Angels & Needles

The buzzing of the clock tore through the night's silence and with that I finally accepted failure. My lungs were aching for air and I was drenched in sweat. After more then 7 hours of tossing and turning on the bed I finally quit. When you are dead tired the elixir of sleep comes really slowly. Add to that my present condition and you have an extreme case of insomnia in your hands.

'Some nights would be difficult. Really painful.'

I sat up and tried to steady my spinning head. My mouth felt dry & rough as a sandpaper. I gulped down some shallow breaths and tried rising to my shaking knees. Another failure added to the story of my life. I tried to scream, to curse, to cry the least but my physical exhaustion forced my hands down yet again. The red digits of the clock at my bedside showed it was 3 A.M, but it could've been the middle of a sunny day or a drizzle in the early hours of the evening for all I cared. I just craved for one thing. The only thing that had the power to transform my dingy little apartment into the grounds of heaven.

'Take control my friend. It would tempt you in so many ways. TAKE CONTROL'

I got up from the bed and moved towards the window. As I opened it, the stench of the filth and the humidity of the city hit me like a wall of bricks. My blood-shot eyes had that dazed look in them as I tried to peer through the darkness. The cityline was adorned with bedazzling lights but all I could see was the looming darkness in front of me.

"You will see things you would like to see. Reality becomes a dream and hallucinations the truth."

Another shot of pain rammed down my throat. I fell to my knees as my insides caught fire. I could actually feel by heart getting ready to burst out of my ribcage and my entrails twisting into a new shape. I could feel my skin melting away and the my bones turning to dust. A grasshopper's chirp halfway across the world could reach my ears and I felt the rush of the warm blood rushing towards my head. Bile and vomit rose towards my throat with a blood-curling scream intermingled with the shit. And just as it had started it passed.

"You have the strength to say No."

For a long time I stayed on the floor, infact I lost all sense of time. Only the floor's coldness and my own shaking persona were my companions. I tried to focus on the watch but everything around me was just a blur. Finally I started the crawl toward my desk. Every move I made sent down waves of pain through my body, but I've learnt to live with pain.
It pains when your heart gets broken.
It pains when you see someone else getting everything you deserve.
It pains when you loose the goal you had set out to achieve.
It pains to see the disappointment in the eyes of your loved ones.
It pains each time you insert the needle in your veins.

"Addiction is easy, recovery is not. Some days would just be like straight out of hell. You should throw away all the drugs as your first step."

I somehow managed to plant myself in the seat. I opened the drawer and took out the bottle and a hypodermic needle. I filled it with the clear liquid and rolled up my sleeves. For a second I forgot everything as I saw the numerous puncture wounds on my forearm. Each one of those tiny holes told of a larger story behind them. I closed my eyes and inserted the needle in my vein.

"Call me anytime you want."

My eyes fell on my cell. If only she wasn't 'out of coverage area'. If only I was able to talk to her, nothing would've come this far. My eyes welled up with tears as I realized that due to my weakness, I was loosing the battle we had been fighting for two months.
I still hadn't inserted the plunger, yet.

"You are not alone. I'm not only your counselor, I'm your friend."

The 'ping' brought me back to my own personal hell. I searched for the source and saw my computer was still on. I had forgotten to sign myself out of Gtalk also. It was a message. From MH. 'Hi'.
She was one of my classmates from college. Smart. Beautiful. Elegant. Intelligent. Considerate. And we had hardly ever talked to each other.
We were just acquaintances during all those years. Our conversations were limited to the customary Hellos and Goodbyes. After so many years of disconnect from everyone, her perfunctory greeting seemed like a ghost of the past. The bright, happy, joyous past. The past that killed me each day, little by little. I almost made up my mind to switch off my computer when she again wrote.
'I'm so glad you are online. Will you please talk to me?? I was just going to kill myself.'

"Don't worry friend. Everyone is going through this life, looking for their angels. You will find yours too."

I stared at the screen. At my apartment. At the drug filled needle still sticking into my arm. At the words flashing across the monitor. At the broken pieces of my life.
I took a deep breath to calm my shaking hands and tried to ease out the pain sledgehammering my mind. I took out the needle from my arm and threw it out of the open window. Suddenly, I could make out the lights of the city and the faint glow of rising sun in the backdrop.

"Talking to someone helps. It gives you strength. The will to fight, to survive. Share your pain my friend."

'What happened MH?', I typed back.


-----

Skillet were right. Angels show up in the strangest of places.

Like mine did a week back, at 3 A.M in the night !!! and when I was least expecting it. This one is for ya. :P
AND no, I wasn't doing drugs AND NO she wasn't thinking of killing herself (Amen).. tats why the online's friend's initials are in the reverse.. :D you'll get it 'HM'.

It is also for one of my philosophies... actually Raj Kapoor's or rather Shailendra's to be exact... "Kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nisar...Kisi ka dard mil sake to le udhaar..."

If you want to forget your own pain, be compassionate towards others problem, try to listen to them if not solve them. It works. Trust me. ;)
PEACE till the next.

Love makes the World go... NUTS !!!

People talk about love as if it is something wonderful. In fact most of them (or us or you or maybe me too) don't stop at just that. We make it something wonderful, something so amazing that it is worth more then everything else in life put together.

Every book one reads and every song one hears is all about love, either it's agony or it's ecstasy. It's as if all the people in the world are in a conspiracy to persuade themselves and others to believe that there's a wonderful something just around the corner which they can get if they just try hard enough.

They hypnotize themselves into thinking of nothing else, striving for nothing else but just waiting for that emotion to take control of their lives and take them on a ride where only happiness and joy will engulf their souls.

AND during this they miss all the other splendid things of life.

Naked

His eyes met his own in the reflection.
Deep brown.
He saw his own face peering back. As if pleading to be pulled out from the depths of murky waters.

The smartly cut blue suit with a silk handkerchief in the pocket, the Rolex on his wrist, a nice haircut. Everything contrasted with he rest of his appearance.
Covered with dust and grime. Glitter. White foam. The week old stubble. Dried tears. Blood.

He looked as a sculpture crafted to perfection and then for good measures rubbed in the filth of the world.
The city was alive outside but none of the sounds penetrated the silence in his mind.

Who am I.

