An Adulterated Life

Call girls. Prostitutes. Nymphs. Even worse, sluts and whores. Even an elite bitch works like magic.

Doesn’t matter how derogatory and pervert these words are, whether you like it or not, these words have a life of their own. And precariously, they live amongst civilians like us, living a nomadic journey of sleuth and ignominy. We despise them, yet we want them. It’s a dynasty of ruthless victims and jeopardised lives.

If they are animals, we are of a worst kind.

Prostitution is an industry in itself. An industry that traces its roots back to 200 years (perhaps older taking in to account, the frivolous and lustful nature of the human clan). Despite all the taboo attached to it, it still manages to thrive big and remain pioneers in a money spinning game of lethal flesh and enduring politics.

Coming back to the lives of women who have embraced prostitution as a way of life.

Real time, on the ground.

To begin with, let’s clear the air about this profoundly disgusting profession. It has nothing to do with pleasure, love or the art of lovemaking. In fact, it is devoid of human emotions and chemistry. All it is, is a game of flesh and bones. The woman is just devoured and used, spit and discarded once the capacity to inflict pain diminishes. All in all and significantly put, it is rape with consent.

As I mentioned earlier, here the protagonists are equally hapless and displaced. One craves for the other, for obvious and inexplicable reasons.

It is also a glorious example of the position of women they hold in a society and culture that has been an epitome of mercurial savages with a penchant for vegetable terrain.

Prostitution is an industry manufactured and designed to integrate the turmoil of system. Men need respite, women are used to get crucified and system needs a bait to bask in return on investments. A system relegated to a wicked and inevitable ploy supplemented by an equally disdainful history.

The families of such women are equally guilty. We have families around this world who struggle to make ends meet and the money their women make from this distasteful profession is a welcome boon. But, they equally despise them for what they do and the women are subjected to unsurmountable pain and hatred, which is grossly unfair. They want the cash but they don’t the profession to taint their lives which in itself is the sole reason for their survival. Pretentious, to say the least.

Despite leading a bereaved life of pain and humiliation, this clan continues to grow unapologetically. Redundancy, for one, is not a forte in this world woven with ruthless anguish.

the augmented change

Few years ago, some time ago, we lived in different world. Today, we have evolved and separated ourselves from the advent of community jargon and have become ‘Global’. But the statement still hovers around like a hawk in an air of turbulence. Did we really accomplish the need or merely created another need out of a cucumber?

The world believed we became stronger after 9/11, but we also became a tad poorer and weaker in terms of adaptability and susceptibility. We also entered in to a new era where started judging people and their acquaintances by their names.
What’s a name – it is our identity, not a reflection of our abilities to make or remake. Nor does a name indicate plagiarism. But it was deemed as ‘fatal’, a name convulsed in to a benchmark for a religion and we started to crucify the guilt within ourselves.

Yes, the world changed. But the attitude and our behavior towards the human kind turned ugly and degraded. Before, we had inhibitions but were conducive. After, our intolerance towards a specific community has taken an unsurmountable leap towards de-manifestation of the human clan.
Yet, we have evolved as human beings. Yes, derogatory but precariously acceptable.

Citizens became traitors, names were objects to decipher identity, our brothers and sisters became ‘Jihadis’, and suddenly, our world became a religious cocoon under the scanner for dastardly acts of few unscrupulous, spineless people who take shelter under violence and cowardice to prove a point that embellishes all logic and purpose.
Yet, we are evolving and surviving.

There is no end to this apocalypse though. Crucification has only led to more indispensable powers and evil vibes. 9/11 has given rise to a plethora of demons that have emerged, submerged and reemerged since last 15 years, and the disaster recovery continues to struggle against audacity and ruthlessness. Above all, some excruciating powers inflicting pain and misery upon the lives of innocents is our bane for sheer existence.

I am certain, we are evolving amidst chaos.

Jayalalithaa – Our Woman of Steel

I am not a political aficionado though am raised in 2 states that are considered to be the feather-bed for political potboilers. Yes, my affiliations are random and anything intriguingly watchable is my forte. But, if it’s about Jayalalithaa, then I will have the Pandora’s box open for numerous anecdotes.

