It has been a long long time, almost a month since my last post here. I intended to write an Independence Day special, but sadly I couldn’t. Not because for the lack of time, but for the lack of inspiration and other reason being that I couldn’t recollect my thoughts around. I was puzzled as to what I really wanted to write. I mean we get this day once every year, and year after year we read the same things- the struggle for freedom, how Pandit Nehru gave his famous “Tryst with Destiny” speech on Red Fort, Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination, the story of partition of India. Some people would write about how despite the shortcomings they still love India. Maybe some NRI would feature. It’s a routine. I however, wanted none of that.

Travelling in Delhi Metro every day is an experience. If you’re not judgemental, can stay calm, and do not suffer from claustrophobia, you’ll actually enjoy the ride when you observe other people. Their posture, expressions, how they constantly fidget, or behave around others. It’s interesting to hear about what they are actually discussing, makes you aware as to what’s on their mind, thus giving an insight to a total stranger.

But why did I just make this “Hanuman” leap from Independence Day to Delhi Metro? Because I had a sudden epiphany, that today India can somehow be described by Delhi Metro. It’s a symbol I feel which I can identify with.

For a country whose history actually pre dates the birth of Jesus, 200 years back from now, is like yesterday, where a certain sub-section of people were so alienated from society, that if a socially high ranking person happened to sight them, these people were actually flogged. A time, where education was only for the elite social class. People were actually taken as bonded labours, where they had no rights.

We have come a long way since then.

Now, the very sub-section which was looked upon (until yesterday), travels not only in the same train, but sits on the same seat with the “socially high class”. I personally believe that this is perhaps the single largest achievement that what was preached for a millennium in the name of religion, in a religiously fanatic nation such as ours, could make peace with it in mere 60 years.

However, enough of this parading. I didn’t intend to write this blog entry about how proud I am.

Travelling in metro. Allow me to return to that, if you will.

Scene-1

Metro stops at a station, everyone waiting at the station forms a crowd in front of the door to get in as soon they open. Everyone inside the metro anticipates the crowd’s intentions outside, and braces themselves to face the enemy. Where am I? I am feeling proud, as I manage to scavenge a seat for myself. The two teams meet, you hear a lot of swearing, abuse to one another’s sister, mother. Some “fuck you” in Hindi, sometimes Marathi and a lot of Punjabi. The women are groped, pregnant ladies are kicked, and everyone is pushed.

An elderly comes in leaning on a stick, looks around and sees a young guy smartly dressed with a leather bag, earphones plugged in, sitting on a seat reserved especially for the senior citizens. Before, I could actually get up and offer my seat, another elderly who was sitting on one of the reserved seats (there are two on every bench), beckons the one we are interested in. I pause myself. He asks the young person to get up. The person ignores. Another young man, with some notion of conscience, threatens to call the Delhi Metro police. The person still ignores, but takes of his earphones. Nothing would make him get up. Finally, I got up and offered the elderly my seat and walked away to another compartment.

Scene-2

I got to read this about on internet. Please read and share.

An excerpt.

Yesterday on the 1st of September, at around 7:30 in the evening I was coming back from college I took a detour from my usual route and boarded the Blue line of the Delhi Metro from Rajiv Chowk. Being used to this chaos everyday, I was warned by my companion that we should board the ‘Ladies’ compartment and not the ‘General’ compartment. The sensible arguments I gave were, firstly that it is a ‘general’ compartment and not demarcated for men, so no harm boarding it. Secondly, that they are humans and not ‘animals’. I lost the argument in the next few minutes.

I had to get off after four or so stations, so it didn’t seem like the decision was going to cost me heavily. Being surrounded by 50 to 60 heavily sweating men was a nightmare enough to take for one evening, but it had hardly begun. Throughout those 10 minutes that I was present there every part of my body was scanned in an inch by inch detail which made me feel like my sex was a curse with which I was born. The ordeal had started.
My
station arrived, I shoved my way with great difficulty to make it to the door
before it could close and during this struggle my top was pulled by a man to
expose my breast for a good 15 seconds while at the same time somebody grabbed
my behind. I was paralysed in shock. Nevertheless, I started pushing again and
finally reached the door and stepped onto the platform. I screamed my lungs out
at those 5 to 6 men who were standing at the door. I hurled abuses at them
which ideally no sensible Indian girl should utter even in thoughts, let alone
whisper.

For the full article please follow the link “http://urbangypsy1.blogspot.in/2012/09/i-was-molested.html”

All this led me to thinking as to what went wrong and where. Why all of a sudden have we as India’s young generation, the future, have lost all sense of respect and tradition. The very values that we rooted for are now traded for the trash bag that the West discarded. Whereas the West now looks towards us delving into our past, which once made us proud.

All of a sudden, I see that nothing matters to anyone anymore. The life has lost all meaning in the race to horde cash, and for what? So that they can drive bigger cars, eat in fancier restaurants, buy even more ridiculously expensive things and flaunt them around?

The guy who didn’t give up his seat. He wasn’t an idiot. He was smart enough to get a job in some MNC in Nehru Place, rich enough to have a luxury of an I-pod. And yet, an insensitive prick.

The guys who pulled the top of the girl in metro, what did they get? A few seconds of view of the glorious female anatomy, and some kicks while the leered at her and she hurled abuses at them?

Why?

Are we really free?