He undid his tie and dropped it to the floor. The coat followed the course.
The white shirt had been robbed of it's crispness a long time back. The patch of blood on the left side of his chest had dried a long time ago. His heart should've been there but it had ceased to beat in the past itself.
Slowly he departed with the shirt, the pant and his undergarments. Nude but still not stripped. Not an ounce of weight of the outside world, no expectations from other pulling him down, but he still felt as if lead ran through his veins.

He soaked the scrub in the ice cold water and touched his face to swipe off the make up of the world he has applied throughout his life. The moment it touched the filth of his face all the sadness he had felt engulfed him. All the disappointed faces of his peers brought tears to his eyes. The curses he had earned in his lifetime screamed in his head. Every hate filled face of his companions in the path of life swarmed his mind. Swearing at him. Wishing for his death. Paranoia. Madness.
Was he the devil's angel. The self centered soul of this dimension. Tasked with bringing death, destruction, sadness and grief to all those whose path he has crossed. Was he destined to hurt all of them in the name of showing them the truth?

His hands shook but he kept on scrubbing his body. He had to take the weight of his soul.

The scrub made contact with the foam and suddenly all the hatred of the world inside him changed to happiness. Fun. Laughter. Joy filled his soul. Memories of friends praising him, being grateful to him, being proud of him filled his body. The love he had given and had earned back.
Maybe that was his calling. Being a decent man in an indecent times. Helping others without being asked to. Caring for them. Making them smile through their tears. Being there rock in troubled times.

Suddenly the scrub made contact with the blood. He wasn't ready for this. The silence tightened its grip around him. He could hear the cricket on the other side of the world. The betrayals. The pain. The loves he had lost. The tears. The fragmented pieces of his broken trust entered his soul even further, drawing more blood to his soul. The long heeled scars opened again, sending waves of nausea through him but thankfully didn't started bleeding.
Maybe he was born to struggle. To fight. To fail. To lose.

The scrubbing off of the glitter brought contentment over his aching mind. The applauds, accolades, salutations filled his ears. The moments of glory, achievements and the beaming faces of people danced in front of his eyes.
Maybe he was supposed to reach his goals. Setting up one after the other. Finding contentment in living life on the crest of brilliance and splendour.

He dropped the remains of the scrub on the floor and stared back at the reflection.
Clean. Pure. Without virtues and vices. Naked. Stark naked. The way God wanted him to come to earth.
But wasn't his skin covered with his mother's blood when he had came out of the womb. Maybe God's best laid plans fail too.

He was brown from the sun. Face felt like sandpaper. Taut body and warm blood flowing through his head. But he felt light.

He stared back and suddenly, he found his place.

Moving on

Moving on.

Maybe the greatest and most amazing words created in any language. The remedy to all the world's problem, all the heartache, every bottled up emotion that has been taunting you, choking you down and pushing you deeper into the whirlpool of self doubt.

Last three years have been a fucking roller coaster. I've come to terms with the fact that the Heartthrob in me will always remain. Discovered the path to attain nirvana or getting drunk/high, same difference. Figured out that beneath the mask of a great witted clown resides a charming seducer and deeper still a poison boils under. And finally stopped giving a shit about everyone else.

I've forgiven and forgetten about my two ex-gf's cum best friends. Reduced the number of best friends from a mind blowing 7 to a healthy 3. Cut down on cigi's and vodka (Yes...all the girls who have been breathing down my neck for the past year, find other jobs), and started a MBA where they expect us to give a 100% attendance.

Love has become a forgotten emotion, pity and sympathy have been reserved for the deserving, Friendship still rules while anger has started to raise its ugly head more than I would've wished for. Irrationality and eccentricity are the new mantras to live by and patience and understanding are again thrown out of the window.

I'm on a dating and getting laid spree. Flirting with anything that moves prettily. Pool and Snooker are the new passions.Driving Still relaxes me,inspite of the traffic snarls of my dear old city and have evolved from fiction to more intellectual stuff (Porn stories are still my number 2 most read and always will be).

However, moving on doesn't mean that I'm getting off this ride. I have so much fun on it. It just means am not gonna puke anymore after staying too long on it and won't EVER get on it with a full stomach.

Sorry everyone down below.

3 D's & Yours truly

I fumbled with the matches. Should I or shouldn't I? As I contemplated on the answer to the dilemma I poured another shot of vodka in my glass.

I've forsaken my lungs, my liver is on a downward spiral but the agony of my mind & soul find respite only when my senses are not working at their very best.
For someone who preached that one ought to give proper respect to the Vodkas & the Cigarettes of the world and enjoy them instead of using them to douse the fires within, I admit I've taken the low road myself.

NO. I'm not depressed yet. I'm going through a trough in my life but it's just a phase. I know. After 20 years on the top one has to come down once in a while. Call it the Yin-Yang balance if you want to.
I will not vindicate my position but I'll definitely oppose the idea that I'm turning into an addict and to strenghten that I'll just dissect the special bond I share with the 3D's. Drinks, Drugs & the Deathstick.

I glorify the 3-D's in almost all my posts. The misunderstood 'Three Musketeers' of the real world. I do not miss an opportunity to mention at least one of them in all my conversation and literacy pieces. I won't suggest to anyone to drink or smoke but I'll definitely give them hell who'll try to paint my world in their colours of Black & White. I'm not fascinated by the effects of these substance abuses, actually I consider them as mere props to my character. My fascination with them are intermingled with my attraction towards the Byronic Hero.

The tragic hero of Lord Byron, idealised but flawed. Smart, cunning, magnetic, mysterious yet laced with simple human traits of jealousy, hatred, cynicism, arrogance and the self destructive tendencies makes him not only believable but also attainable. I admit being an X-men (specially Gambit) or Flash would be much more valuable (God help the World Bank then) and interesting (peek-a-boo ladies) but the sense of practically compels meto think more on the line of being the attainable Joker instead of the idealised sugarcandy Superman.
I never wanted to be a Mr. Goody-two-shoes asshole infact the dark black or even grey characters always made me feel connected to their torments. Be it the John Abraham of Jism, Irrfan Khan in Rog, Muzammil in Dhokha or Emraan Hashmi in Awarapan I relate to everyone of them at some level. Infact the New age Dev D seemed more like me didn't come as a surprise out of the closet. I'm definately not suicidal but the idea of finding solace in death intrigues me. I don't have a maniacal-sadistic trait in me but 'the ego' drives me. I'm not the guy whom you'll want to end up in a dark alley with me in a raging mood but I'm the guy whom you would like to turn to when you are down and out and everyone is against you.

