After the Movie...

I went for the scary movie 'Paranormal Activity' last night with a few of my friends.

After the movie, one of them swears that he nearly had his arm wrenched out of its socket and another swears he has scratch marks all over his arms.
Go ahead, gasp. Now I have to disappoint you. Their agonies arise not from the demon in the movie, but from yours truly who hates to love horror films.

What makes their physical tribulations all the more tragic is that the movie was really not that scary. While it did have good sound effects and a couple of terrifying moments it was quite 'Blair Witch Project' like in construct, and I did not like the Blair Witch Project. No, not one bit.

What did make me feel better was that just as I woke up in the middle of the night hearing imaginary sounds, Nandita did as well. Deems too appears to have had his heart leaping moments going by the contents of the mail he wrote to us early today morning.

Anyways, I digress.

I wrote this post to post the mail written by Deems to the rest of us.I quite loved the language that he has used as well as the sentiments expressed.

Here goes...


And even as we joked about the imagined drunk girl whose glasses we found in the auto, the presence was seeing us through its eyes. It might not have breathed down my neck as it did in the movie, but it must have smiled, muttering to itself ' ahhh...if only they knew.'


...to be continued.


I got slightly bored and am lost for words. I tried to imagine noises and still I cant hear any.


Have faith that there's more good in this world than bad, so all'll be well. Don't
get scared. And if any of you kids get scared do give me a call.

INSOMNIA - FOR THOSE SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

Last night my uncle told me about an apparently true incident which had happened to his grandfather. Considering that my uncle is seventy right now, I think this could be placed as having happened in the 1800s.

I don't know if you believe in ghosts. To be honest, I really don't know if I do either.Here goes.....

If you were to observe carefully any town which had a river running through it, you would probably notice that there always is a bridge that spans across the river connecting its two disjointed halves with a burial ground on either side. Even during the day time the gushing sounds of the river as it strikes the bank is an extremely overpowering one. Imagine it in the night time. The moon shining bright in a cloudless sky. The dry smoke that mildly mists above the ground that remain as final traces of the corpses burnt that day. The sounds of the river are no more just overpowering; they are also unnerving and quite eerie in the contrast to the silence that suffuses the night sky.

It had struck eleven one night. Unusually I had just completed my work and was trying to find my way home.Reluctantly , a man agreed to drive me across the bridge after much persuasion. In those days the mode of transport was a miniature caravan led by two horses. The caravan was open ended on both sides. One side seated the driver while the other had an iron rod across its middle to prevent a passenger from falling off in the event of sudden jerks and pulls.

I sat in the caravan right at the end one foot folded underneath me while the other dangled down.I gazed outside admiring the beauty of the river in the nightime.It looked magical, lit by moonlight. We were probably halfway across the bridge when I saw this lady leaning at its edge, her palms covering her face, sobbing. From what little I could see , she was beautiful.Slim, shapely, with milk pale hands and feet and exotic black hair cascading down her back. I could not really see her face. But what peeped out her hands was captivating. I turned to the cart driver and asked him to stop so we could console her in her sorrow and probably offer her a lift to the town. He ignored me and continued to whip his horses. We had hardly crossed a furlongh when the lady turned towards us and just stared. I was stunned. The body of an angel , the face of an old hag. She started to chase behind our caravan. We were travelling quite fast so I did not pay much heed. But much to my consternation, she was running extremely fast herself and was coming close to catching up. When she came near she lunged trying to grasp my leg which dangled down the side of the caravan.

In all haste I quicky dragged my leg inside, and crept closer towards the driver, huddling at his side. The driver turning back told me, "Whenever a corpse is burnt in the graveyard this lady tends to roam the bridge.Whatever else, we never stop, ignore her and try to go as fast as we can. We try to avoid travelling by night , but since you seemed desperate to get home I consented". We looked back to see that the lady was now close enough to grab the rod at the other end of the caravan. The driver quicky drove his whip to the horses , urging them to go faster. The horses were old and lame ones. They struggled. In those days, the end of each whip had a nail attached to it. When the horses is whipped the nail marks its hide and the pain tends to spur the horse to reach greater speeds. A wicked practice I know, but what you are used to , you do not look in askance at that.

We were lucky that night. We reached the end of the bridge without the lady reaching us. I was terribly shaken. I never crossed any bridge after that in the night time.

