The Royal Enfield Bullet That Killed An Indian

What does the Indian youth's favourite bike today and the Indian freedom struggle have in common?

Ask any Indian boy or a self-proclaimed Indian gentleman from yester-years what his dream bike is, and he will tell you, 'The Royal Enfield Bullet,' with an air of pride gushing at his irrevocable matter of choice. It is a great bike, no disappointment in that, no matter what the model; people take pride to flash the acronym that reads 'RE', the emblem of the gun and the logo that reads, 'Made like a gun, flies like a bullet.' Girls like it too and often subconsciously connect a man riding a Bullet bike to masculinity.

Capitalizing on this craze and trend, this bike company has catapulted its sales volume and sells more than a million bikes a year at a price set understandably high from a pure economic perspective - more the demand, higher the price in today's market situation. Simple and wonderful!

Now lets go back a bit into some rotting pages of History. To make it more specific and even dustier; lets get back to a dark chapter of Indian History. The year was 1857, must have been a year of frustrations I believe, by this time, Lord Dalhousie's Doctrine of Lapse, an annexation policy of the British Empire was at its full swing - which basically said that the Brits would take over kingdoms that did not have a heir to the throne while refusing to accept prospective adopted children as legal heirs, this lapse of heirs, infuriated a few like Rani Lekshmi Bai of Jhansi who felt her adopted son, Damodar Rao would not reach the throne and also Nana Sahib a Maratha Peshwa who was earlier refused pension by the East India Company was now at the verge of losing the chances of inheriting a kingdom as well, as he too was adopted.
We (Indians) already had over 3, 00, 000 (Three Lakhs) sepoys serving as loyal British troops while the actual white Brit soldiers stationed here (in India) stood a head-count of only 50, 000 (Fifty Thousand Only) - a 6:1 ratio which tilted the scales for the Indian sepoys who in turn felt that they could demand better working conditions and could have their way - the thug way - with a mere display of majority in power. Sounds familiar isn't it?

Trouble was reported to be brewing in barracks and brothels visited by the soldiers and it only intensified and reached its brim when the Brits introduced the "Bullets" that were supposedly smothered in pig and cow fat that came straight from His/Her Majesty's "Royal" Empire that had to be bit (by the predominantly Hindu and Muslim sepoys who found it religiously insensitive to be asked to do something like that) before being loaded into the "Enfield" rifles. Rings a bell now? Yep, it is the same company that made those rifles and bullets that erupted the sepoy mutiny then that makes those much favoured bikes today.

The sepoy mutiny resulted in the death of over 2, 392 Brits and over 1, 00, 000 Indian sepoys and resulted in only a more oppressive rule and in the creation of an equally paranoid society - both ways - rather than any whiff of freedom for the Indian side. Each side demonstrated its barbaric side and there began a silently silenced holocaust at our side of the map. And to think that it all erupted because of the Royal Enfield Bullets...

Now you know why the word "Royal Enfield Bullet" that we feel so proud to possess today in our lapels and bikes and everything connected therewith, would not have appealed to our first freedom fighters and nationalists a few decades ago - no matter how subtly they announce where it is made, who makes it or how it is expected to fly.  Have we betrayed history or is this a historic betrayal by not knowing this fact?
Meanwhile, when an array of the Royal Enfield Bullet thumps its way past me with riders flashing their grin moving those wasted miles on the road - perhaps a symbolic representation of an equally purposeless and wasted life they have, each thump reminds me of a bullet from the white man's gun that shattered the counted and discounted Indians who laid down their lives for refusing to use the Royal Enfield and Bullets that day. Perhaps at the end of the day, for many, this sentiment is invalid and the bike is more important today. Well, ride on...

