Rejected without Prejudice!

The wind blowing her scarf, she stood there soaking in the sights and sounds of this alien country. A country she had been fighting a silent battle with. It had been so many years, such a long time; time that had been expected to heal wounds, help make fresh memories miraculously. And memories had been built in all those years, there was fervor to see each other, almost the kind of excitement a child has before he sees Santa Claus; excitement for a future, to relive the waltz of shared memories. 

Shailendra and Pooja were meeting after a huge gap, a time span that had given them a lot of time to ponder over the seemingly short 5 years of their lives. The five years that they had spent together, the time that had been a roller-coaster ride, resplendent with all the hues of life. Pooja and Shailendra were the poster couple of modern India, in times where India was represented by the IT world. They had worked in a huge IT company, where everybody was trying to climb up the ladder. They were living in an era where software engineers were among the best paid in India and it was a welcome change. That era marked the change of tides for India, an India where most families had been middle class suddenly had their children earning much more then they had ever started with. And these young graduates were thrilled to be able to possess the buying power their parents had acquired after years of struggle.

Such were the times Pooja and Shailendra were living in. And like all others, they wanted to make money, save money and achieve every dream possible. All these ambitions came at a cost, the cost of working hard without a thought to personal lives. Even though these companies paid graduates well, striding ahead only came with setting yourself apart from the rest of the herd. It was this shared ambition, the shared agony of dreams that brought Pooja and Shailendra together. Both would work long hours, take up difficult projects and yet find time to smile about the little things in life. It had almost become routine for them to catch up after work to get a bite to eat and bond over common enemies, like the project manager. Soon, they had moved on to be more than friends. Shailendra and Pooja were not the head-over-heels, love at first sight couple. They were the kind who tried to find logic in love. They were the new practical generation, or so they thought.

As soon as they realized the compatibility was a little more than common sense, they decided to stick together for the long haul. Friends were informed, parents were introduced and things started moving in the ‘happily ever after’ direction. But, for one catch; Shailendra had decided he wanted to achieve much more in life than slog for a software company. He wanted to gain experience and learn the ways of the world. He had applied to MBA schools across the world; If he decided to join any of these schools, what would happen to this relationship? Was an 8-month relationship strong enough to endure the pressure of a 2-year gap? Pooja and Shailendra had spoken about this many times, and although Pooja was apprehensive about it, Shailendra assured her that things would work out. 

After ample reassuring for both sets of parents, Shailendra left for the “Land of Opportunities”, leaving behind a doubtful Pooja. “You have to make sure you keep in touch, you can’t just use distance as an excuse”, muttered Pooja. “Don’t you worry, we are mature, sensible adults, we will sail through. And it is just a matter of two years”, responded Shailendra. As Shailendra left, Pooja knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but the determination in Shailendra’s eyes brought her confidence. 

Pooja moved to a new job; working in the same office without Shailendra around made it difficult for her in some ways. And the work was getting monotonous too. Shailendra found life as a student more challenging than he had imagined. Even with the challenges of time difference, they made time for each other and would fill each other in on the details of their day. The first few days passed smoothly. There was a lot of understanding for each other, all the patience in the world, and of course, the wonderful memories to reminisce about. The first few years of any relationship are the most blissful, people ride high on the novelty of the relationship, people are willing to make compromises and people are optimistic. Pooja and Shailendra were no different, they were putting in efforts to make maximum time for each other, they were putting each other above themselves, and they were already making compromises. But, what people don’t realize is that the sooner you start making compromises, the faster you become bitter about those. 

And then the inevitable happened. The distance started building a barrier, a barrier not because of lack of love, but because of the run-of-the-mill things of life. The busier they became in their lives, their work, the tougher it became to find time for each other. And all the technology in the world does not help, when you actually don’t have any common ground. But the hope of meeting each other soon kept them going. “I will be done soon, and then everything will be like before”, Shailendra reiterated to Pooja. “But, it has been too long, Shail. I need to see you, I really miss you, being around you, talking to you. Couldn’t you possibly find more time for me?”, Pooja said disappointedly. “We had known this all along, so why are you getting disturbed by it? It will be fine, it is just a matter of a few days. We can do this”, chimed Shailendra.

And so, they started planning for the future, of better days to come ahead. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and soon it was time for Shailendra to graduate. Pooja did not want to miss this proud moment, a moment that testified for all their sacrifices and compromises, a moment that defined the hard work both of them had put in, a moment for which their relationship had taken the beating, and a moment that would lead them to a better tomorrow. She watched the ceremony on a video call; nobody was happier than Pooja, she had sent out a congratulatory package for Shailendra to enjoy at his graduation party.  It was flowers and his absolute favorite apple pie. It was past midnight in India, but he had to call her. “Oh thanks a ton, Pooja… You are the best, a guy could ask for. You have been so patient all along, you have been a rock, getting me through this challenge. I could not have done it without you and yet, you are the one celebrating me”, said Shailendra to Pooja. “Hey don’t get me wrong! It is our relationship that I was celebrating”, Pooja replied with a giggle. “Oh really??? Like I don’t know you. I just don’t know what I would do without you. You keep my life interesting. You are the sugar and spice of my life. I just can’t wait to see you”, said Shailendra in excited tones. “I know, me too, and yes, flattery won’t do; I am expecting lots of wonderful gifts for all that you put me through”. “Oh yes Ma’m, I am well aware of that”, Shailendra said. It was moments like these that had kept their love alive and given it strength to bear the strains of a long distance relationship.

