Monday, 30 September 2013

A promise.

Right after my Class 10 board results came out, I considered myself Invincible. Till 10 I had no dream, no aim, all I knew was that I had to do brilliant in my boards. Period.
But then I realized how good I felt when I helped people, gave them advice, offered someone a seat and thus evolved my very first dream. I realized I had only one ambition,
“Break into the top ten universities of the world for my college studies, pass out, finish my education and someday fulfill my dream of helping people by writing, social work, etc.”
Funny as it may sound never bothered about money.
But then “shit” happened.
It’s been almost two years since and boy let me tell you all nothing’s the same. In fact, these days I don’t even recognize myself. Let’s see what happened shall we?
My list of failures…
1                I believed myself invincible remember? Yet the very first jolt my ego received was when I did really bad in a mock sat test. Yet I kept proclaiming stuff like I will bang a 2400 and shit. It’s funny when I look back and realize how foolish I was.
2                    I did badly in my terminals. Very bad.
3                  I remember my mom taking me to a psychologist to determine my best career option. She wants me to become an engineer and she is dead set against me going abroad. My psychologist took me to a room and told me to run away from my mother. She was my anchor. She asked me to work hard for my dreams and told me that one day I will achieve great things. I got even more determined. I enrolled myself with Sports Association of India to boost up my extra curricular. Yet I left because I didn’t have time nor the energy.
                 Near the month of December I had a spat with a senior I respected and we fell out. What happened is kind of a long story but the end story is he kind of wrote a long status in Facebook and abused me and stuff. I’ve never let such stuff bother me yet, this hurt. More so because I looked up to him. I wanted to prove him and everyone else wrong. So I promised myself that I would win the year’s best athlete trophy and shut all of them up. FTR I’ve never previously won it. Ever since I participated in athletics I’ve always come second best. Always. And this year was the same. I came second again. And I was devastated.
5                  By this time I’d already started retreating into this shell. I kept away from friends, hardly met anyone, you get the gist. Yet, I suddenly had an idea of a campaign called Raise a Voice. It was supposed to be a fair where people would come and donate for charity. I drew up the brochures, recruited people and my dream was almost a reality. But then my mother and a teacher mentally barricaded me, ridiculed my idea, destroyed it. I told everyone RAV has been postponed yet I knew it would never happen again. You won’t understand how bad it felt, it was almost equivalent of my baby. And the worst thing was I knew I failed because I chickened out.
6                   Class 12 started. And I was denied my sports captain badge. You all have no idea how much I wanted it. It’s all I’ve been dreaming of since I joined my school team. This just crippled me more so because I deserved it. And then I heard that the senior who I had a spat with in 11? He had something to do with it. I started hating my school. I despised it. I kept missing school. I couldn’t tolerate it anymore.
7                    I broke my right hand. I had to do a surgery. It cost 1.5 lakhs. I remember when I first heard the news that I was going to have a surgery I just cried.
8                    I knew that my ISC dream was my only ticket to abroad. So I studied. I really did. But I did miserably again in my first terminals. And this just affected me so much I almost couldn’t start studying again. Still can’t. By this time I had failed so many times at so many things that I just didn’t believe I could ever do something worthwhile. I retreated into my shell further. By this time I hardly considered anyone my friend.
9                    I left football. Since 8 it was the only constant in my life. I left it because after I returned, you know, after the surgery, I played shit. It was almost as if I had forgotten how to play. The last match I played in, was so bad that I knew I just had to quit. 
Just know that tons of other stuff has happened and like I already said I’m changed. These days I keep making promises like from tomorrow I will start studying yet I just can’t. It’s almost as if I have no zeal left. None. I don’t tell people stuff because I know they won’t understand.
Then why this post?
Because in these two years, the thing which gave me solace and peace was this blog. I wrote whenever I was sad.  You all have no idea how happy I was when I got my first email. It remained my only achievement when everything around me was falling apart. This post is just a confession. That I am done. I can’t write anymore. I don’t know if my blog has inspired anyone or not. I don’t know if I was able to make a difference. But know that I tried my best. None of the stuff I’ve written is a lie. It’s just the complete truth. And so here’s one truth that you must know. I don’t have enough inspiration left in me to inspire others. I am no MalalaYousafzai or Sunitha Krishnan. There is nothing inspirational about me. A person who is so dejected and broken can’t inspire others. So this post is a promise…
That I will get my life back. I will get my zeal, my inspiration back. I will change myself and achieve my dream. The day that I do, I will be back. That’s my promise to you, to my readers and to anyone who might be crazy enough to look up to me. Doesn’t matter how long it takes, but I will give my best and this post will be my constant reminder. Thank you everyone for your views, comments and emails. I will be back. Someday when I am back to my old self and I would have achieved my dreams. Thank you again.
Till then keep making a difference. The world needs you.

