Dreams Shattered – 3

Click Here to read the previous part.

Akarsh heard people shouting in the news discussion bulletin on TV. They were arguing about something about Kathua. He overheard his father slowly talking to her mother, meanwhile keeping a check that nobody else can listen to him. He understood the case while his father explained everything to his mother in hushed tone.

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Akarsh felt disgusted, hoping that is just fiction that he had just heard. He felt disturbed. The voices which he can hear on a daily basis were making more noise than ever today. He felt like the tipping point seemed to be closing. He thought of focusing on the voice that gave him direction. He couldn’t hear the voice today. He focused and tried harder. Finally the voice answered. He felt a disappointment in the voice today.

“You sensed what I wanted to talk about.” he asked the voice.

“Everybody is talking about that only. You are too small to be handling that topic.”, the voice answered.

“Maybe that is the mistake we have been making.”

The voice thought for a moment. It could come up with no answer. It shrugged.

After a long silence, it spoke:

“There is no way back from this. The epidemic that is rape, has affected India these days, goes beyond my comprehension. Is it religion, is it stupidity, or is it such hard placed belief that a cry for help doesn’t shake a person anymore? It was just to prove a point, I heard.

Nothing remains of her. The only daughter of the family rested in the ground for good. It seems we are obsessed with burying women to the ground one at a time. How do you even determine what she did to deserve such fate. Probably temple was not the safest place for her. Probably, God doesn’t exists everywhere.

We promised after Nirbhaya that we wouldn’t let anything of that sort happen. But look at us now. Making the same mistake, hiking the same path, placing blame on other’s, while failing to realize the fault in us. Our education system, our political inclination, our blind faith in our religion, while making sure that we keep on increasing the population frantically. This ends nowhere, but more pain and more outrage, increasing every single time such an incident happens.

From 1947 to now, we are still a slave to our age-old beliefs that doesn’t let us see that we can be more than aimless followers and backers of our stupid religions, caste, gender, sect or country.”

Akarsh clearly overwhelmed tried to sleep, losing all hope, hoping this was all a dream and wishing he could wake up to a better and hopeful Earth.

The voice called him, he felt a sudden optimism in the voice. He called out to it, “Go away! There is no coming back from this. There is no hope.”

“Hope is you!”, the voice said and transpired through the air.

Akarsh, after scratching his head for some time, realized what the voice meant. The hope are the people who call things out as they see them. The people who fight for injustice, who respect women, the people who get equally disgusted with such news. We need more of them. We need them in this fight, against the ones with no moral values.

Lets Fight!

 

 

 

Microtale # 44 : Melancholy

Collection: Melancholy

 

Microtale # 40 : Reverie

Collection: Reverie

Dreams Matter – 2

Click Here to read the prequel.

 

Saloni was on a trip with her parents and their friends in Chicago, USA. The weather was a perfect 21°C to roam around the streets. The place attracted a lot of crowd at this time of the year. She observed the crowd. It was a great diverse mixture. Everyone could be seen happily enjoying in their respective groups. The smiles making the environment even more pleasant. But the curious Saloni found something odd about the group dynamics. She observed that females were playing with different different toddlers in the garden. But she couldn’t spot any male playing with any other toddler but their own. The different ethnic group were grouped together, their were hardly any exception to it. The adults were not even glancing towards differentially racial groups, but their children hardly cared about that. The toddlers would look at each other, reached out their hands to touch each other from the distance. Their eyes seems tp say: ‘Come play with me, I am bored playing with my parents alone’. Although the adults would politely acknowledge each other in certain situations, but there was no warmth expressed.
 
Saloni then observed her parents also moving towards what seemed to be an Indian group. She wanted to play with everyone, as she used to play in her home. To run for one ball, or to catch one person by chaining their hands together. She asked her mom, ‘Can I play with that guy over there?’ . Her mum politely said, ‘Lets play with those Indian people there. We don’t know these people.’
‘But we don’t know those Indian people as well.’, replied Saloni.
Her mum thought about it a moment and then gave her hand to his father.
She didn’t like that nobody addressed her query. She thought that Akarsh would maybe understand her. She asked for his father’s cell to call Akarsh.
She knew her neighbour Akarsh was a curious soul and might help her out.
She narrated the whole incident to Akarsh. Akarsh had never experienced such a scenario.
He thought for a bit and he knew from his past experience that he needed to go to sleep. As soon as he dozed off, the voice called out to him.
“What is it this time?”, the voice asked.
“Why is there a differential treatment given to people of different complexion.”, Akarsh asked.
“We didn’t design it this way. Different complexion was supposed to provide diversity to the earth, as opposed to the diversity we seek in the name of religion, caste and creed nowadays.”
“Then why only so few complexion, why couldn’t we have  more so that nobody can judge any other color.”
“Lets try that out.”, the shadow said playfully.
 
The next day Saloni came into the park. She saw people with plethora of colors on and around them. Everybody’s faces were so colorful, that you could hardly recognise what complexion they possessed before. She saw her parents confused as to which group to join now. Seeing her mom so confused, she reached out to her, hugged her and placed her palm over her mum’s cheeks. Her mother’s face started taking a purplish color, as her confusion started reducing. Smile returned to both’s faces: the mother understanding what had transpired, Saloni observing that she had so many people to play with. The colors added what the complexion couldn’t in years.
 
At a distance, a smiling shadow saw the colorful people playing, appreciating the unbiased and colourful mind of the kids.

MicroTale #37 : Reverie

Collection: Reverie

MicroTale #33 : Reverie

Collection: Reverie

MicroTale #31 : Piquant

Collection: Piquant

 

“No drinking in public places from now on in Goa”, the news flashed.

Still Goa or should we switch to Shirdi?”, the notification flashed on Whatsapp group planning a trip to Goa.

MicroTale #29 : Reverie

Collection : Reverie

MT#29_1

 

She broke all the rules of being a so-called female. At the age of 24, she won the international Body Building Championship.
.
Looking back to where it started, when he said, ‘This profession doesn’t suit you’.: She smirked at the thought

Hate is a better motivator than love.

MicroTale #27 : Reverie

Collection : Reverie

MicroTale 27 - Chronicles of a Poke

 

“Why did you poke me on Facebook?”
– She asked.

“Because the last time I poked someone real, I was poked with sticks” – he replied.

Both of them laughed, as that little fake poke story became the perfect ice-breaker between the two of them.

MicroTale #26 : Melancholy

Collection: Melancholy

MT#26

 

Their coloured dresses,
His nostalgic eyes,
Holi playing kids,
. .
20 years into being an alumnus of college. Passing by it, reminded him of friends, long lost in competitions.
. .
There are something money can’t buy.