Posted in development, education, progress, rural, urban

The Curious Case of Development

I’ve been living in HaleKote, a small hamlet village of Devarayanadurga, 20kms off Tumkur, Karnataka, in the name of research. Two weeks down the lane and my entire idea of village life and poverty and development has been thrown upside down, as if someone had permanently messed up your room and suddenly you start to see an order in that mess.

I had my own preconceived notions of a village. It would be poor, people would lack certain basic amenities, people would be eager to learn, people would complain of their difficulties, there would be grave injustice against women, people would narrate to me tales of superstition and be extremely god fearing.

My first slap on the face was about poverty. Taking a look from the outside and seeing their clothes, standard of living, hygiene and life style, you’d surely have the opportunity to slowly shake your head and comment on the lack of development of HaleKote and stretch into an extended discussion of this government, its policies and more. But now that I have spent two weeks here, I find that every individual in the village has three full meals a day and at least two cups of tea/coffee. No matter how small their house/hut maybe, they all had a dish TV installed which was constantly on whenever electricity was available, which was approximately 8-12 hours a day. Water was a problem on occasion but not a big enough issue to lament about just as yet. Emotionally, all of them lived amidst the warmth and occasionally the friction of their family. Of course, they had occasional tiffs about money and property and other issues. But then again does development really eradicate these issues? Keeping this context in mind, I didn’t find that the villagers of HaleKote particularly craved or rather needed anything more. Of course man being man, they sure did have wants and desires. But HaleKote suddenly no longer seemed like a poor village to me. And that puts me in a dilemma as to what poverty really is?

Education has often been noted as the best anti-dote to poverty. But then, one takes a look at the current education system and one wonders about the quality of education. Is the system really equipping one with knowledge of ‘life management’, if I may call it? Or has it merely become a certificate that empowers you with acceptance, a path to power? Does education teach one to handle that power? To channelize that power? To know when to give up that power?

I’m yet to form strong views on this subject but I’ve been told that confusion is a good place to start with.

HaleKote has a government school that provides free education for girls and boys. Men who are currently in their thirties seemed to have studied in school only till 7th or 8thstd while the present school going boys seem to continue their education, sometimes even going on to attend college. Majority of the women who are now in their thirties seemed to have dropped out of formal education by 4th or 5th grade. But lately most girls attempted to stick on to school at least until 10th std. In my judgmental mind I had thought “wow that’s an improvement”. But was it really? When I spoke to some of the women and asked them what they thought of education and if they thought it was important or not, I received a rather interesting answer.

“Education is for people who want to become engineers and doctors. If one simply intends to marry, have children and look after their farm and family then why would one waste time studying in school? They’d rather learn house work and ‘educate’ themselves in what is necessary for their life.”

The system of education puts one in a box, an inevitable feature of any rigidly structured system, and prepares one only for certain aspects of life. In a nation that requires a holistic developmental growth is it really necessary for every single individual to be part of that ‘system’? Maybe, it is only healthy for a country, that few people choose to form their own structure of education and thus contributing to the different dimensions of progress and development that our education system does not address and cater to.

My ‘feminist-ideology-fed’ mind first rebelled when I heard the women say that. I wondered why a woman should be confined to her home and be forced to look after the family. But then I thought, ‘What if this was a conscious consensual decision taken to ensure a balanced and smooth running of family?’

For instance let’s look at Hemalatha’s case. She was a class 9 student and detested going to school. She did not score well in her exams and preferred to stay at home and engage in household activities. Shwetha on the other hand is in 12thstd and loves to study and is hoping to get a job in a bank. Both the girls come from the same village and chose their paths. Yes of course, there are situations when the girl wants to study but the family cannot afford it or doesn’t believe she should. But here I’m talking about instances where there is a choice and being able to choose your path.

If education was said to eradicate ignorance, to me suddenly, awareness of ones choices seemed to be the one that eradicated ignorance.

Since it has been largely established that education can be a solution to poverty and thus lead us to development, allow me the freedom to question the problem, now that we’ve questioned the solution.

Jonathan Glennie, writer, researcher and currently director of policy and research at Save the Children, stated that “Development is dignity or it is nothing. The opposite – development without dignity – is not worth having.” So now I ask…how do we derive at dignity? What dignity is to me could be a shame to someone else. Hence I wonder, does dignity come by practicing the Gandhian policy of live and let live? In that case, could dignity also mean, being a silent witness to something that defies your morals, on the basis that you taking/voicing your offence itself could be offensive to someone else? And thus, in that process you fail to deliver true dignity?