Sunday, 23 June 2013

And then my make believe world shatters....

This would be a random-y post. Short, precise and to the point. My exams are too darn close and this is the best I could come up with.

Incident 1- Jiah Khan dies.
One sudden day, I see a status which says...
"RIP Jiah Khan. I will miss your B******."
Please NOTE and IGNORE the last word. It forms the most vital part of our discussion.
All of a sudden it starts raining comments. Seemingly "pure and clean" souls, scolds the person and asks him how could he speak such words. And the person (lets call him X) retorts back and defends himself. The conversation takes a drastic turn and funnily enough turns out that the person who was scolding "X" is one the biggest flirts around. Never respects them. Does unspeakable things. You get the gist. Suddenly everyone's fury turns towards him. Everyone forgets about X.

Lesson-Tell you what I will stand behind X any day of the year because you see he might have said something vulgar about a dead woman, but atleast he laid it out straight. There are two kinds of people out there. The one who cares and the one who doesn't. So if you don't care don't pretend to care. Don't. Doesn't matter what people will say. Stick to what you believe in. Doesn't matter whether you are right or wrong. The world already has enough imposters. Please don't join the line for God's sake.
And please for Heaven's sake don't upload mighty statuses about people you hardly know. Thank you.

Incident 2-Save the young. They are the future. The old doesn't matter.
Just last day I had my maths tuition. My mom was chatting with my tutor and he was telling her that he once had a student who was now an army officer. A few days back they had a talk and the student(lets call him Y) told him that he has been posted in a rescue camp in Uttarakhand. "Y" was under strict orders to save whatever number of people he could. The young were to be given preference. Apparently they are the country's future and hence they are more important than the OLD and aged people who would die soon ANYWAY. "Y" told sir that the newspapers are lying. The real death toll is more than 10000. Even more than that. They were ordered not to retrieve any bodies because they knew that the strong current would wash THEM away.

Lesson-Does this even require a lesson?
^^This is what humanity has come to. No empathy. No sympathy. Survival of the fittest.

Incident 3-Rituparno Ghosh dies.
Like the Jiah Khan incident, everyone started uploading statuses on facebook like, "RIP Rituparno Ghosh.", "You were a legend, Rituparno Ghosh.", etc. To be honest I was really happy to see this. But then I told a friend of mine, "Man Rituparno Ghosh died".
You know what his response was?
"Who? That Gay dude?"

Lesson-Refer to lesson 1 please.

And that's all. Read this and be amazed. Today I see extraordinary people doing extraordinary deeds and then I see these. And my make believe world shatters.
I have said this a hundred times and I will say this again...
It's not too late. This world can be saved. We just need to take that small, tiny step.
So take it before it's too late.

PS-I will be back in about two weeks. So long.
Cheers. :)

Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Unwanted tears of a wretched soul....

