BackPunch

It was her parent’s death anniversary. She woke up at around 4 am, made a cup of coffee and walked into her balcony. She felt the fresh breeze and the steam coming out of the piping hot coffee. She wasn't crying. It’d been four years since their demise. She had cried enough. She kept doing a good deed on their death anniversary. She always got the opportunity to do one. Instead of waiting for one, Tantra thought about going to the nearby orphanage and spend some time with the kids.  She wore the Kerala Set-Sari and set off to the orphanage. Tantra went off on her scooterette. She expected to have a fun-filled day with the kids. She was one amongst them. Her bright white sari made an impression in the bright sun. She crossed the signal and was about a couple of kilometers away from the orphanage when a man riding on a bike spat. The wind pushed the spit onto Tantra’s sari and dark red stains covered a good portion of the sari. She yelled. The man looked into the

The spirits inside his brain started to erupt. He didn’t know what he was doing. He ripped off his shirt and started behaving like a maverick. He started coughing and the traces of spit coming out of his mouth were red in colour. It was blood. He rolled up another round of weed and started puffing. Tuffy had no idea what he was doing. Earlier he said weed reduced the anger within him. Then weed just became a reason for him to infuriate. He became angry over trivial issues and used to run away during office hours to roll up and smoke. He was thrown away from his job because of the infinite number of breaks he used to take and for influencing others to take up weed. Tuffy loved writing. Writing was an in-born talent he possessed. He wildly proclaims that he wrote 4 books under the influence of weed, published them and made profits. Tuffy used to smoke up an entire stick rolled up with weed, pull out a note-book and pen and stroll down the roads looking for stories. He

Hardly have we seen life beyond our selfish thoughts. The time we waste in pointing out the negatives in a person is immense. The positives just lay around. Alone. Being a pessimist gives us more joy than being an optimist. Switching on the television and cruising towards a news channel rarely gives joy to Tuffy Singh. After a rather 14 hours of relentless work at office, he comes home to see a bespectacled anchor raring to go at his invitees. The invitees rarely get a chance to voice their opinions on a show titled ‘The Newshour’ but contain more fights and lesser news. He switches it off. Moving to a CNN IBN or an NDTV 24x7 won’t give him joy either. He wonders what joy these people get in just showcasing the negativities of the day. He rarely sees any form of positive news. On a day when there is no negative news whatsoever, he doesn’t see the spectacled anchor. It’s 2215 hours, he walks into his balcony and looks up and stares into the sky. The moon is missing. Again a n

I believe in an India where I can voice my concerns. I believe in an India where females can walk peacefully whenever and wherever. I believe I’ll hear officials doing their jobs rightfully and not expecting a pat on their backs after someone dies. I believe in an India where I can write a book and not get it banned. I believe in an India where the two main political parties work together and not blame one another. I believe in an India where the politicians aren’t corrupt. I believe in an India where politicians use their brains and not call a terrorist as a Sahab. I believe in an India where a sensible movie makes more money than mindless films. I believe in an India where every citizen votes and then criticizes the governance. I believe in an India where the streets aren’t littered and dogs are not run over. I believe in an India where the Government listens to its citizens when we need a new President. I believe in an India when parent

Finally the nation is awake. All of us have been trashing the government. All of us have been saying that the Congress will not come into power ever again. Six ruthless human beings killed a girl and atlast we are awake. There is a girl from Suryanelli in Kerala who was raped by 42 men over 40 days when she was 16 years old. The case is finally in the Supreme Court. The girl is a woman now. Ostracized and isolated from society. When her parents go to the market or a religious place to pray for the speedy justice of their daughter, they are often called by passersby as ‘Suryanelli’s parents.’ Severely stigmatized. That girl is 32. Still waiting for justice. Does it take a protest for the government to open its eyes? Every time we travel in a train, how many times have we seen a handicapped beggar come over for alms! Probably like a million times. Saumya was travelling in one such train when a beggar tried to rob her after trespassing into a deserted ladies compartment. Sh

How many times have we hid ourselves in fear or made a sympathetic look or laughed at a person who looked different? Someone who has slow mental growth. Someone who isn’t normal but special. Students engaging themselves in Creative Activities In search of these special individuals we visited Kamayani School. A school which falls in an upbeat but quiet area of Pradhikaran. Searching for the school wasn’t a big problem. A rusted board then confirmed us that we had reached our destination. KAMAYANI SCHOOL FOR THE MENTALLY CHALLENGED. I could see a playground with boys in an all white uniform playing cricket. For me they just looked like normal kids who played cricket like each one of us play. I still believed that mentally challenged is too harsh a word. We entered the main gate of the school. The children were just surprised to see unknown people enter their school. Cooking Class But they welcomed us with smiles. We were amazed. When asked about the principal’s offic