It’s quite perplexing to think of it this way, isn’t it?

Development has given birth to a rather discriminatory term: ‘the haves and the have not’s’. This is a frequently encountered concept especially in a third world country like ours. I’d urge you to step outside your bubble and look at things this way for a few minutes… What if you didn’t see the two groups of people as ‘haves’ and ‘have not’s’? What if they were just two groups of people coexisting parallelly? One group would be the one that received structured and certified education, the one that engaged in foreign relations and lived in an urban space. The other group would be the one that got experiential education; largely engaged in farming, animal husbandry, and maybe even in cottage industry and lived in rural spaces. What if these two groups were not constantly juxtaposed against each other? What if they weren’t compared and looked as better or worse? Again, we come back to the point of stepping outside the ‘educational box’.

It would be fine to say one group was better than the other if the path that, that one group adopted guaranteed happiness, equality and liberty. But when the concepts such as happiness and liberty itself are so highly subjective how do we arrive at a formula that can be administered to all?

Amartya Sen, economist and philosopher, puts forward a rather interesting take on development in his book ‘Development as Freedom’. He formed the Capability Approach (CA) which revolved around two vital elements: People and their capabilities. He believed that a particular place can be said to be truly developed when its inhabitants have had the freedom to fully explore their capabilities with the resources and facilities available to them at that given time. Having the capability and not exploring it was not development. For example, simply having a pen didn’t mean that the person would write very well. Unless the person fully understood and used the pen to its maximum capacity, the pen would be of no meaning.

This is one take on development that I find myself agreeing to most. Although, another part of me finds this approach far too idealistic. The process of being able to explore ones potentials, even when the resources are available itself, depends on so many factors such as interest, or proper mentorship, or priorities etc. And to go into those factors now, would be slightly too mind boggling.

I’ve been repeatedly warned not to mix politics and philosophy. But I always wondered how it is possible to separate ones believes and ideologies from the kind of lifestyle and discipline one decides to live by? Could it be that the people asking me to separate the two are scared? Afraid that when one mixes philosophy with the current state of politics in our country, one might just sit back in fear and confusion? It’s not a conclusion I’m arriving at, but merely a suspicious doubt.

Once again, the room has been messed and I grope around to make sense of it.

Posted in Uncategorized

How Mr.Kenneth Sebastian got sexist, got offended, blocks me and then seeks some cheap fame

I watched a comedy show last night. I got offended. Before I tell you why, let me set the context.

I had wanted to spend a good night with my friends. I’d heard of how hilarious ‘The Improvisers’ were and decided to see for myself. I was sure in for an eventful night. The first 45mins they kept me laughing and after that I just ended up exchanging glances with my friend wondering if we were the only ones in the room feeling awkward. It started with Mr.Kannan Gill, on a more serious note (Thank god for that) revealing the fact that anyone could buy a prostitute in Kolkata with just Rs.7. But then things got ugly, at least for me and my friends. They took turns, Abish Mathew, Kaneez Surka, Kannan Gill and, the man of the hour, Mr.Kenneth Sebastian, to make an attempt to tickle the crowd by dragging it to a whole new level. They wondered out loud, what a prostitute could serve a man for Rs.7. This made one of them answer that she gives him one ‘shot’ which if I rightly understood means, one ejaculation. So they went on to wonder what Rs.49 would give them! Not yet offended? Wait, there’s more. In their act, the boyfriend and girlfriend walk into the prostitutes area only to encounter the mother of the girlfriend, who apparently has been working there as a prostitute. This encourages them to pursue an improvised dialog session where one of them asks the mum “How was your day?” and the other person (that is, the mum) responds, “Oh I’m so fucked.”

Personally, I cannot stand and watch people talk about women that way. So I messaged Mr.Kenneth Sebastian, on Facebook, saying I enjoyed the first half but felt that the second half got a bit sexist. He replied instantly and this led to us having a heated conversation where he kept assuring me that he is NOT offended but had to go on explaining what he thought of ‘people like me’. Not to mention, he ends the conversation by telling me how busy he is and how his time is extremely precious and that I shouldn’t go watch the show if I get so easily offended. Basically, he brushed me off by saying ‘Take a joke woman!’. He blocked me after this. In a minute my friend told me he’d posted a screenshot of our conversation with a caption that read:

You are not a real comedian till someone accuses you of being a sexist



He posted this on twitter and on his Facebook page and profile. There are a couple of things that are disturbing here.