Jayalalithaa was a combination of enigmatic qualities – talent, charismatic, gutsy, controversy child, courageous administrator, a power hungry leader who is obstinate, eccentric and autocratic. Yet, the love and respect that accentuated from people of Tamil Nadu clearly made a statement – she was the powerhouse behind AIADMK’s routing success amidst titanic rivalry.

The most impressive strata of Jayalalithaa’s resume was her impeccable transition from films to politics. Yes, she was a MGR protege all through but to have held her own in a man’s world amidst eyes of vengeance and ceasefire is a testimony to her character. After MGR’s death, Jayalalithaa and AIADMK were orphaned. The future looked bleak especially since the party divided between MGR’s family and Jayalalithaa. Stories of how she withered away a hostile AIADMK after MGR’s demise is a story to be read and told. The resolute and adamant could only have seen the storm off, and Jayalalithaa stood tall. She made AIADMK a force to reckon, with pleasant and unpleasant notes across acute political waters.

Jayalalithaa’s political avatar was no less animated and was plenty of drama. Tamil Nadu’s legacy of tentacle politics plus Jayalalithaa’s debonair made the cat fight even more interesting. She had her ups and downs but adjacently, her popularity soared.

A top notch actress in 60s and 70s, 28 films with the mercurial MGR and his greatest protege (personal and professional), heralded AIADMK flag after MGR’s unceremonious death, 6 terms as the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, jailed for corruption and propaganda of wealth, her addictive and curious relationship with Sasikala Natarajan, spitting venom with DMK chieftain M Karunanidhi, undisputed political aura that eclipses a failed personal life, a lady of a single mind and self possessed persona. And, remember – her last successive victory in 2016 (first ever by AIADMK since MGR in 1984) just established her as the greatest messiah of the AIADMK clan.

My most visible moment of Jayalalithaa was her BBC interview with Karan Thapar. She battled fire with fire, provocative questions were brutally shot back, allegations were retorted with data and personal questions were dodged skillfully. “Chief Minister, it was a pleasure speaking to you today”, quipped Karan Thapar, extending himself to shake hands. “It was not a pleasure speaking to you today. Namaste”, Jayalalithaa responded.

Life moves on and so will AIADMK. There will be ruffled feathers but someone will take over the mantle albeit chaos. But the big shoes of Jayalalithaa will never be filled. And perhaps, AIADMK will miss the audacity of Amma.


when all the fuss is about water

I don’t think we have control over a water source, its tributaries or the destination where its lands up irrespective of geography or demography of a specific landscape. I think so, well, am quite certain. But millions including our governments don’t seem to get this on table. And, a conflict that rues over 100 plus years is a testimony to our stark failures in dealing with national issues. I simply think we are not courageous enough to deal with issues of impending realities and our inabilities to have a vision that is disintegrated in the hands of nepotism and conniving leaders.

Honestly, the crop of administrators and governments were not even born when the agreement between 2 states (can’t really condemn the term ‘state’ today) has perpetuated to a conflict of a massive burnout that’s lasted for more than a century. And, remember, our worst nightmares are yet to follow suit.

In a sub continent raven by diversities and anomalies, we are still fighting over political gains and trilingual modes of treason. We have states where governments cannot talk to each other over an issue that has plagued a landscape over 120 years and this gets escalated to PM’s table for a peace treaty and another long, vain, mutilated conversation that will lead to another 50 years of negotiation.

We want justice, we condemn our laws, we hate violence but love propagating it. We have problems, we love solutions but prefer to keep them away in barracks till mayhem strikes at your door for annihilation.

This isn’t a thorn in our flesh, we have beaten our flesh black blue to let the throne rule and bring the demons over to rule the roost.

We are still fighting back..

Couple of weeks ago, I woke up to the dastardly act in Turkey that consumed valuable lives. Last week, the city of Dhaka was under fire.

Where are we heading towards? Are we moving at all or have the tragedies of incumbency stolen the sheen of human spirit away from us? Are we dying? Can we die? Can we let it go?