“Radhika give me some tea”, screeched the mistress.
Radhika gave a start and went about her business. Her mistress always sulked, if her tea came in a little late, or if it was too cold, or if there wasn’t enough sugar. 
Radhika was around 60 years of age.  She’d been with this family for about 20 long years. When she first came to work, the mistress had one child, a girl. Now she had two, one girl and one boy. In a few days the boy would turn eighteen and the girl would be 20. Radhika had lost her husband when she was young and since then she’d been on her own. She got a job as a maid-servant and had practically raised the mistress’ kids all by herself. She’d taken them to school, fed them, dressed them and whenever she looked at them she prided herself at the wonderful job she’d done. These days’ they hardly had time to talk to her, but it didn’t matter because even after all these years, although now they were burdened with studies and life, they were still kids. HER kids.
Radhika LIMPED to the kitchen as fast as she could.
Recently she’d visited a doctor. The doctor conducted some fancy tests and with a grave face proclaimed that she had something called osteo arthritis. She hardly understood what he said leave alone remember the name. But what she did understand was that her movement would keep getting restricted as she grew older and one day she wouldn’t be able to move. The doctor seeing his CHANCE, asked her to come to him every week and prescribed her some medicines. Costly medicines. And Radhika did what people LIKE her do. Throw away the prescription and hope for the best. Since then, every damn day, the pain in her leg got worse. But she couldn’t stop coming for work, could she? Her FAMILY needed her…..
Radhika started the stove, set the pan, and boiled some water. The boiling would take some time. So, she got lost in her thoughts again. She wondered what it must be like to have SERVANTS working for her. Looking after her, bidding to her every need, preparing food for her. She wondered what it would be like to have kids of her own. Small fragile creatures who would CALL her MOTHER, cuddle up to her when sad, wish her on her birthday, play pranks on her, irritate her. She’d forgotten when her birthday was. She didn’t need to remember. No one needed to. After all who would want to know when this wretched soul was born.
Lost in all her thoughts she forgot to add sugar. And sure enough her mistress started a shouting spree.
“Radhika you keep forgetting things. You are so slow. Hardly do any work. You just sit around and eat.”, mistress proclaimed.
Radhika’s eyes grew misty. Just sit around and eat, is it? What about the time when you were away and I looked after your kids. What about the time when I looked after you when you were sick. What about the time when you didn’t have money and I lend you some. What about the time when I slapped a guy when he was giving your daughter odd looks. Radhika's mind told her to just let go and tell her mistress how the pain in her leg was becoming unbearable, how her vision was getting cloudy and how much her words hurt her. But she didn’t because she COULDN’T.
She just mumbled, “I am sorry.”
Without speaking another word, she went into the kitchen. She heard the faint whisper of her mistress talking to her husband, “Enough is enough. We have to throw her out of service. She can hardly work anymore.”
She closed the door and weeped silently….
In the evening, Radhika dressed herself, prepared a few chapattis for herself, checked her bag to see if the money was in place and was about to leave. Her day’s work was over. Before leaving she did what she has been doing EVERYDAY for the past 20 years. She went to everyone’s room and said goodbye. No one even LOOKED up. They just gave a nod of the head. The younger child was the only one who reciprocated. He looked up and said, “You are going. See you tomorrow.”
Radhika smiled. She added, “I will bring your favorite sweets tomorrow. My treat.”
To that he said, “Aree thank you. Don’t worry. I am paying you the money for it.”
Radhika’s eyes grew misty again. Is this what things have come to. The child she has raised needs to pay HER money. She replied curtly, “No. I don’t need your money. I WILL bring it.”
Radhika went back home. She lived in a one bedroom room at a slum. She completed her dinner, laid the mattress, and lied down. She loved sleep. It was the only place which helped her forget the harsh realities of her life. She wondered how her life would have turned out if she hadn’t been married at the age of 14. She wondered what she could do if someone sent her to school like mistress sends her kids. Maybe she could become some rich business woman and have a huge apartment. Her thoughts drowned her into the endless waters of sleep.
She had the same dream that she saw every day. She was sitting on a luxurious chair and watching her unborn child leap around and play. She was wondering how pretty he looked. Somewhat exactly like her. She had servants’ who catered to her every need. Then the scene changed and she was in her mistress’ house. The person she loved and cared for. Her own child was playing with the mistress’s children. After their game finished each one of them came up to her and kissed her. Hugged her.
She felt safe.
She felt loved.
An elusive tear escaped from her eyes and fell to the ground.
In a few minutes it evaporated and disappeared into OBLIVION.

