Validity of Lakshmanrekha

A lot has been talked about and said when the convict in Nirbhaya's case blamed women for the rape and the violence followed. It was assailed with brickbats all over the social media and able members of the society condemned it. This whole episode divides the society in two parts though the second supporting the convict's belief are few but still exist.

They talk about a woman being in Lakshmanrekha and condemn any woman who steps out of it. But how many of the. Or even the educated ones know the real meaning of Lakshmanrekha? 

It begins with the epic of Ramayan... Where Ram walks out of his hermitage chasing a golden deer and on hearing the cry of Ram (an entrap in disguise), Sita ails for her her husband's safety and asks Ram's younger brother Lakshman to go for his help. Lakshman who sense a foul play in the whole scene argues with Sita and upholds the capabilities and valor of Ram, but Sita out of worry insists him to leave her on her own to help Ram. Lakshman though reluctantly leaves Sita alone in the hermitage and draws a line around it asking Sita not to cross the line for her own safety. 

Lakshman leaves in search of Ram and in the meanwhile Ravana's plan culminates. Ravana being a knowledgiate individual though disillusioned by his desires, can sense the power of the Lakshmanrekha and refuses to cross it, when he visits the hermitage disguised as a sage asking for alms. 

He tells Sita that he cannot enter the hermitage as in absence of her husband, he entering the hermitage shall lead to her being adulterous. Sita faces a conflict... She cannot cross the Lakshmanrekha as she had promised her brother in law and at the letter hand if a sage is turned away from the doorstep of the hermitage of the great Raghuvansh scion, that will be an act of sin and will tarnish the Raghukul.

She chooses her husband's family name and the reputation of his clan over her safety... And alas she's abducted by Ravana.

It is interesting to note here that Ravana when reveals himself as a the mighty king of Lanka to the utmost horror of Sita, he explains her as to why she's been abducted by him. He tells her that till the time she was within the Lakshmanrekha she was ruled by the rules and the principles of Sanskriti, i.e. The rules of the civilization, however, once she crossed the Lakshmanrekha she's rules by the law of Prakriti, I.e. The law of nature. The law of nature is very simple... It supports the powerful... The law of nature is not bound by the laws and the principles of the civilization where the rules marriage and family relations are upheld to the extent of being worshipped. 

"Within the Lakshmanrekha you were wife of Ram, daughter in law of the great Raghukul but outside the line you are just another female form which is available to any creature lurking around. The creature could treat you as a prey to satiate his hunger, or kill you brutally and mutilate you just for the sake of proving its power, or take you by force to fulfill his carnal desires," he says to Sita who stands before him dismally on this revelation. 

Here, is the point where the term Lakshmanrekha was coined and the concept of being within the boundaries was congealed. The concept of Lakshmanrekha has been misinterpreted and bend to their own benefits by many, especially a bunch of insecure chauvinists, threatened by the divine power of the female, the strength and the wisdom of womanhood. 

I'm not trying to be a feminist nor I'm try to prove that women are better. My only aim is to decipher the true meaning of Lakshmanrekha which is associated with women forever.

Lakshmanrekha is not just applicable to women but it for every human who chooses Sankriti (civilization) over Prakriti (nature). It draws lines so that both can co-exist without causing threat to one another. The Lakshmanrekha puts an end to the struggle between the different lifestyles and different laws applicable to different people. It also brings an end to the 'eye for an eye' theory. 

Sanskriti or the civilization was set up by the humans, the only animal who could think. The civilization was set up on the basis of certain rules, so that no injustice was caused to other. However, justice to one is injustice to another, still the rules were embibed in a subtle manner where all the humans part of this civilization came on terms with these rules and lead a peaceful life. 

Prakriti however, is unruly... The nature has no rules... All that matters is how powerful one animal is than other... The power is the only thing that triumphs in the nature. It goes by the rule of fish i.e. The matsya dharma, where the larger fish is bound to eat the smaller one... Which is acceptable by all. The civilization was established to ensure protection to the weaker species and bring in the harmony without disturbing the order of the nature i.e. the food chain.

