Wednesday 6 December 2017

Happy Men's Day!

Every year on Women’s day, all women feel really special and different. But why is the International Men’s day so quiet and uneventful. I almost missed it.
So I thought of writing something, real quick.
It’s really unfair to celebrate women’s day and not men’s day. After all, it’s one day to make all the real heroes in our life feel special and feel good. Those men who pamper us, protect us, and value us.
Let’s thank our father, brothers, teachers, friends, bosses, boyfriend, and even those strangers who help us in trouble. Let’s thank them and celebrate their day to make them feel wonderful. Let’s celebrate this day to make it fair, call it gender equality.
I know that women’s day is also celebrated to honor the emancipation of women from this cruel patriarchal society. And I know that there are many evil men out there who’ve ruined our lives, restricted our movements, and made us paranoid.
But, then we mustn’t forget that there are good men with us, trying to fight them. These men take extra measures and pain to ensure our safety. Thanks from the bottom of my heart. I can’t be grateful enough.
Thank you. Happy Men’s day! :)

The Red Dress

There she was, standing with her head tilted to one side and her light brown tresses to the other side. From time to time, she was shifting hangers in the closet. Every morning, she would ponder over the cloth to choose from her dull closet and every day a red dress would catch her attention. But like every other day, she ignored that dress today as well.
She had never worn that dress because she thought it would make people notice her, and she didn’t like attention. But, she loved the cute little red dress, just like a few other clothes that she loved but never wore.
This red dress, her love at the first sight, reminded her of her adorable red frock that she got on her 12th birthday, the day she’d never forget, and the frock that she wore just once. But, her friends gifted her a similar red dress on her 23rd birthday, and she loved it as much as she loved the red frock, but still, it never came out of the closet.
She is still standing there, confused as ever, trying to choose between the gray and the black trousers. Reluctantly, she takes out a gray shirt and black trouser, thinking that this boring formal color will help her mix with the crowd.
She is now walking on the road, on her way to the office, from the point where the shuttle drops her. A fair, tall and pretty girl with a fresh morning glow on her face, a beaming smile, and dreamy eyes. As always, she is conscious of the eyes on her and she is wondering that why people look at her, is it her skin color, her height or what is it that people make her uncomfortable with the constant gaze. She, on the other hand just loves seeing buildings and animals, so much so that she sometimes forgets that she’s walking on a road, alone.
Although she is just another girl who had her own share of bad experiences, like many others, so she knows that this is common and that she needs to be careful on the road because there aren’t just vehicles that may hurt her.
She is now passing that sutta point where she thinks that too many men exist. She is fine with mere admiration, but she hates it when people scan her, her movements, and her body followed by a lewd gesture about it.
However, with practice, she has learned to ignore people and their stares on the street. She just looks straight and walks, she sees no face, no eyes.
But she is still scared, cautious and aware. Her ears open, trying to hear every footstep closely, sharply. Her eyes constantly checking at the back. Like every day, she is hoping that no one is following her. She isn’t a cynic, she has friends who told her their experience of being followed, so she is just being careful — preventive measures you know. It’s her daily routine and she hates it. She hates walking alone because random bikers shout something and go.
A sweat trickled down her temples, she is nervous and vulnerable. She still remembers that evening on her birthday when she was returning to her house after dropping her best friend who lived just one block away. She was jumping and running on her way back in the same red frock when suddenly a hand appeared to grab and squeeze her breasts.
She still remembers the pain, but back then she didn’t really understand what it was, why it happened. She couldn’t understand why someone just tried to hurt her and run away; that why someone touched her newly developing fatty tissues. But she understood when her mom told her. Since then, her mom became over protective, and since then she missed her freedom. Her mom was extremely worried about her early puberty and since then she was convinced that she would never wear any body-hugging dress if she wanted to avoid anything unpleasant.
She followed this learning religiously because she didn’t want to go through all the pain and the shame again. Nothing like that will happen today because it’s neither a dress nor it is red.
But, suddenly a hand appeared out of nowhere that scratched her arm, tore her sleeves and disappeared. A noisy crowd surrounded her. She is flummoxed and tears welled up in her eyes.
She couldn’t blame her clothes now, nobody could. This time, a hand again hurt her and went away. She felt like an animal, a poor animal, who was hunted for fun and killed for no reason. She was broken, hurt and betrayed.
But, she had always been strong, she recovered.
A few days later, she was back, on that road, walking to her office, alone, but in the red dress that she loved but she never wore. She had now found a new courage.
She thought that she’ll anyway be stared at, molested, eve-teased or touched, then why she shouldn’t wear what she loves at least.
This time she also stopped at the sutta point to hear what they had to say and laugh about. She didn’t bother about the glances that she was getting, she was just careful with the hand that might come, and it did, again, suddenly. And this time too there was blood on the arms, but not hers. The hunter had fallen down, hunted by his own prey.
She kicked him in the groin and he groaned.
Again there was a noisy crowd with hush-hush whispers because she knew that this time they could blame her, her dress and she could also blame herself for the demon crying in pain, in the middle of the road.
Now, she knew that it was never her red frock or her skin color.
She knew that such hands, comments, stares wouldn’t discriminate and that they would keep coming because she was a female, because ‘Now’ wasn’t the safest time to be a woman.
Though, she believes that someday she’ll walk as freely as these men.
But, till that time comes, she’ll have to be courageous.
And, she’ll fight. She might fall and get hurt, but she’ll rise again, higher.
If you enjoyed this story, please recommend and share to help others find it! Feel free to leave a comment below.