And another one fell in it’s place….

Sunday, 9 June 2013


I have always been a firm believer in the fact that there is always at least some amount of good in people. No matter how poor, how wicked, ALWAYS. Because let’s face it, every wicked man is born a baby. A pure innocent child with no ounce of evil in him. Well that is what I believed anyway.
*Note the past tense.*
Yes, I believed. Now, I am not so sure.
Now let’s get to the story about what changed my mind….
You see when I was young my father used to work for some company in Delhi. They were huge.  Occasionally a driver used to come, who dropped father to the office, took us for groceries, etc. etc. You get the gist. His name was….umm let’s just call him “X” Prasad Singh. By the year, 2000- 2001….my father was broke. Big time. He quit his job and came back to Calcutta.
Father started a small time private consultancy service. Lending loans and stuff. But there was only one problem. The massive DEBT. Right from those days “X” was with father.
Let me tell you a little about this guy “X”. He is from Bihar. Passed class 10 and dropped out. Father helped him in more ways than you can imagine. He became sort of his right hand man. I remember when my sister had an accident he came to my room, cried and told me, “Hirak I saw your father crying last day. I'm praying to God every damn moment that Rupa(my sister) gets well. I have never seen your father cry.”
 Right until the day I die I will remember this moment. Forever. Because I tell you people those were real tears. I knew he cared for my father. He cared for my family.
It’s been two years since. My father occasionally had fights with my mother about him. Everyone said that one day he would betray him. But my father trusted him too much…
And this year he was expelled from service. Everyone said that he’d done unspeakable things. But, I was unconvinced. I kept pushing father to forgive him. But who would listen to me? In fact, it seemed, apparently I was the only one who was sad about him leaving.
But then something happened.
One day he called me. I didn’t pick up. He called me again. I didn’t receive.
Soon after I get a message which tells me that my “Sim card” has been blocked.
Initially I was surprised. But then I realized that “X” had created the sim in his name. When he saw I wasn’t receiving his call, he blocked my sim. Just like that. For “Revenge” or something. I’d never expected something of this sort, most importantly from someone I cared about. I know this is small but this really hurt me. Really did. 
Wanna know why he was expelled from his job?
*He kept spreading lies about father, to his business partners.
*Behaved indecently with his clients. Too indecently. (I can’t even tell you what he did).
*Took loans and didn’t return them.
And after he was expelled, you ask?
*Extracted money from father.
*Told everyone my father was a thief.
*Etc, etc.
You get the gist.
And with that I rest my case.
“People are neither black nor white. They are a combination of both. And the sooner you understand that, the better.”

And that is that. You see people, no one seems bad initially, but in this modern day world you can’t be sure. You can’t. Take my word for it. 

Monday, 3 June 2013

A story about an ant named Change......

