Conscience

(Above-The cramped basement where Elisabeth and 3 kids were imprisoned; Below-Josef Fritzl; Lowest-His daughter Elisabeth at age 11)

'Conscience' is defined by Wikipedia as 'a hypothesised ability or faculty that distinguishes whether our actions are right or wrong. It leads to feelings of remorse when we do things that go against our moral values, and to feelings of rectitude or integrity when our actions conform to our moral values. It is also the attitude which informs our moral judgment before performing any action.'

By this definition, we can safely conclude that most of humanity has lost the responsibility, the essential sense of morality, that a conscience ensures.

Most of us are now aware of the 'Horror House' in Austria, where 73-year-old Josef Fritzl imprisoned his daughter Elisabeth for 24 long years in a windowless basement, locked with an electronic code. In a chillingly cold case of incest, he bore seven children by her. The former electrician, the perpetrator of this tragedy that transgresses all boundaries, reportedly said that he was 'sorry' for his family, and that he just wanted to be left alone.

Which, to me, is an incredible thing. In his quiet moments, doesn't the merciless pain he inflicted upon his hapless daughter torture him? How does his conscience allow him to sleep nights? Don't his thoughts and nightmares rankle with the corpse of the baby-HIS baby-that he incinerated in an oven? How could his wife and six of Elisabeth's siblings not have known what was happening? It has come to light that Josef first sexually assaulted Elisabeth when she was 11, precipitating her desperate attempts to run away from home at the ages of 16 and 18. Ultimately, her father lured her to her new 'home', a basement with a concrete door, devoid of natural light, hope or happiness. A place where she birthed seven children by a monster, without anyone knowing or caring. Josef claimed that she had run away with a religious sect, and made three of his illegitimate children(or grandchildren?) appear on his doorstep. The other three children were forced to live in the dingy room with their mother. It is impossible to empathise with what they must've suffered, and witnessed-rapes and beatings instead of school and games. I find it laughable that no one realised what was going on-Josef's wife, his family, his neighbours. Or did they turn the other cheek? That is more probable.

On a smaller scale, my mother and I went shopping the other day. We saw an old, shrivelled lady, standing near the shop, dressed well but not extravagantly. She did not seem well to do, her hands were twitching with nervousness and she appeared lost; she wasn't a beggar. She pleaded with us to help her and narrated her tale of woe-robbed of her purse, she was in a strange city with no food and no way to meet her son who lived here. Pitying her, my mother gave her money. When I looked back again, there was no sign of the woman. Her seemingly frail vulnerability had just been a phenomenal piece of acting.

Sigh.

In the fairytales everything is so perfect. In the movies. In all stories. Daddies kiss their little girls goodnight and little old ladies bake fragrant cakes and never lie because they are God fearing souls. In real life, incest is more common than most people believe it is and nothing is what it seems.

Reality is so disappointing. Painful. Cruel. Harsh. And oh yeah, real.

The metamorphosis

My eyes flew open as my breath returned in slow, rattling gasps. Vivid images chased each other incessantly in my head. Dizzy, muddled and disoriented, I reached for the glass of water on my bedside table-and promptly landed on the floor, because my legs were entwined in my blanket. Without even the will to pull myself up, I hugged my knees and started to cry.

It wasn't aways like this. My long awaited summer vacation had started well. I went swimming and cycling with Susan and saw my beloved Ryan everyday. Perfect? Well, almost.

Susan and I had been best friends since kindergarten. That first day, I'd been so intimidated by the stern teacher and unfamiliar surroundings that I'd had to go to the toilet-in class. Kids are mean; they all laughed at me. I stood there, mortified and in tears, until Susan came and whispered that she wouldn't let anyone laugh at me. She fought the bullies off. To cut a long story short, I found my soulmate that day; we spent every evening on the phone, every day chattering away in class, and even organised secret birthday parties for each other.

For 14 years, she was the mainspring of my existence; that place I went when I needed encouragement, support, help, courage, love. And companionship. The best friend any girl could ever have. Maybe not.

Another lifetime.

I grimaced as I rose from the cold marble floor. Shuffling to the bathroom, I switched on the light. I presently realised that darkness would be more soothing, so I shut the lid of my commode and sat in the blackness, trying to gather my wits.

