she hold it against them for she knew everyone was just battling their own demons. She thought she could be the reason behind everyone's smile. So she began to strive and continued till there was nothing left of her but a hollow in the place of a happy, little kid. No achievement was ever enough to mask the sorrow that engulfed her house. 

She would pray to god every night for her parents to stop fighting. She learnt early on that there were prices to pay because they did. They would fight over anything and everything and she would be torn between the two people she loved most. As she grew up, they found a new reason to fight over - her. This was the worst by far for it made her feel as if she had been the cause of their misery all along. She constantly felt like a failure. She wasn't good enough to make her parents happy. Or proud.

No matter what she excelled in, they would find faults in her behaviour, her conduct, whatever it took to unnerve her. She began to live in constant self-doubt and wondered if it would be better to relieve everyone of the pain that she was inflicting upon them and just end it once and for all.

However the end didn't go as planned and this too was used against her. Repeatedly she turned to someone, something to hold on to in a fragile world which kept crumbling around her. She kept trying to run away, from her past, her present... And lived in dread of the future. She changed homes, cities but she couldn't change herself. 

For she was the child of a broken home. And she wasn't the only one. 

She thought time and age would change things. That the two adults who had brought her into the world would finally start to comprehend what it actually means to be responsible for another human being. But she realized how they were too broken for her to mend. And everyday that she lived in self-blame, she broke herself too. 

For that's the thing with the children of broken homes - they feel inadequate and responsible for all that has gone wrong in their houses. 

She still smiles. She still loves. But she knows now that nothing will ever change. They will continue to love her in their twisted way and she will forever crave for the one person who is truly hers, never letting anyone getting close enough because she's scared. She's been scared since she was three. If Mom and Dad couldn't love each other, how will anybody ever love a disappointing person like her?

What parents never realize is how much every word of theirs pierces through the hearts of their children, how much it controls them and how very much it hurts them. It's ironic really that the creator is more often than not the destroyer.

She's given up now. On finding answers to all that needs answering. She waits for peace, hoping it'll find her someday. Because love is too much to ask for. She can make do with a little bit of peace for now. As for love? Maybe in another lifetime. 

Because she is the child of a broken home.
And that shall haunt her forever.
But she's not the only one.

Time for All work & No play, Mr. Modi.

So I have taken my time to comment on the recent elections (Facebook and Twitter posts not included, for they were a biased burst of emotion) and today is the day when I finally sit down to type in my thoughts and clarify a few things once and for all.

May 16th 2014, is a day that will go down in history not only as the best day Bhartiya Janta Party (BJP) ever had, but also as a day which was much needed by a continuously coalition driven India. This is the first government after Rajiv Gandhi's government in 1984 which has a clear majority in the parliament. It has been a one man propaganda, a one man army and a one man election - the one man obviously being Mr. Narendra Modi. 

I would like to begin with congratulating you Sir. You and I may not see eye to eye on a lot of things but your rise to power is commendable and it is a story which will inspire a lot of youngsters to work on their dream and then actually live it. I respect the mandate and I have always been a believer of the famous saying (forgive me for paraphrasing) that, "The people of a nation deserve the leader they elect."

India was brewing with frustration and as a part of the youth of India, I could see a lot of anger seething against the current state of being that was, UPA-2. They made some serious blunders which resulted in an overall stunted economic growth. The poor got poorer, the rich didn't get rich enough and the middle class started to fight a losing battle in the middle. A never-before seen price hike resulted in a dearth of money in households which had always afforded a comfortably stylish lifestyle. So a change was expected, a change was necessary, a change was needed.

Mr. Narendra Modi has basked in the failures of UPA-2 and become the face of this change. Though I have never agreed with your line of politics Mr. Modi, and have been very outspoken about the same, since this is the change that my country's mandate voted for, I respect it and wait for it to take shape in the form of better governance.

Yes Mr. Modi has given us a lot of impressive lines, catchy phrases and helped us in seeing a lot of dreams. 'Achche din aane waale hai' has been so oft repeated that it seems to have replaced our existing National Anthem now. Pun intended. However now the time has come for him to actualize these dreams and make all his election-time-propaganda a reality. It's time for us to find out whether this was all a publicity gimmick or is India really headed for development like never before.