Wednesday 17 February 2016

A new part of speech - Hashtag

Now whether it's twitter, fb or any other platform; in all the updates or posts, one thing is common and that is the 'Hashtag'.
So, what does Mr.Google has to say about it?
It says that, "Hashtags are used on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. The # symbol goes in front of a word or words to group that tweet or post with other tweets or posts about the same topic. It all started back on Aug. 23, 2007 with a tweet by San Francisco techie and former Google developer Chris Messina."
Any set of characters preceded by a hash is a hashtag and it can initiate a "trend" or attract more users to a discussion.
No matter how stupid a hashtag looks in a status, it is still very useful if used properly.
It can club all the messages with a similar theme or content and make it easier to discover them all at one place.
In fact, Hashtag deserves to be added to formal English grammar as a new part of speech in accordance with syntactic functions and set of rules.
It could be defined as, "Used in place of a sentence to eliminate the need of a full sentence but the meaning conveyed or undertone should remain the same."
For example, A sentence like "Wow! what a bright sunny day. I simply love it.", could be replaced with "#brightday #sunny #lovingit". So, simple isn't it?
Below I'm working on a few more examples.
Read them and let me know if you agree with adding hashtags to parts of speech.

1. The demand for a law to deal with honour killings still hangs fire. To love cannot be a crime in a nation that is aiming to be a superpower
#love_is_not_a_crime #justice #punish_killers #no_honor_killing

2. To understand the real Russian achievement in Syria, one has to look at the balance-of-power dynamics in the battlefield before the Russian intervention.
#complex_battle #russia_in_syria #read_theHindu_opinions

3. The weather is too lovely to write a blog. My friend suggested that I should go out and enjoy instead of working on the screen. Nature isn't kind always.
#love_nature #chuck_work #go_out

So, now that we saw all these examples, don't you think it is good to create a new part of speech? :D
Trust me, it'll eliminate all the fuss about appropriate grammar, long sentences etc. It'll be like when in doubt - Use hashtags and smileys :D
Over a period of time, it won't even sound weird if you begin speaking in hashtags as well, like, "Hey! Good morning Jeff. How are you? Hashtag formality :P"
It'll make things simple, easy and kind of nerdy. It'll be much easier to flaunt your vocabulary by using multiple hashtags for a word like, "#castigate #sedition #deplorable #dissidence #jnu"
Hashtags will become the smartest addition to an otherwise formal and complex language. Speak your heart out with 'hashtags'.
Now, ending my article with relevant hashtags to convey everything.
Note - Especially for the readers who found it too long to read, Read it here.