Ah, Ryan. Simply put, the true love of my life. He had a crush on me since seventh grade, and tried to woo me(his version) or rather, bug me(my version) by dropping rubber lizards down my neck, tugging my hair and hiding my books. In the ninth grade, we started dating... and life has never been the same since. Suffice it to say that we have had our ups and downs-perhaps more than most, given our temperamental personalities-but our love has always seen us through. 'The couple of the school' is one epithet we've earned in school. Even our teachers have given up and let us hold hands in class without batting an eyelid. My eyes burn as a fresh onslaught of tears begins. I can't bear to think of him in the past tense.

To add to my woes, my academic performance had begun a downward spiral. "This is abominable!" spat my Biology teacher as she handed me my latest test, the latest record of my failures. A straight-A student all my life, I couldn't take the added pressure.

Walking away from the darkness that threatened to engulf me, I reached the kitchen as if by clockwork. Reached inside the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of nachos. Ever since I found out, this has been my nighttime ritual; stuff my face and watch mindless sitcoms on TV, pop a sleeping pill and try to sleep. The last two months have been pure hell. My mind involuntarily flashes back to that fateful day when I walked into Susan's room, clad in my new dress (that I had bought especially for my 3rd year anniversary with Ryan), eager for her approval. I pushed upon that familiar door, and saw them both in bed. I don't have a very clear recollection of what happened next; I'm sure I didn't swoon like a pretty blonde heroine, or shriek, but I'm eternally grateful that the blurred memory. All I recall is the feeling of unreality...and the blinding pain... Yes, cliched as it sounds, my heart shattered into a million smithereens that night, and now nachos and cookies are my best friends.

I was unable to tell anyone; I couldn't bring myself to spell it out, ever. I went to school only sporadically, and sat at home all day, enduring my mum's sarcastic comments about my expanding backside. I gained 20 pounds, and couldn't make myself care. My doctor prescribed sleeping pills; after all, I was 'emotional,' a word that he used instead of 'depressed.'

I sighed and dumped the food on the counter and walked into my room. I dug into the debris and found my journal. Slowly, I began to write. "My heart is broken, lying on the cold, cold floor..."

Shit! I hurled the pen and journal away as sobs racked my body. Why me God? I wanted to scream. I couldn't believe this was happening. How could my boyfriend be sleeping with my best friend when we had both decided to wait? How could I ruin my grades in senior year and screw my college prospects? How could I have kept up my hopeless fifth grade attempts at poetry?

I had had dreams of being a great writer someday. I had filled pages and pages with stories, poems, songs or random thoughts. But now I knew the truth-I was just a failure through and through.

As I sunk into my depression, I glimpsed a pale dawn beyond my window and realised it was my 18th birthday. No one had bothered to call, since I'd cut myself off from my old friends and refused to acknowledge even my family. I could hear someone moving around outside; perhaps my Dad was getting a drink of water.

I made my decision, and the profound happiness bouyed me to my bathroom. I carefully took out my bottle of pills. 'Anti Depressant....Blah Blah....LITHIUM' it said. I smiled in satisfaction and slipped my savior into the pocket of my bathrobe.

I could hear my father calling me. Damn him, I thought as I shuffled into the kitchen. What did he want? A travelling salesman, he was away most of the time. I hadn't even seen him for a month. Not that I especially cared. But once upon a time, he'd meant everything to me. Like most girls, I don't get along with my mother.
"Happy Birthday baby," crooned my Dad and gave me a quick, embarrassed hug. It was so unlike his usual reserve. I saw a handsome, expensive journal lying on the table. He looked at me expectantly, and when I didn't respond, he pressed it into my hands.
"I have an early assignment today, but I'll be back in the evening. Do you need anything? Money? A cake?" I silently shook my head, realising that I hadn't noticed that he was already dressed. With a smile and a wave, he went out the door.

I sat at that table for a long time, and finally opened the journal. On the first page, there was an inscription in my Dad's copperplate print.
"To Casey
Go for your dreams. I believe in you and your immense potential.
I love you very much.
Dad."

My hands started shaking. My Dad, undemonstrative and shy by nature, must have struggled to write those few simple lines. But more importantly, he believed in me and my lost dreams, even when I had stopped believing in them myself. I saw clearly that I had been wallowing in self pity and hiding from reality for too long. It was time to emerge from my cocoon. I hugged the book to my chest and wept for a long time.

A confused girl had metamorphosed into a young lady, who came of age that day.

