~Kharashe~

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high 
Where knowledge is free…”

The human mind manifests many a secret. How this complex architecture works, is a mystery to all its owners. When utilized, it can produce results that stand to amaze even time. Yet every coin has two sides. The dark side of human emotions. A force just as capable as the good side. Misdirected energy that causes harm and leaves only destruction as its tell-tale. There is the Nanhi Kali Foundation, and there are the likes of Moninder Singh Pandher.
The newspapers have a dedicated section for recent rapes, honour-killing, religious-riots, and all such HOT TOPICS. It makes for excellent eye popping material. Makes an excellent USP. A play i recently saw, titled Kharashe, showed a beautiful scene of a Bengali household. The wife slowly slit the body of the fish for the day’s lunch, its limp body, its mouth slightly open as if trying to say something. Trying to call for help? Mercy? While the husband read the paper that showed how another helpless girl had been raped and murdered, the picture showing her limp, lifeless body, and her mouth slightly open… as if trying to say something.
Human beings adapt to situations and environments very well. It is something that we learnt as students in an early class. If there is one pit-fall for the human mind, it is at time of crisis. The human mind is the sanctum-sanctorum of faith. There comes a time in every human’s life when the mind fights itself over faith. And this is the situation hundreds are stuck in every day. Not knowing whom to trust, the very foundation of relationships crumble in the minds of victims. Once the foundation has fallen, it is only natural for all logic and reason to collapse, and people rush into rash decisions. We all wonder what it is that pushes the extremists and rebels to jump into this mad suicidal idea of justice that their front bears. Some think, they are “born that way”. But that never is the case. Many of the rebels who happened in the past riots, were BORN in earlier riots. Watching their family, best friends, belongings being slaughtered by people in the name of religion or land, embeds those ideals deep within them. After that its as simple as a 9th class Science Textbook: “Every Action Has an Equal and Opposite Reaction”.

“…Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way 
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit…”

I reiterate, not all take up swords when slashed. Sometimes a moment of chaos brings out the true side of humanity. If there were one heaven on earth, it would be one such moment. As the aforementioned play brought out, two strangers scrambling for their lives come together in the most unfortunate of scenarios. Within that moment they forgot all caste, creed and religion and despite discovering that each was from an opposite party involved in the dispute, they mingle to form a bond that would live even through their death. Its funny how we realize the true worth of something only when it is taken away from us. We realize the true worth of a human life only when its been taken away.
It is pretty sad to note that a lot of friends and juniors alike are unaware of incidents like Ayodhya. While the media did an overly ambitious attempt to blow up the issue, it is not something that can be treated with nonchalance. The Ayodhya issue was kind of a wakeup call to all orthodox religious groups. With the extensive destruction and all the tension and suffering that followed, the concept of secularism itself was sent into a tizzy. Ayodhya lived in peace for years after Babur first established the controversial mosque amongst the many temples. This order was brought to unrest by a certain clique in the name of religious righteousness. This clique functions under the motto “Dharmo rakṣati rakṣitaḥ” or “Dharma protects its protector”. Apparently their Dharma (which in actuality constitutes ideas of Vedic ritual, ethical conduct, caste rules, and civil and criminal law) was to kill anyone who opposed their thinking. This, i brought up to highlight how little knowledge is very very dangerous. These “leaders” with their little and misconceived knowledge of Dharma, go around propounding their screwed up notions and hence screw up a hundred other lives.
Unbiased opinions. Thinking before doing. Gaining an entire idea of a concept before imbibing it. Eliminating all preconceived prejudices. These are only a few ways to achieve freedom of the mind, and wake up to a newspaper that would read “Another Indian girl makes it to the space station, nation watches in pride” rather than “Another girl raped and murdered, as people watch helplessly”.

“…Where the mind is led forward by thee 
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.”

The Other Side Of The Moon

The prince of the darkness, yet not princely by far,
Every night, watches over the dozing population.
Over the calm, sleepy wind, drearily rustling the proud tree.
Observing the last of the midnight bird, and its unsuspecting prey.
Passing by the window of that boy, that the sun spoke of,
Naughty little brat, but in the streaming moonlight, a harmless angel.
The cool moonlight that drenched the burning sands of the deserts,
The naughty moonlight that stole peeks at cosy, cornered, lovers,
The magnificent moonlight, that cut through the dark forest,
The soothing moonlight giving company to distressed souls,
The creepy moonlight, frightening humans off the zombie’s-land,
The majestic moonlight, cutting through the blinding darkness,
Giving eyes to the living dead, and taking them from the rest.
The soft feather, trampled all day under the reign of the sun,
Floats freely guided by the moonlight, and upon the drowsy wind.
Smiling upon all the wonders, in their true state that he sees,
The moon, in all his glory, shines brighter with pride.
The spotted moon, himself, for days, turns away and sleeps.
As the bright face that lit their ways, now wanes away,
The lost wind, now stops to blow, and rests till the light returns.
The proud tree, a glory in the white, now stands ignominiously hidden.
The feather, with no companion or medium, lies… caressing its wounds.
And the distressed souls, distressed, now more, sit distressing further.
Sans the saviour, the blinding darkness, fills every waking corner,
As the hoot of the owl, adds fuel to the fire that blazes in the night.
The cheer dies down, amongst the lovers, as the gloomy darkness sets in,
The wicked dark, reflecting only the wicked in that little brat’s face.
The land holds its breath, waiting and praying for return of the calm moonlight,
For the other side of the moon, is dark and eerie, not a very pleasant sight.