#lovehashtags #random #stupidbutfun #easyread #lovewriting #usehashtags #speakhashtags #comment #like #share #thanksforreading :D

For more information on hashtags:
Read here and here.

Friday 11 December 2015

Old is Gold

Life is all about gaining experiences, isn’t it? By the time, till, you’ve almost had all the experiences in life, you’ve a new experience to taste – your old age.
After having seen more than half a century of winters and springs in your life, you’ve your wrinkles, your grey hair to tell tales of the ages you’ve seen; of the time you’ve seen changing.
It’s the time when the responsibilities of your family, children etc are taken off your shoulders because you’ve new burdens to bear; burdens of your degrading health, of your weakening tooth, of your diminishing eyesight.
It’s the time when various deformities creep in, so you shouldn’t add deformities of vice to it.
It’s a pious age where others usually look at you with sympathy and respect. Now, suppose in this phase of your life, you’ve struggle to make, a battle to fight – to fight for your survival, for your existence of the remnant part of your life. It’s not easy! You’re weak and crippled and you’ve to grapple for bread. What then?
We then say, you’ve a cursed old age. After working all your youth, while your skin withered away. Nothing can be more painful than to learn that it’s all you’ve to repeat to live hand to mouth. It’s sad to see frail hands working or the limping legs running to buy themselves their daily meal and a dose of their regular medicine.
I wonder what brings them here.
Out of my curiosity once I asked an old working shopkeeper, “Why do you work here? Why don’t you just go and take rest?”
To this he smiled showing off some of his steel teeth, he answered, and “This is what I do to keep myself busy. An empty mind is a devil’s workshop. With no work and no thoughts, with less of physical comfort, you’re sometimes bound to unknown mental disorders. Over time you may even begin hating yourself, forget of your kin.”
He spoke of his wisdom, of the past experiences he had learnt from. Well, this case is different from those old people who are forced to work, who are forced by the circumstances. That is a sensitive thing to talk about and we shall surely discuss it someday later.
But, today I’m here with other problems of old age, a problem that anyone may face due to lack of tasks and responsibilities.
Say, even if you’ve enough things you need, but still there is an inadequacy, a missing companion or happiness. What then?
Human beings are gregarious species, we love company not just food and objects to be happy. This is the biggest problem why people in their old age tend to become sad – the loss of company. They tend to become aloof, and if left just like that for a period of time, they may dangerously become agoraphobic, they may not just be grumpy but scared of people too, scared of crowd and socialism. It is the most neglected and common problem of every household.
Why do people become like this in their old age?
A simple answer to this is the lack of growth. Development of any kind – social, mental, emotional, physical, keeps you going and saves you from the illness generated due to stagnation. It’s not just your old age, it’s the moment when you stop learning, when you stop thinking, when you stop smiling – you’re trapped with problems.
Several disorders ranging from slight mood swings, senility and crabby, bolshie behaviour to severe diseases like Alzheimer’s etc may catch you.
Would you like to suffer from additional mental disorders knowing that you already have various health problems? Of course, you won’t like.
This is what I want to say, don’t let your life stop because of certain physical restrictions, keep learning, keep growing even when you’re old.
I’ve seen an old man who owns a shop in our hostel area; he worked happily there in his shop till his daughter worked with him there. But soon after she got married, he felt alone. He closed his shop for a good number of days. And now, though he comes to the shop daily but he has become grumpy and irritated. The longing for his company, his happiness, his daughter.
Every time I see my grandparents; I wonder what I will do when I grow old. People keep a lot of options, like book writing, travelling the world etc. This is a smart thing to do, options should be made keeping in mind the physical weakness that may become stronger with coming years. Reading should be a man’s best hobby too. Books are the best solution to learn and beat the boredom simultaneously.
Apart from that, I’d like to give a suggestion to the family members too, that they should treat the older members of the family with respect and care.
Life is like a movie and bloopers are expected even from the best actors. So being old, they may not make silly mistakes related to life choices but due to their slow advancement and health problems they may make faux pas. It’s your duty to correct it with love and care, the way they did when you were a child.
Include them in your social gatherings; get them acquainted to your generation and technology.
This way, the inevitable old age won’t be a problem anymore.
The secret to a happy old age is keeping the flames of enthusiasm and the spirit of a child alive in your heart. This is a secret to feel young forever.
Old age is not just a record of one’s life; old age is a new life in itself. And, the saying Old is Gold, will be true for a human being growing old too.
To conclude, I can’t find any line better than the ones quoted by Victor Hugo, “When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age.”