The plan had always been for Shailendra to work for a few years to repay the student loan, marry Pooja, and decide where to go from there. So, the next step for Shailendra was to find a job. Once he found a job, he would be able to go back to India for a vacation. He was on a student visa, and if he left the country without securing a job, he would not be able to come back. So, wait he did, for the perfect job. And waited Pooja too, for another trial in their relation. The job search brought with it another set of stressors. The frustration of not being able to find a good job, worth the degree, the disappointment at not being able to go back to India, the bursting of the bubble of a great life in America, all took their toll on Shailendra. And he gradually turned into a different person. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

But Pooja stood by him at all times, assuring him of his worth, rationalizing with him to settle for a decent job for now. “You can always find a better job later. You know how it is with our field, it is so easy to make a switch. What is important right now is to move to the next step”, Pooja explained. “It is so easy, right. Like I am not trying, and yes, I won’t settle for less. You are just saying this because all you care about is me coming back. You don’t care about my job, my dreams…..”, snapped a beaten down Shailendra. There was silence, and then Pooja spoke, “I thought they were our dreams….”

At that point, both of them knew their relationship was moving into dangerous waters. And a buoy would have to be put in soon, to keep it afloat. Pooja prayed and prayed for Shailendra to face reality and be practical. Not that she did not understand his position; he expected returns for his sacrifices. What Shailendra couldn’t see was the fact that he was sacrificing much more in the process. 

Eventually, he did find a job, but a man who is not happy with himself can never make anyone else happy. Shailendra was a changed man now. And so changed the relation. Pooja was running out of her patient streak too. All she wanted was to see him and revive their relation. She knew what was transpiring was dangerous for their relation. So, she decided it was time for her to make amends. Pooja made a suggestion, “Shail, what do you say? It is obviously difficult for you to take a vacation. Maybe, it would be better if I made a trip to America. You don’t have to worry about the million things, and we don’t have to keep waiting….”. “That is actually not a bad idea. It would work out great. You are a genius, Pooja! Lets make this work!” said Shailendra. 

Thus, started the process of Pooja’s attempt to cross seven seas for her love. In great spirits, she got the documents ready and set out for her visa interview. And then, when she was expecting it least, came another blow. She had been denied the visa for “inexplicable reasons”. For anyone, who has applied for a US visa, this wasn’t a new term. You can be denied the right to visit another country for any and every reason under the sun. And worse, the embassy was not answerable to you. But this was Pooja’s first time, and standing there in the middle of the room, she did not know what had hit her. She walked out in a daze, not knowing what to do next. As she spoke to Shailendra, she decided to apply for the US visa again. She tried once more and was denied again, “Rejected without prejudice” stamped across her application.

Both Pooja and Shailendra were tired, they were running out of steam and the fights would just not stop. When people are frustrated, they vent out on their closest person. And nothing hurts a relation more than that. Especially, when you don’t get to experience the physical proximity, that meaningful look in the eyes, the comforting touch, and just that visual sense of the moment. Although their arguments would be about wanting to be with each other, nonetheless they were arguments and bitter ones that brought with them all the pent-up frustration from the past 3 and a half years.

And one day, Shailendra just couldn’t take it anymore. He decided this was physically and emotionally draining for both of them. “Pooja, there is no longer any love here, we just hurt each other and make our lives miserable. I don’t think there is enough love to last us through this test of time. Maybe, we should move on…” Shailendra put forth hesitantly. “No, no, I don’t understand what you are saying. Who doesn’t fight, and all our fights are about being with each other, so both of us want the same thing, to be together”, Pooja said defensively. “But, the fact is we are not together, and there doesn’t seem to be any chance of that changing soon”, Shailendra added.

“Shail, I do believe things would be different, if I was there, right next to you. Please understand, we have been patient all along, don’t give up now!”, muttered Pooja in a desperate attempt to reclaim what she soon seemed to be losing.

But, Shailendra was so bogged down by the numerous failed attempts to put a stop to these fights they would have. Arguments over not making enough time for each other, the frustration of physically not being there for each other. It was never going to be a bed of roses, but it had now become almost impossible to pick out the thorns without pricking each other’s hearts.

Yet, Pooja exclaimed, “Please, I have to see you once!”. “What do you expect me to do, hitchhike on a ship? I cannot, I simply cannot come back right now, and I don’t have the strength to wait for the day I can”, screamed Shailendra.

All these events were playing through their minds, making them dizzy that chilly October morning. Pooja and Shailendra were finally meeting each other, she had finally made it across. Her long standing wish had come true, she was here, for closure! That summer afternoon 11 years ago, Shailendra had called it off, was the beginning to the end of their relationship. There were bitter, angry, remorseful arguments after that conversation, interspersed with futile attempts to resuscitate their love. But, nothing worked; the damage was done and there was no aid in sight for their bruised relation. Parents were consulted, and Pooja and Shailendra were advised to move on. And move on, they did, battered and bruised, helpless and hopeless. And then they realized, it is easier to break ties when there is no love, when you leave a person in hatred, in anger, in vengeance. But, when you see there is love, just not the right stage for it, it becomes unimaginably challenging to sever those silken threads. 