The rules of civilization have been same ever since. The women were free to choose their man. The daughters were educated, where the education was not just confined to homemaking and cooking skills but also the shastras and if they showed any such inclination they were also encouraged to learn the armory skills. The past has seen many fierce warriors who were women and whose valor was unquestionable. 

The rules became dilute with the passage of time and unfortunately govern by half baked rules and administrators who were not at peace with themselves and thus could never make peace with the power or let alone equal status given to women. With time the respect of women in the society eluded and they were treated not mor than an object of desire and to the most the caretaker of the home and bearer of the children.

But after decades and decades of oppression women have established their status in the society and have taken their their rightful place next to the man on the equal footing... And at this glorious moment the women face the threat of modern Ravanas that lurk around in the dark to outrage and strip them of their dignity. 

Unfortunately the society who despised Ravana today glorify his thoughts and his action by their dark deeds and then justify these horrendous acts in the name of Lakshmanrekha. What is a Lakshmanrekha??? And whom is it meant for??? 

The moment a man steps in the jungle unarmed he is bound to be attacked by any wild beast or even sodomised by some aborigines. This is Lakshmanrekha. It does not apply to only a woman. It also applies to any human being who risks to cross the boundaries of the civilization. 

Unfortunately people who talk about Lakshmanrekha believe that the Lakshmanrekha bounds their own house where the women of their families can be kept safe and outside the house... They are ruled by the law of nature. It is unfortunate that the laws of civilization are getting constricted. 

The Lakshmanrekha is the need of the hour... not for the women... But for the men... For every human who is a part of this society... Part of the Sanskriti.

Always live on a hope

When i was asked to make a decision... I dint know i'll have to choose between the paths on which i have walked halfway. I managed to perform a circus by putting my each foot on two different paths... Paths which were diverse... Diverse in motto... Diverse in thoughts and diverse on the geographical plains...

I was managing to walk on both coz a bit of absence from one was not a grave mistake... The delay and a bit of negligence could be condoned... None of the path was so demanding... But now both the paths are roaring aloud to seek my attention. Who do i attend???

I have finally realised i can't walk on two paths at a time... Their diversity is tearing me apart and i can't tear myself in pieces to be a part of each boulevard...

It was not a simple decision to make... One path was simple and straight while the other had sharp turns and upheavals... One was like a smooth ride in a limousine and other had vibe of a roller coaster ride on a rowdy racing bike... One was a rose bed other had adventure... One had cosy warmth of an adoring companion and other had the thrill of fighting alone...

How i wish to be walking on both... How i wish i could live two lives in a lifetime... Oh how i wish... I crave for the peace... But can't abandon the adventure... They say i m being selfish... How ,i ask??? Both are my choices and i choose the one i fancy...

I have made my decision... So am i happy??? I dunno... I ll always crave for the other... No matter which one i had chosen... Yes one thing i am sure of... The people on the abandoned path are and will be better off me...

Are you really Content???

Sometimes its very hard to be content with what you have... The 'aam aadmi' in me shout backs at this very concept of contentment... It's so easy to talk about all this when you have all means.
Its so easy to share those pitiful videos and e-mails of murky pictures of draught affected people... With a message... "unhappy in your life then look at them"
I always get an urge to catch hold of the makers of these e-mails or videos and ask them are they really happy and content...

Honestly sometimes its very hard for me to believe that every famous quote has any emotions in its history. Famous people don't really speak something new... They just project the old thought in light of their fame and make the words 'illuminating'.

Happiness and being content are feelings so subjective that no one can make a thumb rule for it... All the books which tell you the secret of being happy and content are crap... They re published in order to fill the pockets of the publishers and the writers with royalty... There is always a need behind every bestseller... Ha ha ha ha!!!!!

At the mercy of Fate

The moment when a pencil rolls down a table to it's edge and moves to and fro from the corner of the table to the edge threateningly to fall off... Seems to me one of the most intriguing moment... The pencil is about to slide off the edge and still somehow manages to hold on.

I decided to observe this and din't know how long this view held my attention... The moment kept on lingering and kept me enthralled by it's tryst.

