Wednesday, August 6, 2008


I had stood at the confluence of two rivers a lot of times...compelled by the beauty and a feeling of togetherness….Mesmerizing…I had wished to lose myself in someone like the rivers…in the same way a river loses itself into another….After a point one cannot distinguish between the two and tell which is which…I stood spending hours catching the view of the water mingling into each other’s arm…there I stood and yearned…No, the rivers did not ask me to get a grip on it and move on….The yearning did…

These days the rain even hits a transparent glass cage around me and goes down...A cage I created out of the storms that passed mee and fires that smoldered in…And as I trip up the world in this fake invisible space suit, attracting the ridiculous mockery of the crowd around, I constantly keep seeking for that one eye, which will see the cage and open it…free me forever to let the rain drops fall on my face again…I cannot open this cage...I cannot even touch it nor touch anything outside…The only comfort being that it protects me – saves me – forever from the outside force...But you know what? I'd give it up forever to touch you.

And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything is made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am.

These lines are not written by mee…I read it somewhere…it speaks my mind and it says all that I ever wanted to say…

Sunday, July 13, 2008

widows of vrindavan

In many conservative Indian Hindu families, widows are turned away from the house because they’re considered as bringing bad luck. They are even blamed for their husband’s death by the superstitious relatives. The widows are regarded as a liability with no social standing, an unwanted mouth to feed. Often they’re thrown out of the family. Vrindavan, a holy city of Hindus is regarded as the city of widows. One destination where these grief-stricken women would find solace... Dharmashastra, the sacred legal text of the Hindus, states that one the husband dies the wife will have to spend the rest of her life in memory of her husband sacrificing every desire of well being. She will have to renounce life’s luxuries and withdraw herself from the society. There was once the practice of “sati” where the widow was burnt alive on the dead husband’s funeral pyre. The practice is now outlawed.




























A large group of related gather to smash the bangles, wipe off the vermillion and shave the hair of the little girl who just lost her old husband. The child does not even feel the grief. She would then be forced to wear white saris and eat once in a day. The Hindu widows are often removed from their families and children – abandoned in a widow ashram in Vrindavan.
The loss of a husband for these women becomes an upheaval beyond belief. It’s a way to isolation, poverty and despair. For thousands of women it is a journey towards the eternal truth - to a town considered divine in India called Vrindavan.
The widows in Vrindavan today are found on the streets, in ashrams and other centers of the city. Vrindavan has over 4,000 temples today and many ashrams. The approximate number of widows living in the holy city today numbers over 20,000.
The latest national census counts widows living in locations across India reach millions. The largest number of widows is currently found in Vrindavan.
Conditions in most of these ashrams of Vrindavan are dreadful. From sexual use to trafficking of younger widows occur here regularly. At Mathura ashram in Vrindavan conditions are grave. The widows, dumped by their family on the death of their husbands, have no resources of their own.

















































































































































There appear no chance for education, no protection from possible rape and no hope for a better life. They face situations of hunger, starvation and negligence as they try to survive with only one small plate of food a day. Some of the ashrams today are also scattered with diseases like tuberculosis, dysentery and STDs. Most often, in the poorest ashrams medical help is virtually non-existent.
“I came here with nothing. Even on the train, I had to sit on the floor and not on a bench,” said widow, who came to Vrindavan as a widow at the age of 33. “I had to sit by the toilet and slept under the bench on the floor. Since I came, I have never returned home. This is my only home now.”
Very little, which is close to no-help, has so far arrived from the government. Few of the NGOs work independently for the betterment of the conditions of the widows in Vrindavan. Women activists like Dr. Giri and the Guild of Service have brought forward the need of proper health care for these mistreated women.






















Wednesday, June 25, 2008

a true story......

there was this little girl who lived happily with her mom and dad....a day came when a beautiful lady walked into their house....she was much elder to her and much younger to her parents....the girl called her mashimoni as she was a friend of the girl's aunt....mashimoni soon became a great friend of the girl....

she started taking her out for children's movies, circus shows, zoo etc etc...the girl got very attached to the lady....so did the lady to the girl....the girl wud often stay with this lady at her house and vice versa...
one day when this girl woke up in the middle of the night....to her horror she found her mom sitting outside the house and crying....she did not knw what to say....she had always seen her mom the most chirpy and happy lady....she slowly got back to her bed without even letting her mom realize tht someone has seen her...

days passed by...the girl wud find her mom upset most of the time...she wud often sob and not take her dinner.....the girl was too small to understand what was going on in the house then....

she kept silent and did not talk about it to anyone....
one day she found her parents fighting...soon it became a regular affair at her home....often she would hear loud noise, abusive words and cry of her mom....she wud take a book, sit in the corner of her room and read loudly so that the noise does not reach her....

durga puja arrived....the much awaited festival of the bengalis....the girl waited for happiness to fly into their house....she went to shop with her parents and mashimoni....they shopped...her mom was smiling all the time...they shopped for everyone....grandparents...younger people....the mashimoni....the girl bought one beautiful dress....her mom bought a south indian silk....they bought the masimoni a lovely churidaar....they ate in a chinese restaurant before heading home....

the girl was very tired and was dying to hit the bed....soon she fell asleep....after sometime loud noises woke her up...to her horror she found her parents were fighting again....she slowly got down from the bed...and went close to her parent's room....pressing her ear on the door she heard her mom question her dad....you did not tell mee that you bought her another piece of cloth...i didnt bother to...was what the dad replied....

the girl did not knw what to do...she cried through the night...the durga puja was pale and mundane....she began going to school after the puja...she wud not speak to her friends...she became very quiet....

after a month it was the time for diwali...a diwali the girl wud never forget....every diwali she wud go out with her dad to the para pujo pandal....she was scared of crackers....and wud dare not go out on the street alone....

this diwali was different...she was waiting for her dad to come back from work....she was dressed in new clothes...it was getting late...and her dad had not come yet.... she was crying...and complaining to her mom....her mom was silent....

she fell asleep after crying a lot....her dad came when it was late...the sound of the calling bell woke her up...she jumped down from her bed and rushed to the door....before she reached she heard her mom question her dad where he was...he said plainly he was out with sampa.....it the name of the masimoni....they had gone out for pandal hopping across kolkata....

the coldness in her dad's voice is something the girl can never forget....

she has grown up now....the masimoni has got married long time back....she became blind while giving birth to her child.....her parents stay together....happily or not the girl does not knw....

she is trying to forgive her dad for what he did.....most of the time she fails to do so....