But, remember Pooja and Shailendra had the practical kind of love. So, they made the right choice for each other; above all they wanted to see the other person happy. And this relation was just not what was making either of them happy. Today Pooja was here, but only on a temporary dependent visa with her husband. And she did not want to lose this chance to close that major chapter of her life with dignity and grace. She wanted to be happy and remorse-free. “It was never us, Shail…. Umm, Shailendra! It was the situation. We are good people, we had true love. But love doesn’t necessarily culminate in marriage. There are all sorts of love….”, started Pooja. “And ours was the kind, where we hurt each other?”, said Shailendra quizzically. “You still don’t get it, do you? It was the lessons from our relation that led us to find happiness, made us responsible, mature spouses today”. “But how is that fair? We go through turbulent times, so that our partners can have perfect spouses. If it was us, who survived through it, it should have been us who got to celebrate it”, said Shailendra angrily. “I know, I know… I am just glad that we nipped it at the right time. We were turning into monsters”, added Pooja with a smile. Shailendra laughed hard, and said, “Wow, I must say you are quite the ray of sunshine, where is that coming from?”. “That tends to happen when you are advocating for families torn apart by immigration laws. They need hope, not the depressing statistics of tight-lipped immigration authorities”, Pooja said with passion. 

“So, what, you are a lawyer now?”. 

“No, just using my experience to counsel families. I told you there were all kinds of love. And I found my new love in making sure no one goes through what we did”. 

“And what about us, what do we share?”, said Shailendra as their eyes met, eyes that had the sorrow of a painful past. They knew things didn't always work out as expected, whether you give them time or not. It is almost like every event in your life has a mind of its own;  a mind that leads you to your destiny. And there were no two people who knew this better than Shailendra and Pooja. They might have been seeing each other after almost a decade, but they were perfectly familiar with the whims of time. They knew how it felt to be helpless at the hands of time and distance. They knew perfectly well how the dimensions of life changed with time and distance. They had witnessed the unwilling dance to the rhythm of time. And they had experienced the strongest of people fall prey to this unexpected predator.

Pooja broke the trail of thoughts, silently adding,“Friendship, a history, and life lessons, that’s what we share.  And that kind of bond doesn’t break easily, there are no obligations, nothing there that cannot deal with despicable laws and roadblocks”. With or without prejudice, bonds and memories are not something that can be rejected by embassies, a relation might be broken, but if the ties are strong enough, a new relation builds on the old one; a bond that cannot be ‘rejected without prejudice’.

Independence Day, Happy or Somber?

Our forefathers might have put in their blood and sweat to free this country and its people from the clutches of tyranny, but would they be pleased to witness the shape and form Free India has taken? What would the Bhagat Singhs, Gandhis, Subhashchandra Boses of the revolutionary era have to say about our motherland today? Have we as a nation done justice to their struggles, have we been able to fulfill their dreams, have we actually broken free of the evils of colonial India? Are we failing the bright young faces of India, are we denying them a worthy future?

In some respects, I am sure they would feel proud of the progress this country has made. It has gone from being colonized to being taken notice of across the globe. It has carved its niche in many a fields and brought glory to the people. This country's citizens have made their presence felt in almost every country. But, are these people representative of the country as a whole? Have the issues of poverty, illiteracy, inequality actually been addressed? Does India Shining represent a certain section of the population or the whole country? Should we actually feel proud that our citizens are globe-trotting, making a name for their country; or should we look deeper into the reason behind them actually globe-trotting? It is very convenient to focus on the obvious positives of a country and take solace in that. But, it takes much more strength and conviction to face the negatives and try to look into them.

I know it is very easy to talk about the shortcomings of a country, but actually realizing that and working towards improving is a tough task. In the past year, there have been several occasions, where the country has stood together and tried to make themselves heard. And I feel respectful and proud of that fact. In some cases, the voices actually made a difference, and in others, they were simply ignored. What makes me happy is that people are ready to accept the failures of this country and try to find a solution. Whether or not this is a pragmatic approach that will get through to the people in power is a debatable issue. 

In light of these facts, there are certain issues that have cropped in recent times, that provoke me to think if I actually should be celebrating my country's Independence Day. I am not even sure if the common man in India, even feels like this is an event to be celebrated. And like them, there are some reasons, this Independence Day is a somber occasion for me:

1. Inhuman suppression of women: 

What happened in New Delhi last December is one of the most shameful pictures of India being painted. And it is not like, it was the first time women had encountered such a fate. But, the brutality of this incident was what sent shivers down everybody's spine. It was a rude awakening for the law enforcement authorities when their lack of action was brought to the forefront. It is also true that such incidents happen in other countries too, and it would be incorrect to judge Indian society by that. But, this incident brought to the forefront the appalling indifference of the community and police towards the triggers that lead to such events. The fact that we take the early signs lightly, and to add to that our movies glorify stalkers as eternal lovers, is not only disturbing but soul-shaking. This was one of the occasions where the voice of the people actually made some difference, in terms of faster and more conscientious actions from the authorities. Whether or not this is a matter that eventually gets lost among a pile of other old headlines is to be seen.

2. Increasing indifference: 

The dark hole we send our armed forces down

Is this some kind of cruel joke the country's leaders are playing with the men in green? How many more times do the men defending your country need to be tortured, insulted, debased before you actually take a stern step. The supposed leaders of this country have done nothing but bring shame to the families of these soldiers and made a complete fool out of themselves at the global level. And to add salt to the injury, there is not one, but two neighbors putting their foot in the door. We have had to deal with Chinese incursions this year and now the violations from Pakistan. Could you imagine America or any other other formidable country taking this like a sitting duck? Then why do we take this lightly? Again, it is heartening to know that people are taking notice of this injustice and trying to urge the leaders to come out of their slouch. But, we as a nation have to come out of our soft target image, and adopt an absolute zero-tolerance policy.

