Started From The Toilet Now, She's Here

Imagine, you being locked up inside a dark room, which has a 1×1 window, the only source of light. Sounds like a prisoner's story, right? But, no. This is not a prisoner's story. This story is of a girl who, had to leave here education because of a biological change that every girl go through, and is still considered a taboo,  kept writing poems as her only way of venting out. Imagine, your mum tricking you to get married at the age of 13. No, you can't Imagine, right? But this is what happens in every other city, in every other. Village and every other second. We live in metropolitan cities so we don't think of the world outside our circle. This not only happens in villages but also in slums situated in a metropolitan city.

Rajati a.k.a Rokkaiah a.k.a Salma, was locked up inside a dark room at the age of thirteen because she had hit her puberty. She had to leave her education and cut herself out from the outside world. She had to follow the village's norms. Girls in her village would get married once they hit their puberty. Rajat, was an exception. She kept her family at bay for 6 years but her mother tricked her, claiming false heartattack  to get married at the age of 22 to an elderly Malik with whom her marriage was fixed when she was 11 yeras old.

When Rajati was locked up inside the room, she would sit near the window and look outside for hours. Her thirst to educate herself made her the poet/writer she is today. She dint lose hopes through she had left school. She would try everything and use anything to read about and  from.

When Rajati got married Rokkaiah was born, and she started writing under a pen name Salma. She was under a constant fear. Malik would threaten her for writing. She still managed to write. She would hide her pen inside a box of Sanitary napkins. Malika had burnt her book twice. (If I were there I would have lost hopes and stopped writing.)

Leaving her school, getting married at the age of 22 to man with whom her marriage was fixed at the age of 11, reading from the scrapped papers, confessing the problems she faced  as a woman in this society through her poetry, writing in the toilet, sneaking out her book and giving it to her mum to publish it, being awarded for her poetry for number of times and having a documentary made on her story, Salma has come a long way.

Rajati a.k.a Rokkaiah a.k.a Salma is a living example of what courage is. 

When I Met A Prostitute

Walking on the pavement, I was going back home. It was all normal until I saw a prostitute near Gadkari Rangayatan. It was not a new thing for me, though it struck me somewhere in my mind. She seemed to be 18/19 years old, wearing a dark red lipstick, kajal in her eyes and a pink bindi on her forehead, even when she was in her teenage. I tried to avoid eye contact with her, but; I couldn’t. She was looking at me with those lusty eyes, all the time. I was so scared. I wanted to talk to her at the same time.

It is said that a girl opts to be a prostitute only because two reasons, 1) She likes being a slut (Bhai, use maja ata hai esiliye wo randi hai.) 2) It’s a quick mode to earn money. (Bhai, duniya mai do aise businesses hai jo kabhibhi band nhi ho sakte hai ek daru ka dhanda aur ek prostitution ka.) So, I wanted to know her story. It was my first encounter with a prostitute. I was a bit scared (more than a bit.) But; out of curiosity I made an attempt and went ahead to ask her.

It was her first day but she seemed confident (wish I had such confidence in me.) Such a co-incidence it was. She was the first prostitute whom I asked and I was her first customer. With trembling legs, I moved forward and asked her, rate kya hai? (How much do you charge?) It was so sudden for her that she got stunned for a moment but; she replied in a bleak tone, “500 rupaiya ghanta. Hotel mera par hotel ka kharcha tumhara” (Rs.500 per hour, I will tell you the hotel but, you will have to pay the bill.) For me, it was like a bullshit. I thought she was charging me more and was unfair. I asked her to reduce the rate. “Dekh, yahi rate sabko lagta hai, agar tuze parvadta hai to le nhi to side hatt, dhande ke time khoti mat kar” (See, If you can’t afford this, you can fuck off. Don’t cause troubles for other customers. Rate is same for everybody.) I agreed with her and gave her hundred to come with me. I walked ahead and she followed me. We both went to motel Amrapali. It was a cheap motel, I could only see prostitutes over there. It seemed there was a tie-up between the motel manager and prostitutes.

She asked me to collect the keys from the reception area and she went upstairs. I followed her and went to our allotted room. My hands were shivering, my soul was shivering. all this while, She kept looking at me as if I was her boyfriend. Since my hands were shivering she mischievously laughed at me. It made me upset.

.

