A look-back at Cricket

2003 Cricket World Cup, the men from out country were battling it out on the field. And I do not remember everything distinctly but, somehow everything was silent. No one was honking in the street, and everyone had gathered near the one Television we had in the whole home. Somehow, the entire country had held their breaths at the same time. Then the whole thing started. Legends were playing at that time, even if for me they were just human beings then. Sachin and Sourav, the people whose names were out there on everyone’s lips at the moment.
And then the inevitable happened, I do not remember the match as a whole, but, at the end there was no one watching the match anymore, we had lost. And somehow the cog wheels would turn again.
That was such an old memory…

And I remember 2011 fondly. I remember people marching out in the middle of night, walking into their homes hand in hand. I remember hope and celebrations, I remember distant fireworks that had become forgotten for so long. We had been triumphant. And there was a couple who walked home together, holding hands at the end of the night. Those were sceneries that would stay with us for endless days.

And then yesterday.
To see the people leaving the cafeteria as the wickets started to fall. To see the pure heartbreak in the faces of the people as they walked out.
To see my senior sit behind me, the colours of the Indian flag washed from his face in a hurry. The few people who sat there sat to bid adieu to the team were all heartbroken and you could see it in their eyes.
There were hopes resting on this team. And there was an entire nation which they carried on their backs.

And they lost.
These were not legends mind. These were youngsters who were out there to get a name. These were not The Master Blaster, Dada, The Wall, The Very Very Special, these were warriors who had been thrown into the largest war in the world.
Even legends have lost in here. And these were people just starting out. Even if they had got experience they were not mythical creatures, and yet, the nation had put the entire weight on their shoulders.

In the final moments, as they lost, I truly felt bad.
They would be welcomed home with abuses hurled at them, effigies being burnt. They would be accused of taking bribes. And after all that they’d take the cricketing field again. Another day, another match to play


Of Child Abuse

Before, I begin today, I would like to remind the readers that I am here anonymously, and no one from my family and my family friends know about this particular blog. The nature of this blog is very private and I would like if you would preserve it with time. Today’s topic is a bit different since, this concerns something that I saw just recently, it is something that I feel very personally about, but, then that is common, everything is very very commonplace at the end of the day.
When I was back there at my home, there was a strange episode happening. My nephew was visiting us. They were visiting us one fine day and it was all too beautiful. But, then things started going bitter. On a personal front, I do not know how to soften this down. I am not a mother, I am not a father, and I have never been much a good guardian but, somehow being with children makes me happy. Yet, that day, while I was doing some work on my PC, my cousins sat down and started showing pornography to the id. The fact that my nephew is just 3 years old is the least of the problems. The problem was how they could perceive that it would be an alright idea. The comments ranged from “If he sees this, his Tintin (a comic name he calls his genitalia) would become Iron man”, to lude references at how this video would garner loads of views in Youtube. And I sat there till the last moment, trying to make up my mind, trying to find the humour, but, I could not for the life of me find it. I could not make sense of the humour that was going in the back side.
Before the video had really started, I had already closed it off. I didn’t say anything. Yt, it was a running gag through the whole day. To put the child’s entire mindset at a sad state was a running gag. It was funny to everyone, who saw the video. My nephew sitting there, watching porn. It was somehow amusing, and that creeped me out on so many different levels. It made me remember my own childhood for some moments, but, then the scars I carry are something I have only told to some very select people. Yet, this same cousin had told me about sexual activities when I did not yet, know what was appropriate and inappropriate, and then I had began following him in a way, trying to seek his approval in everything sexual that I did. And I still remember the day that he masturbated in front of me, I do not know what was wrong with it, but, now, I do not remember it fondly anymore, I remember it with scars, and sometimes I am scared to ponder over my childhood. I do not want to see the day. But, then he was just starting out then, and perhaps he just wished to show something new to me, the ever admiring young person. Yet, now he was old, and showcasing pornography to a kid, just for the sake of views could not sit well with me, it could not.
Not just the fact that he would not know what was right or wrong, but, that he would start having strange feelings at this early age, that he would have to deal with this entire thing in this space where his feelings would largely go unacknowledged by the people around hi. I was perhaps trying to save hi from this regularly given label of “Problem Child”. But, then what was being done was making me very uncomfortable too.
This nephew of mine already faces things that are not really not part of a daily toddler’s lifestyle. As a punishment, as a joke, he would often find himself pantless. It is a form of joke in the place. And he persists in that, there are people who would do it only for fun. He is too young to remember anyway.
He is too young…
When did that become an excuse instead of a caution anyway?

“India’s Daughter” A divisive documentary

Watching “India’s Daughter” yesterday was an experience that left me with sadness. The melancholy did not dissolve with the night as I had hoped that it would. It only grew. At last as I was looking out into the road, I knew that the change was to come from every individual, and not by people who wished to instigate the society as a whole. Perhaps that had never worked, but, it was not going to work now, when the roots were so so deep. My largest pet peeve was probably the fact that the rapist’s wife was also interviewed without blocking her face, I have a feeling that this leaves her much more vulnerable than she was before and given the brand of justice that India loves to dole out, I fear for their safety.