3. Inflation, bribery, power games, scandals: 

Seems like a line straight out of a mafia movie, but this is the state of our country that really worries me. With so many scandals uncovered and new ones cropping up every few days, the only thing that comes to my mind is that of the power hungry being ready to put at stake the common man. They don't care if their corruption or bribery costs some people their lives, or even the chance to earn a decent meal. With bribery, goes hand in hand inflation and the ever-increasing prices of basic commodities. It is easy to say that there is a growing middle class that can afford all this, but it fills me with pain to even think of how the lower classes might be surviving. How is it fair that we have India Shining on the one hand and India Drowning on the other? 

I know it is very easy for me to comment from a distance, and a lot of people would suggest that I show it in my actions rather than words. But, I have absolutely no clue as to how to bring order to this society. Are we doomed for inequalities? Is this what we are supposed to accept as our country's fate and let it pass? When I was younger, I thought the answer to this was to take action and bring about a change. But, looking at people like Durga, who tried to take a right step and was penalized for it, I no longer trust that actions of certain self-righteous people can transform this country. 

Although, the silver lining to all these issues is the fact that there is growing awareness and a need to bring about a change among the people. Having lived away from India for 4 years, I find utter respect for the masses who have made the effort and have attempted to bring about one small change at a time. It is not easy to be in the eye of the storm and still be capable of thinking straight, to find a solution. I don't know how strong of a voice the masses would have to present for the top tier to actually be scared and take necessary measures, but the attempt to stand by each other is a victory in my eyes. In the past, even the general public has ignored the signs of doomsday and moved on. The fact that they feel the need to protest is in itself a start. Whether the momentum is enough to get this country through true independence from these evils is something that only time can tell.

Rejected without Prejudice - my entry to the Get Published Contest

Premise of the story - Shailendra and Pooja are the poster couple of modern India. They worked in IT companies, lived in metropolitan cities, and dated a few people, before choosing each other for the long haul. Like most of India's youth, they too have major aspirations and Shailendra travels to the 'Land of Opportunities' for an MBA. But, not before making some tough choices. Pooja is apprehensive of how this relationship will change, both being separated by multiple boundaries. Shailendra is confident things will work out and they decide to give it a shot. The first few months sail by, with hopes for future togetherness. As months turn into years, the courtship bliss is taken over by the tensions of leading a dual life.  Sweet memories of their companionship make way for bitter arguments, like any other couple. But, unlike other couples, they have not met for almost 3 years, not out of choice, but out of a global paranoia of minimizing immigration. They are not even sure if they qualify to be addressed as a couple; every day is a struggle, a fight against authorities, nations, policies and norms.

This story is the heart-wrenching tale of two people in love, partitioned not by caste, religion or family norms, but by seemingly important pieces of paper. A story that pans the fate of love under tumultuous conditions; a love that is made up of human issues and not fairy tale stuff.

The reality quotient of the story – With aspirations soaring high in modern India, and numerous regulatory issues, more and more people feel the pressures of long-distance relationships. Why does it have to be a choice between aspirations and relations?  The word NRI comes with a lot of complexities, as opposed to the glamour still associated with it in our society. In urban India, it has become increasingly common for people to work and reside in a different country, with their loved ones back home. Such a story, then, mirrors the exhausting trials of simply being able to see those important people in life.

Excerpt –
 “Shail, I do believe things would be different, if I was there, right next to you. Please understand, we have been patient all along, don’t give up now!”, muttered Pooja in a desperate attempt to reclaim what she soon seemed to be losing.

But, Shailendra was so bogged down by the numerous failed attempts to put a stop to these fights they would have. Arguments over not making enough time for each other, the frustration of physically not being there for each other. It was never going to be a bed of roses, but it had now become almost impossible to pick out the thorns without pricking each other’s hearts.

Yet, Pooja exclaimed, “Please, I have to see you once!”. “What do you expect me to do, hitchhike on a ship? I cannot, I simply cannot come back right now, and I don’t have the strength to wait for the day I can”, screamed Shailendra.

If you like the snippet, and are excited to know the rest of the story, please click on the link below to vote for this story. On the link, clicking on the heart will register your vote and give me a chance to pen down the story for my protagonists.

Get Published Contest - Show your support and Vote here for the rest of the story!

Endnote: This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal andHarperCollins India.

The Tattered Shoe

The following post is a work of fiction, revolving around the picture below.

The world looked so different today, sitting atop his father's shoulders. There was an unknown warmth inside him, a flicker of hope and he was not even sure why. Even with the billowing smoke behind them, Aalim was calm, he felt protected and kept pondering over the reason for this sudden trip. He knew he was supposed to be happy because his father seemed at peace and he was seeing a smile on his father's face after a long, long time. 

Aalim knew if his father was happy, there was something on the other side, that was more welcoming than the bleat of their herd of sheep, their only family. He and his father had been walking for about an hour and he had seen a lot of other people too, hiking the cold mountain with their children. Wherever this place was, it must be a safe haven. Otherwise, the Afghan parents would never let their kids out on the mountains, which was open ground for violence. Aalim had been perched on his father's shoulders for about an hour and was now getting very curious as to why so much effort was being put into reaching this place. You see, Aalim was the kind of child who was demure, yet intelligent. He would get curious, but would find answers himself. He did not like to question anybody, especially his father, whom he trusted more than anything. So he kept designing images in his head, of what would be on the other side of this mountain. 