Firstly, he is proud of being a sexist? And this, readers, is our ‘broad minded, liberal thinking, slightly famous’ Indian. Secondly, it’s cheap beyond belief how he posted a very convenient part of our conversation, the part that would boost his ego. Thirdly, this is a huge breach of privacy. There is a reason why there’s an option to post on the wall and send a message Mr.Kenneth Sebastian! You should have at least had the basic decency to crop out my name if you were so desperate to soak in the glory of being called a sexist. Fourthly, He blocks me. Ha! If you really had the courage Mr.Kenneth Sebastian you shouldn’t have blocked me, you should have been brave enough to face my backlash at you. And let me remind you readers, this was from the man who claimed not to be so easily offended by some ‘random stranger’ on Facebook. I mean, clearly this man can’t handle criticism of any sort. Keeping quiet and not responding to me at all would have earned him more respect than portraying himself as an immature attention seeking person.

I’m also shocked by the audience! They were all, I’m sure, coming from a decently educated background and I looked around and these men and women are laughing their heads off at such a derogatory joke. Yes, I know some of you out there believe that one must leave their brains home while going to watch comedy. I’m sorry, but I won’t leave my self-respect or morals back home even if it is to watch comedy. Some say, I’m being a spoil sport or over analysing. Let me clarify to you here, that I love comedy. But do it with some class. And putting a price on a woman is NOT classy! I enjoy witty jokes. And making derogatory perverted jokes does not make you witty!

Anything that involves addressing a mass audience has been proved to have the power of mobilisation. Be it a political speech or even mere comedy. And people who do address the audiences in any which way must have some sense of moral responsibility. I emphasize again, there’s nothing wrong with pulling someone’s leg and enjoying a joke. But there is a line you draw. We are all at a point where we are witnessing and being part of this revolutionary movement of attaining a just and equal society. How easily we blame the judicial system or the government of this country but we fail to remember that to attain a society like that it is most important for us to have an attitudinal shift not a mere altering of some laws. And, attitude comes from what you see, what you experience, your culture, the kind of people you spend your time with and even from something as small as what kind of jokes you laugh at. There is a deep rooted conditioning that gets drawn from these attitude forming patterns.

After reading the comments a man (whom I hold respect for, because he was the only one who chose to listen to my side of the story) messaged me and expressed that it’s difficult now because he really has to filter his thoughts before talking. I’m saying, if you are a non- sexist you won’t have to filter. You will just be a non-sexist.

Mr.Kenneth Sebastian, I know new found fame does give you a high. It probably makes you feel more powerful as compared to ‘some random stranger’ on Facebook. You have no basic decency, can’t handle criticism and seems like you’d stoop down to any level for some more of that tasty fame.

And let me get this straight. I am NOT a feminist who has misunderstood the word ‘feminism’. I AM NOT a feminist asking for superiority of women but a feminist seeking for equality for women.

Readers, I recommend you go read the comments below Mr.Kenneth Sebastian’s post on his profile (not his page) which is even more disappointing. The kind of response people have been giving is unbelievable. Some of us just got attacked by the male chauvinists of this nation (and that too, just a handful of them).

Since you(Kenneth Sebastian) anyway don’t believe in privacy, I’m sure you’re okay with me posting our entire conversation.

Since you(Kenneth Sebastian) anyway don't believe in privacy, I'm sure you're okay with this.


Posted in #BringBackOurGirls, BokoHaram, Chibok, Death, Innocence, Jihad, Nigeria, Pain, Soul, Terrorism

The Sick Story of Boko Haram

Coleman_BeatingBokoHaramFounded in Africa in 2002 – Boko Haram was one of the most deadliest and merciless militant Islamic terror organisations after the ISIS. Boko Haram was originally known as, ‘Jama’atu Ahlis Sunna Lidda’awati wal-Jihad’, meaning ‘People Committed to the Propagation of the Prophet’s Teachings and Jihad’. Members of Boko Haram were Jihadi Islamists who opposed and boycotted anything western. They initially operated from their headquarters in Maiduguri. They now have taken control over Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country and showered a wave of massacres, bombings, abduction and assassinations.

Now what is Boko Haram asking for?

They want to overthrow the government and establish a caliphate. An Islamic state.

