ALL EYES ON YOU: THE PRIVACY PANDEMONIUM

Eons ago, many inhabitants of the Indian subcontinent lived in the Harappan civilization. They were seafarers, city dwellers and incomparable craftsmen but there was one thing that stood out: most houses did not have windows facing the main street. Indians were concerned about their privacy from 2600 BCE. Fast forward to 4000 years later the Supreme Court in K.S. Puttasawamy Vs Union of India upheld privacy as a fundamental right, much to the merry of our ancestors. Shortly the same apex court upheld the validity of Aadhar card while striking down many arbitrary sections. But a series of recent government orders may put this intrinsic element of Indian life, which has been safeguarded ever so dearly by generations of Indians, in jeopardy. By the powers decreed upon it by Section 69 of the Information Technology Act, 2000 the government has given rights to 10 agencies to intercept, decrypt or monitor communication through the electronic media. The agencies include the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), Narcotics Control Bureau and Enforcement Directorate. The guidelines specify that these agencies can snoop on the online activities of netizens on the grounds of when there is a threat to national security, national integrity, security of the state, friendly relations with other countries, interests of public order and decency, or to prevent incitement of an offence. The proportionality of the necessity for such surveillance would undergo a litmus test by a review committee headed by the Cabinet Secretary in the Centre and Chief Secretary in the case of States. In case of emergencies, it shall be approved by an officer in a position not less than that of Joint Secretary of the Ministry/ Department of Home Affairs. The order quickly heated up into a political bawl with the media pouncing over it. Allegations that India is becoming a ‘surveillance’ or ‘police’ state were thrown across the houses of the Parliament.  Though the legal framework provided on paper sounds reasonable and convincing, it is the reality that shakes the foundations of democracy. It is important to look at this development in a global context. Repercussions of unwarranted surveillance by the State and private entities led to the rise of Edward Snowden and Cambridge Analytica. Similar scenarios must not be played out in India. In the wake of the 2019 general elections, the newly found powers of these agencies have created deep rooted fears in the minds of people. Ideally, these agencies would ensure that India remains safe as it is emerging as a key policy maker in worldly matters. But if there may be any activity on part of any government sanctioned entity adverse to the rights of Indians and the cornerstones of democracy, there would be no way out. It would simply create a vicious cycle with greater power to a few humans through algorithms, keys and the digital space to decide the government of their choice to rule all other humans and make policies benefiting them. Little can be done on our part but to hope that the government realizes that its course forward would have a tremendous impact on the future of the country, empowering or endangering the citizens. Well it is important that we must not put our ancestors to shame.

(S)he

This poem is just my expression of something that has been on my mind for quite some time. No amount of poems or prose or praise will redress the injustice that they face. We pass them everyday but avert our eyes and shy away in disgust. But I hope there will come a day when they too can live just like all of us. Happy Reading!

It was a cold day outside

She shivered inside and outside

In spite of her being draped in her favourite saree in blue

Just like her favourite actress who danced in the rain

She attempted to cover up the scars and cuts on her body 

Which would give testimony in court for her existence

That it was yet another miracle that people like her existed

As she went on with absolute concentration

This was an art she must master

She painted beautiful strokes of red

Dark like the colour of menstrual blood

After she was done she looked at her artwork

Satisfied by her red talons like those of an eagle after its kill

But here it was the eagle which was being hunted

She turned her lipstick covered lips into an 'o'

And began to blow

With utmost care like trying to blow a feather from a baby's body

Then she began to blow harder and moved her hands like a harmonium player

Playing her own tunes of sorrow

After what felt like hours

She touched the tip of the nail like touching a baby's wound

As it didn't smudge she went on with the next masterpiece

She slowly picked up a bottle of half dried eyeliner and applied

She had learnt something new called 'winged liner' 

Like holding a gun her hands shook with fear

Not of society

Not of her family

Not of her existence

But fear of utilising this limited resource 

Of eyeliner

Of being happy

Of blissful solitude

After she had outlined her eyes

She rolled her eyes upwards to check if her eyeliner smudged

"Good" she muttered to herself

Before the grand show, she checked herself for those little brats

Those which pained her of her past

A few were black and a few were white

"Ah unlike you little ungrateful pricks I am neither black nor white, I am grey" she thought with pride