The fact is that I'm an idealistic SOB in the end is part of the truth too. I still believe in the simple emotions of love & friendship. I believe in the goodness of others. And to those who lack in compassion, care and love, those who've forgotten all the good things that happened to them, all the times someone was there to hold them and support them when they considered themselves alone, I just have hope in my heart for them. That's me. I'm capable of nothing less then eternal hope.

And I'm full of contradictions. Part of the charatcter.

Till next time. PEACE.

oNE WiLD NighT

Pre-Script: I was drunk as I had originally written this...drunk as in totally wasted...with no sense of time, direction, stairs, person, food or something else for that matter. There might be some mistakes in there but even as I re-edit it am not gonna rectify them...originality matters. And besides what fun it would be if I didn't have a drunk, insanic post in my blog???

31st December 2008/ 1st January 2009

Finally my craving to get drunk and my wish to have a hangover are fulfilled. It's 7 in the fucking morning, 1st January 2009 and pretty chilly. The fog is quite thick right now and I have just driven 20 miles in half conscious state with two of my buddies (actually one is drunk and was asleep the whole time...still is {& remained so late till the afternoon}) acting as my eyes and mind (I couldn't see a bloody thick chain cordoning off the entry of one of the roads and almost drove through ot) with the sounds of Bon Jovi and Linkin Park blaring through the speakers to keep me awake and with prayers in our hearts for the dearth of the traffic cops,to finally have a cup of coffee in the comforts of my own home.

The plan was simple. My home was supposed to be the venue (since my parents are conveniently out of town) and we were supposed to have a house party and get drunk on vodka, GUYS ONLY!! But all plans have a habit to go awry and what good is a man who can't derive the best out of a worst situation. 'We' were just four guys, GK..the man...my blood brother...the closest friend I have. Meena...a school buddy..budding script writer and director. Pawan..the boyfriend of my ex-'s sister..my big bro cum best friend. & finally, yours truly... the brain behind the whole idea...the man with the thousand nicknames and thousand plus one smiles.

The first setback happened in the morning when I ran out of cash. By the time I got to the Bank it was closed and the only thing I could do was to call GK and ask him to get the moolaah. GK had problems of his own by the way. His brother has wiped off his account of all the cash and had left him broke. Still he managed to scrape through somehow.

The second pitfall happened late in the evening when three of us were waiting for Pawan to reach my place and controlling ourselves not to start drinking the pure Smirnoff right away. That's when he called to say that he can't make it cause some dumb asshole of a guy had punctured both the tires of his bike. Instead of loosing hope and playing into the hands of despair, I took command & decided to move the party to Pawan's house. With no cash left in any of our combined pockets and minimum of petrol in the car, I drove the 20 miles to his place in my trusty car with fuckingly best fuel efficiency.

The pain in my head is searing, eyes blood shot and puffy from lack of sleep and the brain. an old has been sword, jaded and rusted. GK is snoring away to glory while Meena is desperately trying to sleep. I have made eggs for myself for this early morning breakfast and am still reading the message my ex- sent me after I had talked and somewhat screamed at her after she had pissed me off.

We planned to go bowling before drinking but here despair outplayed us. The malls were closing just as we reached there, which was surprising cause we had thought this was New Year's Eve and at least malls will be open at least till 12. With slightly dashed hopes but still with some spirit we went back home to our bottles of vodka and the now ice cold chicken and play out the original plan.

Meena broke the seals and I did the honours of pouring out the pegs for everyone. And then Pawan's gf called up and he went out of the room to talk to her. We like good old fashioned guys threw obscenities at him for walking out on us, kept drinking while litting up cigarettes after cigarettes and kept the mood swinging. We recalled our school days and welcomed nostalgia to the group, I proved to GK that he ain't in love, prodded Meena that his love calls me her sweetheart and flirts like anything, I boasted that her cute lil 11th class sister thought I had a sexy voice and then 'she' called.

I had read somewhere that the best cure of a hangover is sprite and tomatoes ( had read on Sia's blog) and something else to do with curd. But with lack of luck I'm out of tomatoes, sprite, curd. lemon, bananas, vegetables, or any kind of food for that matter. I roam around the house to find something to do instead of sleeping, inspite of the weariness and the tiredness am not ready to give rest to my eyes, atleast not yet. My mind keeps acting like a pendulum, swinging this way and that, restless, wishing for something to think about but all thoughts pouring out of mind like water from a hand, unable to concentrate and form a coherent thought.

I had been waiting for my girl to call me and actually didn't expect that my ex- will wish to talk to me when the clock will chime 12. We started talking and wished each other (actually I did, she ain't too keen on the concept of special days...New Years, B'days, Anniversaries etc etc.) and then my special girl called. I hung up and began my struggle with the jammed networks to listen to her sweet voice again. After a struggle of half -an-hour I was finally able to bore through the vodafone-airtel networks and talk to her.

I returned to my medicine after having a brief chat and then my ex- called up again. I listened to her audacious talk, spoke some angry words and put the phone down. And I passed out after 12 minutes. I found out in the morning that my cell had run out of balance, was low on battery and by some godforsaken miracle it was blocked!!!

Still later I found out how I had blabbered to Pawan that what a great and nice guy he really is and am gonna tell his gf not to trouble him much.

The world outside is blue, devoid of the rays of the sun yet there is nothing sad or depressing about the concrete landscape. It is the New Year's first day and the scene gives me the feeling of peace and tranquility. It gives me the sense of hopefulness that everything good will happen for everyone of us.

I messaged my ex- apologising for my behaviour the night before. And

I'm still to message everyone who wished me throughout the last two days (yup people started from 30th).

And now I gotta sleep cause I can't keep my eyes open.

PEACE.

& A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL OF YOU !!!

& we ate a half cooked, ice cold chicken for dinner.

Me, Music, Condoms & Something about my Family

This started when my dear old Dad (yeah right Old... girls fall for him more then they fall for me and my bro...talk about competition at home) said to my mom (she looks more like my older sister...has been mistaken for a college girl in the past...why do I have such Dysfunctional family???)," I don't understand what they are singing but I like what I hear"(it was an Akon song "Mindstate of a Mobster") ,but it was the next line which actually started the thought process,"they are teens,('they' here signifies me and my brother & my dad keeps forgetting we have grown up quite a bit in the last 20 odd years but I give him the benefit of doubt, he was not around when we were growing up, busy at the border and stuff) while I'm not...our tastes are bound to be different." For him the dialogue ended right there but for me it was the initiator.