Meeting Holocaust Survivors

Travelling over 25000 km during the last couple of weeks, I managed to encounter a few people and incidences that I shall write one by one. The most important meeting I had was with a couple who are perhaps the oldest living holocaust survivors today who have taken their refuge in New Zealand ever since their escape from Auschwitz. I met them at Tauranga - Bob and Freeda - Bob happens to be a successful lawyer and a dotting husband while Freeda on the other hand was a sweet, soft-spoken lady surrounded by an aura of beauty. We met over a dinner hosted at conference during which Bob delivered his talk about their life and survival during the holocaust. Listening to their stories of survival in the concentration camp was like watching a blockbuster Hollywood movie in action (incidentally, the story of Bob and Freeda, is to be made into a movie) and the way the couple met and happily live ever after, more like pages taken straight out of a fairy tale.
To cut the long story short, Bob and Freeda had lost it all - family, friends, possessions, country - at a very tender age; yet, they survived. In the face of inhuman conditions - when their chances of survival was the meekest, they did get a chance to be cradled by humanity - by people who saved them, protected them and kept them safe. They later met for the first time at a gathering for holocaust survivors, fell instantly in love and have two kids and live a life advocating against violence by telling their story to the rest of the world - students and youth mostly - at any invited opportunity they get since then.
The next day, we once again got a chance to meet them as part of a small group to discuss with them any doubts we carried from the previous day. There were all sorts of questions from the Academicians from around the world who had gathered there for the conference - from requesting details of their escape to chronological arrangement of the sequence in which they met - everyone had something they wanted to ask. As for me, I had counted three things to ask...
The pains and terrors of Auschwitz, is not a stranger to me; I have used the ghosts of the concentration camps to initiate discussions and thinking in classrooms over unmanaged genocides and ethnic cleansing happening in our world even today - be it in parts of Africa, parts of Bangladesh, several parts of India and the whole of Sri Lanka. Being a witness of a hot, boiling pot from the outside, it often has disturbed me and continuously frustrates me as to why despite these efforts to inform, educate, sensitize and think, stereotyping, prejudice, bigotry, discrimination, violence - and whatever one would like to name it, call it and label it, the evil consequence of violence would still not appear to stop. I had to ask Bob - who was not outside; yet, right in the middle of the boiling pot as and when it happened during the holocaust, who suffered its consequences directly - if he felt that there was something more we must do that we have not done that needs to be done to contain this rascalish demon of discrimination - the foundation of all the violence around us. When asked, Bob frowned, shook his head, looked at Freeda and without looking at anyone, said, 'I don't know'. An answer simple, honest and straight forward just like the man himself. With the images of NEWS from India reporting the rape and murder of children running in my mind during that time, I tried to push him a little further and asked him to tell me how human beings could be so inconsiderate to their fellow beings and be so selfish, self-centered and oblivious to the rest of the world around them, he nodded his head and replied, 'pervert thoughts'. Perhaps with the wisdom that comes with age (for some), he spoke less while explaining more.
Finally for my third and final question, when I asked him what we should do further to contain violence in this world, he said, '... let us continue to do what we already do, and keep doing it until we find something better to do.'
So there ended our meeting and when I stepped back to my staff room here in India, a lovely young girl who knew that I had just arrived from a visit to New Zealand and Australia, came with a very interestingly concerning query; she asked, 'How is racism there in New Zealand and Australia? Do they discriminate Indians? Will an Indian be able to survive there?' Meanwhile, out here, I was wondering if an Indian would be able to survive India in the first place considering the discrimination we have to face as we move every 100 km within our own land. Jai Hind!

A Tryst With Destiny

Recently, I have been laughing my head off listening to proverbs and quotes with a slight twist... to make some impression, I notice that people add a list of (for no better way to put it,) 'bad' words to their punchlines. I hate being judgmental while at the same time wonder why people call certain words as "bad" nevertheless get offended by them when most words actually are just another way of mentioning frivolous aspects of our lives. What makes us laugh, sure makes us think.