My only qualm with staunch-Modi supporters remains that they continue to hype Mr. Modi's actions and capabilities. Sure, he has it in him to be a great Prime Minister. But shouldn't we atleast wait a minimal six months to find out? We can neither declare him a failure nor success based on the number of tissues used by Indians all over the country during his speech.

Also, what critics of Mr. Modi need to realize is that he has won with a thumping majority, whether you like it or not. Spreading venom against him is not really going to do anyone any good at the moment. Give him a year before commenting on his policies and overall presence in the PMO.

Frankly, I am neither impressed nor disheartened by the Cabinet he has selected. Because the true test of a cabinet is not in it's potential to do well - it is in what it actually does. I don't want to go gaga over the 25% women representation or frown my brows over the lowest ever Muslim representation. It is way too early to preempt how good or bad a Minister will prove to be. Attacking the qualifications of cabinet members is stooping down to a level of politics Congress doesn't really identify with so I would suggest that they refrain from it. What Congress actually needs to do is introspect and find out how it has failed its people and lost their trust. Then it needs to work towards rebuilding it if it ever hopes to come back to power. (But more on this later).

I am not even going to criticize Mr. Modi yet for the few 20-and-30-odd-somethings in Goa and Bangalore being considered for arrest due to their anti-Modi posts for I doubt he has directly given these orders. Nor am I going to voice how very erroneous is the thought of removing Article 370. All I'm going to say for now is, All the Best Sir. The future of our country is in your hands, almost entirely.

You have won in a country where clear majority had become a thing of the past. People have shown their complete and utter faith in you for you to have emerged as 'The Chosen One'. Now you can't make excuses on account of a coalition or blame others for your faults. This is what you asked of India and it has been given to you. The ball is truly and totally in your court now. Hit it as hard and far as possible because the country is watching. And if there is anything we have learnt from this election it is this that this country is not willing to forgive corruption, inflation and incumbency anymore.

We as a country are used to being disappointed by our leaders. They make promises they never intend to keep and break our hearts. Then in response, we break their government and elect someone else hoping for things to take a U-turn. This vicious cycle has gone on too long Mr. Modi. It's time we break it. Give us what you promised and we will give you an even better mandate next time. Prove your critics wrong. Show them you have reformed and that you will indeed be the force behind a Superpower India.

See you in 2019.
Till then this is an eternally watchful citizen of your country promising you that your proverbial report card will be filled everyday and any inadequacies will be dealt with just as harshly as they were in the case of your predecessors. 

My opinion or yours. It does count.

Someone said to me today, 'Your opinion doesn't matter.' I've got to admit I wanted to punch him. My instant reaction was wtf. I mean who the hell are you to decide whether or not it does or does not ? My consolation was supposed to be that the said person didn't think his opinion mattered either.
To battle this psychology, we need to go really deep. Right down to the point where we feel that our actions, thoughts and voices are inconsequential. What leads to this ? If I were a Freudian fan I'd find a way to link this to some sort of suppressed sexual desires. An Adlerian supporter may feel that one is inferior to others and hence doesn't count. Or I may attribute it to a faulty upbringing in general. For what else can be responsible for such misplaced and incorrigible views ?

The answer is simple. Cognitive malfunction. We all tend to form wrong schemas in our head (thought process - schema) and when these incorrect thoughts receive some sort of reinforcement from the environment, namely the enormous world we live in, they become more and more permanent and rigid.
So it is very easy to feel like someone unimportant is this big, wide, vast world. But it is even more important in such a diverse world to acknowledge the uniqueness and individuality of each idea, thought or desire.

Every opinion matters. Just like every vote counts.
Yes the party we voted for may lose but does that undermine the fact that we actually took part in the decision making process of our country ? Speak out against bullying and ragging. Yes our efforts may seem futile but who knows of the one life we may unknowingly save during the same. Scream and fight against sexual abuse and discrimination. Don't submit. Your screams may be heard, there is always someone out there who might just save you. Stand against corruption. Be defiant to personal profits on the cost of national harm. Charity begins at home and it all starts with one correct thought.
This though will translate into an opinion which will later form your action. You're not forming this opinion for anyone but yourself so how date anyone challenge it's importance. Your action will hopefully help change the world.