THROUGH THE EYES OF THE VICTIM (BlankNoiseProject)

Is there any girl who lives who has not been harassed on the roads? I think not.Probably the first time ( which I am not ashamed to recount) I was harassed was when I was eleven years old. I can still recollect that day when an old man in a motorbike stopped me in the middle of the road, when I was walking back from school in the pretext of asking me for directions. No sooner had I given him directions ( not a word of which he heard), he told me," Don't you think you are too young to have breasts?" gesticulating towards mine. I was horrified.Before I could even scream out "Bastard" he had sped away. I remember going home that day, falling on my bed and crying all evening.I didn't have the courage to talk to anyone about it. For an entire week all I could think about was that horrid old man.You know what the worst part of being harassed when you are too young is ?


You are not indignant.
You are not outraged.
Instead, you feel ashamed.
Humiliated and ashamed of YOURSELF.

Like as if the sin was commited by the sinned not the sinner. It's like the attitude that some people carry towards rape. "She asked for it!".An oft heard remark.By the stupid narrow minded jerks in the world!

It was a couple of months later that my humiliation turned to outrage when a group of us girls gathered together and started speaking about it.The tales I heard were horrifying. We were all just eleven then and I guess the age where men know us to be vulnerable, innocent and unprotected. Too young for parents to worry about and too old to be protected by childish innocence.

One of my friends had been told to come to the back of a grocery shop to pick up what she had come for and when she went in, the grocer caught hold of her and started rubbing his hands up and down her chest.She had to bite him hard on his hand to escape and run away.I was onced offered a choclate by a shopkeeper if I came into his shop and saw the pictures he had.They were all pornographic and he did the same 'pinch on the chest trick'. Luckily there were four or five of us girls then.I wonder what would have happened if I had been alone? Another friend of mine had been stopped by a guy driving a car, again in the pretext of asking for directions. It was worse this time around.The guy had unzipped his pants and had semen coated on his hands and asked her " Do you know what this is? Shall I tell you what it is?".She cycled away as fast as she could from there.Another time when the same friend and me were skating in a skating rink at six in the morning alone, an old guy blocked our exit and removed his dhoti and started waving his penis at us.

Do you know what the one thing we all shared in common when we recounted these incidents was? We all of us blamed ourselves. Believed that the cardinal sin was comitted by us and not the perpetuator.Tell me one thing. Is it for this reason that children are targeted so much by these lechers? Because they know that we don't know how to react?

Pouring our hearts out was the best thing we ever did. I think we grew up overnight. Became wary and cynical.More watchful and distrustful of what every stranger said or did. Where previously we would smile winnningly at the stranger who patted our heads and butts, started to shie away and have that 'keep your distance' look in our eyes.Good. It atleast stopped us hurting.Kids do need to grow into adults.But incidents like this just help in hastening the transition.

The next year I joined Karate classes.Trained to defend myself.It helped that my Karate Sirs included kicks in the groin as a part of our lessons.They especially taught us girls how to defend ourselves and how to be watchful. It did help me.A couple of years later when a guy on a road reached out his hand to grab my breasts ( What is this obsession that guys have with breasts????? Is it that you don't have them??) ,I judged his intentions and knocked his hands off before he could succeed and walked away( I am yet to sum up the courage to walk THEM to the police station).Another time when my friend and I were going doubles on a very lonely stretch of road called Besant avenue, late in the evening, a guy in another cycle stopped us in the pretext of asking for directions. ( Is this the most successful approach till date??).When I pointed out the way he needed to go, he suddenly grabbed hold of my top. Before he could take two breaths I had punched him on his face ( I was still on the cycle) , opened my fingers and scored my nails down his face ( I bet it hurt like mad).My friend with equal presence of mind kicked his cycle and he toppled down. Before he got up we fled away. We didn't want to take the chances of him having any friends nearby. All this when we were fourteen.

These days a guy who flicks our hair and whistles saying," What is the reason for your beautiful hair?' , gets retorts of "Sabeena or Ujala". A guy who accidently pats you on the butt gets an equally accidental knock on his head by a wayward elbow or even better, an umbrella. The guys who look you up and down get look-ups and downs themselves. But that too is just by a select few girls. Most still cringe in fear.The girls who are yet to learn to defend themselves. And what about those incidents where you cannot defend yourself?Reminds of ( read my post 'A scary experience', when an auto driver asked me "Aren't you scared of going alone in the night?" during a late night trip. I replied "No. I know Karate". To which he says " What if there are six or seven men? Then what will you do,huh?". I was paralysed with fear then.