Members of Boko Haram were furious that the Nigerian state, although run and governed by a Muslim president, was a state ruled by a bunch of non-believers or unfaithful Muslims.

When the Boko Harams started out they began with simply focusing on education. They promoted a dimension of Islam which made it a sin for a true Muslim to undergo western education. The word ‘Boko’ means fake, it refers to the ‘fake western education’ and ‘Haram’ means forbidden and hence the name translated to forbidding the fake western education system. And this is exactly what they went about doing.

Certain sections of Nigerian society already opposed the British education due to their hate for the colonisers. This made the job of the militant group easier. Boko Haram set up Islamic schools to impart the ‘true and rightful’ education a Muslim must receive. Ha! Boko Haram gave two shits for ‘true and rightful’ education.  Poor Muslims in Nigeria and surrounding states readily enrolled their children into this religiously complex system trusting that their children would receive the peace loving teaching of Allah.Instead these ‘schools’ became breeding grounds for potential jihadists.

The Boko Harams soon declared it ‘Haram’ or sinful to even take part in any political or socially engaging activity associated with Western ideologies like voting, wearing shirts or trousers, receiving secular knowledge etc.

In 2009, Boko Haram carried out terror attacks on police stations and government buildings of Maiduguri which led to shoot-outs on the streets where hundreds of their supporters lost their lives and thousands of residents fled the city. The Nigerian security forces managed to seize the militant headquarters and captured and killed Mohammed Yusuf who was then spearheading the extremist group. His body was shown all over television and security forces declared the end of Boko Haram. The people breathed a sigh of relief which they regretted even before they fully exhaled.

Who knew…

The fighters of Boko Haram regrouped and appointed a new leader Abudakar Shekau within no time. They mourned for Mohammed Yusuf, appointed a new killer leader and reverted back in full force with a vengeance to consume more blood.

Despite all of this, it was only in 2013 that the United Nations finally baptised Boko Haram as a terrorist group. At this point the world feared that Boko Haram had close links with other terror groups like al- Qaeda. It was speculated that the extremist groups were coordinating to launch global jihad together.

A class act…

Boko Haram had panache. They had a trademark way of killing. The young men, all between the ages of 16 to 40 conducted their murders in full style. They usually fired as they rode their motorcycles in full speed, killing police, politicians, civilians and other Muslims who criticised Boko Haram. Not to mention the death of even the unfortunate supporters of Boko Haram who happened to be around at that fateful moment of attack.

These adrenaline pumped, young blooded fighters were drawn from Africa’s ethnic group- Kanuri. Kanuri’s were familiar with the Nigerian terrain and have distinctive facial scars and heavy Hausa accents that make them easily identifiable with other Nigerians.

In May 2013 President Good luck Jonathan declared an emergency in the three states of Borno, Yobe and Adamawa, were the militant group was most active.

Boko Haram had a scary habit of holding on to any territory and inscripting their claim over it after an attack instead of retreating as any attacking terror troupe usually does. As soon as they occupy a land they establish base and begin attacks, fires and lootings on surrounding areas.

August 2014 was a turning point for the Boko Harams. Inspired and awed by Abu Bakr al-Bhaghdadi, leader of the Islamic State, the self declared caliph of Muslims worldwide; the terrorist group of Nigeria, after 11 years of establishing their rule, Abudakar Shekau, flanked by masked men in black carrying machine guns, declared “We are now in an Islamic caliphate. We have nothing to do with Nigeria. We don’t believe in this name.”

Choked pleas of Chibok…

As the day of 14th April 2014 started to draw to a close, little did the girls, who were going about their daily routine, know what the deadly night had in story for them. Boko Haram standing for eradication of western education stormed into a government-run girl’s boarding secondary school in the town of Chibok in Borno State, north-eastern Nigeria. The militants were all heavily armed. In a calm and steady voice, a voice described by one of the girls as “so calm and steady that it churned my stomach” a militant member announced calling for all the girls to step out of the building and file out. The girls were terrified. Close to 300 girls were abducted that night. Some 11 of them managed to escape while getting shoved into the bushes. Boko Haram declared that the girls would be treated as slaves and be married off. They based this practice on the Islamic belief that women captured during conflict are part of ‘war booty’ and it was up to the discretion of the Caliph as to what to do with them.