Over the years, I have seen governments and leaders fighting terror. The faces of terror have no names, no religion, no native. They exist as paranormal deficiencies of our versatile society. Our society and cultures we are so proud of. We are proud of what we have achieved as a human race, we admire and preserve our relationships, relationships that have taught us values, self esteem and the right to live life with dignity.
But, who are these carnivorous people who have become such a devilish threat to our own DNAs? What has bought them to bring wrath and fury amongst our own friends, relatives, acquaintances? What have we done so wrong that our clan is hell bent to destroy the very existence of our most valuable signatures?

It pains, yes, it pains to see that we are still fighting. Whom are we fighting – Imperialist, Communist, Extremist, Democrat..?? This situation is not a product of a face, it is the epitome of hatred and prejudice. Jealousy and insecurity. Envy and grudge. The ability to lose faith in ourselves is a dangerous journey, fatal when we decide to plague ourselves over human lives.

The very need to kill and massacre people/property to let others know you are right is a sign of self obsessed, diabolic and very ill mind who hopes to bring a change in this world with violence and discrimination.

We must stop talking about ‘safe’ places any more. Because, there is no safe place around. If something is safe, then it’s our country, our people, our society, our cultures, our value system that has given us all we have. Freedom, money, health, family – all this is acquired as a means of we being an individual who is empowered to stay alive and fight bravely. Our miseries will come to an end once we realise what we are fighting for. This fight is not for a cause, not for a purpose. This is the fight of supremacy, the fight within than the one that lurks outside. Start feeling safe inside, the outside world will salute you.


I wake up to explosions, mayhem and dismantling human existence. Are we living in a handicapped igloo?

ghosts of surrogacy

The verdict is unanimous. Motherhood is the most valuable, cherished and celebrated role a woman can ever adore. But, are we only talking about emotions or emotions that perk their way out amidst growing impotency and manufactured behaviour?

Difficult questions but of late, the insurgency amongst the growing existence of surrogate mothers brings us to a more intricate and uncomfortable question – is it all about the result alone or the more viable human intelligence that’s embroiled in a tornado of emotions – the body, the pain, the bonding, the togetherness, the feeling of being massively responsible for a beautiful off spring.

Renting a womb is serious business – well, scary business. Yes, I hate to say that but we must live in gross reality and that I am deemed to dwell upon. If you are trying to pounce and retaliate, then you have a big world outside your window and its time we creep out to understand how disasters have changed in to a blessing. Last week, I did read about a very disturbed article on how surrogate mothers are a popular trend today – yes, disturbing for me as however contemporary I may be, I still belong to the old school especially if we are talking about childbirth.

I totally appreciate the advancements done in the field of technology – not in medicines alone. But the ability of creating test tube babies is giving is the moral incentive to go beyond the standard nomenclatures and lure people in to pseudo reproduction techniques. I admit, that such techniques can be a boon but finding genuinely pure cases is an impossible task. No, I don’t find it detrimental since it gives us a way to have children without the culmination of 2 individuals of opposite sex. I am happy with the advent of our science but this has led to an improbable state of migrant relationships with awful meanings.

Add to the dilemma, the target audience are the less financially capable families but immensely fertile to endure the organic remains of a complete stranger. In short, the womb is mine, the pain is mine, the care is mine but the associated semen belongs to an unknown, preferably called the ‘customer’. For few lakhs (sometimes even less), our women get in to this ordeal as ‘baby producing machines’. Little is thought about the aftermath or as matter of fact, how reliable is this source of sustenance that’s getting them in to this world of reproduction is a question that will seldom have answers.

For a moment, say, I channelize my thoughts and become this insanely progressive person who believes in the phenomenon of surrogacy. The organisations affiliated with such cause must be certified and recognised (either by the government or privately), governance needs to be established and transparent. ‘Come and fly’ approach is demeaning the concept of surrogacy, more significantly when our mindset and ground circumstances don’t sit in the same place.

Way forward or not, we must brace ourselves with the integrity first, let the other conglomerate factors follow later.

being posthumous

‘Celebrate people when they are alive, gives us a reason to believe why they deserved it’. @msksmiles

It’s time we push ourselves to a notch higher were people and their achievements are acknowledged on time. My anguish is pretty much in terms of our award system, be it in/for excellence in any field. I would love to believe that most of the coveted renderings aren’t manufactured, yet it makes sense to award someone when he/she realises and is able to cherish the fact that he/she is being awarded/appreciated/lauded. At the outset, we still have a long way to go when it comes to recognition of human achievements and their monumental impact on the world affairs.

