therighter

Every night the road to home is a dull smoky path where breath is stifled by madness of pedestrians and their abrupt crossings in a zig zag pattern. One such night turned out to be an alarm in disguise. It was novelty of the experience.Late in the evening these pretty young girls were dressed to live.Thin bodies covered in modern attire. Some in skirts, some in salwar and few in pants.Lips were painted. How different were they from all of us? I dress to be presentable. In order to be an achiever I strive hard till late hours of the day. I get back home to see them lined up on the small uphill of life. I can't talk. I just look. When they are talking to men who get off from their bikes and negotiate on a price. Those wide eyed faces fleeing at the sound of a siren.I tell a friend that I've never seen something like this before in my life. I was told they are transvestites. Not all. I now pass them, look at them, think of them. Maybe someday I'll talk to them.Depends.

The vast areas of gray reminds me of the fumes. Of burning tyres, crackling glass and an underlying current. The greatest power that one has is to create a religion, not to destroy them. The Hindus and their million Gods are just the avatars of different human personalities. The Muslims have no God. Only their superior power. Of mosques, mullahs and Quran. Christianity is the epitome of controversy of whether Jesus is black, gay, single / married. Sikhs are fighting for a cause. Whose? Jews are hiding with vengeance. Communal riots are not mere fantasies of religious and political leaders. Some of them are rooted deep in the hearts of the cowards who need a blanket of security and some of them with the heroes who would like to save their kinfolk from elements that are petty in thinking but potent in damaging all forms built with great hands of hardship. In between these there are mobs. Mind you! Mob behaviours appear atrocious and ridiculous. Try telling it to your brother whose neck i...