Everyone, or usually everyone, thinks that being from Generation X-,Y- or Z-( I've no idea I'm part of which by the way & quite frankly don't give a rat's ass) is all about having those wild times,when the adrenaline is pumping high and your mind is just taking a vacation in some irrational, irrelevant place. It is the time of the carefree attitudes and the time when we let go of the rebel in us, do whatever we want, drink the night away, experiment with dope and pot (finally deciding dope is better but more expensive so I ought to stick to my packet a day of cigarettes), have countless love affairs and go out of the way to help a buddy out of a tough situation even when it means we'll become a party to whatever fuck your mate decided to land into (including a freaking police case...man Sush what were you thinking??). We do it all, giving the impression of wasting our lives.

I actually am quite a lucky guy in this respect that I've got understanding parents, who maybe are very simple and innocent that they believe everything I tell them, including a gum that smells of cigi's or are rather onto me knowing every time with whom I'm with or why it is essential for me to take a night time stroll with matches in my pocket. I fear it is the latter and instead of praising my over-smartness I should thank lord for their nature (or maybe for the fact both have been through the same motions, Dad specially...He was a Rockstar in his time, still is actually with his branded suits and cargoes and leather jacket and shirts, a Tissot watch on his wrist, Ray Ban sunglasses and racing antics at the Greater Noida expressway in his Chevrolet SRV...I got one hell of a role model ).
I never had to switch channels when an adult scene played on in a movie. Never I had to justify to my Maa why I had a girlfriend whom I used to bring home and suddenly there is no mention of her. Even when mom found a pack of half open and empty condoms in my almirah she listened to my take that it was just part of a 'dare', laughed out loud (I still got a feeling she knew the truth) and never mentioned it again.

Of course there have been times when my parents had gone through dilemmas of their own and have behaved in purely orthodox fashion but I understand. They are confused whether they should act like modern parents and give us a home where we can talk about virtually anything, from being gay to asking Dad for a drink(I drink with my Dad so sue me...he taught me the difference between scotch and premium whisky and developed my taste for vodka...his thinking goes that now that you know of the evil and are comfortable with me, you'll drink with me where I can keep an eye on you and look out for you or atleast let your better sense prevail & won't get talli...I overheard this... I GOT THE BEST DAD...YEAH I LOVE HIM !!!) or they should teach us the values and tradition that have been installed in them by their parents.
They learn each day how to deal with two vicious monsters in the house, balance modernity and traditionality and in turn show us what parenting is all about (and maybe that's why I have a feeling I'll be a terrific dad... I got two great role models in front of me ).

I know maybe I won't ever get the opportunity to tell them what a great job they are doing and they have actually reared us quite well, have installed the values of love and care in us, made us compassionate and yet at the same time shown us the perils of the world, made us street smart, gave the best possible life that someone like me deserves, listened to my situations, solved the worst of my problems and been there for me (my bro is the good son so I have the duty to keep shaking the lives of my parents to install some excitement in their lives).

And yeah a special mention of my Mama, he is a Gemini like me, cool as a cucumber, got a great sense of humour and one of the most intelligent persons I have met. We are not as close I would like us to be but just so he is very important for me. As my Mom once said about me to my Nani ," Antriksh doesn't care what we'll think but he sure as gives a lot of weightage to whatever Akhil says(my Mama), he kind of worships the ground I walk on (I never knew that it was that obvious !!!) but follows him blindly".

And as for my Music taste, Dad asked for some golden oldies and gazals to be downloaded from the net, which I had already done so, and he said "Now you are developing a taste for some good music".

Yeah right Dad... All thanks to you. (Wait till he hears songs from Zeest, Honey Singh and Linkin Park I have in my collection.

PEACE TILL THEN !!!

Towards Nirvana...with Smirnoff & Rothman

The smoke swirled around his head for some moments before dissolving into the night. He threw away the stub and for the first time in a hour took air into his lungs without the accompanying fumes.

The stale smell of tobacco engulfed him and he could taste the acrylic butt of the cigarette intermingled with the burning aroma of vodka. His insides were on fire but it was the fire within his mind & soul that had forced him to take the cheap course of 'the stick & the drink'.

You will die one day... Your smoking will kill you ...stop doing this to yourself...please...

He was tired of gazing at the stars. He wanted to get up from the cot and go downstairs and sleep in his bed. He wished for a good life, a comfortable life, without much worries, much pain. He wished for so many things. He wished for amnesia. To forget everything and live life afresh. He wished her to come back. He wished his present girl to love him back. He wished for the uncertainty of his existence to go away. He wished for stronger stuff. Something that would choke his lungs with smoke, taking out all the air and leave him gasping for his breath. Something that would burn his throat more effectively and set his insides on fire with a new zeal. Something.. anything to deviate his mind from this feeling of helplessness.

"If only I would've foreseen this and arranged for some dope..."

Please don't ever leave me...even if you would have to fake your love and care just do it...be around me forever... never leave me...

In the end she was the one who left him.

You gave her your best shot but it was not meant to be...accept it and move on...

He lit another stick.

"If only...". He forced his mind not to dwell on this line of thinking. If that would have had happened, he would've been wishing for something else altogether. Human mind always wish for something else, it is never satisfied with what it has in his hands. "How will a person who has nothing left to wish for live??" he mused and abandoned the thought as soon as it was formed.

Everything is written...whatever has to happen will happen...that is inevitable...

He needed more juice in his drink but discarded the thought aside for he wanted a searing pain in his head the next morning. A hangover he desperately craved for but which has evaded him throughout his life. No matter how much alcohol he take, he always woke up the next morning fresh, a little late but without any effects of the night before.

"That would be a welcome change... I'll welcome all the physical pain in this world just to forget this heartache". He poured more rum and whiskey into his glass instead and gulped the cocktail down in one go. It wasn't a warm night and the chilly wind entered his loose shirt and made his body cold, yet he didn't feel a thing. Every drop of the amber coloured liquid sent blazing, warm shivers in his body. Every pore radiated a hotness he had never felt before.

She had come back into his life that morning only. Crying. But he didn't feel a thing. He didn't allow himself to feel a thing. He pitied her, felt sympathetic but that was it. He would've felt the same for anyone else he knew. He didn't feel the same special way as he did before when he was with her.

You have killed the feeling of love in yourself...you don't love her..you don't love your present girl...you don't love anyone...

