Sid-O-Scope

"Normal people don't have enemies," proclaimed my Wife as I sat down to my monthly revisit of the enemies list, "But then again," she concluded, "You are not normal, are you?" she went back to her daily routine of sleeping, one of the most normal things that I ignored. As I sat there revisiting the list, I realized an important thing, the list comprised of people that could be classified into generic categories and groups. Every person has a set of enemies in their life, if you believe in daily soap, the lists starts from your relatives. However, I have some arch enemies that pop out from the corner where they hide and irritate me beyond imagination like those who poke me on Facebook every night, now there is no harm done in poking anyone but then it sends a mixed message or those who stop me in the middle of the road to tell about their babies, I mean, I get it, you made a live human being, awesome, clap, clap, clap but then do I have to know ...

Few things happened this friday, as I write this blog post the verdict on the horrific rape that happened in Delhi was out. Now, everyone who is anyone knows about the verdict, the names of the four rapist and the crime they committed, so I won't go into all that. I am no lawyer neither am I to judge any judges decisions. However, I did follow the news debate that went on after that. The debate was same old one and continued the blame game on what exactly caused the rape. I am not going into that debate either, a lot of things have been said about it already. One comment however caught my attention, to make a point, the lawyer mentioned 'People who live in together' and in the same breath talked about 'Keeping the men and women separate, like it was done in olden days'. To be very honest, he was not entirely wrong. He is simply followed the old school of thought that is being hammered into the brain of every Indian mind since childhood. Stay in your limits, ...

He walked the old dusty road again after so many years. He remembered the place very well, so many memories etched into his mind. The old forgotten dusty lane, which was never urbanized by any political agenda. The same old little house which stood the test of time for so many years. He remembered his last walk on this road. He was trying to prevent the flood flowing from his nose and running his sore bumps with his free hand. He knew this return was uncalled for, unexpected but it was the one he had to make. He did not know how she would react, would she still be happy on seeing him or will she even recognize him? The crumbled paper clutched in his hand was his identity for so many years. It was a his ticket to existence, his own. The bell was in his reach now, he was a few seconds away in uncovering the truth. If he wanted to turn back, this was the last threshold. Funny thing was, even after so many days, his hand shivered at this stage. Would he face ...