Harmonious Living: Empathy for animal life!

At the start of every movie, there is a disclaimer: "No animals were harmed while shooting this movie". And it makes me wonder if the disclaimer is there only because of the animal rights board or because of a conscientious crew. The chances of the first scenario are higher. There are very few people who actually care whether animals are hurt or not. There are few people who consider animals as equals, who deserve rights of their own. And although, the animal welfare board and animal rights commission have done a great job in increasing the awareness, it is just that: an awareness campaign. For something like preventing cruelty, it is empathy that is required. Awareness without empathy is like having a computer without the correct programmer. The computer will do what it is asked to, but if the programmer does not give the right direction, the computer can only perform pre-defined tasks. Similarly a society that runs in the fear of animal activists will do only what is required, but not think about what more can be done.

The Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Acts can direct people to protect the integrity of animals, but these acts cannot make people empathize and sympathize with animals. This is where animal welfare organizations come in. They do work under the preamble designed according to the Acts, but they go the extra mile in sensitizing the society towards the animal race. It is extremely pivotal that sensitization occurs at a young age, when there are no inherent biases in the cultivable mind. These organizations conduct awareness programs, but also bring the society, especially children in close quarters of the animals, in an attempt to reduce their inhibitions of animal contact. These organizations believe in the motto: "Today's aware child is tomorrow's responsible citizen!". By doing so, an opportunity is presented for people to experience the trauma of being an abused animal. Occasions like these stimulate the emotion centers in the brain and floods the person with a wave of responsibility and pro-activity. Especially if children try to be gentle to animals, it is difficult for parents and adults to let their children down. And so, there is promotion of the principles of the organization.

A post-operative hit and run case. 

One such organization is the Nagpur SPCA. SPCA is the Society for Prevention of Cruelty towards Animals and has multiple branches across India and the world. These branches are affiliated to the original Royal Society for Prevention of Cruelty towards Animals. I was born and brought up in Nagpur and thus, have witnessed the impactful work of Nagpur SPCA. The variety of ventures taken up by this society have been umpteen, ranging from releasing snakes from snake-charmers, tending for hit-and-run cases, rescuing wild animals, relief centers to tackle natural calamities (earthquake in Latur), running adoption campaigns for strays and many others. This society has not only worked for domesticated animals , but has ventured into the often unexplored realms of wildlife and has left no stone unturned in the attempt to preserve wildlife, at the same time, keeping citizens safe. 

A blind kitten being treated and housed at the animal shelter.

But, the most consequential problem that agitates the common man is of stray dogs, and that is one of the first things that needs to be tackled to generate empathy from people. If children are going to suffer from dog bites, contract infections from strays, nobody would ever want to work for the betterment of these animals. The Nagpur SPCA had realized this well ahead in time and accordingly, developed a long-term strategy to tackle with this ever-existent problem. These steps aim to uproot the main cause of disruption in the animal-human balance and create a more harmonious life for both races. 

It is important to realize that every issue has two sides to it. And as much as animal activists might want to promote the cause of animals, they have to acknowledge the fact that it cannot be at the cost of human life. It is this same thought that Nagpur SPCA has embedded in their task plan. If strays are inadvertently affecting the human population, the solution is not to send the animals to pounds and put an end to their life. f that were the case, every antisocial element in the society would be sentenced to death. We don't do that to people who behave like animals; then why the discrimination? Why not think logically and rise above barbarism? Why not think of animals as an indispensable part of the society? Once we do that, both races can thrive.

The solution suggested by Nagpur SPCA is to bring down the stray population and make them safe to be around. Strays do not crop up themselves. Most of the times, a stray locality is started by some dog owner no longer wanting to bear the responsibility and letting their dog out on the street. Once the dog is out, there is breeding and a litter of pups adds on to the stray population. If a few simple measures were adopted, the dog population would be cut down drastically and would present with a long term solution. But nobody wants to look at the big picture. People just want to take actions that will give them results then and there.