Of all the things happening around that one may laugh at, the chance to laugh at 'Swachh Bharat Abhiyan' or rather the idea that cleaning a country's filth left over by the dumping of wastes and irresponsible discharge of pollutants into land, water and air (like many of our politician's speeches that we accidentally listen to,) by giant, greedy corporat(e)s rests on the hands and head of the individuals, is hilarious as it makes no sense. Shouldn't the cola companies and mining companies be cleaning their own mess? Shouldn't they be held responsible for that? Or should the burden be passed on to the citizen's shoulder for the government's incompetency to stop the corporat(e)s from littering?! Anyways, why bother when a broom in the hand and dirt pan on the head can spin a political wheel or should I say, help a political flower bloom in India.

India's tax policy is another joke that drives me bonkers. Just take for example the case where a baker pays GST for the bread, another GST for the olive, yet another for the cheese and one more and another for the meat, pepper and anything else he throws into making a pizza and charges us for all the ingredients, why does he charge us yet another GST for the whole pizza one more time?! Isn't it multiple taxation yet again for a country that is already unbelievably in a double taxation system without going for war?
Concerning concepts for jokes, no one in India dare claim a shortage - the idea of imposing the aadhar down the throat and up the arse of every citizen, the dysmal disregard for privacy and total disregard for personal rights, the soaring prices, the plunging pay scales and when I start counting the jokes one has that can make use of proverbs and quotes with the added twist, the chances of finding concepts for a hilarious laugh are limitless as the issues knock down one domino after the other and one can have a knock-out night of stand-up comedy just by speaking the truth. 

70 years of independence and I am still waiting... like many in our villages and high ranges do as they wait for electricity to light a single bulb while our ministers howl over a digital India and e-payments that will surely brighten the lives of the entire nation, waiting like many who lack a toilet in their home or even the basic sanitation and like the many more who live on the pavements for the lack of a home to begin with - to be saved from our superstars and their kids who run on alcohol who in turn wait to run over them with their super-fast, imported sports car that run on liquid gold for remorseless fun and know how to get away with it too, I am waiting like the scores whose land has been grabbed, whose jobs have been looted and their livelihood pushed off their grounds to give way for some luxury hotel or a chain of resort to come in, like the many whose daughters have been raped, son's illegally detained, father's tortured and mother's abused as they are voicelessly forced to wait for justice as they hide from the stigma cast by their own shadow, I am waiting just like that 70 year old man named independence who has seen enough, with just as much strength, with just as much hope that the 70 years of life of watching the same ruthlessness over and over again can bear before singing the eulogy of an entire nation go down the pits of a pre-dug grave right in the front, left, right, state and center. 

Even death, as I see it in India, is merciless as the poor, innocent migrant worker from Tamil Nadu - Murugan, who met with an accident in Kerala would have experienced it last week as he was rushed from hospital to hospital, pleading with one doctor and another to treat him and finally after being refused treatment by several learned doctors in seven different hospitals, after almost seven hours died helplessly due to neglect of treatment. (These are times when I feel like screaming underwater.) At the end of the day, all that the government needed to do to get away with this inhumane murder was mention a 'sorry' - a 'sorry' that marks the state of our conscience 70 years post-independence for the world to see.  

Meanwhile, Indian politicians have resorted to the culture of silence by learning the art of evading questions in political platforms and have decided to grow fat in silence on their loot. India's freedom struggle kicked off with a debate over the dead fat of mute animals and today's reason to celebrate our freedom seems to be for no different reason. 70 years of independence and I am still waiting like many... for the freedom that was supposed to be.

सारे जहाँ से अच्छा

Upon reading an article in the NEWSpaper today, Court orders eviction: bedridden woman, teen daughter out in the street in Kanjirappally. I couldn't help but remember this song:

"सारे जहाँ से अच्छा हिन्दोसिताँ हमारा
हम बुलबुलें हैं इसकी यह गुलसिताँ हमारा...
मज़्हब नहीं सिखाता आपस में बैर रखना
हिंद्वी हैं हम, वतन है हिन्दोसिताँ हमारा...
कुछ बात है कि हस्ती मिटती नहीं हमारी
सदियों रहा है दुश्मन दौर-ए-ज़माँ हमारा...
सारे जहाँ से अच्छा हिन्दोसिताँ हमारा
हम बुलबुलें हैं इसकी यह गुलसिताँ हमारा..."

