Friday, December 7, 2018

A Letter

It was a rainy morning of monsoon. Sraddha(A Hindu Ritual) was being performed, the entire sky has been occupied with crows. Although, the population of birds has dwindled because of the pollution, as per the ancient Hindu ritual crows came to eat the Sraddha.
Somewhere in distant, the horns of vehicles were blowing, children were preparing for schools. In between them, there was stillness in Niravbhai’s home. Niravbhai was sitting on the chair in the courtyard, tears were peeping out of his eyes, but did not come out because of the fear of society.
Sharada, a wife of Niravbhai, came in front of him and said, “What are you thinking? Where have you been lost? Do you remember..” Even before she completed her sentence, he interrupted “Yes, I remember those consequences happened two years earlier… I remember that heinous act.” He started sobbing, could not utter a word after. He began crying, his eyes were expressing his words.
“Why are you crying? We could not do anything in what has happened.” And he started crying, holding Sharada’s hand.
“Please do not cry… Please do not burden yourself, it is not good for your health.” Sharada knew that he was suffering from a disease of the heart.
“Yes, you are right. Patient of heart, but the same illness took the life of my daughter.” As he completed his sentence, he stood up from the chair and started walking towards his room. He pulled Sharada’s hand along.
As he walked, he said, “Sharada, Do you know who is the murderer of our daughter… It is me, I killed her. Even though hands were not mine,  I made those circumstances.” He stopped as he completes.
They came inside his room, Sharada said, “What are you talking about? You inquired about everything, and then after the marriage took place. Were there mistakes? Why are you acting like it was your fault?” And she started crying.
Nirav unlocked the cupboard and started searching something between old books and papers.
Suddenly, he found a letter, and he started weeping again, like cloud bursted during monsoon days.
“What is it? And why are you crying again? Say something…” Sharada said hastily. Nirav handover the letter to Sharada.
As Sharada opened the letter and as she read the first word, she started crying embracing the letter. She could remember something, and she rooted to the spot. She sat on the bed, and started reading.
“Dear Pappa,’
I need to write this letter to you because I am unable to tell this in front of you. Pappa, I am still in the third year of my engineering…  You have decided my engagements eight months ago, and I do not mind… but…
Marriage…? Do not you think this is too early?  Pappa, What I did in past, is unforgivable, I am not even worthy for that. I brought disgrace to you and your reputation in the society, and for that, I am ready to accept any of punishment of yours. You may not know, but I did this engagement for that only.
But after this engagement, I started afraid of something. I know that Veer is 9 years older than me and I do not even have an issue with that but I am constantly feeling that he did this engagement for sexuality only.
I tried to stop him many times, but still, he tries to fondle me. This may be okay and acceptable after the marriage, but even before the marriage???
I have thought about suicide so many times, but then I started thinking about my mother who borne me for 9 months in her womb, my father who raised me to this. And I leave these thoughts asides.
I will do this marriage if you say, but if it is possible, please give me a single chance. Please… So that I can prove myself. Pappa, I will not do anything that brings shame. Pappa, Even though I will get married, but truly saying, I will never ever be happy ever after.
Pappa, I know you are suffering from a disease of the heart and if you will worry about anything, you have to face the difficult circumstances. This is why I am writing this letter to you. If you think I deserve the second chance, please break this engagement, but if not, please put this letter away, I will never ask anything about this.
Yours lovingly.
Sharada felt the presence of her daughter in her eyes. Nirav was staring at the wall absent-mindedly, as he heard Sharada’s woe, he said, “Our daughter got married happily for me. If I had given her a chance, she would have been here now, alive.”
There was silence all around after a long-heavy rain. Nirav said, sobbing, “She said that Veer wanted her body only… but even as being a father, I could not understand her. I sold off my daughter to that rapist. Though he and his friends are the rapists and murderers, it was me who took my daughter there.
Both Nirav and Sharada, started weeping. They cried their heart out. The sound of sobs filled the room. The dogs barked in distance. But the ship has sailed.
Every year, in India, many parents married off their daughters considering the well beings of the in-laws and the boys. In many places, these daughters have to bear those monstrous acts and other atrocities. I have given few links of such cases below, you can read them.
It is better to trust your children and give them another chance, otherwise, you will be responsible for whatever happens with them, and then there will be nothing, except regret.
Think about it.

Friday, November 30, 2018

Will you be my co-author?

I fell in love with her,
She has a charm,
The charm which can make everyone happy,
She teaches me to believe in myself,
But time to time she lost herself.
I tried to post her a latter,
The latter of my love,
But betrayed me.
Many times I tried to type my proposal in a text,
But then my heart erased it again and again.
Time goes,
She and I live in multiple affairs.
I don't know everything about her,
But I tried to engage myself with her.
Even today I tried to say,
But again my fear stops me to type 'I Love You'
Now I think that day will never come,
when I can say,
Will you be my co-author?