Stray puppies waiting to be adopted

It is creditable that this organization is trying to appease all members of the society by simple measures like Animal Birth Control (ABC) program, Anti-rabies vaccination for strays, Adoption campaigns, and  Awareness programs for the need to keep pets leashed. Under the ABC program, the organization plans to target different pockets of the city and procure as many strays in the area as possible, perform a castration surgery (sterilize the dogs), earmark the dogs for identification and release the dogs back to their locality. This method basically eliminates the chance of mating and prevents generation of fresh litter. It is also taken care that when the dogs are brought in, they are vaccinated against rabies (a fatal disease communicable to humans). At the same time, the organization is promoting adoption of stray pups, in a hope of reducing the stray numbers.

Strays peeking out of their rooms at the shelter.

Although, this is a rosy picture, the fact remains that all these ventures need a lot of infrastructure and money backing. The Municipal Corporation and government aid is able to support only so much; beyond a certain extent, the organization needs to rely on donations and external support. Support can be in any form: unwanted medicines, extra food, feeding bowls, etc. The local bakeries have been kind enough to provide SPCA with leftover crumbs rather than dispose them of. Sometimes, it is just a matter of knowing how to help. And if anybody would like to help, the administrators can be contacted for a visit to the animal shelter and hospital run by Nagpur SPCA, where the needs of the organization can be better gauged.

The measures adopted by SPCA have not only kept the menace of stray dogs at bay, it has also taken into account the existence of animals. They have not been fanatical about expecting people to take extreme measures for the protection of animals. Rational and feasible steps have been suggested. It is only for the community to take notice and contribute to a cause, which will, in the end, benefit the human race, without carrying the burden of bloodshed. This approach has been one of the hallmarks of this society and has helped in its successful establishment, presenting an acceptable image in the society. But, like all social causes, this needs financial support and emotional investment. A cause without emotional investment does not have ownership and without ownership, it is difficult to achieve goals. Goals that lead to the betterment of the society on the whole!

This blog post has been written for the National Social Venture Competition organized by iDiya.

Do I deserve to be free?

What vision did our forefathers possess?

What principles did our revolutionaries champion?

Do I remember those or are they a blur?

Do I then deserve to be free??

What does freedom mean to me?

What do I give in return?

Do I realize my responsibility or is it just a petty word?

Do I really deserve to be free?

Do I know the difference between my fundamental right,

and the wisdom to apply it as my fundamental duty?

Do I just exploit my freedom and ignore the duties?

Do I really deserve to be free?

Am I ignorant to my country's state?

Do I claim there is no reform needed?

Do I think I am just a spectator?

Why, then should I deserve to be free?

Do I celebrate my nation, infuse love for the country?

Do I accept my country with it's flaws and assets?

What do I do to turn the afflictions into ambrosia?

Can I really claim that I deserve to be free?

Do I pervade the vitality of knowledge,

Across barriers of poverty, injustice, corruption?

Do I believe in freedom of spirit?

If yes, then I deserve to be free...

Do I strive to obliterate all divides?

Economic, caste, creed, gender ?

Do I know that freedom is for all peoples, alike?

I ask myself, do I deserve to be free?

Do I turn a blind eye and deaf ear?

Do I wait for others to take charge, pretend there is nothing I can do?

Do I encourage others to shut their eyes too?

Do I then deserve to be free?

Am I perceptive to the hardships of our protectors?

Am I thankful for the sacrifices?

Do I show gratitude for the goodwill of some?

Only if I do, do I deserve to be free...

Do I make my country proud?

Do I wear a passionate shroud?

Am I the future our predecessors dreamed of?

Would they think I deserve to be free?

Do I preserve my culture?

And yet welcome diversity?

Am I the docile, yet feisty Indian, when need be?

Do I deserve to be free?

Do I propagate freedom of speech, expression?

Do I raise my voice against injustice?

Do I comprehend the power of the people?

Then I deserve to be free...

Do I take pride in my history?

Do I participate in making history?

Do I have huge dreams for my country's future?

Then I might deserve to be free?

Do I embrace the new meaning of freedom?

And propagate both technological and environmental freedom?

Do I comprehend the need for global freedom?

Do I really deserve to be free?

If I could answer in the affirmative for all of these,

If only I can claim to have impartially cheered for humanity,

If I can confirm to have exercised freedom astutely,

My ancestors would confidently say that I deserve to be FREE!

