TOLERANCE...... WHY ?

The Intolerance Debate.
Hot topic, huh?

With no major scams and big reveals on our plates lately, we're taking and swallowing the leftovers of any sense of judgement we have. This is what we seem to be left with- a statement, an opinion, out of proportion reactions, some more opinions, and bam!- a controversy. And ofcourse, those super sentimental one thousand word essays ( don't expect me to call them 'messages') by disappointed former fans that have been doing the rounds on whatsapp, that begin with "Dear Mr. Aamir Khan, I am sorry to say.." and end like "Forward this to all contacts if you love your country."
Just Wonderful.


'Intolerance' - a negative word, right?
'Tolerance', I say, is just as bad. Why should we 'tolerate' a different God? Why should we 'tolerate' another's beliefs? Why should we 'tolerate' another human being at all?
An annoying person or a dreadfully long movie are things that can be 'tolerated'. But our differences... they are meant to be celebrated.
And with a non vegetarian Tamilian Muslim dad, and a Marathi pure veggie Hindu brahmin mother, I feel I'm more than qualified to make this statement.
In our home, we don't 'tolerate'. We celebrate. Eid and Diwali, I mean. And that in itself is a celebration of our differences and the fact that we can be proud of them, and yet look beyond them.


When a Hindu and a Muslim neighbor go over to each other's place with ' Vaishno devi ka prasaad' and 'Eid ki kheer', it is not tolerance- it is celebration.
When a Bengali agrees to teach his Kannad friend a little Bangla, it is celebration.
When a Bharatnatyam dancer applauds after a Bhangra performance, it is celebration.

'I love my country, and I am proud of its rich and varied heritage.'
                         ...... this line symbolizes not tolerance, but celebration of and peace in our diversity.

Speaking of diversity, it horrifies me to even imagine what the world would be like, if everyone we met had the same religion, caste, skin color, beliefs, preferences and opinions. Actually, there wouldn't really be anything left to have an opinion about.
Your opinion only matters if there are others that contradict it. If you share the exact same thoughts as a billion others, its not an opinion- it is a trend.
Sure, there wouldn't be conflicts and fights and riots and debates and controversies. What would you call such a world?
Peaceful ?

Uhuh.

Monotonous. And not just 'boring' monotony. The kind that the crew of a ship stuck in the breeze-less, still ocean feels. Where people speak only to break the silence of the sea. With just water to look at and stars to count. Just that instead of  'water water everywhere nor any drop to drink', our song would be...

" Opinions, opinions, everywhere,
all our minds did shrink.
Opinions, same ones everywhere,
we're no more compelled to think."


You see why diversity matters?
There would be no opposition to question the government; they're all on the same side.
Mr Goswami would simply be nodding his head after every panelist has made his point- the same point.
Oh, there wouldn't be any democracy to begin with; the very essence of democracy lies in differences.
There would be no 'unity in diversity' ...
There would just be 'boredom in monotony'.

It is time we let go of this unnecessarily overused word 'tolerance'.
It is time we not just accept, but celebrate and be proud of our differences.
It is time we turn the ' Intolerance Debate' into ' Why Cant We Celebrate?'

"Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
into the dreary desert sand of dead habit.....
...into that heaven of freedom, my father, let my country awake."

                                                                      - Where The Mind Is Without Fear,
                                                                           Rabindranath Tagore

AYE TIRANGE..

Dear Readers,

First of all,

My sincere apologies. 

Nothing new in so long !

I started writing this piece on the 15th of August, but completed it only recently,

thanks to my lack of experience with Hindi.

Yes, this is my first composition in Hindi, and it may get a little extreme.

But please know, it comes straight from the heart of a daughter of two Faujis.

Oh, and for all of you who find it too exerting to read hindi,

you will find the same poem below in the more familiar Roman script. 

The choice to read it in Hindi or in English is yours, but the choice of  'I'll just read it later' does not exist.

Peace.

ऐ तिरंगे 

 रंग में तेरे घुल जाएँगे ,

तेरी खातिर मर जाएँगे । 

सर झुका देंगे हम तेरी खातिर सर कटा देंगे।

   आँच न आने देंगे तुझपर,

  दुश्मन से हम लड़ जाएँगे। 

 फिर देखना ऐ तिरंगे ,

मरके या मारके ही घर आएँगे । 

खेलनी पड़े चाहे खून की होली,

या दीवाली का पटाका बनें ये गोली। 

एक क्या हम सौ सेह लेंगे। 

फिर आकर , तेरे आँचल में सो लेंगे।

 नींद अच्छी आएगी, हम कभी नहीं उठ पाएँगे । 

 मगर, ऐ तिरंगे, हम उठना भी तो नहीं चाहेंगे!