The last straw cracks…

The people of Nigeria were horrifically taken aback at the almost indifferent attitude of the Government towards the kidnapping. It was Inefficient, slow response of Good luck Jonathan, the Nigerian President that proved his insensitiveness towards the grave situation. Imagine, on one side is a terror group hungry for your life and on the other a system that robs you of your sense of security. In such a situation death is probably easier to deal with than having to pick yourself up after your entire belief system has been turned upside down, telling you that even home is no longer safe for you and your care takers are just as helpless.

Boko Haram members consider the kidnapping of the Chibok girls as one of their most successful missions. They love narrating stories of how they whipped and lashed the girls until they begged to be converted to Islam. They brag of their captives who have been converted to Muslims and forced to marry the fighters. Some of these girls are subjected to violent sex from which ever soldier wishes to lay their hands on them. A few of them are said to have been trained and brainwashed to become suicide bombers. “They told me the Chibok girls have a new life where they learn to fight,” says Abigail John, 15, who was held by Boko Haram for more than four weeks before escaping. “They said we should be like them and accept Islam.” I believe their only saving grace would be to become as comfortably numb as soon as possible.

The world reacts…

The Chibok incident brought worldwide attention to the Boko Harams. It has now been more than 10 months since the abduction of the girls and close to 219 girls are still missing. A hash tag campaign was launched on twitter called #BringBackOurGirls which was popularised by Michelle Obama and has been retweeted close to 48,000 times. Good luck Jonathan has promised to increase pace of the search. Many countries, although unwilling to disclose their names due to fear are said to have extended their hands in helping Nigeria tackle the merciless killers. Michelle Obama in a press conference said “In these girls, Barack and I see our own daughters …we can only imagine the anguish their parents are feeling right now.”

Analysts have declared that although Nigeria has had a rich history of militant Islamist groups, Boko Haram has outlived them all and proved to be the most lethal, goriest, merciless Jihadi agent by far. Today, it has an army of over thousand men and access to vast amounts of money and weapons. They believe that Boko Haram will meet its death only when Nigeria’s government manages to reduce the chronic poverty and draw out a strong support group from the local Muslims (who are illiterate and often end up supporting the Jihadists)

The soul reacts…

Boko Haram has terrorised this world. There’s no doubt how cruel these militants have proved to be. But a nagging thought pricks me.

After all, the terror has not been committed by any other creature but man himself. How did this happen to us? Since when did religion mean bloodshed, stealing of innocence or such irreversible hurt? We are all partly to blame. Yes, each and every single one of us.  It’s easy to blame the inefficiency of the system. But we often forget the system consists of me and you, it’s made for me and you, by me and you. Silence at a crime scene is probably worse a crime than the crime itself. Because the silence has a conscience.

How have we come to this point of helplessness? How will they pay for these sins? Who will tend to the wounds of the young, tender Jihadi boys who get sucked into the terror groups? What about the girl who will never see her parents again, the girl who is forced to allow a killers penis inside her and probably foster a child before she’s even had a chance to feel the wind in her hair, which every child her age has a right to.

Is there really space for so much pain in our world?

What happened to love?

Where are their souls?

Finally, which God will come to our rescue?

Posted in Uncategorized

Man Vs Man. And the grave we dug for ourselves, to ourselves, by ourselves.