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

Ghouls of the Past!

It was never going to be an ordinary day! How could it? When you are returning home after a decade? How could it be nothing, but, just a banal day in your mundane life? When you have a home away from home, when you have decided that you want to spend your adult life, away from your childhood memories, how could returning home not open the flood gates of emotions? It was one of those days for Arkansh. He had spent most of his adult life away from his country and was living the American Dream. As happens with most people, he had stepped into the land of opportunities to add to his existing educational qualifications. With a higher degree, it was natural that he wanted to get work experience for at least 2 years, then 5 years, and of course after that point, there was no turning back.

It is not that the urge to return to his country was absent, it was just that there were so many other conflicting emotions, that were present. Although, initially he had struggled to settle down in this great, bustling city called New York, this is where he was at peace with himself. This city absorbed his sorrow and pain. The lights lent their brightness to him. The lane-weaving taxis reminded him of home, and he would get excited to experience that morsel of semblance between the life he had left behind and the life waiting for him ahead.  Like any other Indian, Arkansh loved crowds and was happiest when dodging big totes, umbrellas, and office satchels, on his way to work. The noise around him silenced the voices inside him; he somehow derived comfort from this big city and its busy people.

After all, it was in this city that he had found his wife, it was here that he was witness to the birth of their two wonderful children. And this is where, he had walked into the USCIS office for the naturalization process. He had come to love this city so much, he had forgotten for a while what pain, what loneliness felt. He was never alone on the Brooklyn Bridge, he was never alone at Wall Street, and he definitely was never alone at Times Square. That is the surprising thing about New York. No matter your ethnicity, your job, your gender, your beliefs; you are never alone. The true New Yorkers at the end of the day, still love the same things in this city, the 24 hour food joints, the fact that night never dawns, the picturesque outline in the sky, the wind drafts in downtown, the ever-existent sirens of NYPD, the celebrities you could run into and just the liveliness of this city.

Arkansh had decided this is the city, he wanted to spend the rest of his life in. Life was easier here, he did not have to deal with the demons of his past. He was not reminded of them every minute of every waking hour. It had taken him a long time to rise out of the ashes, and he did not want to fall into darkness once again. His kids’ smiling faces, his wife’s welcoming eyes, his co-workers’ friendly banter led him to believe this is where home was and this is where more happiness was in store for him.

All these beliefs were shaken on that fateful day, when all he could hear were screams around him, and the sensation of ground slipping beneath his feet. It was that day he actually saw people stop working, and look up from their computers to find out what was happening. It felt like an earthquake, things were falling off their desks, and all signs of personal space were wiped into oblivion. Arkansh was still confused and all his colleagues gathered near the window to see what was happening. The other buildings looked fine, that doesn’t happen in an earthquake! A natural calamity doesn’t discriminate!

It was in that moment, that they saw smoke in the sky, unlike any before. It was black and dense and carried a sense of loom. Even as they wondered what was going on, a dozen phones started ringing almost together. The chances of this happening were very rare, and in that instant, all of them knew there was something seriously wrong. On the phones, it was wives, sons, mothers, friends; all talking about the same thing – get out of the building! But, the way human brain is designed, everybody wanted more information. “What is happening? Why do you sound so alarmed?”, yelled Arkansh into the phone, to make himself heard over the loud, almost deafening noise of steel rubbing into steel. “An airplane just crashed into the top floors of the World Trade Center, nobody knows what it is, but there is no time. There is a huge fire on those floors and it is spreading fast”, exclaimed Arkansh’s wife.

Even before Arkansh could wrap his mind around the unfurling events, he could see that everybody had been informed about the same. He could see the terror in everyone’s eyes. He grabbed his coffee mug, and started running towards the elevator and then suddenly remembered that sign he had walked past a 100 times ‘In case of a fire, take the stairs’. He had seen fires in his life, and he was not going to take this lightly. He had to alight 62 floors, but he would have to do it. So much for the stamina-building classes he had taken, when younger. That would be put to test today!