He recalled the conversation he had with his present girl. Poor baby is herself going through a lean patch,trying to figure out her calling in life.Poor girl.

You don't love me...you think you love me...you want yourself to believe that...

"What would she say??" the image of another girl sprang to his mind. She loved him or at least she said she loved him. A smile started to appear on his dry lips. "Definitely she is gonna go bonkers...dead sure she'll use all the obscenities she knows".Cute. Pity he was always so cruel towards her. Always made her cry even when he didn't want to.

Will you ever say 'I love you too' back to me???

He lighted another cigarette and took in a long drag."Well that's a new personal record, two packs in a hour"

Life was throwing curveballs at him and like everyone in this world he was not backing down. He had no option...No one has any options...Everyone plan and everyone's plans go awry, yet no one learns and they keep following the bloody vicious circle.

"One day my life will slow down and I'll be in total control of it...I'll fucking attain nirvana, will be unaffected by everything...will be more indifferent then I'm today...more cynical...and who knows even figure out happiness"

He threw away the half finished cigarette.

Atleast now he could boast about something to the girl who loved him.

She would be so happy.

Antriksh the Skinner

In the late 18oo's, London was terrified by a serial killer christened Jack the Ripper by the press. The man used to kill prostitutes during the night. The victims were strangled and then their organs removed.

Cut to 2008, New Delhi. Tonight was a night of turmoil for me. At first I decided to curl up in bed and wish to the Almighty that he takes away this godforsaken life.

And that is when Satan approached me and suggested that why not instead of ending this life I put it to some better use and punish those who had made my life hell and are pushing others to the same path of madness??

That is when I decided that I'll don the role of 'The Skinner' who'll skin his victims alive.

I was a happy-go-lucky guy, sane in the head, quite satisfied with his life.

Until I decided to take a brake and watch some prime time television. And my ordeal started.

Mindless Reality shows, Reruns of family feuds on each channel, comedy shows which make me puke instead of laughing, a fuckingly mindless flick 'Blackmail' (I used to like Priyanka Chopra & Ajay Devgan before this) and on whatever is branded as the News channel,"Ek sadak jo khoon mangati hai....jise laal rang pasand hai...jahan maut ka nanga naach hota hai"(A road which asks for blood...which likes red colour....where death dances naked[END QUOTE]...I guess this was the part cause of which even Satan sat up in his warm little 'Hell-pad'...someone says your girlfriend dances naked on the street you sure won't sit away idly will you??), every fucking thing fizzled out my brain and left me in the state I'm.

I've decided that I'll roam the streets at night and when ever I'll find someone who is associated with with these mindless freak shows, I'll make sure that they pay for making me and my fellow human beings watch all of this crap.

Though there is something I can watch when the adrenaline has stopped pumping and am washing away the blood stains from my clothes, Cartoon Network and other Kid channels are worth a timepass...even falling anvils and talking animals make more sense than these family sagas and you can always switch to a sports channel (somewhere around the world someone must be playing something..even a kho-kho match between Bangladesh & Fiji is worth a dekko than the usual horseshit) or Discovery (or its subsidiary viz. History Channel or National Geographic) and learn something about this world and use it to show that dumb lass you've been trying to woo away from your best friend that you are smarter than him. And the music channels,only when singers in skimpy clothes sing or Katrina Kaif comes and shakes her booty(I don't give a damn about the Music..if I wish to hear a good song like a good criminal I'll download it from the net...Piracy Rocks !!!).

Time to go. Just saw an assistant of Ekta Kapoor. Need to sharpen my blade.

Where have the Jokers gone???

The most important of all the senses god bestow upon us is without doubt the Sense of Humour.

You can do away with smell when you are passing through the streets of Mumbai, eyes can always take a hike when flipping through channels(except in the cases when Katrina Kaif is on the screen...obvious exceptions), sense of touching is of no use when you have no one [:)] to touch, as for taste,if you've eaten south Indian once you've eaten it to last a lifetime ( if you've eaten a lot at 'Sagar Ratna' then maybe you'll understand what motions run through my mind and belly at the mere mention of it) and lastly as for the sense that provides us with hearing, well when horns are blaring at you in a Delhi traffic jam you'll wish you were born deaf.

All in all it is the Sense of Humour which don't have any ill effects (except maybe if you laugh at someone else's expense who looks like a cross between Batista and Khali and you are a poor copy of Rey Misterio then my friend you are in a lot of trouble and have all my sympathy with you).

Well my friends and me used to have this in abundance, the ability to laugh at others, make others laugh with us and when it really mattered make everyone laugh at someone we actually didn't liked. My best friend and me were quite a lethal duo in the last department, in fact the only time I was beaten was the one when I had pissed the guy really off and he was almost in tears, twisting and turning my dearest arm while I was laughing out so loud that I couldn't defend myself and my useless Partner-in-Crime was busy rolling on the floor laughing (with the whole class mind ya). Although with hindsight I can preach that laughing at someone else's expense can be quite hilarious provided it is safe (read the Batista-Khali scenario again) and clean but at that time we were the laughing duo, who disrupted the peace of the class and with whom even the class monitor used to laugh when we were suppose to play lambs (which mind ya is quite bewildering, I mean c'mon have you ever been with a bunch of lambs?? They make more racket then a mob of Manchester United fans).

Me and my mates have gone through a lot but always had each other to pass on the worries and laugh at our miseries. We still make fun of others and each other, sometimes even raising doubts over another persons sexual orientation and manliness (cheap jokes...hitting below the belt but we are usually drunk or high,in our defense, so it doesn't matter), even once in a while prove that the other person is pregnant and the fact that the other person is a guy never bothered us (am the only one with biology written as a subject in his HSC certificate but still I keep mum and enjoy the festivities never telling them that it is impossible... or is it??? haven't a guy given birth recently?? I tell you in this world of 'man-playing-god' anything is possible, even me getting a decent percentile in CAT or Kulu getting a job or Gaurav finally figuring out his love life).

Inspite of all the laughter and joy we share something has added up in our life which have changed all of us a lot. From simple carefree guys who used to idle away there time to glory without a thing to worry about in the world suddenly all of us have started trodding on the path of becoming Man. Real men like our fathers with responsibilities, commitment, troubles and problems on our minds (my parents were thinking of marrying me off to thrust some responsibity in me & the only thing that stopped them was my threat that then I'll leave my pesky kids on their door step while me and dearest will be out there earning our chikkan tikka and rumali roti, and trust me after raising me, ma & pa aren't be interested in rearing even 50% of my DNA for half a day). Studying like never before to get into a good college, worrying about the job at hand, going to the office at 7 and returning at 9, calling other pals to ask them whether they can post a resume to a company, screaming 'fucking hell' when the dean has banned their placement, worrying about finances and actually learning what really happens in the share market just to make a lil extra cash we all do it while planning for the life ahead.