Translation:

Better than the entire world, is our Hindustan,
We are its nightingales, and it (is) our garden abode...
Religion does not teach us to bear animosity among ourselves
We are of Hind, our homeland is Hindustan...
here is something about our existence for it doesn't get wiped
Even though, for centuries, the time-cycle of the world has been our enemy...
Better than the entire world, is our Hindustan,
We are its nightingales, and it (is) our garden abode...

About the song:

सारे जहाँ से अच्छा, is a patriotic song written by Muhammad Iqbal. It is often rendered during patriotic occasions in India and is used as a marching song by the Armed Forces. The song is often accompanied by music composed by Ravi Shankar. Written for children in the ghazal style of Urdu poetry, the poem was first published in the weekly journal Ittehad on 16 August 1904, it quickly became an anthem of opposition to the British rule in India. 

Now you know the relevance it has even today...

Pros and Cons of Abolishing 500 and 1000 Rupee Notes

Yesterday night was a bit of an excitement mixed with frenzy for many as  a NEWS spread in India during the midnight hour, once again, since the declaration of our independence. The NEWS was that Modi has abolished notes of Indian Rupee valued at 500 and 1000 overnight - the highest denomination in the notes currently printed. Everyone who has these notes, have time till December 31, 2016 to account it and exchange it in banks or post offices.

The Pros: 

1. Black money stored in the form of currency notes within the country will be flushed out as people will not be able to account the same or exchange it unless they put in a lot of effort to do so
2. Future storing of black money in the form of notes will be difficult as Rs.100 would bulk up more than 10 times and consume as much space than the situation is at present
3. Price of gold will raise; as this will be a safer and more culturally common and relevant way of storing excess money now. This means more returns for people who have been investing in gold already
4. Money might be easier to handle and track with debit card transactions that might become more common as card transactions might be preferred over bulky cash transactions - making business faster and waiting in queues shorter
5. The use of plastic money might boost e-commerce and cashless exchanges - the new trend for start-ups in India
6. Thefts and pickpockets might go down taking crime rates down with it

Thats all.

The Cons: 

1. There is a hint that the notes have been replaced with 'new' 500 and 2000 Rs. notes. Then this whole thing is a humbug. Point 2. of the pros is then off the list (Source:  PM Modi had today banned not just these two high value currency denominations, he had also unveiled their replacement, in the form of a new Rs 500 note and one of Rs 2,000.)
2. Black money storage from the current point forward becomes easier with the current highest denomination doubled. Which means Point 1 and 3. of the pros is off the list too since people will find an alternative means to shrink their storage place and find new space to store more with a higher denomination being made available
3. The whole frenzy of the people to dispose the notes they have is foolish as there is time to do so till this year end. So calm down people; the world is not coming to an end (...yet)
4. Business - especially chota valas who refuse currency notes of 500 and 1000 denomination are more foolish. Business is more important and customers harder to get. These notes can anyway be exchanged and it would be a boost to the business if a shop keeper accepts the notes and gets the commerce going using this situation and reaping the harvest. Requires sense to think in this case - the hardest commodity to ask for anyways these days
5. The corrupt will become more corrupt and find reasons to accumulate what they have lost in this barter in the near future - habits, not notes, that needs to be abolished
6. In this case of taking old notes and releasing new ones, then, is just going to be like how Mohd. Bin Tughlak shifted his capital from Delhi to Daultabad/Deogir - a 'tughlakian' decision that made him lose more than he thought he could earn and an earner of negative press that we learn about till date of 'what not to do'
7. One more ban, one more renaming and one more flop awaiting - as is the sequence in a country where people think like a slow starting tubelight 
8. Anyways, the initial election manifesto was to bring back black money deposited abroad into India within 100 days that entered a delay as it required a change in taxation policies. What happened to that? Did we change our double-taxation system? Are we still talking about that?
9. Wouldn't this exercise make the people who foreignized Indian black money look smarter than their Indian counterparts and help set an example for the corrupt to emulate for the future?
10. Is this once again the typical re-naming stunt that is not uncommon these days. After all, what is in a name?