I got so entangled in this movement of the pencil that I started to empathize with it... Just left hanging in between... Left at the mercy of it's fate... Or for all the practical purposes... At the mercy of gravitational force and numerous theories of physics... (oh! God bless Newton's soul!!!).

Honestly it was getting on my nerves... It just left me thinking this is exactly where I stood once... And many others like me were kept by this ruthless Destiny hanging by the hook... So many fates undecided... Finally getting too exhausted I pulled the pencil from the edge and placed it on my pen stand... Aahhh!!! Can't express the relief in words!!!!

The next day when I passed by the corridors of the court, I just happen to look at a lady sitting on the bench of a courtroom with her child around 5-6 years old sitting next to her tired of all the protests he could make to leave the mundane atmosphere of the courtroom. I don't know why the mother son duo were in the court but all I could think of the pencil moving to and fro by the edge of the table... Yet another life hanging by at the mercy of the fate...

Journey of a Writer

Scribbling at random on walls, crawls into the slate

The scribbles of odd shapes curve into letters,

Chalks used to engrave, half eaten, succumb to pencils

And slate is swapped by notebooks with four liners.

The four line notebook pages mark beginning of journey,

From letters in lower case then letters in upper case.

Then letters show way to words, “A for Apple” & “B for Boy”,

The words reshuffle and soon generate a sentence.

“This is a rat” & “That is a cat” fit in between the four lines,

And the complexities fill in with nouns, verbs and a lot more.

Adjectives, prepositions adorn the simple sentences,

And present tense can’t suffice the need of verbal downpour.

Effortless sentences bear the weight of tenses,

And the soon we realise past in not just past.

Past perfect, comes into picture to our amazement,

Soon pencil tips break and fine nibs stand steadfast.

The four lines shrink to one lines, sharpners make way for bottle of ink.

So are fancy pencil boxes crammed with blotting papers and old cloth.

Insight that mistakes cannot be rubbed of nor can be overwritten,

Reveal the incompetence of erasers and life’s first lesson is taught.

The fingers blotted with ink grow to be more skilled,

And so do the copious expressions and bountiful array of thoughts.

Writing on parchments seems ancient and perishing,

And digital notebooks bid farewell to paper, pens and ink blots.

Space for writing & overwriting sentences gets colossal,

They are not mere sorted words but expressions carved.

The lines of orderly words get intricate and so do the thoughts,

Inscribed pages belch while the sense-datum remains starved.

Ghost of the Past

Twenty years had passed without leaving much trails of the past he once lived in... He thought there was not much to it which he had left behind to peruse. This thought of ignorance was the foundation of the bliss on which he had built his today. His present was unblemished and shining as crystal clear glass... not a spot to conceal... not a splinter to mend... not even hint of grime to wipe out. He was a happy man with a family that loved him... with friends who were loyal to him... and the society that respected him. He was content with his life and the world around... completely unaware of the fact that the corpse of his past had stepped out of its grave.

He was away from his country but he created a diminutive of his homeland around him. He followed the rules laid down in the ancient texts of his religion... he performed rites and rituals and lived in accord to the culture of the country he had left behind twenty years ago. Distance breaks the dormancy of the coldness and the longing bursts open the volcano beneath... and flows down the love and respect for one’s own culture and religion. The people living away from their countries tend to get back to the roots from where they have emerged than those who live there. He himself looked surprised and awestruck at his own image in the mirror when he wore traditional attire... and smirked at the thought how old fashioned and un-cool he considered all this when he was young and lived in his own country with his parents. He had craved to escape from that place and its orthodoxies as soon as he could and breathe free in the fresh airs of a foreign land where nothing could bind him... And now... he was a mature man with slight of grey strands in his dark mane... a few lines on his face that deepened when he smiled or frowned and a little paunch which struggled with his gripping belt... sniffed even a piece of parchment that travelled through his motherland... his home...

One fine day he got a call from his cousin informing him about his father having suffered a massive stroke and he had no option to rush for making arrangement to get back to his home... to be next to his ailing father. His father after the death of his mother chose to live alone in their house where he had spend 50 wonderful years with the woman he loved the most and seen the ups and downs of the life... seen a young son move on with his life... move ahead and never to turn back and return. Last time he had come back to this home when his mother passed on and then it was when he tried to persuade his father to join him and his family, which his father had flatly refused.