The realisation that the era of our 'I-don't-give-a-damn' attitude is over is quite sad but that is reality for you. Reality continues to ruin my life.

And by the way there is a saving grace for me after all.

Bill Watterson said “Life's disappointments are harder to take when you don't know any swear words.” Thankfully I learnt a lot of them during my course of life.

I'm a simple man in the end.

Although yesterday I wished for a nuclear powered car that could turn into a jet with laser-guided heat-seeking missiles yet I'm a simple man.

I just got complex tastes.

Tenses

Past, Present and Future. The main three tenses of the English language. And the three states which prevail in everyones life, all interconnected and each and every one of us struggling to make peace with at least one of them.

Some of us are worried about our future, struggling with the unknown, scared of the uncertainties, and living each day to figure out what next life might throw back at us.

And then there are the ones coping with the past, the unnerving fight to make amends with everything that has happened, trying to tidy up the mess that was created by them and struggling to put the pain behind them.

The 'present strugglers' are fighting to live happily or to them just being alive will suffice. They are the ones who have accepted that they can't change the past and have no hope for the future so the only priority they have got to live the present moment and add it to there kitty of 'things-that-worked-out-in-the-past'.

There are one another type of strugglers too in this world and actually these are the ones who hold the majority. The 'All of the above' group and I know about this one with all the details because I'm a part of this godforsaken community.

The most misunderstood of them all, me for starters trust people, the ultimate sin of them all by what I've heard, some think the most major mistake I make is that I believe in the goodness of others and where there is no chance of any good coming out, I just hope.

I never signed up to be hurt but I did and from some of the most unexpected quarters, People who used to say I was very important to them forsook me and worst of it all I forgave each and every one of them, took in the pain and tried to put it in the basement and threw away the key. I tried my level best to be understanding and follow the codes of civility but to no avail. I still remained the bad guy in there books and I'll always remain that,I have accepted this.

But alas these are the moments, when everything just starts to settle down, it is when the most strongest and opportunistic of them all, strikes back as if it has been waiting for all this time just to catch you off guard. The past comes rushing by with his sword of memories and arrows of deja vu and this is the time when the actual struggle begins.

The smallest of words, the simplest of gestures, the most melodious songs, and sometimes people, places all conspire against you (unwittingly) and bring back all the moments you were trying to forget. The most delightful of conversations with friends causes you to reach for the phone and pour out your sadness to someone who you believe (and hope) cares. The most unintentional reactions of someone brings all the anger within you to the surface.

And then there are his siblings Present & Future both of them just as unforgiving. The strikes of the future are compounded by the aid lent by the Present.

But what is the reason of all these struggles? To make our future more brighter or to improve all the decisions we have already taken?

Of what I've learnt is that this is not a fight and definitely not a struggle. this is simply a pursuit. A Pursuit of Happiness and Peace. This is life. To learn from everything that has happened to us, to make sure we do not do it again in our present and hence totally rule out the chance of finding us in the same situation in the future. The three tenses Past, Present & Future are not the devils of our lives, they are just what you think of them to be. They can be your nemesis and at the same time they can be your best friends. Its you who have to decide what they are going to end up like.

As for me, if you are wondering that maybe from all the bad experiences I have stopped hoping, stop believing and thrown trust out of the window you can't be more wrong. I was always an optimistic and guess will always remain one. I'm capable of nothing less than eternal hope.

Its just that I've learnt to make walls around my basement.Works fine for me against the dirty little tricks the Past plays.

Let me know what works for you.

Good Night Mr. Crichton

Today is the 6th of November 2008.

A Thursday. The 4th day of the week. And the day I found out Michael Crichton died of cancer at the age of 66.

Mr. Crichton was not considered as a literacy giant by many in spite of his best selling works and in these times of fast pace not everyone thinks about the person who conceptualized dinosaurs walking in our present times or how an alien virus wipes out an entire community. From taking up air industry in 'Airframe' to dealing with global warming in 'State of Fear' all of his novels dealt with technology going awry and resulting in worst case scenarios.

But I feel the lost of this man not because now I will be deprived of his great techno thrillers or the world has lost the maker of 'ER', my loss runs deeper than that.

A strong believer of 'Indirect Reasons', Whatever I can flaunt in Intelligentsia is all due to my reading habits. All the useless piece of information cluttered in my brain or whatever knowledge I can present to this world to make my Mom and Dad proud of me is all due to this one good habit I picked up along the way in this course of life,I read.

And I'm indebted to this man for it.

I was 9 years old when out of sheer boredom I picked up 'Sphere' and discovered the world where imagination runs wilder then wild and ideas are presented in the most thought provoking manner. I finished it and fell in love with books (an affair which is still getting stronger and stronger with time) although with hindsight I can safely say it was not his best of work yet I still remember the excitement when I read the turning point of the novel,Jerry is Harry (incidentally a film was made on this starring Michael Douglas, Samuel L Jackson and Sharon Stone). I immediately started on the widely known 'The Lost World' and with that to the delight of my mother and my Nani(maternal grandmother) I got enlisted in there gang of Novel Readers.

With time I rose up in the ranks, I moved on to Jeffery Archer, discovered Clive Cussler, read and became a die hard fan of Alistair MacLean, laughed my worries away in the world of P.G Wodehouse, like all readers of my generations got excited about Harry Potter saga courtesy Mrs. J.K Rowling and found out the Indian wine of Munshi Premchand & Khushwant Singh. Arthur Hailey, Albert Camus, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Paulo Coelho, John Grisham,H Hawksey, David Baldacci, H.G Wells, Fredreick Forsyth, Robert Ludlum the list of my affairs in matters of books goes on and on because of these masters who presented yours truly with things filled with such excitement, whom I can love again and again and every time with a new zeal. But every time when I have to tell someone my favourite author,the name of Michael Crichton springs to my mind. He is like the first love whom everyone says you can't ever forget.