Seems like the con's outweigh the pros in this (dis)regard just for the simple reason that the notes are going to be re-introduced and very soon, in higher denominations. Was that a calculation intended or a consequence unthought of?! 

However, this great idea (minus the reintroduction bit) I remember coming from a Tamil movie called 'Pichaikaran' that was released in March this year and here is the scene from the movie for proof that the idea is not something that was born yet only something that has been adopted. Talk about originality...

Surviving Academic Politics

Uproar in the media about a 'deemed to be Doomed' private University in Bangalore last week did not catch me by surprize. What happened was bound to happen... perhaps my un-hippocratic self won't shut from telling me, 'This won't do... we need more!'. From levying exorbitant fines for silly reasons, to watchmen at the gates being asked to feel the pants and/or lift the dupatta of girl students to check if they fit into the prescribed dressing code of the college, to unsanctioned extortion from parents in the name of fees, to horny priests and their hornier superiors walking the corridors, to the disappearance of teachers who stand up to these unreasonable woes time to time-this compound is one large circus of clowns with a guaranteed show everyday... Thanks to the clowns.

For example, there is a half-baked bald head who sits in a department or two in this compound. This guy's modus operandi is flawless, he tries to intimidate any new staff by taking them for a walk through the parking space, where an old, green, used-van would be shown off and he would go on to declare, 'I donated this... you know!'; later he would point to exactly ten rolling chairs to repeat  'I donated this... you know!, I donated that... you

know!' 'I, I, I, Me, Me, Me, Myself, Myself, Myself...' repeating endlessly; later, he would parade the staff back to his cabin to start of with his-almost eulogy sounding-self trumpeting speech (perhaps that no one else listens outside this compound and perhaps the reason why the family of this guy gave up all hope for a cure) about what he supposes must interest mankind the most-unbelievable stories about himself-for as long as his old self can throttle. If anyone dares to cut his crap, they call for his wrath and what else his little donations can achieve through his connections with the higher-ups.

Interestingly, this guy passed a post-graduation degree at a time when dinosaurs lay eggs in his backyard and claims to have a PhD but from a different discipline; adding to this, he neither has a NET certification-nor will he in this lifetime-this makes him neither fit there nor here nor anywhere else; even UGC won't be happy with this occupation of a chair which otherwise must be held by a more respectable, responsible and reasonable human. This here, is an unqualified fellow who has been given the task of running a department by the other circus clowns. With things like this happening, where every clown thinks that they are far above the UGC or any other regulating body in the country, just because they think regional-connectivity-with Varghese, Kuriens and Chackos from their gate all the way to the parliament-can get them whatever they want, what can one expect other than... Yeah DOOM! and that is what has happened so far.

Not many of the students who study there get to study what they must be and later not many of the students get a job or exit the gates with a plan-nevertheless a future-ahead of them. With buffoons like this guy sitting there to just water their egos as their central duty by holding on tight the thrones they are strapped to, how would academic concerns matter? Yet, this clown thrives and continues to run his show titled, 'I donated this... you know!' Perhaps unfit, unqualified and ineligible people like this fellow must survive on these donations they make.