Maybe it was an Ice-Cream shop, he had heard about it from some of the American soldiers, and from what they said, it must be a delicious treat. Or maybe, there was going to be one of those things that flew in the sky like a bird, and people could travel from one place to another in it. He had always seen planes in the sky, and had been told it was a bad omen, since they were almost always followed by a string of explosions somewhere. But, he had heard these planes could take you to far off places, where you could see big buildings, lights, and the warmth of heaters. But, his father had left behind their sheep; he would never move to a new place, without their family, their sheep. So what could be on the other side that was worth all this trouble? Was he going to find a new family, a mother, a sister, grandparents? He had heard of these family members, but never experienced that bond. Was his father taking him to see the Circus, or the Zoo; he had seen pictures of these places in the letters written to an American Soldier. The soldier had pointed out the pictures made by his son, describing the things he had seen that summer. 

Aalim belonged to the region of Jalalkot, in Afghanistan; a region that had been ravaged during the conflicts between the American forces and the Taliban. This war had gone on for such a long time; since the time he was 3; that he wasn't sure what home meant. Right now they lived in bunkers, and would be moved around depending on the threat to that area. He wasn't sure what the war was about, but he had been told the Americans were looking for a very dangerous man. He had also been told by many that the Americans were the ones who were dangerous. They had the big weapons, and bombs that would hurt people. Aalim was too young to understand the undercurrents to the different sides of the story. It was his father, who had taught him though, not to judge any one. "It is the side that you view it from, that defines whether someone is good or bad"; said Aalim's father, Akhdan. 

Photo Credit: Gazing at the flag

Akhdan was a very sensible, and unbiased man. He was industrious and righteous. As long as his family's needs were being met, he did not indulge in conflicts, and was in general, a happy man. Even though, he had lost a lot in this war, his wife and daughter, his parents, his house; he was glad he had his son and a decent meal. The benevolent person that he was, he would even share his possessions, with others in need. It was under Akhdan's support then, that Aalim became friendly with the soldiers keeping guard in Jalalkot.  It was weird that people thought these soldiers were scary, but it was these soldiers who would share their food treats, something very tasty called 'Cheese Crackers', it was also they who played catch with the little kids around. The thing is, for everybody stuck in those bunkers, it was these lighter moments to keep them human. With the sound of explosions, panic and painful screams, it was difficult to maintain sanity and not be pulled down by the dark side of human nature. So, the soldiers too did not mind the welcome breaks. 

A friendship with the soldiers meant, taking a peek in their lives and finding how life could be different for different people. Some of the amiable soldiers shared their letters and showed family pictures to Aalim. It was strange how they would communicate across a language barrier, using sign language and expressions. But, soon Aalim was learning things he would never have known, had he not befriended these visitors. He started gaining knowledge about simple things like a Circus, a Zoo, a Library and a School. And then went on to more complicated things like iPODs, computers and what not. He had never seen any of these things in Jalalkot. There used to be a small school 15 miles away from Jalalkot, but that too had fallen to the perils of war. He had been hoping he would go to that school when he grew up. But he wasn't so sure of that anymore. Based on what he was being told by the soldiers, he started imagining school; lots of colorful toys, beautiful books with pictures of animals, songs about the moon, the sky and the trees. That was the best he could do, imagine and feel like he was there.

And that was what he was doing even today, imagining what it would be like, in this special place his father was taking him to. When he had thought of all possible surprises, he suddenly popped a question to his father, "Abbu, it is a good surprise, right? It is not like you are going to leave me there with someone? That would be a really bad surprise". Akhdan smiled from ear to ear and said, "I am sure you will like this surprise. It will be fun for both of us. And yes, I would never think of leaving you".

"So, where is it that we are going? It has been such a long time, I think we are lost", said Aalim.

To which, his father said, "We are almost there, but you have to save all your energy for there. So try to be quiet for sometime, okay?".

Aalim thought finally the day had come for him to help his father. He wondered: "Father did say that I have to save up my energy, so I must have to help him with the farm and the sheep". Aalim had requested his father many times to let him work at the farm, but Akhdan insisted he was too young to work, this was the time for him to enjoy the wonders of life. And this was the time he could learn something from the books and stories of the soldiers. It took everything in Aalim to curb his curiosity, and then he heard something really cheerful. The sound of laughter, the sound of children running around with enthusiasm. What was it that made them so happy? He was so excited, trying to stretch himself enough to see what was happening; that he almost fell off from his look-out point.

As they approached the noise, Aalim came across a colorful play set, a red slide, a blue swing, green monkey bars. He had never been on any of those, but remembered seeing a picture in a book. As Akhdaan kept walking, Aalim excitedly asked him, "Please Abbu, tell me this is where we stop. Is this what we were coming for?". Akhdan nodded his head in assent, and Aalim had a grin as wide as the crescent moon. Akhdan added, "But this is not all. You are going to learn about the world, learn to count and add numbers, learn new songs about different places, and meet new friends. Do you want to do all that? Do you want to go to school?".

"Yes, yes, father, I have always wanted to do all this, maybe that American Grandfather with a long, white beard and red sack heard my wish and thought of letting me go to school", said Aalim. He was talking about Santa Claus, of course. The soldiers had told him about the legend of Santa Claus this last Christmas, mentioning that such a good boy would surely be rewarded by Santa. And like all young children, he had instantly believed in the miracle of wishing, and had done exactly what he was told. He had eagerly put his little, tattered shoe, out under the winter sky; that was the closest he had, to socks or stockings; left one Kebab beside the shoe, and made his wish, a wish to explore the world, write his own name, write letters like the ones the soldiers had, and be able to read the wonderful stories in the books, he had only relished by looking at the pictures. The next day he ran out to look at the shoe, but it was empty. Little as he was, he was not sure, how such a gift would fit inside a shoe. And he assumed that Santa had lost his way, trying to find the gift, but was sure that Santa would figure out a way to get his gift. He was running around that whole day, telling everybody about the Kebab that Santa had eaten and his gift that would soon arrive. All the soldiers were amused by this story, especially Sgt. Matt Bedford, the soldier who had shown him pictures of his children at the Zoo. He insisted Aalim should tell him what his wish was. And soon enough, Aalim blurted out that he wanted to go to school.