He ran into a lot of strangers on his way down, but somehow they all looked similar. They had two legs, trying to move as fast as they could; two hands covering their mouths to avoid inhaling the smoke; one nose trying to carry out breathing normally; and a pair of eyes, pallid with shock and horror. It did not matter in that moment, what their names were, which country they came from or what language they spoke. They were all fellow humans, with the common human traits of fear, camaraderie, hope and faith. It wasn’t an easy task, making your feet move so fast, the feet that were used to relaxing, when your hands worked away on the computer. But, the sirens from the fire trucks made it easier. There was a sense of urgency instilled because of that.

Arkansh kept running for what felt like forever, and a million thoughts were running through his mind. Would this be the day he would finally unite with his parents? Would this be the day his children would experience what it feels like to lose a parent? He kept having flashes of his past, not because he thought he was dying. But, because he had witnessed such a scene before in his life too. He was trying not to think about it, because there was nothing in his life that scared him more than his past. And this was not a time he could deal with such issues, buckling under the pressure. There was nothing else that he wanted more at that point than to be able to see the blue sky and the bright sun.

He was running out of breath, but couldn’t afford to take long breaks. So he huffed and puffed, but kept going. When he finally reached outside the building, he saw the magnitude of the event. Fear induces fear. And it was only when he saw the horror on the faces of the onlookers, that he realized what a death trap he had escaped from. The top floors of the tower had collapsed by now and there was nothing but black smoke that was visible. A paramedic moved him out of the way, and started checking if his vision was fine, moving a light in front of his eyes. It felt like Arkansh had frozen, but there was no time for all this, the paramedic brought him back to his senses and kept ushering him out of the scene, saying “Sir, you need to leave NOW”!

As people tried to accept what was happening and started moving away from the site, there was sudden chaos and hollering. The speed with which people started running, felt like a bull racing arena. Arkansh peeked back, still running, when he saw that the first tower was imploding. There was this loud “Whoosh” sound and the whole tower had disappeared in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t help thinking about all the people inside. Had there been enough time for all of them to evict safely? Could they still be rescued out of the rubble? But, before he could think any more, he blanked out with this thick, dense layer of soot and concrete that was grabbing downtown with its evil extensions. There was such darkness and pall that it felt like the worst tornado in the history of America.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital with an oxygen mask on, helping his lungs recover from the unexpected exertion. His family was around and he pinched himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. His coffee mug was placed on the table next to him; the coffee mug that had a picture of his parents. In the days to come, all he could think of was going back home, back to his country, once again running away from tragedy. He could no longer bear to walk past the rubble that once housed his office, he could not muster the courage to board a plane, and he was running out of ways to deal with the paranoia of loud sounds.

But, the year after this huge tragedy had struck this magnanimous city, he noticed things he had never observed before about the city. An iconic part of the city had been diminished to nothing but concrete, steel, and dust. Yet, the spirit of the people stayed the same! It was not the city, but the people who made the city, that he had loved all these years. He loved that there was always more room for diversity and it took hardly any effort to be accepted. He loved that people were so busy, yet bonded over commonalities like the Subway, or Winter in Central Park. It was the essence of humanity that made these places memorable. And gradually, he saw the city heal! The people helped bring back the city on its feet. The shattered towers still stood there as a testimony of what had transpired that Autumn day, but the rubble was not as heavy on the eye as before. There were wreaths all around, tiny flags, teddy bears, and notes saying “We will never forget”! There were signs of tenacity and resilience in these small acts of kindness that screamed out loud saying “We will find a way to overcome this, we will not give up”. But, Arkansh could witness all this only because he had stayed long enough after the tragedy, to witness the healing process.

Years ago, he had deprived his childhood city of this chance. It was for the same reason he was going back home to Mumbai. A year after the day that he had woken up in the hospital, he decided he could no longer take it; the guilt of having abandoned his brother, his city. He should have been there to revive the spirit of his childhood city. The city, where his home had been once, where he had learnt the art of playing cricket. Yet, this was the city that had scarred him for life. The December of 1992 had changed his view of this city forever. The riots, the killings, the blasts in 1993 had ruined all the good memories he had of this city. It was then that he had lost everything; he lost his house in the riots, then his parents, his friends, his neighbors, every single thing. He could not believe this haven could turn so heinous. He could not believe the only reason he and his brother had been spared was, because they were visiting their uncle on the other end of the city. Only to find out on their return, their whole life turned upside down. Even today, all he could hear was blood-curdling cries, wails and angry outbursts. All he could think of was splattered blood, severed limbs, and cold eyes.