Nothing else matters...

Yeah, I know dis is weird, but this song has become my anthem as of now and echoes my feelings...Plus I think I have developed writer's block...

So close no matter how far
Couldnt be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I dont just say
And nothing else matters

Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know

So close no matter how far
Couldnt be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I dont just say
And nothing else matters

Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they say
Never cared for games they play
Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
And I know

So close no matter how far
Couldnt be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
No nothing else matters

Broken

A long, long time ago,
When the dodo used to crow,
A queen sat upon her throne,
No one saw her heart of stone.

She ruled wisely and well
But no one could tell,
Whether she really cared,
And to ask her, none dared.

Her subjects wore fine clothes and gold
But their smiles were mirthless and cold,
In their queen's stone heart they saw
That obedience and strictness was her law.

One fine day a toddler of three,
Crawled out of his crib and finding it free,
Stole and ate his mother's cookies,
Not knowing that she made a living selling goodies.

That good lady raised a hue and cry
When the queen enquired why,
She accused her jealous friend
Of stealing to meet her selfish ends.

The fight dragged on for days
The queen with her impatient ways,
Cried, "Hang the woman! Dismiss the case!"
When there entered a man in tailcoats and lace.

"Your Honor", said the stranger,
"I don't want this woman dead,"
"She did not steal the food,
The baby of the owner is no good."

The queen, now tired of such goings-on,
Cried, "Hang this woman's accursed son!"
As the woman wept and pleaded,
The queen was furious her word went unheeded.

She sentenced the woman to the same fate,
As they dragged both victims to the gallows' gate,
The woman cried vindictively,
"I hope God punishes you terribly!"

The queen laughed, and took no note,
As she went into her bedroom fort,
She looked into the mirror, and saw,
Those things emerge when you have an inner flaw.

Her skin was white and radiant,
But her hands grew bony and translucent
Holding court grew tedious and painful,
Being a queen was now a handful.

Cancer back then was unheard of,
The doctors said it was consumption, that would 'go off,'
The pain wracked her dying body
She began to escape with toddy.

In a drunken stupor, one night,
She saw her handsome prince, shining bright,
He had broken her heart decades ago,
But here he stood, smiling and aglow.

"Come to me, sweet darling!
Too long I've been waiting!
Petunia was a poor choice,
I've been living 'til now hearing your voice."

"Come with me, give me your hand,
Your beauty, your spirit; oh, how grand!
I'll love till hell's fire burns me to ash,
To leave you was utterly foolish and rash."

The queen gazed at the apparition,
And listened desperately to his rendition,
Carried on a hazy cloud of drink
She laughed, crooned, let herself sink...

She walked to the window, she stretched her hand
She saw her soldiers forming a merry band
Imposters! They had betrayed her to the enemy!
But her eyes were full of the man only she could see.

Whose death she had ordered, long ago,
But surely, they had let him go.
He loved her still! Indeed, how could he not?
She climbed the window sill in one shot.

In that minute, she felt like a bird,
Her stone heart disappeared, her broken one stirred,
She hoisted her flowing skirt, and bit her lip
She braced herself, tingling to her every fingertip...
She jumped, flying, laughing, feeling herself born anew...

The woman's curse came true.

The Forest

We walk in this forest,
Two strangers
Lost, hapless, surrounded by whispering trees
Other people, looming darkly above.
Why do you walk away; my fingers grasp at shadows
I grope blindly, not believing the things I do see
Lonely, empty, and bewildered
We entwined our minds
Only for this?
For calling out without an answer? Cliques within cliques? A night that never moves into rosy dawns?
And....a walk in a forest?
Full of trees and dreams
And a reality to escape from
It was never my fault,
You remember that...
I couldn't help it if you pushed me away.
No incentive now to care, is there?
Yet I walk this familiar path with you,
Yearning to feel familiar emotions,
All I feel is a deep sense of loss.
Shared history,
reaches out with gnarled, possessive fingers and binds us together...
If only in our hearts.
That's okay
When I walk out of this forest
This labyrinth we call growing up,
Maybe I will understand
Why this had to be.
Maybe I will walk away
As pride tells me I should.
But for now
As we walk together
So close, yet so far,
I will let my mind and heart battle, as they aways have when I am with you.

In my heart...