It is not the fast paced action or the adrenaline pumping scenarios nor is the intricate details of Industries, Machines, Processes which made him different from others but it was his theories,his ideas, his views which he presented in his works like on Chaos Theory,making it the backbone of all 'Ian Malcom conversations' in 'Jurassic Park' or the way he presented the idea of global warming and climate change in 'State of Fear' or ethics of genetics in 'Next'. His views and ideas were considered as controversial but to me they gave the much needed food for my mind, presented me with a new way to think about the world and make up my own viewpoint.

I never wrote a fan mail to the guy and never knew about his life or read his biography for that matter, but to me he was more than just a name on the cover of a book, for me he was the guy who showed me the path and actually made me what I'm today.

To you Mr. Crichton from one of the many fans you have around the world.

Goodbye and Thank you.

Revised & Revived

Since when did my life become a canvas of colours??? Rather than painted it is splattered on the poor surface.

I know this is the time of Modern and Abstract arts but call me old-fashioned or anything, I’m an old timer. Call it my tendency of resisting change or my stubborn attitude, I’ll rather have a Sistine Chapel or a Mona Lisa on MY canvas rather than whatever today is considered as ART.

So many of emotions, so many of after and before effects have made themselves comfortable in my life for my comfort. Sometimes I wonder whether my Life was always this complex or this is a new phenomenon showing its effects known? Whether my life was always this simple or that I’ve removed my Rose-tinted sunglasses?

From Love, Pity, Anger, Rage, Sadness, Amazement, Acceptance, Denial I’ve gone through it all in this past months.
Whatever might be happening or has already happened in this phase of my life, I’ve learnt a lot, Found out about people and now am in the position to add one another Hero in my ‘Batman-Superman-Phantom’ cliché.

And this is just one of my minor steps to take the control of my life back into my own hands.

The Revival of ‘SPACE-O-NOMICS’.

Applause anyone???

The Way I am...

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The Gray Side

And the end credits started to roll...


I was smiling from ear to ear on such a awesome piece of roller-coaster ride and my brother next to me was also quite pleased with this piece from the joint production of Disney and Jerry Bruckhemer and the mind of Gore Verbnski...

If you still haven't gotten what piece i'm talking about,well then i guess you are one of the rare people left on this planet untouched by the movie franchaise "Pirates of the Caribbean".

But this is not a film review of that...(though i'm tempted and who knows maybe write about it too!!).
It is about one thing in it which triggered my thought process...


Pirates here were potrayed as 'The Good Guys'(inspite of their sticking to their backstabbing) while The Protector of the Seas(who else the The East India Company) were left planning their downfall.
Both the soldiers and the pirates parished in this fight but in the end it was the Company's ship that was wrecked and its soldiers who had to abandon ship.



So does that mean that we have actually started treating "BAD" as the new 'in' thing??(after all films just show what we wanna see..)

and its not only about something shown in the 'Pirates'

Spiderman-3 also showed the dark side having an upper hand.(tats another story tat Mr. Parker came to his senses in the end but hey thats a superhero flick...good is supposed to triumph in the end)

or come closer to home...'Shootout at Lokhandwala' potrayed the gangsters as such a RockStars...and if i remember correctly most of our indi pics made up on them do...(should i even start saying the names??)

some will argue that i'm basing everything upon just some imaginary pieces.
Well then i'll say these pics maybe based upon someones imagination but the fact remains that,as far as my practicality says, he made these because he thought the audience is gonna like it,he poured money in because his business sense said that the people outside are gonna pour their money to see it.
It is our mindstate.

Ohkay lets for sometime forget the testbooks and then the most quotes you'll hear (with the word 'good' in it) are...
"good guy never wins"
or "being good never pays"
or somethings like that...call it as a result of our social-political scenario but the truth is this sort of feeling has come into our minds.
Everyone sternly believes that being good never pays off and is the hardest of the paths to follow.


strangely i'm a strong supporter of this type of thinking...

however there is another saying which i abide by more.
"Good is only a way of seeing things"
What might be good for you doesn't necessarily means might be good for others.
So goodness and badness automatically becomes just perspectives,which change for different people.

The good people out their might(and i've a feeling they will) protest but let me make this very clear that i'm not talking in the context of anything evil but just plain old 'Bad'...
both of which are different for me...

While killing,looting,rapes and even bribery are evil deeds for me...
being a little somewhat selfish,egoistic and maybe yeah opportunistic too broadly defines 'Bad' for me...

Even being manipulative, i consider as bad, but only when i feel i'm using my friends to fulfill my job.
while at the same time one of my friend tried to reassure me(he is one of the one,who i feel i use most so i told him very apologetically) by saying "...this is not called using,this is called seeking help from who is the sweetest pal of yours" but still i'm not satisfied with that answer.

Oh but yeah i do agree these pangs of guilt only surfaces when i'm asking my friends to do something...
If there is someone whom i hardly know or whom i do not consider a friend i'm quite sure i'll be at my manipulative best without a feeling of remorse...

and its not only me... most of my friends agree that they can't claim themselves to be good because they also do have vices...vices which can't be ignored and truly takes them out of the contention to be called Good...

So do you consider that as bad???
Well i don't...
I don't because of the simple fact that i expect myself to be human and i do believe that humans are not good or bad,not white or black but we trod on somewhat of a grey area...
We will try to achieve our goals ruthlessly but will show compassion and caring too...
maybe trod on others feet but surely extend a hand in the times of troubles and maybe that is what being human is all about...
not being bad or good,sinister or benign,evil or righteous but just walking on the edge.

Maybe thats why earth is considered to be between hell and heaven...
And humans between Angels and Demon...

Oh and as i started this with a little something from films,
I must make one last point, all of these films might've shown the Bad side having an upper hand but it was the 'Good' which won in the end.

except in pirates but hey theres was a different kind of good in it...

and Company's plotters were upto doing everything bad.

so even our filmakers know that inspite of our colours being grey,its the whiteness which is dominant over the black colour...

SIMPLY SINGLE !!

Never in my wildest imagination i had thought one day i would be writing or rather explaining my single status...
but as it is with life sometimes,somethings crop up and even the most hard line stances are needed to be softend.

Usually,i wouldn't have cared to give this topic much of my thinking time if not in a span of three days, my three different friends wouldn't have wondered aloud on me being still single.
The reason for their amazement is that they consider me to be quite a nice guy,with a good sense of humour,a great personality and being someone for whom many more other attractive nouns can be used,simply put a guy every girl would be happy to be with.

I wholeheartedly agreed with everything they said (who wouldn't???) but just couldn't answer the "WHY ????"