Aalim was right in thinking that Santa Claus had listened to his wish, because it was Sgt. Bedford who had revealed to Akhdan about the mini playschool-like unit the United Nations was trying to set up in Bilalkot, about an hour from their home in Jalalkot. Akhdan was thrilled to know that his son might actually be able to experience what school felt like. But it worried him that they might ask for money and he didn't have any to spare. With the bombings, his crops had suffered and he could see that the year would be difficult anyways, without even having to pay for school. "I don't think Aalim could go to school this year, maybe next year....", muttered Akhdan. Sgt. Bedford was quick to add, "No, no, don't worry, you will not need money. The United Nations is trying to train the men and women in your country to run a school and teach children. This is a project they are working on. So all children will be welcome". Akhdan could never forget that day.

Recollecting the events from that day, Akhdan thought to himself, "Today I will finally see Aalim embark on the journey he was meant to take". As Akhdan lowered Aalim from his shoulders, he had tears in his eyes, tears that had built up inside him since the day this inhumanity had started in his country, since his family had been wiped off, since the day he had started worrying about his son, Aalim's future. He contained the tears again somehow, and with misty eyes, spoke to his son, "This is where you become exactly like the other kids in the world. You will enjoy a childhood, play with toys, use the wings of your imagination to fly off to mystic places and come home with lots of stories". This is where Aalim would forget about the violence, the injustice, the prejudice of life. This is where he would enjoy the liberties only being a child can bestow one with. His thoughts could run free, he could ask questions, in no fear of punishment, he could find himself, he could experiment with his ideas, and most important, he could enjoy life's little pleasures. He would find friends, share dreams and hopes, be creative and portray a different character every day. He would learn that running always need not be out of fear; it could be out of joy, in exhilaration. And there were multitudes of discoveries he would make over the years, some about himself, some about human nature and some about life itself.

Akhdan was so overwhelmed by this momentous occasion that he forgot he was still holding tight to Aalim, who was jumping up and down with pleasure. He was brought back to reality by Aalim's shouts, "Abbu, Thank you, for bringing me here, but can I go, can I go?". Akhdan then loosened his hold on Aalim and walked him over to Sgt. Bedford, who was already waiting there to introduce Aalim to the teachers. Akhdan nudged Aalim and he blurted out, "Thank you, Uncle". Sgt. Bedford picked up Aalim and swung him around, to add with a smile,  "Now you too can draw pictures of all the new places that you will learn about at school. I will wait to hear your stories". The teachers enrolled Aalim and took him over to the meet-and-greet with the other kids. They ensured Akhdan of his son's safety and asked him to come back for Aalim in two hours.

Akhdan had nothing but gratitude for these noble men and women, who had helped all these troubled children find a ray of normalcy in these frightening times. Things had been getting better after the forces had decided to recede, and there were Social Organizations like these, trying to smooth out the process of resettling, for the natives. The Afghan administrators were being pursued to open up schools, recreation centers and playgrounds for kids. And lucky was Aalim, that he was sent here to the school. Life had changed for Aalim after starting school. He would smile more, talk more and ask questions too. He was no longer subdued and petrified; he no longer wanted to just help his Abbu in the farm; he wanted to be one of those men that would visit the moon. His eyes would twinkle with hope and aspiration. He was finally on the path, he was named to be on; the name Aalim means a scholar, and 20 years from that day, he had become one!

Aalim was lucky to have a father like Akhdan, but it was now his time to be the Akhdan, the friend, in other children's lives. He was running schools all over Afghanistan, and other war-ravaged places around the world. Aalim had written poetry books for children, with hand-drawn images made by kids themselves. And he would distribute these books to regions of the world, where children had no easy access to schools. He had an organization, The Tattered Shoe, that connected children around the world, across borders and helped them communicate through letters. It was these letters that had opened up a whole new world for him. A world that had taught him many lessons that his little hut would not have been able to.

It was at school that Aalim had reveled at the differences between the kids from across the world: color, language, attire, food. But, it was also here he had realized that all kids yearned for the same things: the confidence to express themselves, the liberty to ask questions, the freedom to dream and the right to be a child, responsibility-free. It was also there that he had sensed the presence of a tattered shoe in the lives of such children. Sometimes, it is a tattered shoe, sometimes a wrecked house, a shattered picture frame or even a broken heart. But, every child hopes that this devastation still leads the way to a happy place where there is freedom of joy and the right to knowledge!

This post is part of the contest A picture can say a thousand words.. on WriteUpCafe.com

Ordinary men or Superheroes?

Exactly one year ago, I was traveling with my parents to New York, with a connecting flight from Atlanta. We had had a horrible start to the trip, with overnight delays and a detour to North Carolina, due to thunderstorms. So, we were nothing but relieved to reach Atlanta and get on track for New York. When we alighted from the flight and walked through our gate, it really did feel like an achievement to have finally reached half way through to our trip, after two long days. As soon as we started walking, we saw a big crowd at the terminal, loud cheering and clapping. And we were quite taken aback, to say the least. I mean all the passengers on board our flight had had a rough night, but how would have these other people known?One look back, and I realized what the applause was for. There was a big group of young soldiers, possibly returning from foreign postings, and here were complete strangers who were cheering for them. We could hear the words "Welcome Home", "Salute to you, Soldier", and "America is proud of you"! My father was quite surprised to see this and just said, "Why can't we honor our soldiers like them?".