We went inside and she made me comfortable as if she was a pro in this. It has been 15mins, we both were sitting on a corner of the bed. I didn’t do anything. She asked me, “Kya hua? Aisehi baitha rahega kya? Agr kuch nahi karna tha to kyu laya muze?” (Hey! What happened? Why ain’t you doing nothing? What did you bring in me here for if you did’t want to do anything?) “Achha suno, muze kuch karna tha esliye main nhi aaya yaha pe, muze toh aapse batchit  karni thi.” (Listen, I have not paid you cause I wanted to have fun. I just wanted to have a conversation with you) I uttered. “Oye, yaha log batchit karne nhi aate, aur muze batchit karne mai interest nhi hai”, (People don’t come here to have a conversation with me and I also am not interested in having a conversation with you) she replied in a harsh tone.

I kept on persuading her until she said yes to have a conversation with me. I made her sit beside me. I started with her name. Surprisingly she had two names, her real name was Rekha and as a prostitute her name was Chameli. Both the names reminded me of typical old Bollywood movies in e which they had showed those “RED LIGHT AREAS.” She was from Bengal. She used to live with her parents there. In 2013, she had watched the news of “Shweta”, a prostitute from Kamathipura who has gone to the USA for her education. I as a little stunned after listening to all these from her. “HOW THE HELL SHE COULD KNOW THESE THINGS.” I thought she was uneducated and illiterate, but she had studied till 12^th standard and because of financial issues she happened to leave her studies behind. Later I asked her how she came to Thane but; she didn’t tell me anything about that. She told me not to ask this question again and I obeyed her.

She had come to Thane to be a prostitute. She wants to be a new Shweta. She wants to become an inspiration for many other “Rekhas” and “Chamelis.” The final question I asked was, “Do you think someone shall come and change your life?” She simply said, “Dekhte hai. Agar nhi aaya to bhi kuch tension nhi hai merko. Mai yaha paisa kamake apni padhai chalu karne wali hu.”   (Let’s see, even if no one comes, it won’t bother me. I will earn my own money and use for my further studies.) I had never thought that an encounter with a prostitute would be so interesting. I had thought she would kick my ass off but; she turned to be a nice girl.

I hope this write up shall change your mind-sets. Every woman deserves a respect even a prostitute. Don’t forget, every prostitute is a woman first.

                                                                                                                                                                                                       R E S P E C T

I love Coffee.

    Sometimes, life be so pathetic with us. No one knows why this happens.  One day comes in our life and changes everything, every single moment of our life.  No one likes that feeling but; no one can help it. It comes and it goes like a breeze.

            As such one day I  was talking with one girl named, "Heenal" I found her  a nice &  an interesting soul while talking.

            She told me about a phase of her life her break up, her brother, her coffee things.  Well, she is a coffee lover. Story behind her coffee is so interesting. She was a normal girl living her normal life with some hopes in her heart and a little faith in humans. She had a bf, she was living a happy life with him at first but, as days were passing by he started pissing her off, his behaviour and everything done by him. She wasn't allowed to talk with any of her male friends, he was putting so many restrictions on her. Her life had become like a bird in a cage. She wanted to move out, she wanted to live her normal life again, but, her love for him didn't allow her at start. 

           One day she made up a decision, to get out of that cage, spread her wings and fly. She broke up with him. But things didn't go as she had decided because of the past and good time which she had spent with him. She used to recollect the good times and just cry. Her life had become worse than before. The more she tried the more she became depressed. All of a sudden, she wanted live a loner's life. She stopped interacting with her friends even with her close friends. It all went till almost a year.But, one day she moved on from her past. To do this she, started doing things which she had interests in, ART, WRITING.

            Now, she has brought a lot of change in her life. She has a

a positive perspective towards life. She has gotten a new soul mate, the only thing which keeps her motivated her COFFEE. (Who all are coffee lovers here?) She loves coffee and yeah, one more thing her car. She goes on long drives with her soul mate every alternate day. She explores life, hidden aspects of it and hidden places.

            Our lives are full of hurdles, challenges, snakes and ladders. If we get things easily then we don't value those things. Never lose hopes. Keep yourself moving. Never blind trust anyone, never rely on anybody, never change yourself because of anybody, be as you are because; at the end  "YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO MATTERS!"

            

                      "We are humans, we make mistakes and we suffer,

                        But, we are the only ones who will have to fight,

                        We learn from our decisions,

                        So, never cry on your decisions, which rot you."

                            

POLITICS IS A PEEPING TOM

 DO NOT TAKE THE WORD IN A LITERAL WAY!