People who spoke of the ripple effect must have gotten something right because it makes a lot of sense to me.

It took one sister of Jessica Lal to fight for justice and then the world supported her voice.
It took just one Nirbhaya to make the youth so outraged against rape and come out in outstanding numbers to support her cause.
I can cite countless such examples where a nobody spoke up and made all the difference.

I don't wish for everyone's opinions to collide with mine. Heck, take a complete 180 degree turn. But voice it out, always knowing that it does make a difference. It always has and it always will.
Till the time we live in a democracy at least.

After that ? Who knows. I might be executed for my extremist views. Until then I will speak out and speak loud. For I know someone, somewhere is listening. And for that someone I matter. I may not amount to much in my lifespan but if I can just matter to that one person, I'll have known that I was right. I was right all along. 

Open Letter to Every Medicine Graduate

Hello Doctors!

So little is said or written about you. They ask why should we respect you ? What have you done differently than the million others who have also dreamed a dream, worked toward it and made considerable progress in said direction by studying what was to be studied.
But here's the little difference.

When we were busy enjoying after our tenth boards, my friends who aspired to be doctors, started giving entrances for coaching classes which would train them to crack PMT. They paid a hefty fee once they got through and while we were still deliberating the pros and cons of humanities and commerce, they started balancing schoolwork and tuition torture. I call the latter a torture for it was no mean deal to attend 6 hours of school, then 4 hours of coaching and then spend endless hours revising the coursework of both. They kept up with countless tests and exams at both fronts.

When we were rebelling against our parents and discovering the art of 'partying out late', they were developing the skill of 'surviving with minimal sleep'.

They skipped parties, birthdays, made no fuss about new year and went through their last years of school life with nothing to show for except a tiring routine of shuttling between school, tuition and home, all the time surrounded by papers, notes and mnemonics.

The ordeal did not end for them after the 12th boards either. That's when the real test began - medical entrances. When we went for long vacations with family or friends, they slogged still for prelims, mains and a variety of state entrances. There were crash courses to attend, revisions to do and examinations to crack.

For those lucky few who cleared in their first attempt came the first breath of relief. For those who didn't, came tears, disappointment and a grit to do better. They decided to drop year after year until they made it through or had no chances left.

We embarked upon colleges together. And while we discovered freedom, they discovered libraries. They learnt how to dissect a human body, how to saw the human skull, how to identify one microbe from the other. While we were making boyfriends and having our first kisses, they were having their first visits to the hospital.

Alliances were formed in both worlds. One for hanging out and chilling, other for studying and excelling. When the pressure got too much, the med students decided to blow off some steam by a drink or two or ten (for well, they always did have the capacity for a little extra, a little more - be it work or play).

As we entered our final year of independence, they were still just halfway through grad school. They hadn't lost sight of their aim. When we got our degrees, they continued to work alongside senior doctors, learning how to cure patients. Their day became 72 hour long for that's how long an average intern went without sleep in one stretch of duty. They got little to no sleep using the spare minutes to read a little more, grasp something they hadn't before. And finally when we took an year off, to 'think about our future' they entered their last phase of the 5-and-a-half-year-long-drill.

And, when some of us started working for our fathers, others for some little pay job, they got their license to kill.

So why do we not write about them ? Why don't we award them medals like soldiers who fight wars for us ? They are no less. They are fighters. Survivors. Warriors.

We're still clueless, we're still lost. We still don't know where our life is headed. They on the other hand, are saving lives. So next time you come across a doctor and feel life is unfair because his paycheck is infinitely more than yours, know that his education did not halt after those 5 odd years. The doctor continued to specialise, and super specialise - all so that he could be an expert in the field of treatment. He is a walking, talking superman. She is a fairy godmother, an angel. They work for us, all day, everyday. 24/7, no excuses.