He packed his stuff and his wife managed with the rest of the packing. They all left for the airport and awaited the flight to board. His kids though understanding the gravity of the situation could not hide their exhilaration to go back to their roots. He sat quite... he couldn’t participate in any of the mundane things that were happening around him. A kind of fear gripped him... he feared that like his mother he would not be able to have a last word with his father. He thought of the innumerable arguments he had with his father when he was staying with them... and the plethora of silence that congealed between them when he left his home and settled elsewhere. His father hadn’t talked to him since the day he had set his foot outside the house. He could simply not bear watch him move out and hurt his mother. Her tears and longing deepened the silence between the father and son and now he wondered will his father choose to speak to him his final words... He came back to his today with the ring of his cell phone, it was his cousin who informed him that his father was put on ventilator and this assured him that he will indeed be able to meet if not talk with his father for the last time.

The sixteen hour flight had tired him immensely but he chose not to rest but to leave for the hospital from the airport itself. He sent away his wife and children to his ancestral home to freshen up and settle down. He took a taxi to the hospital and on the way soaked himself in the familiar air and the smell of the soil he had craved for. Till his taxi halted before the hospital gate he was in the state of thoughtlessness but the moment he took steps towards the ICU where his father lay counting his last breaths a sense of panic gripped him. His mother when alive was a communication link between them and after his mother, his wife and kids. He had always dreaded to be in the same room with his father as there was nothing to talk about and even if there was, words were just not enough to convey the feelings.

He entered the ICU and sat beside his ailing father. His father seemed so peaceful despite the pain he was in. His presence was noticed and his father struggled with his drooping eyelids to glance at him... the last words his father spoke to him were... “I’ve to get going... she is waiting for me...”

What a wonderful way to go he thought and the tears trickled down his slightly wrinkled face. He removed his specs and wiped the streams oozing out of his eyes and seemed endless. After cremating his father and going through the ordeal of meeting the mourners was simply unbearable for him. He realised that now he was the head of the family... he was left with no one to look upon... his decisions would be final... sardonically they always had been... but loosing parents is a feeling that tears off the last shred that connects you with your childhood... the days innocence... and the moments of being carefree. A week had passed with mourning guests and umpteen visitors who paid condolences to him. It had finally seeped into him that he was orphaned... and now he had to stand alone...

His stay in there was almost over and his wife had started wrapping up... he too felt the need to get over this lethargic pain and move on... but something kept him anchored down. He finally decided that he shall extend his leave and stay back for a while. His wife was worried for him but he assured her that he will be fine after she and the kids leave. It took him a while to convince his wife but she seemed to have understood that all he needed was solitude. He sent off his family back and instead of taking a cab from the airport he walked down.

The dusk had crept in and the sky was getting darker... a splash of colours spread through the horizon and he walked on. When he stopped walking and looked around he realised that he wasn’t standing before his own house... it was that place... the place where his past awaited him...

He was standing before the old ruins of a vibrant place where he would often hangout with his friends when he was in college. This relic was the reminiscence of his “good ol’ days”... This place was always in ruins but now it seemed more abandoned. With the oncoming of pubs and discos this place failed to attract the youth. It was leftovers of an old ‘could have been’ a haveli or something of that sorts. He and his friends would often come down to this place to get high. The voices from the distant past were echoing around... “Man! This place gives a better kick!!! Even more than this joint!!!” echoed the voice of his own along with the cheers of his friends. He smiled to himself and walked around to peruse the place...

This place had all the accounts of the “fun” he had in his youth. This was the place where he had brought her along with him on their first date. The date concept didn’t exist in his time nor did the cosy coffee shops that avail utmost privacy to the couples today. When you are young the possibilities are abundant and nothing seems impossible... the first love would be the last and be the eternal one...  and every love story in itself was capable of making it to the accounts of history... he smiled once again. He never thought that one day he will have to leave his home... his family... and her and move on in life. When he had told her that it’s time for him to move on and chase his aspirations, she had given him a warm smile in his support.