She picked up her tweezers and pulled those hairs on her face

With each one her skin cried in pain and tears filled in her eyes

But she convinced herself that this was her penance

The pain and suffering will ultimately lead her to happiness

She stood up and posed in front of the mirror

Pouting, winking, sticking her tongue out

Like a little girl she gave a giggle in her raspy voice

She finally felt like a woman

She touched her reproductive organ for the umpteenth time to see if the cheap prostate surgery had done it's magic

As she felt herself she realised that not all the scars were left by the surgery

She tried to enjoy this little time she got for herself

Before she panted and wriggled under a man twice her age 

Who thinks he is doing a sacrifice by 'liberating' her and in the process gaining his humble share

She was seeking validation in a stuffy room lit by a dim bulb

 which stayed still as countless insects preyed upon it

She was not the only thing withering away 

Or she would be panting as she travels across roads

Begging as traffic crawled like water seeping out 

She would shout obscenities or blessings in her sand paper like voice

All she needed was a thousand rupees

In her head a human is equal to thousand rupees 

To breathe

To fuck 

To beg

To exist

The Mosquito

This one is a pretty long poem on something I hope all of you would relate to. This is something all of us experience on a daily basis but never gave much thought to it. It is sometimes extremely important for us to notice the little things in life and enjoy them. Happy Reading!

When she first saw it

She thought it was just another bindhi

That she sticks on the wall for easy access

Each at a strategic position to please the society

But when she looked closer she realized 

That it was something more dangerous

More powerful and more vulnerable, all at the same time

She felt pity for the poor creature

Stuck on the wall like cow dung left to dry 

She imagined it sleeping peacefully with its family

Having conversations over dinner about life

But the human in her reminded her of the advertisements where they threatened to take over the human race

In a voice which belonged to the greatest villains of all time

Undoubtedly the human in her slowly picked up the weapon of choice to kill it

Like Ashwathama who killed the sons of Pandavas

She too planned to kill it in its sleep

But these life threatening aliens outsmart humans

Just as she was about to strike

It flew up and above

Whizzed past her eyes

And sat on her nose

Pricking her human ego

She thought of ripping her now impure nose

As she moved around like a samurai with a sword

It flew again

But this time she caught it

The weapon had been stained with the blood of thousands of its family and friends 

And bore the brunt of time

She hit its sides to the wall to make it work

And then the real torture began

It tossed and jumped across the weapon

It's blood burning reminding her of burning flesh

And as soon it had began it ended

The mosquito was finally put to peace

She thought in horror

"Oh how I have sinned by killing this poor thing

What if they become extinct?"

Ah! they will just join the queue to get an Aadhar card at the 'Centre of Extinct Animals'

Right behind the western black rhinoceros

Evil voices wearing black capes surrounded her whispering "dengue" "malaria"

She looked at the back of her leg

Where she had scratched the mosquito bites leaving a beautiful pattern

Now she was agitated

"Let's kill them all" she thought

Like a commando at work

She braced herself, checked her weapon, said a short prayer to God to absolve her of all sins

She went around like a mad woman

Chasing them around and looking for them in every nook and corner

Their cries of horror were like music to her ears

The smell of blood was her symbol of victory

It represented everything she hated 

She named each one of them

The first one to die was her in laws

Then came her nosy neighbor

Then that security guard who ogles at her breasts

Then that 5th grade math teacher who once slapped her

Those corrupt officials in that ruin called 'government office'