Once upon a time, there lived an ant named Change. In the entire colony of ants, Change was completely different from everyone else. His lofty ambitions, strange ideas more often than not proved to be irksome for everyone around him. The queen of the colony, being a pompous and rigid ruler, hated him and his strange thoughts. She was afraid that one day Change might instigate the members of the colony to rise up against her. So in order to get rid of him she assigned him outdoor jobs. For ants, the outdoor jobs were the most difficult. The chances of survival were very less.
It was the monsoon season. The ants were working frantically day and night to gather up as much food as possible for the oncoming rain and the winter. The “Females” were busy stabilizing the anthill and all the “Males” did outdoor jobs. While the queen just rested and punished anyone who wasn’t working hard.
One such day, about two days before the monsoon was about to start, a portion of the anthill got damaged. Everyone was scared. The queen ordered everyone to start working on repairing the damaged structure. And “everyone” obeyed. Everyone, except Change.
Change knew that there was not enough time to repair the anthill. So he proposed a plan where everyone would move to a new anthill a few miles away, which was abandoned. He added that if they started off within the next hour, they would reach it long before the Storm comes.   
The queen could not believe her ears. Never in her entire life she’d been challenged. She knew she had to do something so that no one would ever dare cross her again. The entire anthill became quiet. Everyone waited for the inevitable doom that would befall Change.
The queen banished Change. She ordered her soldiers that if Change was ever seen within a mile of their anthill, he was to be hunted and killed.
Change packed up his belongings, collected whatever amount of food that he could carry, and stood up and asked whether anyone wanted to follow him. No one did. How could they, never in the history of ants did anything of this sort happen. No ant ever changes his colony. Ever.
It was dusk. The anthill that Change proposed was a few miles away and it could be seen. The entire colony of ants gathered to see if Change could make it. No one paid heed to the warnings and threats of their queen, who asked them to go back to their work. Maybe secretly they “wanted” Change to make it.
And Change began his journey. He was limping. He did not have a leg. But he walked as fast as he could. Inside, his heart was beating at a million beats a second. He did not know if he could make it. An hour passed. Two. And Change was almost there. Suddenly, a bug came up and attacked him. Change tried to fight back. But the weight of his belongings and his deformity failed him. He couldn’t. And he was crushed.
And that was the end of Change. Or, was it?
Inside the anthill a unified sound of gasp could be heard. It was almost as if the entire anthill was reverberating with the dying screams of Change. The queen laughed and retorted, “This is what would have happened if you’d followed Change.” Everyone went back to work.
The next day…..
The anthill was somehow repaired but it was obvious it would not survive the Storm. The ants braced themselves for the Future and probably their Death. Amidst so much apprehension, the conversation of two ants summed up the colony’s mood…
“Hey, Pessimist I was wondering what if we had “followed” Change. With another two of us behind him, we could have killed the bug, and would now be resting in our new colony, free from the fear of death”, said an ant named Optimist.
“But Optimist, what if we couldn’t? It is a long journey, you know.” , retorted Pessimist.
“Think clearly. Change had a deformity. If he ‘could’ traverse such a long distance and almost reach his destination, why couldn’t we?”, said the ever optimistic, Optimist.
“Yes. I think you are right. Tell you what. I think the Queen knew that all along. That is why she did not allow anyone to follow him. Besides I am getting tired of working for her. What gives her the right to govern and punish us. Who is she to decide that the females are to stay indoors and the males are to work outdoors. Just yesterday my wife was telling me how she wished she could see the outside world.”, replied a clearly agitated Pessimist.
“Hush now. Don’t raise your voice. Let this storm pass then we will do something about it.”, concluded Optimist.
Outside the sky grew dark as the clouds helped create a perfect atmosphere for the doom that was going to fall upon them. The sound of thunder made the black cat stir and let out a moan. Dogs howled. Within a few minutes, rain would fall and would sweep Change’s body into the endless stream of Nothing.
Inside the anthill was complete stillness. No one knew whether they would survive. The silent sound of prayers was strangely audible. The queen was “still” proud and arrogant, confident that no one would ever challenge her again. Ever.
But, she was wrong. So wrong.
Because you see, Change had died.
 But his death had created thousands more like him.

So change was inevitable. 

Saturday, 1 June 2013

It's YOU and ME against six billion.

*Bam* Bam*
Our Soldier pulls up his socks. Checks his equipment box.
A bottle of Glucon D.—Check. ;D
And he embarks on his journey. A long, arduous journey……
Okay, I apologize for being so dramatic. Force of habit. But it’s time people. Time to wage war. War against society.
And our weapon, “WORDS”.