“My father doesn’t understand me sweetheart... he wants me to join the family business and I want to make it big in life... all by myself. My dreams and aspirations are beyond his typical business class mentality. I want to travel around the world... explore places that offer a lot more than money... it’s just that I want to break free...” he turned towards her and asked, “you’re understanding what I am saying... right?” and to this she dint reply but simply smiled at him. He started discussing his plans with her and she just stared at the lake in front of them. The lake was free of ripples... calm... and so was she. She nodded once or twice and he kept on talking. She dint question him nor did he think it was important for him to say anything about their relationship.

About one year back he had brought her the first time to this place and then they visited often... this relic had registered every account of their love... their union to their parting away. He had promised to meet her one last time before he left to the far off country but couldn’t make it on the last moment. Their parting away had no goodbyes...

He walked towards the lake thinking about the time he had spent with her. The memories of his first love never followed him in his desired journey... it had faded in the bright luminance of his success.  He loved his wife but somehow the place had its own effect on him... and he just couldn’t stop the flashback running in his brain. Her face was so vivid... her fragrance lingered around and he felt her presence. He could see her in front of the lake where they once sat together. He thought he was imagining but the image dint fade even if he looked away and blinked over and over. This was something he hadn’t expected... he was not sure of walking towards her or not but his feet gained momentum. He reached her... and to his amazement she was sitting there...

He thought for a moment and then sat beside her keeping a distance and then she tilted her head in his direction (oh! He loved the way she would look at him tilting her head and gazing at him through the curtain of her lustrous black hair...). He was awestruck again but managed to smile. It was like travelling through time... That moment seemed so primordial to him... it seemed to be a story of some other age... or some other birth. The place minus the unruly weed and the signs of aging was exactly the same. The feel was same and when the silence crashed into him the voices of the past started to play.

They both sat in silence for a long time and he finally said, “How are you?” This drew her attention away from the lake towards him and she smiled in a nod. He started again, “so you still come here?” and her response was same smile. “The place hasn’t changed much, but seems really abandoned... young boys and girls don’t seem to come down here anymore like in our time.” He sighed and continued, “Dad passed away so came down...” At this she looked at him enquiringly and he said, “Yaa about a week ago... came down with my family. They left today... but I decided to stay back... don’t know why...” and he chuckled, “Remember the time when I just wanted to escape from this place... and today here I am... unable to make up my mind to go back.”

Her responses became redundant and she had her eyes glued to the rippled surface of the lake and he got a feeling that she was not interested in talking to him or maybe upset to see him after so long. She must have had her own life... her family... her kids and meeting old flame can be disturbing for women, so decided to leave her alone. He looked at her and said, “I guess I should leave now... it’s getting dark... and you must go home too... your family must be waiting. Should I walk you down home? Or you prefer going alone?” and she turned again towards him and this time she wasn’t smiling. He looked at her face... and something was not right... the fading of smiling was not the only reason... she looked just the same... the time had no effect on her. She still looked 21... How was that possible... she wasn’t that kind of girl who would go for Botox and all. She was simple homely girl... basically a wife material which he would call her...

This was definitely not real but he just dint want to face the reality... the truth was hammering him but he shut down his brains. He wanted to hold that moment which he knew would glide smoothly out of his hands and nothing but the mist of his memories will stay with him. She got up and spoke for the first time, “it’s late... walk me down home... my family must be worried...” She held her hand out and he held it... the warm and soft touch of her hand sent in a lightening through his spine. He held her hand tight as if never to leave it. His conscience was bursting in tears and his mind raced... how life would have had been if he had taken her with him? Would she have become a better wife? He had cheated on his wife twice but nothing felt like this. He couldn’t make out whom he was betraying... his wife... the woman walking with him or himself...

They walked silently and then came her home. He stopped before the gate and loosened his grip on her hand. Her hand slid off his hands and she walked towards her home. He stood looking at her walking away from him and tears welled up in his eyes... His vision blurred with tears couldn’t see her entering the house. He turned away and started walking alone towards his home.