            Using the word PEEPING TOM is a bit funny but, this write will not be funny at all!

        I always wished to write on this topic and today I have gotten the chance so, I don't waste a bit
too.

     The question which has always been wandering in my mind is, Why do we need politicians or politics, either? Can anyone answer? I don't understand whether, we (DEMOCRACY) run politics or politics runs us (Democracy)!

     I personally don;t like INDIAN POLITICS, since, the way it works. Scandals, scams, corruption, and etc. I have been hearing all these on news channels, reading in news papers and so more. When I was a kid I never paid attention at all such topics, nor I understood anything about them. But, now I'm a grown up child and have some sense about it and moreover I'm a media student so, I just can't scorn this topic and nowadays it's becoming a severe issue.
 
      One day, me and a friend of mine were debating on Indian politics, he was in favour & as usual I was against it. We both have started an institution for welfare named, Yuva Shakti Pratishthan. He wanted to take a local political leader's support and do all welfare under his guidence. I was against it (I still am against it). I asked him, why does he need a politician's support when he wants to do something for our society? I REALLY DON'T GET IT, WHY THE HECK DO WE PUT POLITICS IN EVERY MATTER? He told, "We don't have sufficient money to continue serving our society so, at least for that we need support and one more thing, without political support it is not easy to sustain and work in a long run."
  

    Does he think that politicians are the only ones who will help in raising funds? Is he scared of politicians? If he is scared of it then what's the use of DEMOCRACY? I guess people have forgotten the statement by Abraham Lincoln, "Democracy is a government of the people, by the people and for the people. But; in today's world the following statement shall look great, Democracy is government of the politicians, by the politicians and for the politicians where, a common man don't have a right to right to free speech, right to vote, right to do welfare and so more.  

Hello, my name is Manoj!

  

    Hello! My name is Manoj, I'M 75 years old now. I used to live in Badlapur with my 2 children and wife. My children left me saying, I'm a baggage for them and they don't want to carry me along with them. HAHAHA, "I was a baggage for them", so nice they were! We say memories fade as the age grows, yeah it is true. I realized that when my children left me. They forgot, I used to carry their baggage, I used to leave them to school, I used to provide them everything they want, I fulfilled their all the wishes including the last wish as I've mentioned above. Earlier, I used to regret about my decision but now I'm all happy. BUT, MY WIFE IS NOT THERE WITH ME TO CELEBRATE THIS JOY. Yeah, I forgot to tell you about her, she was my only backbone throughout the life, yeah I mean it! Because, she was there with me, when the sea hit me by his waves.
      Anyway, I don't want to start my sad story and make you bore. Now, It's been 3 years I'm here in this Old age house. I still remember my first day over here I shifted from the house to the home. Yes, I mean it is the real home for the abandoned people like me. I used to sit quite as if i was a kid in a new school. HAHAHA. But; there were many like me. As days were passing everyone was becoming friendly. (Which normally happens every time with everyone.) We play together, sing together, eat together, we do everything as a huge FAMILY. Sometimes we play with youngsters also, though our age and joint's pain come across like an obstacle.
      Since the day my children left me here they never showed up again. I didn't even ask them to take me home (HOUSE). Now, I'm not even keen to see them, they will realize the pain when their children will leave them. Since that day this is my home and this is my FAMILY. 

A way to an ORPHANAGE.

The parents who nurture their children,
take care of them and devote their everything for their children's well being
are the parents who later show up there in old age homes!

The parents who transform their houses into sweet homes
and give them to their children
without asking any returns
are the parents who later show up there in old age homes!

The parents who commit a sin of
fulfilling their children's wishes
abandoning their owns
are the parents who later show up there in old age homes!

The mothers who cook food for their children
without eating for themselves
The fathers who provide money to their children
without spending for themselves
are the parents who later show up there in old age homes!


               "Why do we need old age homes at all?" I really don't get the logic behind this!

I'm coward

  I'm coward of being
    a boy who will never open his mouth,
   
    I'm coward of being
    lonesome
   
    I'm coward of being
    a fun object
   
    I'm coward of being
    crass
   
    I'm coward of being
    worthless
   
    I'm coward of being
    miserable

    I'm coward of being
    Forlorn
  
    I'm coward of being
    unable to breath when I'm living
   
    I'm coward of being
    unable to taste success
   
    I'm coward of being
    Intangible
        YES I'M COWARD!