“It started out as a feeling.
Which then grew into a hope.
Which then turned into a quiet thought.
Which then turned into a quiet word.
And then the word grew louder and louder.
Until it became a battle cry”—The call by Regina spector.

THIS is the cry for battle people. This is our declaration of war.
Starting today, I become a regular blogger.
It’s time.

It’s YOU and Me out to reform society. It’s YOU and Me against six billion.

Saturday, 6 April 2013

Faith and change...

While the world is obsessing about Obama’s sexist remarks, let me draw everyone’s attention, to “Incredible India”.
Wow! What a country. I mean what doesn’t it have?
*Politicians, who watch porn in the Parliament House.  
*Teachers who can’t speak decent English, and yet teaches English.
*Students belonging to political parties, who think they own the world.
*Chief ministers who proclaims the principles of Democracy, and yet dismisses every rape incident as “An attempt to malign my government.”
Well not everything is all that bad, is it?
Most certainly “A Developing country”.
If you are wondering why this sudden sullen mood, well people I have my reasons. But let’s get to the point shall we. My job is to change the world….and boy…apparently this blog is not bringing any!!
*Exasperated sigh*
But don’t you worry. I still have faith. Change will come.
Anyhoo….its IPL(Indian premier league) time, so I am guessing most of you don’t know about the tragic death of Sudipto, an youth leader of SFI (The Students Federation of India), in Bengal. But I wish that was all. You see people for politicians(especially those of India) every death, every incident is a way to promote their party and play dirty, and disgusting politics. The opposition claims he was hacked to death by the police force and our “Beloved” chief minister dismisses the claim, and says he hit a lamp post and died.
That’s just half the story.
Now let me tell you what the youth is doing about it….
They are uploading mighty statuses on facebook…
“Sudipto you will forever live on in our memories”….“It’s time for a change”….etc,etc..
They are organizing candle marches …and at night they are buying a bucket of popcorn and watching “Mr Pitbull” sing senseless lyrics, lyrics which “apparently” don’t seem to provoke a women’s modesty…Some change they are bringing…Kudos to them.
Well, to be fair, I don’t want you all to stop these…you see listening to Pitbull does not actually make you a bad person, you know….
I just want to ask you all to stop ignoring the world around you.
What can you do??
Trust me changing the government will most certainly not help.
 Why don’t you take the initiative and do something. Who says we need leaders?
Even small things sometimes leads to something extraordinary.
Have you ever wondered that if everyone, saves 1 rupee everyday for a year and donates that money for charity…how much it would amount to?? One rupee doesn’t seem so small then, does it?
Think about it. That’s all for now.   
PS-Keep emailing your tribute post. I will soon take it up.
PPS-My mail-

Sunday, 31 March 2013

TRIBUTE POST #7-A small incident which taught me something huge....