These are the fellows who do nothing and get away with anything; and to show that they have of course done something, ensure that they trip others from doing anything and thereby establish a fact that they are ahead of the rest. These are fellows who would like to sit in every committee nameable and imaginable and fight over titles that other better thinking and talented people perhaps will not care a rat's arse about. These are fellows who would like to straddle on the loins of power-a compensation for their lack of it in other aspects of their rather pathetic life. Interestingly, parasites of this kind use 'buttering' as their only progressive tool in their career path to move ahead. They try to stay close to the proximity of people who assume power, investing their time in feeding the management. administration and anything that moves above them with gossip, rumours and anything that will keep them sadly entertained, sidelined, uninformed and distracted from the factuals, logic, reason and rationale; and it seems like the management likes it too and it is likes of these hypocritical liars that they like hanging around them having fallen for cheap tricks that is shoved down their throats with hints of praises about the listener to add that 'buttering' effect in between-a perfect formula, a recipe that these buggers seem to have learnt and perfected over time that seems to work for them to seat their fat bottoms in. These are fellows who get offended if they don't get the respect they demand... And that perhaps is the beginning of the large book titled, 'How academic politics originate... a field guide to dummies with no other specific talent and professors with special needs.'

What else can I pray for other than for the students who enter this campus with a hope to get a shot at the future... that they be saved and redeemed and not deemed to be doomed like this trap they walk into... 

First Message To IFSW

'Professionalism'-a buzz word that moves the moment one even dares to think of "Social Work". The moment this word (somehow) kicks in, the market gets filled with ideas, ideologies, principles, values, ethics, theoretical frameworks, practice models, competencies, networking, memberships, associations and so on... 

Talking from the point of view of an Indian Social Worker, its been 80 years since we brought in Social Work as a discipline into our universities-that is 11 years older than our country's independence that we received in 1947-yet, we have only done our bit, as individuals and more collectively as associations that have mushroomed all over India that hawkers memberships at different rates, to cripple the growth of Social Work as a profession rather than boost it in any form.

Think we are all confused. The higher we try to reach to the ones perched on top of these institutions and associations for clarity, the sooner we realize that the older and more confused they are who have learnt mute and pointless babbling as new languages. Often in the academia, we are asked to refer NASW for our code of ethics and every other detail connected therewith; after a point of time, we realize, NASW is so national by its limitation with no space to accommodate others that they leave us with space only to wonder, 'Why patronize them at all?!" Different schools of thought occupy the Indian scenario-perhaps like every other healthy democracy-we have the liberals to the conservative with the moderates in between wondering where to draw the line-like in politics, more so in Social Work. It took many of us a while to understand that Social Work is not (yet) a "professional" course in India (too) as it does not fit into the "professional" requirements other actually professional courses such as medicine, law or its allied courses mandates. Any Deepak, Rani or Chandru can be a Social Worker here unlike the Tom, Dick and Harry there. The associations are as confused as its members; there is neither a council nor a culturally-relevant locally and commonly agreed code of conduct or restrictive/promotive unit to monitor its practice. This as mentioned earlier, after 80 years of its existence. 

International organizations talking to a member of some God-forsaken association in India and feel a right to claim that they have associated with Indian Social Workers are so absolutely wrong. One organization or for that matter a bunch of their pseudo-collectives, DO NOT represent the collective Social Worker community from India. 

Where are we? 

Are other countries with us in this regard? 

What should we do that perhaps our seniors in the field have not done?

Kindly advice...   

Attention To All Social Workers

Friends, Indians, Social Workers :)
Kindly support this initiative: An ask to recognize and include Social Work as an optional subject in UPSC (Civil Exams).  
All that you have to do is:
1. Follow the link given below, sign the petition
2. Bring in more people from within your reach and network and do the same
3. Make the difference!

Click Here To Sign The Petition

Thanks.

On Sex, Women etc.

Three thoughts just crossed my mind...