रंगों में तेरे लिपटे हम तेरा हिस्सा बन जाएँगे ,

तब रोना मत,

 ऐ तिरंगे, 

तेरे आँसू  भी पी जाएँगे ।

AYE TIRANGE

Rang mein tere ghul jaayenge,

Teri khaatir mar jaayenge. 

Sar ghuka denge hum teri khaatir sar kataa denge.

Aanch na aane denge tujh par,

Dushman se hum lad jaayenge.

Phir dekhna, Aye Tirange, 

Marke yaa Maarke hii ghar aayenge.

Khelni pade chaahe khoon ki holi, 

Yaa diwaali  ka pataaka banein ye goli.

Ek kya hum sau seh lenge.

Phir aakar, tere aanchal mein so lenge.

Neend achhi aayegi, hum kabhi nahi uth paayenge.

Magar, Aye Tirange, hum uthna bhi toh nahi chaahenge!

Rangon mein tere lipte hum tera hissa bann jaayenge, 

Tab rona mat, 

Aye Tirange, 

Tere aansoon bhi pi jaayenge.

The Dark Night Rises

Dear Readers,

I am sure that all of us, at some point in our lives, have cried ourselves to sleep at night.
Irrespective of how strong or tough we believe ourselves to be, there have been nights when we've 
buried our heads in our pillows and cursed life.

so here's something for those times that tested us, for those nights that comforted us.




The dark night rises,
bringing with it the moon.
I wish it never ends, 
at least not too soon.

Looking out into the sky, 
what severe mood swings it has, I wonder.
Sometimes clear and bright, 
sometimes rain and thunder!

And the shining stars in the night sky,
they remind me of teardrops..I wonder why?

But neither the sky, nor the stars can take the place,
of the darkness that envelopes me, my only solace.
I beckon to the night, to wrap me in its arms,
pick me up, carry me away,
let me die in its charms,

As the clock ticks by,
I still gaze at the night sky.
I talk to the night, the darkness consoles me.
The moon comforts, 
but night controls me.

I feel a hand on my head, soothing, calming.
I pour out my secrets,
and they are alarming.
I cry my eyes out, my heart melts, then turns to stone..
The tears are wiped off, I know I'm not alone.

Night is my friend, she finds me at any cost.
I may be happy, I may be sad, or lost.
Whatever be the case, she'll always be there.
The world may not, but she will care.
With moist eyes, my troubles I will share.
And night can keep a secret, I'm sure,
while for the hard day ahead, I prepare.

Again I feel the calming hand on my head,
and it stays there, 
till the last of the tears is shed.
And I am safe, quietly asleep, 
till the sky again becomes red.

Not Perfect, Yet Beautiful

This is for all those brothers and sisters of mine
who live far, far away...
Some in Nagpur, some in Chennai and some in the US...

Growing up, I now realize how blessed they are 
who have a sibling under the same roof..
Being a single child, my teenage years have taught me 
how beautiful sibling hood is...
To have someone to turn to, to look up to...
Someone who loves you, values you, 
Someone who is really, your own.
I have also realized how little time I've spent with my brothers and sisters.

So this, is for you, to know what the bond between siblings is...
Just so that you learn to appreciate their significance 
and cherish every moment with them....



We may not be the best of friends
who've been in touch all these years..
We may not be there 
to celebrate each other's joys and 
fight each other's fears...
I may not have sent you raakhis,
or remembered your birthdays...
and for this I apologize;
the guilt follows me for days..
I may not know all your secrets,
nor you, mine..
But as long as we know each other,
not knowing secrets,
is just fine..

We may not have had those innocent fights,
little arguments, to cherish while we grow up.
And at all happy days of your life,
I know I didn't show up..
I may not have applauded you on all your achievements,
but know, that I am proud.
Though sometimes I do envy you,
when you're the center of every crowd !

Though you may not always know it,
I love you more than I show it...
You inspire me, you impress me
and not being with you,
I regret...
This, 
I will be there to remind you
whenever you forget.

As we grow up, and step into the great unknown,
We lead different lives,
each heading for a different throne.
We may not be the best of friends
and we may not have those innocent fights..
I may still forget your birthday...
I wont really be tomorrow,
what I am today..