Those who rape

Those who kill in the name of God

Exhausted, she sat down

She realized that she couldn't kill them all

Because as she killed one, two popped up to take its place

Both in mosquitoes and in the things she hated

#ME TOO: AN ABHORRED AWAKENING

The #metoo campaign has spread across borders and reached the country which worships women as goddesses at the same time carries out chilling violence against them. It has barged into the doors of the highest levels of the government and in many fields has caused shocking revelations. Alok Nath, MJ Akbar, Nana Patekar, Chetan Bhagat, Vairamuthu and the list goes on. Many of these men had gone for the more courteous way of dealing with allegations by either publicly apologising or by stepping down. Not surprisingly, some others have denied such allegations by branding them as a ‘publicity stunt’ and misused the legal tool of the judiciary: defamation. But India’s experience with the #metoo movement is different from that of other countries. It is important to understand that India is slowly opening up by questioning and challenging its own and others’ beliefs. Decriminalisation of Section 377, Striking down Section 497 and allowing women into the Sabarimala temple are just a few examples. Like a little child with wide eyes, it is slowly opening its horizon of thinking, accepting and rejecting new ideas suiting to its needs. With that background, it wouldn’t be shocking to see a few well known personalities sidelining this movement. They ask what they think is a very valid question “Why are you opening up now but not then?” and statements like “You could have just slapped him” This sort of victim blaming is unacceptable in any time context. The victim’s mental state when they are being harassed is unfathomable for these cultural specialists. Instead of extending their support for those who came out, it has become a norm to question them and suggest what they should have done. This shakes down the victim’s morale as in spite of telling the truth they are chided over a time span for them to recover. Even if they had ‘slapped’ them or actually faced the torturous process of going through trial years ago, what would have happened? It would have brought about no radical change in society simply because of the fact that society then was not one which encouraged victims to speak up and harassment topped the list of taboo. As a matter of fact, a law for sexual harassment at work place was in place only 5 years ago. There is also the popularly held belief that #metoo movement is temporary and does nothing more than shame a few abusers. This is incorrect on various levels. The fact that millions of women have spoken about their traumatic experience makes them an army of warriors. They are not going to go away any time soon. Hollow apologies and unequal compensation behind the screens have been replaced by public apologies, stepping down, and court trials. It is set in motion a radical change and belief that there is some force which is there to support the victim and leaves the abusers with a strong message that they are not going to be let free. Some have even made the movement seem like a sort of game where people just accuse each other to settle scores. The Union Minister for Shipping and Finance asked “If someone makes an allegation that such a thing happened, when the incident happened we were playing together while in class 5, would it be fair?” The #metoo movement is not some sort of political arena where people make blunt unchecked allegations against each other. This is a worldwide phenomenon which involves a serious level of criminality. When John Oliver (political comedian) asked Anita Hill (a famous advocate who accused her senior of harassment in the 80s but was instead subjected to public scorn) whether men should be scared to be around women, she answered “Not if they are not harassers”. #Metoo movement has left something innate to human life: hope. Hope that no victim would go unheard and no harasser would go unpunished. As Winfrey Oprah said “Take us to the time where nobody has to say ‘me too’ again”.

This is dedicated to my beautiful, beautiful mother and all those people out there who are going through the initiation process of ageing. Ageing is something that I consider to be extremely beautiful but all the complimentary signs of ageing are considered almost embarrassing today. It is important for us to embrace every stage in our life because at the end of the day it’s just the body which grows old not the heart. Happy reading!

This is very much based on the story. All the students of AVM would be able to relate to the deafening noise created when the rain hits the school’s roof. Among all the poems I have written till now (literally three) this is the one that I am most proud of. Happy Reading!

This is the first poem of any kind that I have written. Actually I think it would be unfair to call it a poem, but to be more precise these are just lines that have no rhyming scheme or poetic words. I have attempted to mix a little bit of reality with a little bit of my imagination to write this. Happy Reading!

Since I was young, I was not very good at expressing myself. Describing my emotions was something that I always had a problem with. Writing was my escape from this problem. Whatever I felt, it came out pouring through letters. But I realized this quite late but not too late. I started writing about a year ago. And when I say the word 'writing', you have conjured up an image in your head of me writing eloquent prose or a fictitious story. But I wrote about something very simple but yet so difficult to put in words: my thoughts. My random thoughts about a child running beside me to my thoughts about a child dying of starvation. From a quiet walk at the beach to the historic events that the crabs and waves would remember. I was very secretive about my "works" because I convinced myself that it was personal and something that I created. When I finally mustered up the courage to show these to my mum, she made me realize that there was an underlying fear behind this shadow I had enveloped myself in: my fear of criticism. Blogging is the platform to overcome this innate fear of mine and to become a little more confident about what I write. I ain't no Shakespeare or Jeyamohan but each and every word that I post are truly from the bottom of my heart. Today when I have created this blog, I will be posting my works under two labels: Poems and What's happening around me? None of them are conventional forms of writing and are far from the works that most are familiar with.  Thank You for taking your time to read at least some part of this blog. 

Love,

Varshini