Most of the time, I feel like an alien; so unlike other girls. I hate every kind of gender based stereotype and discrimination, with the result that I wear my hair short, advocate castration for MCPs(i.e. Male Chaunvinist Pigs) and insist that Nithin sit on MY lap. I see red whenever someone tells me I 'throw' and 'fight' like a girl. The very idea of marriage makes my breakfast move up uncomfortably to my throat, and my ideal home revolves around a lavender car, three dogs(one Golden Rett-Neo, one Labrador-Romeo, and a Cocker Spaniel...whom I haven't named yet),an excellent cook and a jacuzzi tub. There is no room for a man. Perhaps there will be; I neither know nor care. I feel pissed when people tell me purple is for girls(it was the color of aristocracy!!!) and there is nothing I hate more than pink. I also tend to be undemonstrative, career-minded and a total DISASTER in the kitchen.
But in some ways, I guess I'm a 'typical' girl. I cannot live without lipbalm and hair serum; I love nose piercings and skirts; I take audaciously long baths.
And, oh yeah, I want to be a mother someday.
I'm very clear on this point. Just yesterday, I read an article on adoption in Good Housekeeping magazine(we get about 4 monthly magazines in my house, and I devour them all). It was an eye-opener; I realized the joys, legal difficulties, societal hurdles and personal problems that single parents face. For a woman, it is more exaggerated; despite being financially independent and reasonably responsible, she is bombarded with questions-Is that her illegitimate child? Is she infertile? Who will marry her now?
While discussing this with my mother(who's a pretty broadminded person), I was drawn into an argument. She has never failed to be shocked by what she considers my 'foolish' decision-long before Angelina Jolie and Sushmita Sen made it fashionable, I had decided to adopt someday. My mother is convinced that no man will ever marry me if I do so. In desperation she suggested I use the newest biotech discovery(of manufacturing sperm from my bone marrow, fusing it with my ovum in vitro, and using a surrogate mother). She then detailed why I should refrain from such a 'rash' act-I will be shunned by society, the child will be birthed by a rape victim or a prostitute....
So? So what? That's more reason why the poor mite should get a chance for happiness, life and hope, instead of rotting away in an impersonal orphanage. This brings to mind one parent recounting how her adopted daughter would 'roll her head from side to side before sleeping.' This was because she was not rocked to sleep in her orphanage.
Many horror stories exist, and orphans suffer in a country already poor and overpopulated. I wish to save atleast one of them, preferably a girl, from the clutches of cruel Fate. If a man refuses me on that point, I am better off without him. If society disowns me, I will always have my daughter to fall back on...
My daughter. I can see her so clearly. Small, happy, curly-haired....With clear, soft skin, and shining, limpid eyes. I'll change her diapers at night and figure out how to mix baby formula and sterilise milk bottles.Her pattering feet with anklets will grow nearly as big as mine someday, and we'll go shoe shopping together, grumbling about lack of choice. She'll give me a hug when I return from the office, tired out, and I'll teach her to walk erect, never depend upon a man, and follow her heart. Her laughter, her tears, her joys, her sorrows...they will enrich my life and make it worth living, even on those days when I'm so depresed I can't get out of bed. Even during our worst fights, I'll remind myself that this girl is God's gift, a chance for me to be young again. I'll do my best to give her a good life, but I will never try to shield or protect her. I will watch, quietly, proudly, as she fights her battles-and triumphs.
Unfortunately, as of now, I can't see my future daughter in my future house, even though I can see every other detail so clearly. My untidy worktable, with my latest journalistic articles; Romeo, eating nonstop; my messy wardrobe; the heavy quilt on my bed. That's because I don't have a PHYSICAL definition of my perfect child. Her features, the colour of her skin, her attributes-they don't matter to me at all. A decade from now, as I stand in an orphanage, amidst cribs of sweet cooing babies, I'll venture a finger. She'll reach out and clasp it. With her miniscule palm. With a smile. I will cry. And an unbreakable, unshakeable bond will be formed.
But still I can cherish her, unborn and unseen.
How?
Because I can see her in my heart.

My first EVER date in the Leela!!!