But I want you to know,
However old we are,
However far apart,
You will always be with me,
Be mine 
In my heart...

For I value you, 
I respect you and
I love you.  
Whatever happens,
I'm right by your side,
I will always remain true.
And even a hundred years from today 
I WILL be with you.

Its Monday, AGAIN .

Readers,

The compositions I have posted so far are all serious products 

of focused poetry efforts.

But, they are all serious.

So on a lighter note, here is what a student goes through 

EVERY SINGLE MONDAY.

p.s.  this thing was composed in less than 3 minutes (honestly),

       so excuse the quality. 

Awakened by a loud ringing,

I kill my alarm,

The culprit who was singing.

Then the painful injustice of getting out of my bed.

"I hate Mondays", to myself i said.

Took a bath and wore my dress,

Combed my hair

and rushed down the stairs.

Now the treasure hunt begins.. 

Where are my socks?

Dresser, drawer, carpet, bed.

Wardrobe, tables, my book of fables?

I checked everywhere.

And found them in my school bag.

Oh yes, there.

Then the half- marathon,

half- sprint to the honking bus.

At school, the effort for an A +.

What do I get instead?

The teacher's smirk, 

Along with homework, and more homework.

This is how my week begins, 

In the wait for next Sunday

But alas, the week's best day

is still far, far away.......

Why ?

Here I lie

under this tree

as I watch someone,

just like me.

But he looks happy,

so unlike me.

Clean and plump,

with shining fur,

he doesn't look hungry..

Licks a bone contently..

but I don't have that luxury.

My life drags me from one dustbin to another,

while his takes him from a park to the next.

Why this difference? I am perplexed.

They pet him down,

but at me they throw stones.

They just pass me by,

oblivious to my groans.

They treat me as an invalid,

an unnecessary outcast.

While he is cherished..

given everything, till the very last..

As I look at him,

happy like a song,

I wonder what happened,

what did I do wrong?

Perhaps I don't deserve to be loved?
For I am, after all, a stray dog.

No, I don't envy him.

For of luck he has his part.

I can only wonder, if they know,

that I too have a heart ?

In The Still of the Night

In the still of the night,
when all was quiet
I found myself in a forest,
surrounded by trees.
It was like they stood guard,
or were they closing in on me?
Whatever it was, couldn't scare me away,
I was brave; or naive, should I say?

And so I walked on.
looking for the rays of dawn.
Rationality told me it wasn't wise,
but a disobedient heart made me choose otherwise..

Some way ahead,
a light flashed, just a tiny dot, but hope rose..
Making my way there, I saw it and froze.
There was the source, a lovely white owl.
What did I just hear? A jackal's howl?
Enough to keep me on my feet, I thought.
and with great willpower,
against the mounting fear I fought.

So I walked on,
now hoping for the rays of dawn...
Rationality and willpower did little against the fear,
for by now, the howls were all I could hear..

Some way ahead,
a mournful groan added to the mess...
I dared not follow,
so had to guess...
Was it for...
a heart longing to be set free?
or did it sense my presence, and moan for what would become of me?

Of course, it kept me going,
just the thought of my life at a predator's feet throwing.

And so I walked on,
now begging for the rays of dawn.
Making my way into the great unknown,
all the while, not a flicker of hope shone.

And then I saw it.
Out of the blue,
a vampirish bat flew..
Its eyes gleaming with a fiendish beauty;
our eyes met, and I wanted to run
run for my life, for all that was dear...
and cry out loud, for the world to hear.

That look in its eyes, without even blinking,
it had my hair on edge, it had set me thinking.

In the still of the night,
eerie things happen, I thought..
All the while, a heavy, mounting fear I fought.
Oh! how desperately some sunlight I needed!..
What next?
Mummies? Skeletons, or dinosaurs beheaded?

Only then did I realise,
how beautiful the world was,
and how pampered I  was.
not having to walk around in forests like these,
echoing with howls and moans and painful groans...

I recalled my grandma say, when in distress, take the lord's name, just pray.
So I looked up at the starry night sky
almost grinning at my plight, it seemed.
and for a moment I wondered, was my end so deemed?

I was still thinking, when my world shook...
the next moment I was on a tree
the next, falling off it, screaming,
Then I heard my mother's voice,soothing,comforting,
opened my eyes,
only to realise I was Dreaming...