I guess that there can be numerous reasons and explanations for this-abstract,practical,simple,complex...
but i just couldn't think of any at that time.
and still can't because i've never mused much on me not having that 'special someone'.

but now i guess i must rake my brains and maybe try to solve this dilemma of theirs(i still think i'm wasting both yours and my time but maybe after this i'll have something to say if someone else wondered aloud in the future)

Yeah i'm single ! ! and have maintained the 'status quo' almost my whole life.
I do have many friends from the opposite sex and they do outnumber my male-friends by a ratio of two is to one, but that special one is not there.
I would be lieing if i said i wouldn't like to find her but its just that i'm not looking passionately enough for her,its more like a passing search.

There are two reasons for that- first and formost, i don't get the time.
In juggling my family and friends,my hobbies and studies,my social life and my obligations, i don't get any time so that i can look for her.
And the girls i do like (and so find by pure chance and luck...) become friends,but that is another story(and the main idea behind one of my theory of "Friendly Practical Love"...watch this space and you'll soon find it published here.)

Second,and this i feel is the most important,i haven't got the faintest idea what i'm looking for???
There is no 'dream woman' who dwells in my imagination(barring Jessica Alba).
For me, there is no such thing called a soulmate or love.
There is no one called a perfect person.
I'm not perfect and so if i myself would become shallow and strive for perfection i would be an hypocrite !!
I believe that the only thing there is,is compatibility. A relationship moves upon sacrifice(???),understanding,and commitment.
Both the partners really needs to work hard to make it successful.

And there is another problem(this some of my friends have told me at various junctions of my life)
MY IMAGE ! !
I'm told that inspite of me being so nice i don't send the right kind of signals.
I don't seem to be a sentimental person(huh??),someone who takes any thing seriously.
I seem like a guy who won't stick to one girl and someone who just won't be able to handle a relationship.

I can blame my extrovert nature and my happy-go-lucky attitude towards life for this but quite frankly i don't(maybe i should blame my outgoing nature due to which i had minimum of three new crushes each day and me telling everyone that "ya !! i like her").
I don't because that was what i had intended to do all along.
I chose to be this because i wanted it to be like that.
I show maturity when one of my friend is in trouble or when i'm lending a helping hand or when the time comes, but most of the time i'm cracking jokes and always trying to bring a smile or a chuckle on the others persons face(and i do feel i usually succeed).so most of the time my serious side remains tucked in for my personal use only and not to show to others.
If to get a girlfriend means sacrificing all this,sacrificing what i'm then iguess i'm lucky i don't have that.
if i'm supposed to find someone, she should be ready to take me as i'm,as i'm ready to take her with all her virtues and vices.

As for the "seriousness" part, i don't believe that i should (or can) become serious for the innumerable number of crushes i have.
I'll get serious one day, but that would be the day when i would really be in a relationship, when the girl would be serious for me.

On an ending note i would just like to present a piece of conversation i had with one of my closest and greatest pals,sometimes back.i present this because i feel like it sums up my thoughts pretty nicely and accurately...
"The problem with all of the guys in our group is",he said," is simply that,that they have carved a prestige issue out of it and it is not just the guys in our group,the same thing holds true for 95% of guys we know"
"They think that now we are in college,but still we don't have a girlfriend...our life sucks"
"While you and me are from the small saner lot...we are noe adversed by the idea of not having a girlfriend but frankally we take it in our stride. We are easy living our life...we try to woo but if we don't succeed even then its all right...we'll take it with a pinch of salt and move on towards newer pastures...if we get a girlfriend fine and if don't....well ok we'll be still living and rocking"
Amen to that...
I don't know about you...
but now i think..

GIRLFRIEND OR NO GIRLFRIEND... I'M STILL HAPPY !!!!
and i guess that is what matters the most....

don't you????

What Bullshit !!!!!

This was completely unplanned(n actually unexpected)...call it as a decision out of the blue...and a dumb decision u may add(atleast i do)
I never did expect that the judiciary of "Out Great Nation" could get so low minded (after all u need to have good qualifications to become a Hon'ble Judge) but i guess our lawmakers are hell bent to prove my beliefs wrong.

Before u start thinking that this is all about The Supreme Courts verdict to issue a stay on the Quota issue,this has nothing to do with it(and since we are at it let me make it clear, i support the Courts decision).

What actually has touched a nerve of mine is The Delhi High Courts decision to quash a rape charge against an accused after he proposed to marry the victim and the real shocker was that the victim AGREED !!!!

In a country where a woman is raped every 29 minutes,in whose capital the same statistics holds true for 24 hours, this new directive will do nothing but give the accused a big loophole(loophole looks like a main road to me...) to get out of the way of punishment.

but now the real question arises who is to blame???

The Victim???
Ok, she agreed to the marriage but come on how can we blame her??? We live in such a Modern Country where the final solution to each n every problem is marriage.
In a society which pokes fun at the victim and her family,talks in whispers behind them and in front of them.Where the girl and her family is ridiculed and are made butt of their sick sense of humour.Where they are subjected to an immense mental torture which is unimaginable.
So the only option left for the girl and her family is to save as much face as they can.
Even the victim is overtaken by shame,guilt and the anxiety about 'who will marry me'.

The Court and the Law Enforcers???(with a conviction rate of 4-12% they can be easily made the scrapgoat.)
NO again.
They are to blame but not entirely....
Because most of the times they are told to do their job with both hands tied behind there back.

The major fault lies with us...
With our Society
With our typical conservative mindset.
Where Marriage is the ultimate solution to all of life's problems.
In the western countries if a woman does undergo such a tragedy the society there supports her not like here where she can't even get out of her home with dignity.
What we should learn is not to forget the tragedy but we should let the girl live her life as normally as possible.
We should let her achieve her goals and let her live JUST THE WAY SHE WANTS...

What the Court should have done was to help build up this mindset instead of quashing cases.
They should taken into account the fact that such marriages are disastrous and are marked by violence.They should have realised that no person can live with someone who has caused so much psychological and physical damage.That the accused will in no way support her in any way.
And what is the gurantee that he will not rape her after marriage???

but just when i think all hope is lost there does come a ray of light in the form of the resilience shown by the victim and her family,the whole hearted support of all the people from all walks of life and the judgement that followed in the Priyadarshani Matoo Rape case or Shanti Mukund Hospital Rape case.

There is still some hope left for us....