For all your dedication and diligence, I thank you doctors. I can place my life in your hands, knowing you've done your homework and done it well. You will do all it takes to make me better.

You're my god. The one I can see, feel and touch. The god who I go to when I want a miracle. The god I pray to when a loved one has no hope left. You're my god on earth, doc. Thank you.

PS: Dedicated to Dr. Abhinav Ratogi and Dr. Shail Jalan - doctors who taught me the difference between passion and indifference.

Because I really want to cry, and I can't.

I hate it when all your life you're led to believe in something which is actually not true. Goodness doesn't necessarily guarantee it in return. Fairytales don't come true. There seems to be no such thing as karma. I hate it when you really want a smoke but the pack has run out of lights. I hate it when you're trying to finish some important work and your kid chooses that moment to start crying. I hate it when no matter how many songs you listen to, you only relate them with one person. I hate how once something is broken, it can never be whole again. 

I hate so much around me, don't you ?

I hate how we've become robotic. I hate how a grand romantic gesture by a man is precisely that but by a girl is termed desperate. I hate how dowry has become even more prevalent than before. I hate how there is not one political leader worth voting for and believing in. I hate how much love hurts. I hate you have to keep your emotions bottled up for the fear of them being discarded in vain. 

I hate how practical I've become. I hate how I stop myself from dialing certain numbers no matter how bad I want to speak my mind to said person. I hate how manipulative I've become. I hate how I can see through people's lies and motives now because that leaves no room for that little hope of good in them. I hate how I don't cry anymore. I hate how all my tears have dried up over him.

I hate how my driving force in its most innate form is hate itself. I hate how twenty four hours are never enough for all that I want to do and see but somehow I always seem to be oversleeping and wasting precious minutes in doing things which are inconsequential. I hate how I can't see you but she can. I hate how one drink is never enough, and two always too much.

So much hate and in the stillness of the night I can feel just thing flow through my veins.. 

My love for you.

Pay me some attention.

Dear Reader,

What is it with us ? The first hint of a pain and we cower and run away. Weren't we built to be resilient ? To fight ? For what is right. For what is ours. We give up too easy, yes, if I had to sum up all of mankind's problems in one sentence that would be it.
"Nobody's perfect, and everyone is to blame."

When did we stop striving for perfection ? What was the day that the word content was introduced to the human dictionary ? And when was it that it started being propagated to be happy with the little, the few, the minuscule excuse for happiness ?

Because it was that day that the downfall of evolution began. The day we stopped standing up for, believing in and fighting for what we want. Really want. Not what we settle for.
If we shoot for the stars, we should settle for nothing lesser. If you feel you're destined to become something, nothing else should cut it ever. A compromise is just that. You telling yourself since what you actually want is unattainable, it's time to settle for something lesser.

Don't just accept a husband because some lover once broke your heart. Don't accept a job because you were sexually harassed at your previous one. Don't marry into a family which demands dowry because you fear the next offer won't come.

Break free of your inhibitions. Motivate the child within you who thought they could achieve anything - the child who taught you to dream. Don't let the adult in you kill your aspirations. There is no such thing as a reality check. The only difference between your dreams and reality is the line you draw for yourself. The boundaries you cage yourself in.
Whose to say we're not all birds just waiting to discover our wings and fly ?

All you need is belief. A faith in the inner monster that exists in all of us, the one which is hungry for more, the one whose thirst for perfection is insatiable. Awaken that strive within. Without living up to our potentials, we're wasting our time anyway.
Let's be the best we can be.
Because anything less than extraordinary should just not be acceptable.

Regards,
A striving perfectionist.

Friends, Lovers or NOTHING.

Dearest Ex,
The journey's complete. It had been for a while now in reality but my subconscious cemented it today too. There'll never be an inbetween - that much was certain but unacceptable to me. However now in no state of mine is there any room for you in the capacity that there used to be. 

It took so long that it's almost unbelievable.. I don't even know how to react. I guess I've gotten used to your memory but I realized how that memory has gotten so faint over time and that voice has dissolved into nothing - so much so that it is now a mere amalgamation of so many others - an attempt to recreate something which I can't even remember. It used to be crystal clear in my head and now ? Nothing.