Okay I apologize for not posting anything for soo long. But these past few weeks has been indeed tough. Firstly, I broke my right wrist. I was playing football and stuff, and Bang!
Dislocated and broken wrist.
The next day I had this stupid operation and the doctor inserted some sort of a metal plate in my hand. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse…Tadaa! My crush gets committed. The final straw?
I might not be elected as the sports captain of my school. Out of all these, trust me people, the last one hurt the most. I wanted to be the sports captain since I don’t know how long. L
But enough about my stupid life. My blog is supposed to inspire you all, right? Let’s get to it then. I will share with you all an incident of my childhood, when I was about 8-9, I guess. It’s really nothing special but believe it or not…it taught me never to steal again.
Okay before I start let me tell you I belong to an upper middle class family. When I was about 8-9, our family was a mess. My father had a lot of debt, a lot, and he’d just lost his job. He was trying to get back on his feet. My mother, who is a working woman, was trying very hard to sort everything out. God, those days were tough. Almost every other night they had fights.
Now, those days, playing cards were in huge demand. Almost everyone had them (You know the ones which had photos of WWE wrestlers). I was a kid back then, and I wanted a pack of those. It cost a meagre 5 bucks. Since my parents were going through a tough time, I was afraid to ask for it. If you are wondering, those days even 5 rupees was huge. So I decided I will maybe steal it from my mother. Besides, I thought what difference would five bucks make….
The next day, sure enough, my mother found out. Now the thing about my mother is, she trusts me a lot. Her trust is one of the primary reasons I don’t drink, smoke and stuff. To my horror she blamed our maid servant. She accused her, shouted at maybe a 100 decibels….while the accused promptly defended herself. A huge shouting spree continued…and no one doubted me.
I did not have the courage to confess….and my stupid conscience was eating me up. Being a child, I bought the cards. And, my word, the next few days was hell. The secret was killing me. It was then, I decided that I will never steal again. Ever.
And sure enough to this day I have never even once stolen money. Things are thousand times better now. Whenever I need money, I ask for it. Most days, my friends ask me out, I make excuses, like I have tuitions, I am busy and stuff….
And these days my mom gives me money whenever I ask for it.
This incident, however small it may be, taught me something really really important. J

PS- As always, mail me. My email-

Tuesday, 12 March 2013

TRIBUTE POST #6-A story about a friend....

Okay it's been a while, but exams are practically over so I guess it's time for me to go back to changing the world. :)
This is the first email that I'd got and it's about time I shared it. Here goes :-

I just happened to stumble upon your blog. And, I really like the initiative you've taken. Kudos to you.
So, I wanted to tell you about this friend of mine.
The very first day in my school, I met a girl. My first friend. One look at her, she looks perfectly normal. But she has a darker past, than what meets the eye. She is full of life, like most of the times. So, you can never actually stumble across traces of her past, unless you make an effort to do so.
One day, she came to school with a bandage on her right arm. When asked she just shrugged it off saying it was just a sprain of sorts.
The next day, we were meeting at her place for a project. While working on it , the drink in my hand happened to slip on her bandage. She winced and let out a sharp cry. I quickly apologized, and got up to help her. She tried to stop me, but I insisted. She finally gave in, and let me take off her bandage. On removing it ,I was stunned.
There were about three 4 inch long gashes on her arm.
I coerced her into telling me about it. She tried to shrug it off, but I didn't back down. I had to know. To my surprise, she started sobbing.(Surprise, because she is kinda rugged tomboy, so tears on her face were a rare sight.)
She asked me to promise her, that it would remain a secret no matter what. I promised. And you might be the first person I'm telling this to.
She had a rough childhood. Her parents had a love marriage. But, her father turned out to be a rather different man, than what her mother had fallen for. He was an alcoholic, and a possible drug addict. A low life. He used to physically abuse her mum, and her now 17 year old brother. She was somehow saved from his grasp thanks to numerous efforts of her mum and brother. But, this had immensely affected her psychologically. Somehow, her mother got a divorce and got rid of the man who caused so much harm to her, and her kids. And, she thankfully had a lot of support from her own family, and went on to set up her own branch of pre-school, independently.
My friend has a counselor and all now. But, she still has her moments of anger and frustration when she does this to herself. It was as if she had become a completely different person. She said she had regular nightmares, when she woke up screaming and crying. And sadly it had become a routine now.
She gets a sort of a kick when she has sugar. She gets hyper, and excited, and ends up doing something she later regrets.
The fact that she doesn't want to be labelled as the "Girl who had an abusive father" forced her to keep this hidden from other people. But what others can't see is her tensing, an immediate change in her body language when people talk about their dads. She doesn't call her dad, she says she doesn't have one. Her brother says, "Giving his sperm to create us, doesn't make him our dad."
The way this family has shaped up is commendable. All credit to their mother. She is the one lady who has given her everything to shape he kids' and her own future.
The way these siblings look when they keep bickering, may give an outsider no hint of their rough past. But to someone like me, it shows bravery, courage to get up, brush your knees and go on to make something out of your life. And, never look back.
My friend, is somehow coping with her life. But, that incident with the drink, gave me an insight into her past, and helped me understand her better. She became one of the best friends I'd ever had.
I supported her and helped her keep her anger under under control whenever I was with her, while she gave me the pleasure of being her best friend, and her confidante.
So, that's about all.
I just I had to share this with you, after reading a couple of your posts.


