Till today, I was smug in the knowledge that my generation aka the youth spoke a single language; the language of secularism and peace and equal respect for all religions.
I stand corrected. A certain Varun Gandhi has shamed my generation today.
I am a Hindu and an Indian and I am ashamed on both counts, of the behaviour meted out by supposed protectors and propagators my religion and of the laws of the land, that permit such politics of hate, to go unchecked.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Question on News Hour today is ' Should incest be awarded the death penalty'?
IMHO, Mr. Arnab Goswami-- NO! Death is too miniscule a punishment for a crime this heinous. To award death, is a liberation too quick , a redemption too easy, a chapter closed , too soon.
My raging self cannot think of any punishment that measures up to the wrongdoings of these monsters.
My raging self cannot think of any punishment that measures up to the wrongdoings of these monsters.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
On mobs and other manifestations of prejudice
He was all shook up by the ugly reality of his society. He knew things had changed;he could sense it in their vacant stares, their hostility and on their breath. They breathe differently you know-- an unhealthy, ragged,gaspy breath.
He had heard that they had been taken over by a legion of fanatics. He stored that information in a superficial area, and dismissed it as hyperbole.
What he witnessed, in the twilight, confirmed their growing bigotry.
He was stunned into a loud unnerving silence.
He fled their antagonism and sought his peace in the waiting, expectant eyes, at home.
She-- simple, unaware yet all knowing, would widen her eyes at his account and nod sympathetically. The sadness, he knew, which remained buried inside of her, would well up, and shine through her eyes. She would envelope him in her warmth. She would soak up the growing coldness, inside of him.
Something died inside him that unfortunate evening.The familiar streets of his adoptive city, no longer comforted him, even in their quiet evening stillness.
He would never be the free spirit, high on camaraderie, in this city.
He would be furtive and uncomfortable, for a long time now. He'd keep looking over his shoulder to ensure that, he was not violating 'their democracy'.
He had heard that they had been taken over by a legion of fanatics. He stored that information in a superficial area, and dismissed it as hyperbole.
What he witnessed, in the twilight, confirmed their growing bigotry.
He was stunned into a loud unnerving silence.
He fled their antagonism and sought his peace in the waiting, expectant eyes, at home.
She-- simple, unaware yet all knowing, would widen her eyes at his account and nod sympathetically. The sadness, he knew, which remained buried inside of her, would well up, and shine through her eyes. She would envelope him in her warmth. She would soak up the growing coldness, inside of him.
Something died inside him that unfortunate evening.The familiar streets of his adoptive city, no longer comforted him, even in their quiet evening stillness.
He would never be the free spirit, high on camaraderie, in this city.
He would be furtive and uncomfortable, for a long time now. He'd keep looking over his shoulder to ensure that, he was not violating 'their democracy'.
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