Miles to go Before I Sleep

Dr. Syeda S. Hameed
I know not if she's a doctor or a Doctorate but I still feel like calling her Dr. I feel in-debt to her for what she did and for what she didn't do that may inspire many to "do". At this point, a statement from a friend haunts me night and day in an attempt to jerk me out of my complacence ~ "You have lots of work to do". He said this as a conclusion of a tale he narrated from his life. It was a plain statement, but to me it was an appeal, a wake-up call, a reminder to my purpose. And so was Dr Hameeds' book: "They Hang".

As every Gudiya, Dilshan, Maimun, Sajoni, Bela, Lakra appeal to me, I hear their cries in my own sobs, I feel their pain in the contractions of my breath, I experience their helplessness in the numbness, the suffocation of my own secure home. And I lift my head in the darkness gaping at the white lining in the distance.
Times are changing? Yes. Is that enough for you and me to sit back and relax? Hell NO!

Missing You

Each day, I take it for granted that I opened my eyes to see the world for the first time. That someone decided that I could take my first breath on the earth. And each day I realise that every breath that I take costs the life of a life-giver who never would give life since her own life was not given to her.

This is my story because I live. This is my story because I could have been dead.

I am the only child of a well to do family - strange how "well to do" is defined by the monetary value of possessions of my father. I go to school. The driver is nice to me. My parents buy me toys and dresses. I don't like to drink milk but I have to. It's a happy family.

A couple of months ago Mom told me we were going to have another member in our family. I was very happy I would become a big girl. But as days are passing she is becoming week. My father wants to take her to the doctor, but she doesn't want to go. I don't understand why. They are having fights. I asked her to take some medicine but she just held me and cried. My grand mom is not nice to my mom. She says it's because of me. She doesn't like me. My parents are having more and more fights. I told my mom I loved her. Yesterday she fell down the stairs when I was playing outside. She was crying. My dad came towards her to pick her up while my grand mom stood at the top of the stairs and stared. I never saw my mother on the floor... bleeding. I didn't know what to do. The servant took me away. I cried to be with my mom.

Today I went to the hospital. She looked week. She held me close to her and said, "Child! I'm sorry. I couldn't take care of your sister. And I won't be around to take care of you. You be strong my girl. I love you." With this she closed her eyes. I tried to wake her up. I wanted to tell her I am strong. I wanted to tell her I loved her too. I wanted to ask her where my sister is. But she wouldn't wake up. The nurse rushed in and screamed for the doctor.

The servant took me away from my mother. The doctors took her away from us. But I think it's not them, it's we who put my mother and my sister away from ourselves.

I live today and try to be strong as mom told. I am missing her. I am missing my sister whom I could never meet. I am missing you, who has given up on us.

A Bird's Calling

A bird may sing, a bird may cry
a bird may fall and she may fly
She sways away to the unknown lands
she lives in no place, neither air nor sands
But the lives she sees make her fumble
The sands of time make her humble
A part of her she shares with joy
and flies away to the lands so dry
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A land so green, a river so full
O dear Birdy, let me sing you into a lull
The stars shine in the sky so wide
the ocean kisses the shore with gentle tide
Let your music fill the air, so pure
Let your art blossom just a little more
Stay! The song of your heart, for its sake
For every spirit here now you'll wake
will not stand in your way if you chose to fly
unless you promise not to say goodbye

I fly with my words

Theatrical you may call me
A dramatist would disagree
I live in a world where words just flee
And I traverse along, I transcend with glee

Freedom tastes good

Freedom is what I seek
from the known - a childs' play it'll be
The unknown though is creepy
it doesn't cease to be.. oh so starry

To Light

The light in you is shining bright
Hope ceases to be out of sight
Close your eyes and feel the warmth
In the field called love, there's no such dirth

Anamika

You don't want your daughter to be Anamika. That's the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of the horrible realities of the society that you and me form.

Anamika is the portrayal of the concept of the worst form of human rights violation - sex trafficking. It tells their tale through their very tongues that have been forced silent for far too long. From the dungeons where they are trapped, to the beasts (I won't call them men) they are forced to go to - they tell all. Anamikas shake the most popular belief of prostitution being 'easy money'. They don’t have a name. They don’t have an identity. Just a body which is not theirs – it’s sold. Again and Again. And if their cries, their tears don't move you, let this do the job. The only words they have for us is an advice to save ourselves from falling in this trap. They wish us a good life - a life they have stopped imagining for themselves. We have made them give up on us. Are we going to wake up now?

P.S. If you want to watch this movie, please refer to the link : http://www.prajwalaindia.com/films.html
or leave me a message. I may be able to assist.

Shhh... I've got something to tell you

The pen is mightier than the sword.

I have always written/ spoken about the bigger picture. For me it has always been more effective. I would talk about poverty in general rather than the story of one or two particular people. But what I found out recently was stories.. get across that message that no generalization gets across. And hence historically, it is via stories that all the wisdom has been transferred over the ages.

I've got something to tell you.
I have just experienced my first trance. I felt it. In a flurry of emotion, a rush to catch something unusual, like a shooting star, like the first drop of rain fall, I succumbed in the vast creation of nature. She urged me, compelled me to go forward, telling me not to be afraid, to open my eyes and feel the light shadowed amidst momentary darkness. I tread carefully, feeling every sound, every vibration in lousy air until all came to a grinding halt. A halt i can not forget - a halt I dare not forget.

Creating interest. A mystery about to unfold, something about to happen, when one lets loose of ones imagination and flows with the story teller, gets transported into a world where anything can happen. Or maybe... those things happen which were dreamed or dreaded.

I stood there standing for a while at a distance where they could not see me. I saw a group of kids like me both boys and girls lined up outside an enclosure. A couple of men called them by a strange number. I wondered why I wasn't hearing any names. 2 girls and 1 boy were sent inside the enclosure and the rest of the kids were put in the truck they probably came out from.

Is the tongue mighty enough?