Umm my thoughts...(This is basically what I emailed back.)....

"As for the girl...tell her that her indomitable spirit is a story worthy of a novel. One day, in the near future, when she achieves greatness (which I am sure she will), her past will be the catalyst which would propel her to her glory. Tell her, that her story just brought tears to my eyes. Well maybe on second thoughts omit this bit. She does not need my sympathy, she is beyond all that. Tell her I don't believe in God but for her....I will pray. If anyone deserves this so called "almighty's " blessings it's her....Gosh I am damn sure she will one day make her mother and brother proud....In fact her entire family, their happy days are not that far away....
And that frustration bit...well I am sure her therapist has told her this....but she has to stop it. Okay, this is what u will do, cling on to her.....whenever she is down hug her damn tight...Tell her that the very fact that she has survived all these years shows that she will conquer many more....
Do tell her that her story would inspire 100's of other people....she might just become a symbol of hope for 1000's going through the same....
And as for are a wonderful fact I wish there were more people like you, then the world would have been a better place.....

PS-Thanks mate for sharing your story. You really are a wonderful friend.
PPS-As promised.
Here is her blog link....
Do visit her blog people.
I mean this is the least I can do.

Monday, 18 February 2013

TRIBUTE POST #5-Tribute to a brother who had to step into the shoes of his father....

One sudden day, his father died. His pillar of strength, his idol….expired and for the first time in his life this young boy in his mid-twenties was alone.
He had to provide for his two brothers, three sisters and mother. At a time when his entire soul screamed for respite and everyone around him was cursing their fate, this young boy became a man. Not because he wanted to….because he had to.   
How many times have we been pampered? “Mom, I want a pair of shoes?” and the next day it is there. “Dad, I want a new cell phone?” and the next week you get a new “I Phone”. You want it and you get it. Now imagine that one day all of a sudden your parents leave you and you have no one. Life doesn’t seem so awesome then, does it?
They were poor. His biggest challenge was to provide for his brothers and sisters. He had to pay for their education, their upbringing….
And thus began his struggle. Overnight his features changed. He became everyone’s pillar of strength. He got a job. Maybe, each day he wished he could let go of all his frustration, become the boy he was, and cry on his mother’s shoulders. But, he knew that for his family, he had to stay strong.
He gave his brothers’ education. He became their teacher. Often my father tells me funny stories of his childhood….Though they seem funny but there is always a faint glimmer of admiration steaming out through his words…Admiration for his brother’s deed….Admiration for his strength...
He provided for his sisters. All of them are now married and live happy and satisfied lives. Both of his brothers got decent enough jobs and later on even excelled in their respective fields.
And “HE” went on to become the general manager of one of the leading banks in India.
This tribute post goes out to my uncle. At a time when thousand others in his place would have cowered and given up…he didn’t and that is what makes this story even more remarkable. You know now he earns lakhs, a sum of money which maybe in his childhood he could never have dreamed of earning….but the inspiring thing is he still lives with his mother in the same old, broken down apartment that my grandfather had bought. How many people can do that, huh?
PS;- I am taking a break. These exams are killing me.
PPS;- In the mean time keep sending me your wonderful emails (They really are wonderful stories).
Peace people. Keep spreading love. Get inspired, inspire others, make a difference and change the world. Cheers.