Arkansh was so angry at the work of these depraved minds, that he decided never to step foot in that place ever again. He was old enough and had already applied to schools in America for an M.S. degree. He left Mumbai as soon as possible, trusting his uncle to take care of his younger brother. Once in the U.S, he worked hard to forget and wipe off that part from his memory slate. He kept in touch with his brother, but never ever brought up that ugly day in his conversation. When Arkansh got a job and his brother was old enough to start college, he coaxed him to move to the States too. But, his younger brother was the stronger one. He wanted to stay in Mumbai, and help out with rebuilding the small town. This, Arkansh absolutely did not approve of. Neither did he understand what ‘rebuilding’ meant! But, he gave in, saying he would return in a few years. That day never came, because Arkansh never could find it in him to face the monstrous setting which had filched everything from him. He kept on trying to separate that part of his life, not realizing one thing. Tragedy has to be embraced, to be able to heal. If you ignore tragedy, you are giving it room to increase in magnitude. Arkansh had been harboring bitterness, anger and hurt within himself; he never came to terms with reality.

After almost 10 years, Arkansh would be seeing his brother. Today, was the day, he would see what healing and rebuilding meant. His escapade and the way he saw New York City transform pushed him to give Mumbai a chance too. The familiar muggy smell, the yellow and black taxis, the autorickshaws, the water puddles welcomed him back with open arms. The misty wind at Marine Drive, the constant rub-a-dub of local trains networking the city, the roadside vendors were all reminders of how well the city had managed to retain its essence. Yet, there were signs of urban growth like the billboards of Gucci and Fossil, that took him by surprise. The last time he was here, the city was Bombay and not Mumbai. His little city had been witness to many changes, it had gathered the pieces together and moved towards creating a stronger, modern city. And it hurt Arkansh a lot, not to have been a part of this growth, this renaissance.

In all these years, Arkansh’s brother had worked with others who had suffered losses to rebuild that community. They had embraced tragedy, accepted that their loved ones were not coming back, but their memories would always stay alive. Over these years, they had managed to put together a community housing, for children orphaned in such tragedies. And when Arkansh saw the same community that had been burnt down, now springing with laughter and cheer, he knew instantaneously, this is what healing meant.

He had never even waited for the process to start, agitated at the fact that such a crime against humanity was so easily carried out here. He thought he would escape the ugly side of human nature by moving half way across the globe. But, human nature is the same, there is revenge, cruelty, insensitivity and then, there is empathy, fortitude and forgiveness living inside the same humans. Which side shines brighter is something nobody can predict, and you can never run away from it. The best you can do is to find solace in the signs of humanity.

This was the day Arkansh realized that people are the same around the world. There were so many similarities between the two cities that he had loved and hated. Both cities had recovered from disaster, not because of the landmark structures. It wasn’t the buildings reaching out to each other, consoling the broken ones; it was the people who joined hands and healed themselves, by consoling others. That essence was common in both the cities. And later, as Arkansh would find out, was similar all over the world.

Working at the community housing with his brother, Arkansh realized it was so easy to let go off your pain, if you peeped into someone else’s heart, helping them deal with their demons. Smiles really were infectious at such places, because one smile meant the triumph of the whole group. A month later, Arkansh was leaving Mumbai with a lighter heart, and the desire to come back sooner. Today, Arkansh has a small NGO called ‘CitySpirit’, that connects terror victims across the world, and helps them bond over losses, find rays of hope and ultimately heal. He visits Mumbai every year now, helps the kids and hopes that one day there would be no need for such organizations.