I needed to get out of the way because the documentary affected me so much. I was left harrowed for hours afterwards and I tried very very hard to rationalise it. I tried to find words that would fit into the framework of the entire deal, but, there was none that would fit in. None that were strong enough. However, I could positively say that I had cried.
The film follows the events after the Nirbhaya case occurred, it showcases the upheavals of society, the strength of the parents who lived on. It also showcases the violence.
The violence was not over the top. It was just there.

What affects however, is the aftermath. The sad faces, the strength hiding the grief.

As the film pans out, there is this scene showcasing the funeral pyre. In that moment we are with her father too.

And we go out into the world again, dismayed

A poem…

Her lips smelled of naphthalene
His breath reminded of ash
And in this world going nowhere
My entire memory seemed to lapse
But, that was a moment in space
The entire world would live on today
Spaces would not end right now
Her breath is fresh with emptiness
The kisses devoid of death
But, it remained there hanging in the air
While he smelled of rot day in
Nights spent awaiting the inevitable
When the rot would meet her death
When the ash would smell of naphthalene again
But, gasoline evaded the senses
We were fire again
Burn through the living fringes

In Memorium of myself

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In Loving Memory.”

So, he is dead. To say good riddance might be too harsh, but, that is what it represents innit? The death of a tyrant, of a person so burdened by his own failures that he never gave a hoot about anyone else. Except perhaps he loved some of us, perhaps that love was too deep. But, all we do remember clearly are the curses that pestered us for the entire lengths of our lives. The times he has told us to die off somewhere might as well be infinite.

But, then imagining a life without him? The things he said about everyone of us that came true? To bid adieu to jokes that seemed to have come out of nowhere at all and still remain funny at the end of the day? But, moreover to bid adieu to hope? He was sad yes, but, I have never seen a person more hopeful, more filled with hope for a newer a better world.

And then I’d miss him when he was watching a movie, a myriad of emotions running through his face turn by turn. When he sang along off tune to some song I would never know and when he started talking about something that he is passionate about.

But, more than that, I would miss me when he was here


There is a moment in the movie where Mark just goes

There’s a time honoured tradition in the gay community, that when someone calls you a name, you go out there, and OWN IT.

And the movie had made me cry before that. But, right at that moment, I sit up and let it rip. I am cheering, and after that, I have cheered for the smallest and the largest of the things. I have screamed at this movie, laughed at it, and cried with it. A bunch of actors showcasing pride is a watch I’d remember. And it’s not just that.

It is not only about the lesbian and gay communities, or just about the miners. It is about an era that was turning the world down, and about individuals who turned up against it and protested. About people bringing in a change, about the whole world standing witness to something so incredible that it makes them tremble. It’s about cheerfulness and hope and it is finally about romances, about the little things.

So, you hope as you watch them, you hope as you see them change little by little. There’s a lot to be gained, a lot more to be lost, but, as the actors go about it, it is fun. And the charm of the movie lies in its warmth, and its love of not taking itself as a very serious documentary.

It can burst out in “Every woman is a lesbian at heart…”
And put something as heart rendering as the fight of parent and child after the child comes out.

It can make you cry and scream.

And finally it can instill that pride in you…

The movie’s heart lies in the warmth, in the frames that depict a huge family like gathering. The actors are having fun here, the actors are being themselves. So, when the old lady takes out a dildo and goes forth with a burst of laughter, you don’t feel strange and out of place. You feel like it is with you.
So, when another old lady calls out, “Where are my lesbians?”, you feel like rushing to her too…

To be lonely among a Crowd

The heart of the matter lies in the middle of nowhere, the place is there but, I cannot see it yet. Her lips are still red from last night’s kiss, my lipstick hasn’t faded away. She lies jaded among the roses I have made to fall upon our bed. Am I lost in space yet or am I just here laying beside her? Yet, she smiles, a bit of sunshine amongst the darkness that is our room in the morning. She has been sick for days, perhaps weeks and I have not been bothered to ask after her, and now she is there, lost in outer space as a person who knows and still is not quite there yet. Do you remember how the rain fell S? If so, do you scream out in repentance when it is not falling into your face anymore? Or is it accepted like all things I say are accepted onto the list of things that are not quite there yet.

If romance is a structure that I cannot yet fathom, I would spend it in researching the mysteries that you bring into my life, and if I am just a broken windowpane staring out into the soul of a person you would have been thee stone.

This is sadness.

This permeates the senses, and makes me feel like you are there at this very moment and the very moment I would turn I would see you but, you’re not there. Maybe, this isn’t for you, maybe this is just another vain call to force that I make, and I do not know what love itself is but, the end cause is all the same and love is never quite there yet.

You are everything.