This is probably not a good time for blogging....I'm chock full of blackcurrant smoothie, more ecstatically happy than I've been in years, and so IN LOVE that it is almost a tangible feeling!!!
Ok, let me start at the beginning (impatient people, please stop reading at this point. I'm warning you-I'm way too happy to be entirely coherent today!). Woke up at 5a.m, stared at my beeping mobile till 6a.m, when I realized I had better mug up something if I wanted to pass my Biology Board Practicals today. The exam was just about okay; the external examiner was a total bitch, and although he did not target me(like he did so many others), I couldn't answer a question he picked from thin air :(. I mean, the unfairness of this injustice still rankles. I know our Bio textbook almost inside out!!!Thu!
Yeah, after losing my ONLY chance of getting a Board 100, I was made to sprint up and down the stairs, with other people's misplaced labcoats in my care, trying desperately to find old lost certificates for in-house Literary competitions and obeying every barked order of our beloved Vicey. Whew! Don't even wanna relive that nightmare. Got a PRINCETON interview tomorrow.
PRINCETON.
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY.
THE BEST GODDAMN UNIVERSITY IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD.
(I'm just hoping that if I type the above a couple hundred more times, it'll finally sink in).
The Princeton application was just to please my parents....Oh no....I don't wanna think about the interview, either.
Nope, what I'm so happy about is the rest of my day, right uptil now. Even though I was touched when Poornima brought us temple prasad and Rao gave us chocolates, I still HATE THIS SCHOOL. I was so gratified to try on my Graduation gown today. 14 years I've waited for this happy happy moment!!!
After (FINALLY) gettin home, Shir and I hurriedly changed, exchanged shoes(for the first time ever!) and set off for IndiJoe's. I love that place. Even though I was surrounded by carcass-devouring, soulLess carnivores(esp Tidke, better known as G^3), I had a great time.
Because I was with Nithin!!!:)
I always thought that love was a fleeting, ephemeral feeling. Just a kick you experience for a week or so, a couple of months at most, and then you move on. I've never believed in true love, the sanctity of marriage, or long-distance relationships. I often wondered how couples could stay married for years and years, decades even, without getting bored. I mean, imagine waking up each and EVERY morning to see the same stinky-breathing face next to yours(everyday, I fight an almost irresistable urge to smother my sister with the pillow).
But now I know. I mean, I feel stupid writing this, I'm sure I haven't ever written such an AIRHEADED blog before. But I feel so great; I can't help it. Sitting in the Leela's Barista today(another first!), drinking a tall, never ending lavender smoothie, I watched his eyes dance in excitement as he raved and ranted about the simple collage(of all our photos) that I'd presented him. It was the same look when he first saw me, standing sheepishly outside IndiJoe's, with a huge purple ribboned bow around my waist and a lavender sparkling heart in my hair. I couldn't help this mushy gesture because every one of our conversations in the weeks preceding today went like this-
Me-What do you want for your birthday???Please temme!
Nithin-I'm telling you nah;all I want is you.
(awwwwwie)
So,I tried to be his 'gift'. He he.
I'm rediscovering the world and myself, and I'm becoming a far more hopeless romantic than anyone I've ever known-or laughed at. I know that for so long, my fear has kept me from doing so many things. I've always abhorred PDA; always scoffed at tears and emotions; always built my invisible walls. You broke them all. And in doing so, you gave me you-and myself:). Sitting with you today, and watching your obvious happiness, I felt I could've done that for the rest of my life. All I need is you. I thought, after 3 years, and after all the mistakes-the fights, the things we've said, the things we haven't said, the things that could've been, the things that never should've been-we'd never end up here again...Me, wearing your watch and laughing at nothing; you, wearing a certain purple ring:) and drooling over a photo frame. Damn. It seems like only yesterday that you were pelting stones at my mushroom-cut hair, and I was praying for your painful death.
:):):)We've grown up together; and what I really like is the fact that NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, we always end up talking about it; laughing, crying, making apologies, welcoming each other back with open arms. Most people get out of a relationship when something goes wrong; I get out of one when nothing goes right. Stupid? Maybe just a twisted plan to get the emotional upper hand(HA! bullshit) and appear strong...
But I'm not scared.....This time, I won't let you go...If I have to, I'll put you on 24hr surveillance(say goodbye to your dates with Babu, haha), scratch out the eyes of every female who so much as looks at you(which I really wanna do,truthfully) and cling and cry. But I will always love you:). You're my everything. It been a long time coming, but it's Fate-and I see no need to change that.
You know why?
In the words of Westlife,
"Every time I breathe I feel brand new....You opened up my heart...Showed me all your love..."
And that's all I'll ever need.
Happy birthday baby:-*