But really? What could even the braver ones do? Sit back, be raped and say "Thank you" ?

p.s. I hope the girls who read this post of mine gain the courage to be brave themselves and know they are not alone. I hope the guys who read this know to not just never harass but also spread the message and get the same attitude grilled into their friends.And I hope that everyone who reads it understands that even young children are susceptible to being harassed and get easily traumatised by it.So keep an eye on them for such signs of withdrawal and educate them when they are still very young about what they need to watch out for.

I would like to thank BlankNoiseProject for the opportunity to represent myself in this blog-a-thon in a topic so close to my heart.

p.p.s I made the collage above as a true representation of what I felt.

TO KILL OR NOT TO KILL?

A couple of days back I had this extraordinary dream.It came quite close to being a nightmare, but was not.Here it goes ---

It's late in the night and my entire house is pitched in darkness. I rise to go the kitchen for a drink of water.When I near the kitchen door, suddenly an apparition quite identical to the scary girl in 'The Ring' appears before me with her hands stretched out as if wanting to strangle me. I start with sudden fear. But my fear lives a short life. I reason to myself. Worst case scenario - what lies ahead of me is Death. And beyond death, what? Nothing. So it does not really matter.

Surprised by my lack of fear the apparition asks me, 'Why are you not terrifed?'. I explain. Amazed at my explanation, the apparition says, ' Alright. For this I shall give you a gift. A gift of being able to kill someone through ill thoughts. Were you to think really badly of someone, then they will die'.Saying this she kisses me on my cheek. I panic. I plead out saying, 'No! What you give me is no gift.It is a curse. An evil curse. I do tend to think quite ill of certain people. I don't want their blood on my hands.It would make me no better than you'.She stares at me for a while and says, 'A gift once given cannot be taken back'.

I feel incredibly upset at the thought. Can't stop thinking about what a heavy burden I need to henceforth carry on my shoulders.

And then it suddenly hit me.That I was wrong.What I had been given was not necessarily a curse. Yes, it did mean I had to learn to temper the grudges and ill feeling I might hold towards some people. But then it gave me a wonderful power too. The ability to met out justice when all else failed. To wield some goodness in an oft corrupt and wicked world. What if I used this ability to kill the Manu Sharmas( read Jessica Lall) and the George Bushs of this world?Would it still be a curse or a modern day,my own 'Sudarshan Chakra'?

Think about it.

A SCARY EXPERIENCE!

Two nights back I probably had one of the scariest experiences in my life.My cousin's wife was celebrating her birthday. We had this huge get together at her place with a huge motley of cousins who live in Bangalore. I was leaving that night to Madras for my rather extended leave to attend the weddings in my family.After much celebration, I reluctantly tore myself apart to catch an auto rickshaw to Majestic where I was to board the Chennai Mail which departs at 10.45. This was probably at around 9.30 in the night. Extremely early by Bangalore standards. By the way, I live at BTM, so the journey is a pretty long one.

The auto driver was a young guy, seeming harmless. Quite casually somewhere at the start of our journey he asked me in Hindi, " Memsaab, apko ithna raat pe ithna dhoor jaane me darr nahin lagta hain kya?Bangalore tho ithna be safe nahin hain" ( At this time of the night, aren't you scared to be going so far? Bangalore is not a safe city). I said "Nahin". And added to quell him "Mujhe Karate Patha Hain" ( No, I know Karate).He then turned and said in a rather husky tone,"Chae Saath Aadmi Aayenge tho aap kya karr sakthe hain, huh? ( If 6 or 7 men were to come then what can you do?).

At that moment my blood chilled right to my bone. A seemingly harmless conversation took an ominous turn in my mind. I like a lot of the other women live my life tutting in pity and horror when I read stories of rape and murder in the paper, look up to the skies and pray that it should not happen to anyone I know ( praying that no one is raped seems so futile) yet live my life in that confident bliss of assurance that it will not happen to me. I have always been a very careful person. In all likelihood because I have learnt Karate and happen to be a brown belt. When walking alone in the night I am always on the alert and watch my shadows to see if I am being followed. Confident of being able to deflect any attack. But at that instant I was horrified. I have a terrible sense of direction as all of my friends would attest to( After 4 years, I still don't know the way to my college).I could not help but wonder whether the auto driver had been issuing me a word of warning or whether it was a statement of what was to befall me.

I did not know the way to Majestic. I did not know if he was going on the right route. I did not anything at that instant but my fear. Ignorance had never been less blissful.Adrenalin was surging through me at a rate hundred times more rapid that at any other instance. It was only at around 10.20 when I reached Bangalore City station that my fear finally subsided.At that moment I resolved with all within me that I would not travel alone at night.