Last night I was with someone I love. He loves me back. We were driving all over town. I was being picked from some sort of station, I can't recall which. We bumped into each other in the train and somehow couldn't help but look. At what the past was like.. At how much we'd changed.. At the lack of electricity in the air despite us being in the same compartment. Or atleast that was my version of it. 

We got to where we wanted and you didn't have a ride back. My boy wasn't interested in doing you any favours and even though you and I hadn't so much as exchanged a word, I couldn't help but worry. The driver dragged me away but I made them come back. It had started to snow and rain all at once and everyone in the car was giving me hell but I came back for you. I saw you walking with some random chic, drenched to the bone and I got down and ran to you. I don't know what it was - impulse or instinct and before I knew it I'd taken my coat off and put it on your back and was leading you to a place with some sort of cover. 

You: "You came back ? I knew you would."
Me: "Yeah well now change. You'll catch a cold. I'll get you dropped."

Somehow the place changed into your hostel room and I needed a change for I was soaked as well and you were only too happy to oblige. Another room, another girl. I was so unaffected though. You kept trying to get to me and I kept being uninterested. I was watching our shadows from above and couldn't believe my disinterest. Sure I cared about you but that was like caring for a homeless person. All I wanted a roof over your head. 

You: "Why are you doing all this for me?"
Me: "Because I care."

See that's the problem with people like me. We care. About the most undeserving, insignificant people in the world. We can't watch suffering by the sidelines. We need to act.
When my boy came over to check on me, I hugged him, kissed him and you were left staring at the dust around us. You tried so hard all dream long to break us apart but I was so firm - it makes me gleam with pride in retrospect. When he left, I was on the phone with him. It irritated you enough to snatch it away and mock me and threaten me with unrealistic sermons. And still I beared with you. I put up with you to see you safe. I even called that slut from your past just to know there'd be someone to see you through the night.
Something in me still sinks. And I love you but that's love like I'd love a stray pup on the street. I don't want the pup dead but I can't bring it home either. I like to comfort him and give him the affection he so desperately craves but I can't get too close as he might bite. For he is stray. And I have a home to get to. A home he would infect and contaminate.
You're the stray in my story now. From superman to starlitlover to manslut to this. How far we've come. And how glad I am to be here.
I've finally stopped the train. I've come home again.

What makes us, 'Us' ?

There's nothing to it really.

A few exchanged glances, an innate read of the other's thoughts and an omnipresent desire to see a hint of that smile on your face. Yes, I think that smile is what brought us here.
Back when we just got to know each other for you see I take time to know people, really know them that is, I'd see the pain you'd shoulder and the brave front you'd put up for everyone around you as if impervious to emotions. Childhood problem, I'd think to myself. But as I grew to relate to the enigma that is you, I couldn't help but fall in love.

So complexly woven and yet so simple. I worry you couldn't hurt a fly if you wanted to. Unless well the fly did something to offend me. Then you'd chop its wings and torture it to its last, painful breath. For you see I bring out that in you. That severity of emotion which you'd detached yourself from - or perhaps never even had in you.

What makes us, 'Us' is the look we share over every insignificant detail - watching a show, a movie. When a song plays and it instantly reminds one of the other. When you get that glint in my eye when a cheapass B-grade hindi song plays. When you smile at the way my face lights up at the sheer mention of food. When I find you lost in thought and say, "What?" to bring you back to planet earth. When I think of you at the start of the day. And the end of the day - whether good or bad. When you absolutely must know what's happening in my life - the lack of which makes me hyperventilate and restless. That's what makes us, 'Us'.

But that's not all obviously. The lifelong understanding of the irrational puzzle that I am and the understanding of the steady yet distant tide you can be. The knowledge that no matter what - we'll always have each other. That together, we can fight all odds. That this connection probably dates back to a previous lifetime or era for we haven't possibly spent enough time together in this one to be what we are.

We are us because you make me who I am.
For that and much else, I love you.
Happy New Year.
All I wish for is that this year and the years to come keep us together for with you I can brave the coldest winter and without you even summer would turn gloomy and foggy.