Of course, we went on to have a long discussion over it, and we realized that even though Americans despise their country going at war, as much as Indians do, they do not lose appreciation for their countrymen. They do not undermine the fact that it is these young men and women, who did not chose to participate in war, but had to follow orders. People who chose to make a career in armed forces do so, to protect their country and fellow citizens, not to inflict atrocity on others. So, why is is that a country like India forgets a major war, like Kargil and its uncountable heroes? The war, like any other, was unnecessary and brought on by factors, best, not discussed here.

But, the fact remains that it is this militia that saved a lot of civilian lives from being targeted by the infiltrators. It is easy for people to debate over why wars happen, why can't we leave peacefully, etc. But, what is so difficult about remembering the sacrifices made by so many? For whatever reason, wars and violence are part of human nature. Then, it becomes equally important for people to value the handful who risk their lives, knowing well that one day they would be involved in something as complicated as war. The reason I say, it is complicated is because there are so many angles to killing the enemy, than just sending a bullet through another person. The question that always comes up in my mind is 'Can any training in the world actually prepare you to shoot another fellow human being?'. You can be trained to be strong, physically; possess endurance and skill, intelligence and alertness. But, can you actually be trained to be guilt-free and emotionless?

I have some friends in the armed forces, and I wish they never have to make that decision of whether to listen to their heart or follow their orders. I cannot even imagine what it must feel like to be faced with a combat, and actually having to use ammunition on a live person, for the first time. Because they are just like us, people who like pleasant things in life, who want to cherish the small joys and who want to be with their loved ones. They feel pain and pleasure the same way we do. Then how are they expected to transform from being movie buffs, cricket lovers and jolly personalities to protectors of the nation overnight? How are they expected to carry the burden of leading so many men, and protecting several others? Of course, they are trained and they know what they were getting into in the first place. But, can you actually prepare someone to walk away from their wounded buddy (as they are called in Army Lingo) and put the mission on a higher pedestal? How can you train their mind to be untouched by emotion and keep going? How can they find the courage to walk in the line of fire? How is it possible to keep your anger aside, forget the way your fellow soldiers were treated and yet, treat the enemy's fallen with respect? What are these men made of?

All these unsettling thoughts bother me every time I watch a war movie. The Kargil War was an important landmark in Indian history, and it was necessary for our generation to understand that freedom does come at a price. The ailment of Independent India is that people have taken their freedom for granted and refuse to hold responsibility for anything. This war was a good reminder that a few chose to put the country and the lives of others above their own. As grateful citizens, the least we can do is to remember the valor and sacrifices made by these men and their families. It also means, that we do our bit and contribute to our country's progress and improvement, in every way we can. It could mean picking up garbage from the streets, minimizing child abuse or promoting literacy. Because it is for the country's future that these soldiers defend it from enemies. If we cannot secure a decent future for the country, their effort to defend the country goes waste.

The Kargil War had a casualty figure of 527 Indian soldiers and that is a huge number for a senselessly instigated war. We have to realize that there were a lot of soldiers in their early twenties who were juxtaposed into the war scene, having just received their first posting. I am not sure if experience helps and prepares you for war, but definitely the rush of youth could blind you and could you catch you unawares. Since, this war was largely covered by the media, there were multiple stories of engagements being called off, marriage plans postponed, and what not. Whether it was fair to have personal details of these soldiers being discussed, is a debatable topic. But, what I think it did, was give a face and a name to the unknown soldier. The war cry devised by Capt. Vikram Batra, "Yeh Dil Maange More!" is etched in our memories forever. What happens is, everybody knows a war is being fought, they mourn for the martyrs and eventually forget about it. But when there is a name attached and a story to tell, there is a personal connection. It becomes easier to identify with the person and then it becomes a personal loss. It is important to sense that feeling, because then the war means much more and hits home. 

Since this war was a highly televised one, the public became aware of the sacrifices these men were making; some even having to call off their weddings. It became evident that these men were overcoming huge personal losses and yet, braving the enemy. I knew then, that it must be tough to survive the extreme cold, but only when  I moved to a place with temperatures of -50C, that I developed a new-found respect for these men. It is torturous even to stand outside, with the biting wind, leave alone, get into a hike. It is thanks to the electronic media, who familiarized the public with the treacherous terrain and the dizzying altitude. The daily updates also introduced us to the lives of these soldiers in the face of extreme conditions, be it the tight rationing of food supplies, the unbearable cold or the lack of entertainment. It was also the acknowledgement that at such times, small joys meant a lot, and receiving letters from complete strangers was definitely among them. 

It has been 13 years and a lot of people have forgotten these heroes and their families. We have to remember that putting up names on marble memorials is not enough. Every once in a while showing gratitude and honoring these soldiers is important. For us, 527 is just a number, but for the families, it is 527 brothers, sons, fathers, husbands lost. And that is not something they can forget. So, why should we? After all,we were saved the trouble of defending ourselves, because of their acts of courage. To all the Vikram Batras, Saurabh Kalias, Anuj Nayyars, Vijayant Thapars and many unnamed heroes, 'We remember you, we are proud of you, we salute you and we appreciate your efforts and we are here because of you'! And to all the countrymen, who have forgotten the Kargil War and its heroes, who remember the 1999 World Cup more than the War, here is a rude reminder; it is not Sachin Tendulkar, but these soldiers who won us the bigger battle. It was disheartening to know that when today's youth were interviewed on Vijay Diwas, they had no clue whatsoever, of these war heroes, but were well acquainted with cricketers, celebrities, etc. I have challenged myself to pay tribute to all war heroes on this Vijay Diwas and find out more about the 527 men who lost their lives protecting our beautiful country and no longer let them be 'The Unknown Soldier'. How will you pay tribute?