Two days later I am yet to decide whether I ought to laugh at my silly fears.I wonder if my imagination had been playing overtime with that one remark made by the auto driver. Yet, another part of me tells me that exercising caution could never be futile.The world is not too safe a place. This driver might just make ominous statements. Another might not hesitate to put his words in action.

A VISIT TO TIRUPATI

On Saturday, my sister and I decided to make an impromptu visit to Tirumala. We boarded a volvo at Majestic at around 9.30 in the morning. We reached Tirupati at about 3.30. After buying tickets for a Darshan we started our climb. It took us about 4 hours to reach the top, but was absolutely worth it. The mountains in the dark were tinted red with the setting sun and cool breeze washed itself against our faces. It was beautiful.

On reaching we booked a room. When we went to collect the key, I made a rather terrible faux paus. The guy at the counter asked us " Are there men?" in telugu. Not to be proved any inferior, I decided to reply back in Telugu. I said "Odhu" ( No in my dictionary). He jerked his head upward stalling in whatever he was writing and said "What?". Deciding that he was rather deaf I repeated "Odhu". He looked rather stunned and my sister was suddenly jerking me back. I turned to her and said " Did I say anything wrong? What does Odhu mean?". With a very embarassed smile directed towards the counter guy she whispered to me "It means Dont Want". I was like "Oh" and then burst out into paroxyms of laughter. Luckily the guy at the counter seemed to have a decent sense of humour. He smiled and gave us the key.This was probably at around 9.00 in the night.

When we went to the room, much to our misfortune the loo was disgusting, the room not cleaned and the mattresses were damp. After much debating we decided that god would certainly forgive us if we didn't stay for a Darshan. We immediately returned the key where we had a lively argument with the counter guy, refusing to pay cash for cleaning the room. Saw no reason to. It had not been cleaned for us. We saw no reason to pay when we had not even occupied the rooms. We then went to the office to collect our caution deposit. The young punk at that counter actually demanded 10 bucks to give us back our CD. My sis was all set to pay it, when I just turned to her and was like " Forget it. There is no way we are paying a bribe in Tirumala!!!". Grabbed the money from the punk's hand and ran out of the place. We then boarded a bus to Tirupati and from there took another bus back to Bangalore at arount 11.30 in the night to reach at 5.30 in the morning.

We were feeling extremely guilty for not having had a Darshan so had a bath and left for a Balaji temple at Domlur to assauge our guilt. End of a trip which was a series of unfortunate/fortunate events!!!!!

DRIVE SAFE..!!!

I left to Hyderabad from Bangalore on the 27th night.All set to enjoy my four day Diwali vacation. The season being a hectic one, and me having not booked my tickets two months in advance had to travel by bus. Fact is , I hate travelling by bus. Especially if it is an overnight journey. My bus which was supposed to leave at 9.30 dilly dallyed waiting for some passengers and finally left at 10.15. After a rather bumpy journey, at around 8.15 in the morning we were finally about 50 kms from Hyderabad when we got stuck in a traffic jam. The reason? A bus travelling from Bangalore had collided with a truck coming in the opposite direction.A headlong collision.End result?
Five people died instantaneously.
The bus had been trying to overtake the bus ahead of it when due to brake failure it collided against the lorry. The bus I was travelling on was about 10 buses behind the one that collided. A couple of people in my bus were completely spooked out. They could not help but keep repeating "Oh my god! I normally travel by that bus. It's just that this time I could not get tickets to come by that". The fear of disaster. The fear of death. The eeriest fear that one can come across. It is the only one unexplained, unexpected and irreversible.
And the only thing it can leave you saying is "If only.....".
Everyday in the papers we read about people dying in automobile accidents. Yes, I know. There have been more terrible disasters happening lately. The bomb blasts , the train in AP that derailed killing hundreds, the floods that have inundated our entire country.... the list goes on. But fact remains that there are certain things that are within our control.
You cannot say that you will not go to markets and thereby avoid bomb blasts. You cannot just lock yourself in your homes and say I will not travel by planes or by trains. But you definitely can drive a lot more safely.

About a year ago a friend of mine and me went speeding in the morning till tears were involuntarily dripping from my eyes. The thrill of it all was.... beyond fantastic! But in retrospective , I can't help but feel , was it necessary? What if we had skidded to deformity if not death? The oft used and tired slogan 'Speed thrills but kills' is more appropriate than it has been given credit for.

There is so much of tragedy in life that cannot be averted. So much of pain and suffering that we must need experience. Yet so much of tragedy we can avert just by driving safe. Just by deciding to not speed through life.

Drive Safe.