1. On Sex: There are reports from India that state that religious groups as well as the ministry of health are for deliberating constraint in introducing decent levels of acceptable sex education in school and choosing abstinence over promoting condoms. (As usual), there is supposed unrest amongst some of the elite members of the civil society who are bold enough to reprimand this loud and clear and their jingling ensured to be heard within the limits of spaces they find comfortable and absolutely safe and hardly anywhere beyond the coffee tables where these discussions take place. Either way, there is noise regarding this factor always doing its rounds.
A few celebrities, who take time to speak something sensible and though provoking (once in a great while) on this issue mention that, humans think of sex quite frequently because evolution constantly compels them to be creative. The moment an Indian hops on to this delicious topic, s/he/it can't resist bringing in the concept of the Kamasutra like it was his/her/it's birthright to talk about it even if s/he/it has not seen a single page from it... duh! fyi, the Kamasutra maybe a handy book and is not a hand-book for sex for Indians and we all don't abide or a-bed by it. During one seminar on sex, I remember a person in the panel (who happened to be gay,) when asked by someone from the audience whether they use condoms during the act, reply without haste, "Would you eat the chocolate with the wrapper?!" Golden thoughts like these do emerge once in a while, still amidst these chuckles and often visualization, man and woman, both, ideally fantasize a good amount of their share of this creative world if thats the least they can do when they can't indulge. 
Whether the restrainers want to prevent or the liberals want laissez-faire, either way once again, whether personally one wants to refrain or indulge, humans just don't seem to find it easy to get the thought of sex out of their head (and their beds).

2. On Ugly: Of late I have been reading and viewing some terrifically horrific stories and images of unbelievable and unacceptable violence. This ranges from boko haram slicing heads of people they think are bringing in an aped-culture, bodo militants on the rampage, 10-year-old kids torturing a 3-year old child to death, maids abusing children left to their care of busy-parents who are too occupied to take care of them, gun-crazy kids turning their dad's weapon on children who would return that evening in a coffin to their parents, military abusing and stripping women in the name of searching them, raping them later and labeling anyone who resents or dissents this as 'grave internal threats and/or terrorists', war criminals who have shattered peace and harmony of thousands of families and an entire country being invited and treated with reverence by their more hideous neighbours... and all sorts of violence in the form of speech from religious to political pulpits and the irresponsible action that follows therewith and the one's who walk around without the slightest clue of these things happening around the world or perhaps don't care a damn even if they do. Life is cruel, evil and wicked too...    

3. On Women: Listening to the kind of complaints women have especially (during and after and before) pregnancy, is it just me or is there anyone else out there who thinks that they deserve better treatment(?!) Homes are ill-equipped to cater to their "needs"; they sure deserve a reservation to check into the nearest mental health clinic for better treatment to reach them... Some (most), at times, most times, don't deserve to be at home. 

p.s: Just noticed, its my thought about sex that seems to have consumed a lot of space in this post. No wonder they say, "Intelligence is anything that a Man thinks besides sex." No wonder...   

And The Woman She Is

Translation of the song "Aurat Ne Janam Diya Mardon Ko", from the movie Sadhna (1958):

"Woman gave birth to man.
And he gave her the flesh-trade
Whenever they felt like it
They trampled on her or discarded her
Woman gave birth to man

She is weighed in dinars
Or sold in open markets
She’s stripped in the court of lustful men
She’s that ill-reputed thing
Which settles among the reputed
Woman gave birth to man

Man can commit every crime
But a woman can’t even weep
Man sleeps on a million soft beds
The woman gets the funeral pyre
Man has a right to every luxury
For a woman life itself is a punishment
And it was a woman who gave birth to man

The lips which declared love
Were traded for money
The womb [from] which they were born
Was used as a business
The very body they blossomed from
[Was] abused by them
Woman gave birth to man

Men made customs which were regarded as their rights
But a woman being burnt alive was looked upon as sacrifice
Even the food given to her was considered an obligation
And to think it was a woman who gave birth to man

Every act of shamelessness is rooted in poverty
What is passion in men is a sin to woman
Woman gave birth to man

A woman is destiny of the world
But she doesn’t have it herself
She bears prophets and lord incarnates
Even then she’s considered a devil’s child
This is that unfortunate mom
Who sleeps with her own sons

For woman is the mother of man
But they gave her the marketplace
Whenever they felt like it they accepted or discarded her
And it was a woman who gave birth to man"