Some resources that helped me find more about the fallen heroes and the stark reality of war:

A soldier's diary - Harinder Baweja (at Amazon)

A soldier's diary - Harinder Baweja (at Goodreads)

Dateline Kargil - Gaurav Sawant (at Goodreads)

Dateline Kargil - Gaurav Sawant (at Amazon)

The capture of Point 4875 by Captain Vikram Batra

The dynamics of oppression

So, think about this! The British oppressed India and many other colonies for decades. Blacks were suppressed by Whites; Hitler subjugated the Jews, Brahmins looked down upon the lower castes, and this tale of segregation and oppression could go on. And if you look closely, oppression is one feature that has transcended the barriers of race, country, caste, gender and what not. It is gut-wrenching to process the fact that it does not take long for the oppressed to become the oppressor.

And what is more disturbing is that this chain reaction continues and has been ever existent in humanity. What changes is the pretext under which the oppression is conducted. Anybody who has read “The Help” or “The Color Purple”, or for that matter any book on segregation scenarios, would have noticed one underlying theme to it. Of course, everybody expects the white-black discrimination, but what takes you by surprise is the casual mention of black men abusing their women. What is also shocking is that the children in such households grow up witnessing all this, and fine tune their minds to recognize who is stronger in a certain situation. Between a white man and a black man, the white man is; between a black man and black woman, the black man; between a beautiful white woman and a Plain Jane, the pretty one; between a white woman and a white child, the white woman,  and so on and so forth. And these very children grow up to become the adults who decide which part of the discrimination spectrum they want to be in, either they are discriminated against or they are the discriminators.

Over the years, the reasons for oppression have changed, but the pain, humiliation and fear have simply traversed the generations. Although, the racial oppression is almost in oblivion, there are others that have come up. The most prominent, being the one between the rich and the poor. Although, discrimination is not expressed as openly as before, there are subtle ways through which the strong oppress the weak. And strength could mean power, money or some other ridiculous parameter. Oppression does not necessarily mean physical abuse, it could mean limiting the freedom of another person, it could mean having different standards for yourself and the other person, it could mean treating the other person as though he/she does not have human needs like you.

When you expect your maid to show up for work 7 days in a row, never to take leave and get upset with her if she does, it would be bordering oppression. If you get weekends off, and you have paid sick leave, how are the rules different for the maid, just because she might be weaker than you, in terms of money? When you look down upon people in a certain country, turn your nose down at them, you think you are too good for them, you might very well be in the mind-frame of oppressors. The roots of oppression arise, when the feeling of being unmatched and unparalleled sets upon a person or a group. The complacency of being much better prepares the person to suppress people without any guilt, because the feeling of being special justifies their inhuman acts, according to the oppressors.

So many of the dictators in history are debatable, but all of them were sure they were the best thing that could happen to the world. Hitler thought he was doing the world a favor by getting rid of a weaker race. And his self-proclaimed supremacy justified his abusive methods, in his eyes. During colonial times, the British, the French thought they were spreading out to the third-world countries and lending culture to them. In the process, paying no heed to the rampage caused. This ignorance was brought upon by the illusion that the world needed the English language and culture for betterment. A very common trait of oppressors: assuming that everybody else is needy and in search of a guide. Taking the liberty of deciding what is best for the oppressed class. New laws were introduced in colonies, presuming that a better life would be presented to the citizens. But, never were they asked for their opinion. Then, it might have seemed like a favor to the supposedly backward, but it would still be categorized under oppression.

When human rights are violated, it is oppression of humanity, and that is the common link between the different types of oppression: racial, gender-based or economic. Equality is a principle humans have never actually abided by. What I fail to understand is the fact that one man's weakness becomes another's source of power. And the fact that this starts reflecting at a young age is alarming. The advent of bullying could very well be a reflection of the need to gain primacy by quelling someone. The need to satisfy our ego is a deep-rooted necessity, and it is going to take much more than seminars on discrimination. Each person has to think for themselves and try to erase the lines, the imaginary lines Kathryn Stockett talks about in her book. With diversity becoming a common feature, it has become easier to accept different people as they are. It is essential for people to realize that a difference is not good or bad, it is just what it is: a difference. And different is what brings flavor to life!

The theme of the oppressed and the oppressor has been evident in myths, stories and movies, but it is time, we found ourselves a new topic to write about. Oppression of all kinds, be it on animals, children, women, blacks, poor, weak, lower castes is unfair and uncalled for. And one thing that humbles me is the reminder that I might be qualified to be the oppressor in one category, but I might also very well have to assume the role of the oppressed in a different category. So the elimination of these borders and imaginary thrones for the strong, would be in the best interest of humanity. Whether the oppressor is at fault or the oppressed is wrong for tolerating, is another discussion altogether. But, rather than debating on that, the new Mantra to globalization should be the desire to make people comfortable in their skins (both literally and metaphorically)!

Some weblinks that throw some more light on the theme of oppression:

Goodreads Book List on 'Oppression'

Racial Discrimination and Oppression - Oprah Winfrey Show