This is familiar characteristic in the media industry, especially films, since it happens to be the most visible and popular. It pre exists in the field of science and politics as well but it isn’t as imperative as the achievements and their acknowledgement is often deemed implicit. But does it demand anonymity is a question to be asked. More significantly, human achievements are not bound by or for laurels, they are a work of magical minds and herculean efforts. If they cant sit on trophies, I don’t think trophies can sit on them. They would rather grace them with their enamoured hands, with a smile and a sense of umpteen satisfaction.

Food for thought?

You bet, and go to jail..

Inquisitive. My take on the entire episode of the ubiquitous betting and fixing scandal notwithstanding, the buzz around makes it all so frivolous.

Way back, when the game of Cricket remained embellished in the hands of pure and fine gentleman called cricket players, a storm surfaced that threatened to uproot the face of dignity. Yet, we weathered it despite ignominy and loss of human pedigree.

What hits back is our system that belts a culture within itself. We are bondage to our own walls, and every time we confront such ugly delegations, our menace disputes us. Hapless administrators, the heads who roll than they rule and individuals who become an inevitable part of any calamity – I have only seen shame and money that takes over values in a country ruled by judicial captivity.

Can we curb human desires? If yes, how? The per capita earning doesn’t matter as greed knows no barriers and is beyond BPL concept. Cricket suffered and when we found ample justifications to invite such buoyancy, IPL disseminated our monetary inhibitions. I am afraid, it was lull before the next.

Today, investigations galore but not sure if revelations will change the system and its adequacy of perpetuating greed. Yes, greed. Insatiable human facets don’t have dimensions, they are parasites – treat them before they become immune.

I hear that we are disgusted. Well, I see it continuing lest we nab a solution to stop this impending mess. Big names and powerful people become willing victims, not sure if common man escapes mediocrity.

More to come and we will have reasons to get stunned. Impoverished intentions can’t demean a century old game but it certainly takes the sheen off it.

Well, not unless you care and our strength to commercialise every vertical continues to spell doom.

guilty? pleading could be a way of life..

“Punishment isn’t defined, it remains a warhorse of a susceptible battlefield”.

way back in 1993, events jolted and stunned us. as a matter of fact, they did so nonchalantly, in Dec ’92. it was unreal, it was deemed barbaric, it was inconsolable. but what made it all so vulnerable was the entire prognosis of the events that unfolded and screamed with morons of our sugar coated system that died to admire their own demons.

an analysis today is as futile as it was, 21 years ago. I am not trying to create a placard out of it, neither am I trying to swell wounds. but the drama surrounding our lives for the past one week has been nothing short of fuelled gas. the verdict was delayed by ages. the verdict was ought to be the most significant the Supreme court has ever handed over to a group or individual. yet, it became a verdict, that stands as a symbol of mockery for those unscrupulous individuals who knew and understood our lousy governments much better and much earlier than you and me. Perhaps, the fundamentals of law making were in knees as we stood like fools, expecting a verdict with folded hands (I am sorry but we were never in a couch to demand verdicts).

for me, this is buried. the ghosts of those horrendous moments still languish with pain but it doesn’t matter any more. the usual suspects are still beneath woods or grass, our leaders, administrators and the governments are oblivious of their darling presence, I would rather quote them to be pretentious.

we capture, we feed, we protect, we make them listen to our lullabies and we get them back to their cells, safely. few, thanks to their domineering presence or privileged inheritance, get a hangover and are allowed to make a better person out of themselves with a sword that wakes them every morning. they still live, make money and make money with discretion less pounding. one fine morning, when the sword wakes up before you and cuts you naked, you realize that the time has come. not yet, please hold on, the time came in years back, but I lived in froth, today I call it ‘fate’. oops, we digressed. let’s get back to the roots.

my question has never been ‘why’, it has always been and am still asking ‘how’. the aftermath is never an example, because it isn’t. for those who lived it, I don’t think they care. you think they should? well, this time, my question is ‘why’!