It was the smell of rotting flesh that made me turn around. I hadn’t smelt human flesh before and prepared my mind to find the decaying body of a dead cat or rat. But my eyes were met with a sight that will probably never leave my mind in this lifetime. An old man, wrinkled by age and life sat staring into space with a large hole in his shin; big enough to fit two fists in it, sat on the ledge of platform no.4 of Shivajinagar bus station. The wound must have been a week old, the strong stench and fresh blood had attracted flies and worms to starting eating out of it. But the poor man’s stomach was empty. I had to sit down and digest the sight before me, before I could react.
I had seen misery. But this one I couldn’t walk away from. I looked around and saw two people who came and clicked pictures of him. What was he an item on show? I picked up a waste cloth and gave it to him asking him to cover his wound, offered him with food and then water when he put a weak hand to his mouth signaling me for some liquid. And then began my ordeal with…what shall I say? The system? Myself? The religious-god fearing-humanitarian-compassionate-intellectual society?
I called up close to five NGO’s claiming to help aged people but everybody washed their hands off with petty reasons, I called up Deccan Chronicle newspaper hoping they would be able to give me some helpline numbers but here was the receptionist’s response to my questions.
After explaining the situation, she listen and said “Sorry ma’am, we are not a helpline”
After I cleared her ‘misconception’, She told me “Sorry ma’am, its 8:30am and there is nobody in the office now. And I’m a receptionist and I can’t do anything.“
After asking her to search her human side and give me a number of someone who could help me out, she gave me the number of a reporter who ended up never picking up my calls.
After a few more calls to NGO’s I was given the number of a ‘humanitarian’ who responded to my call with a message that said “I’m in a meeting”. I explained the situation, saying this man needed serious medical care and she responded saying “sorry. I’m in a meeting” ; to which I asked her “since you and me are busy with meetings shall I leave the poor man to die?” . Then she said she would meet me in an hour at the spot. I let my stupid society-conditioned mind take over for a minute and it told me I’m late for college and can’t afford to lose attendance. I asked the man to stay put and left. I reached college restless and distressed. I need to cry. It came out when my teacher asked me why I was late. I realized I had to go back. I was ashamed of myself for leaving. I told her so and she said “Disease and old age are a part of life. But if you feel you must finish what you started then leave. Preferably take a friend along.”
Taking a kind friend along with me we waited at the bus station for another hour with this humanitarian not responding to my calls. She finally picked up and told me her meeting would go on till 2pm and she couldn’t get out. I felt hopeless.
I took to my last resort and dialed 100, the police. They came in 15mins later, sauntering in with an indifferent air; I approached them and instantly got scanned by their eyes before being rudely asked why they were called, like I had rudely woken them up from a wonderful little dream. After explaining the situation they seemed furious that I had called them. Before brushing me aside, they said “Madam if you are so kind why don’t you take him to the hospital yourself? This man is here every day and we don’t drive him away because he is old. Is this why you called us here? Isn’t there a college or school you have to be at right now?” Finishing their little speech they walked away to get some coffee, leaving me speechless. I sat down again fuming with rage and desperation. The police had been my last resort. They were supposed to be looking after their people. They were supposed to help the helpless. Instead they left people feeling even more helpless.
Finally a friend of mine who was helping me get more helping numbers urged me to try this one last helpline. It was a run by Nightingale Medical Trust along with the Bangalore police. It had been almost 3 hours since I had begun and this was my final call and I had hardly any hope left. They responded to my call by saying they would take care of it and inform the police and take action and I in the meantime could leave the scene. When I heard the word police the last sliver of hope I had also evaporated.
I put the phone down thanked my friend and sent her off, walked to the other end of the bus station to get away from the inquisitive police gaze and sat down with my hand in my head. How was I to go home and sleep? How was I to come back to this station and see the old man tomorrow? How was handle his gaze when he looked at me with pain? How was I to live with this guilt? Will I ever feel safe anywhere anymore? How was I going to be happy without being guilty anymore?

Trying to quieting my bickering head I walked back into the station to take a bus and leave. Suddenly I saw an ambulance in front of the man. There were two elderly men and two male nurses and the very ‘responsible’ police men standing around talking. A small crowd had gathered. I approached them claiming responsibility for the call and asking them what was going to happen. The elderly man representing the helpline told me they would take him to Bowring hospital. The old man suddenly came out of his state of numbness. He was put in the stretcher and as the responsible and dedicated men of society discussed a plan of action, we had a moment. The man folded his arms looked at me and began silently sobbing; his whole body shook with what seemed to me like relief. It looked to me like all the faith, hope and pain that had seeped out of his body due to forced acceptance of cruel reality was all over again suddenly flowing back into his veins in full force. I looked back at him folding my own hands, hot tears rolling down my own face and felt all the hope, faith and trust I had in me seep slowly out of my body.
After the ambulance left I turned to the policemen who had approached me, all of a sudden with this sudden found kindness and empathy to discuss what a pitiful situation it was, and I asked them “this is all you had to do sir, what was so hard about it?” and the uniformed men of safe keeping told me “We also feel very sad madam but we didn’t know what to do. You see madam he spoke Tamil and we couldn’t understand anything as we don’t speak Tamil.”
I’ll leave you to think about it. Before scoffing at the system, the police, the people who clicked the pictures (Who most definitely need to be scoffed at and questioned) let’s look at ourselves (Myself included) and see how many situations like these we have walked out of. And how many times we thought ourselves to be very compassionate when we sat down over a few drinks or coffee with friends or family and explained a horrific situation, telling them how bad we felt. Or the times we thought of ourselves very intellectual while debating over how screwed up our society and system is, concluding the debate by telling each other that this country won’t change.
The question is. Will you?