He reached his home which was dark now. He lighted the house and sat on his father’s armchair. A balance sheet danced in front of his eyes... he was trying to make an account his gains and losses. It seemed to have a perfect balance but somehow the pain associated with the losses stung his heart. The night passed like a snail and the darkness was seeping into him. Just before the breaking of dawn something struck him. He had walked her to her parents home... did that mean she never got married? This was a blow to him... what if he was the reason for her not getting married? He had to talk to her... he dint know what exactly but he had to see her... he waited for morning and these hours were heavier than ever...

The morning arrived with bright rays of sun and chirping of birds. He dint bother to freshen up and simply walked out of his house. He knocked at her door and an old man opened the door. This old bloke was her father... the old man stared at him enquiringly while he simply looked at the framed photograph of her adorned with garland on the wall behind the old man...

Yet another Tryst

At times it gets extremely difficult to surpass illusions and see the truth or believe in it. To differentiate or to distinguish between the black and white is difficult especially when it is dark around. The only test is the ray of light which illuminates the ambiance and then enlighten us.

She was sitting amongst her friends (at least she believed to be accompanied by friends) and talking about the latest flick on the board. All the conversation were a chaos of loud and shrieking voices accompanied with giggles, sighs, cat callings and gestures of displeasure or appreciation... a total potpourri of contrasting thoughts colliding with full thrusts... some overpowering, while some equal... for a moment it all seemed to go mute like on television set. Soon after the mute followed the power button and everything stopped from revolving and came to a standstill and darkness creeped in.

It was like a nap of a few minutes and she woke up feeling fresh again. When the darkness made an exit a gush of light blinded her vision and when the strength of the beam started to fade out, the view was of twilight and she stood amidst woods, beneath her soft and beautiful feet was an unknown terrain like a tread mill the terrain moved and she had no choice but to walk. She moved further along with the path amid the woods. The blues and the pinks of the sky were merging into a deeper hue of grey... or maybe slate... it was getting dark and now she panicked with the thought of being alone in woods. She wanted to escape like she would from her college or maybe from the house when she was bored. The feeling to escape surpassed all the other feelings but the treadmill path dint stop and she kept walking.

Soon she felt the pace of the path slow down and finally stopped with a bump. It took her a few seconds to steady herself and look ahead. When she reached in front of her, a few feet away stood an iron gate. It was like a simple iron rods tied up together at equal intervals to make a gate out of it. It reminded of the gates of jail and she chuckled with a thought of being sent to jail for probably murdering some of lecturers or neighbour or her biggest rival.

But what she saw beyond the gate was a spectacular view, a huge, artistic and antique mansion stood tall. The mansion was majestic and was magnificent. It seemed to have hidden crypts and secrets chambers. It seemed to have treasures and even pleasures but amongst all these attractive things it was beholding, there was something murky about it. With a deep insight as she always had, realised that the mansion she stood before was jinxed; beneath the beauty led a deep dark secret. It seemed to have suppressed the painful cries of past which were bickering inside it to find a vent to release themselves. But the mansion kept the voices and the cries within itself intact.

She stood in front of the gate for a while when the gate opened... neither there was wind nor any person to move the gate. It was strange but true... her eyes were the witness. The gate seemed to oscillate... but the oscillation was not random, if a person walked past open the door it would be the exact period of oscillation. She could not believe if anyone or maybe more people were walking in or out of the mansion especially when she could not see anyone. Her eyes saw the gate opening and closing but she could not see anybody walking in or out of the gate... maybe she was jumping to some conclusion. She thought of walking into the mansion. The beauty and the majesty of the mansion attracted her but at the same time the darkness of it repelled her. The mansion had the power to entangle her in its secrets, beauty and even pain.

She just could not make up her mind whether to or not to... and when she was in the midst of the vital decision to make, her vision was once again blinded by a flash of light... and the chaos of voices and giggles came nearer, the pause button seemed to have been followed by the resume button and the volume was deafening. Her friends were still on the same conversation... the same people... same talks... and probably it was just ten minutes from when she had landed before the mansion...

The tryst between the truth and illusion began...