Arkansh had known all along that it wouldn’t be an ordinary day returning to that scary place, but what he had not known was that his life would change forever that day. It was like his rebirth; the rebirth of the happy, content, hopeful and lively person within him. There was nothing ordinary about that day because that was the day he came to terms with reality, that was the day he learnt a lesson in letting go, that was the day his hatred transformed to fondness again, that was the day he grabbed his inner ghouls by the arm and tossed them out, that was the day he gained perspective, that was the day he felt part of two cities at once and that was the day he finally felt reunited with his parents!

Note: This is a work of fiction, created for the WriteUpCafe Contest.

This post is part of the contest It was never going to be an ordinary day.. on WriteUpCafe.com

What's with Indians and 'foreigners'???

The other day me and my husband were enjoying 'bhel puri" and other tempting Indian snacks, when we saw an American couple come in to try some Indian food. They had been to this restaurant before too, but for lunch buffets, so this was their first time where they had to pick and chose for themselves. So, they requested for whatever best they could gauge from the descriptions. Now, the biggest question for them, when the food came in, was to decide how to eat the food. What went with what??? The owner there was kind enough to demonstrate as to what should be eaten how.

I was pretty happy to see them helped, because that is how I would want to be treated if I was in  their place. But, then the following sequence of events bothered me. The helper went out of his way, to get them extra plates, spoons and everything else. He was literally at their beck and call, whereas the policy there is that you have to get up and get everything you need yourself. So why the exception???

What I did not understand was whether it was out of kindness or this undying will, a lot of  Indians have, to please 'foreigners' (thats how they are known back in India). If it was an act of kindness, it is good to see people helping others. But, the fact that the other customers were completely ignored, showed me that it was something more than kindness.

It is amazing how history has an effect on so many things. For a long time, we knew of Western countries to be developed and thought of ourselves as underdeveloped, or in recent years, developing. So, many many years back, we thought of Westerners to be privileged and those in contact with them, automatically gained a place of importance. But, so many things have changed since then. India is leading the race for development, Indians are doing well world over and have made a name for themselves in fields of intellect, art, creativity and every other field you could think of. Then why do we still feel the need to get approved?

There have been so many times in India, when I see 'foreigners', as they are known in India, being given extra attention. I mean just this time, when I was on my way back from India, I saw some Kiwis on the airport, ready to go back home, after following their cricket team all over India. And the way they were offered free coffee and stuff just shocked me. I was almost ready to go upto the coffee vendor and ask what I had done wrong, not to deserve free coffee. But I already knew the answer.

So why do we really have that urge to impress Westerners??? If we were just making them comfortable, that would speak about our hospitality, but bending over backwards for them would just say that we are spineless.

And if it is about being foreigners being treated favorably, then we, as non-Americans would be foreigners in the USA and we are never treated with extra attention. I never see any Americans running around, to get us a cup of coffee, or to please us with their behavior. The thought itself is hilarious, to imagine Westerners feeling the need to impress us. And if you go by the dictionary meaning, we definitely are foreigners, people from a foreign land.

Then what is the difference? There is one bright possibility that Americans have gotten so used to seeing so many Indians, that they no longer consider as foreigners. But, I don't think even when there weren't many Indians here, we were given privileges. So, why can't people in India do the same? Why are we still so amused when we see Western tourists in India? It has a lot to do with history and the stereotype portrayals, I think.

India was oppressed by Western countries for a long time and even later we did not have a voice on the global map, until recently. Those conditions made us strive harder to prove to the world our capabilities. Everybody was working hard to earn a good name for their motherland and somehow, we needed the approval of the big guns, as they were known then.

What we need to accept and understand is that, it is a new era now. Everybody knows India for the great success stories and exemplary achievers. We have proven our worth globally and made the world take notice of us in a big way. Then what are we waiting for? Why are we still stuck with the age-old notions?? I say, we should shake those feelings out, and realize our worth. Being hospitable and having no self-respect are two very different things. Indians are known for their hospitality, so we should stick to that, but anything beyond that is sheer ignorance to the fact India has proved it's mettle. This fact itself is impressive and we should not be required to impress anyone else. Isn't the new age about treating everyone equally? Globalization in it's true sense will take form, when there would be no such thing as foreigners due to the high numbers of cross-overs. That is the day I look forward to, where nobody needs to impress anybody and everybody is just paid the due acknowledgment, for forwarding the cause of humanity!