- Abhijeet Mehta

Saturday, November 17, 2018

Why Should I Need You?

I have a moon,
Who is always with me to hear my pain.

I have my words,
Through which I can express my pain.

I have my pen,
Which can convey my pain to the society.

I have a soul,
Who gives me the solution to my pain

Then, why should I need you?

- Abhijeet Mehta 

Saturday, November 10, 2018

Request for donation to Internet Freedom Foundation

Dear reader, a very happy Diwali!

The winter months for many are a time for celebration, festivities and reflection. It's time spent with family and friends shopping, gorging on homemade delicacies and sweets. Given how firmly tethered the internet is to our lives much of our community celebration occurs online. We wish each other, gift and exchange information and opinions for a variety of purposes. Yes, even, the timely reports on the awful smog which right now is enveloping large parts of northern India.

What makes this possible is the free and open internet. A digital medium which is accessible and safe, when we need it -- not shut down on a whim, or censored by old, antiquated colonial laws. An internet where we get a real choice to browse around, explore and talk --  not a walled garden or a highway with tolls. But also, a medium which is far from perfect and needs rules to protect us from mass surveillance. In other words, a mystical genie that grants us three wishes. Freedom of speech, net neutrality and privacy.

Over the past two months, IFF has worked hard to support work in all three domains. Some of it is publicly catalogued in our updates. But we are also building out a robust backend that provides impact and positive movement, systemically and strategically. This includes hiring staff and keeping interns. In this process what has indeed been rewarding have been the offers of help by many volunteers. While we are working with some, to honestly realise and engage we plan to deploy human and technical resources in the coming months.

In my last email to you, I indicated that IFF's mission is ambitious and our success relies on your good wishes and kindness. This includes your faith in extending us financial support. We are thankful this continues as our work gathers pace. We need much more of it, and in the spirit of Diwali look forward to greater generosity.

Please do consider a donation to IFF and help us light up digital rights in India.

Thank you,

Executive Director
Internet Freedom Foundation

Please note IFF a public charitable organisation registered under Sections of 12A and an 80G of the Income Tax Act. Click here for more information on our financial disclosures.

Friday, November 2, 2018

Be Specific

Be specific what you need..?
A robot who will act on your command
A financier who will finance you at every moment of life
A bodyguard who can protect you from every problem
An advisor who will give you a solution to your problems
A joker who will try to make you happy every time
An assistant who will assist you
A life partner?
You can buy Robot, Bodyguard, Advisor, Joker, and Assistant,
you have to achieve your life partner.

- Abhijeet Mehta

Saturday, October 20, 2018

Have You Read The Story Of Nadia Murad?

Dearest Darling Friends,

Here is the story of Nadia. Get ready for a range of emotions as you read this story.
The slave market opened at night. We heard commotion downstairs where the militants were. When the first man entered our dinghy room we started screaming. Our screams sounded like explosions. We moaned, wailed, invoked the name of Allah, but nothing stopped the militants. Forget about stopping, they did not even slow down.
They paced around, their eyes piercing our clothes, while we screamed and attempted to hide behind each other. Then they gravitated towards the most beautiful girls examining their hair and mouths.
‘They’re virgins, right?’ they asked a guard who nodded like a shop-keeper priding in his products.
They touched us anywhere they wanted, running their hands on our breasts and legs, as if we were animals.
“As I lay there crying, a huge monstrous man came in front of me. His name was Salwan. He started kicking me. He then lifted me and……”

19-year-old Nadia Murad was repeatedly raped, tortured, sold and resold for 3 months by ISIS militants.
It took the teenager humongous spunk to escape from her last captor’s house in Mosul on a hot summer night in 2014.
She was given shelter by a kind carpenter’s family who eventually smuggled her out of Iraq with a disguised identity and sent her to Germany in early 2015.
It saw the start of a new life and a crusade against human trafficking.
From Mosul in Iraq to the Peace Nobel in Sweden, her journey has been the most awe-inspiring saga of willpower and courage I’ve ever heard.
May God bless the carpenters who laid their lives on the line to save an abused child. While Nadia is the spoken and recognized heroine of the story, they are the unspoken and unrecognized heroes of the story.
If destiny gives you an opportunity to be a part of this story in retrospect, which role do you see yourself playing? Nadia? The Carpenters? The others girls who suffered but did not have the spunk to fight it out? Those who knew about all this yet did nothing? Difficult to answer isn’t it?
This story has given me sleepless nights. Waiting to see where it leads me to.

With love, prayers and best wishes,
Imagine, when we wake up, we are given only what we had thanked for.