Sunday 6 September 2015

What is our 'Final Destination'

After watching this, one of the best works of Steve; this video titled ‘Man’ which shows a man’s relationship with the Mother Nature provoked me to write again. Is it our desire to become better or is it our desire to rule the world? What is it that is driving us capricious?
But, before I move into what this video has shown, I’d like to point out what this person has missed in the video. It is the thing that the man does in the name of caste, religion, land, country, money and what not. This is not something new. Horrendous battles have been fought in the past too. I only wonder why they don’t feel bad enough to stop. Countless ruthless attacks like the Hiroshima attack, 9/11 attack, the 1993 blasts etc cause tremors even today. And murders have become so common that the newspapers tell it blandly. And the increased usage of drugs and petty crimes says as if this is the catharsis for the grief-stricken criminals.
Now in the video, it’s amusing to know that we are the species who first invent diseases and then work hard to devise its cure or vaccine too. We invent plastic, and then we know that it is harmful, so we try to replace it with another kind of BPA-free plastic, only to realize that it is equally harmful and so after creating a pile of waste we switch back to stainless steel. But, if only this last step happened, we would still be redeemed. But, hell no! We want more, we want to test it, we want to try it till everything ruins.
Why should we worry? So, what we are polluting the water, we have RO, and big water plants. What if we eat burgers, fries and coke daily, we buy ‘Organic pulses’ for our grocery. I’m not a pessimist, but all these things are just unnecessary and harmful for both - you and the whole world. And I think you know why and how. I could go on forever to preach, but I just want to solve the purpose of this article. I want to make at least some more people aware of all these things. So, keeping mind that brevity is the key, I’d like you to ponder on the points mentioned below and I request you to bring it into practice.
Don’t think of how negligibly small your contribution will be, don’t think that your few days fun won’t affect the world. If you want to see the world change, start with yourself, you’ll inspire people around you, like I’ve.

1. Please! Please, say no to plastic bags. Or reuse it a million times if you have one, minimize its use and avoid it wherever possible.
2. Don’t waste food!! Not at all. Not even single bread. There are many restaurants, hotels, mess, weddings, and parties to do this task already. Please don’t be a contributor.
3. Learn to recycle and buy less, whatever it is. Think of the growing population and think of the dump it is creating, where is it going and ponder over your daily contribution to it.
4. You can live a little simpler, and it won’t make you look any poorer I promise.  Reuse! Before you plan to throw away your shirt, think again, maybe you could wear it once again or you could collect it and serve it in charity. And yes, this also reminds me of John Oliver’s video (channel LastWeekTonight on YouTube) that shows what price the poor children are paying to give you that Forever21 or other branded Jeans or clothing for a jaw-dropping cheap price. What? Please don’t tell me that you actually thought that the shirt you bought from New York was made there. Look carefully, it might be ‘Made in Bangladesh’. So, are brands really important?
5. Anyway, can you make your Diwali and Weddings less noisier and more eco-friendly? I never heard that the money spent on the marriage is directly proportional to its success. Share your happiness, don’t flaunt!

Now, are you wondering that from where will you get this time to think so much? Please leave your phone aside. What was your last seen on Whatsapp? Do you know that you can even switch off your Wi-Fi or data pack? Will this save time?
It’s not a preaching prose, it’s a questionnaire, be honest and think of the ROI (Return on Investment) this earth is getting from you, right from every tree that turned into your notebook where you aimlessly scribbled FLAMES, or those plants and animals that helped you in growing your bones, nails, hair. Think of how much this earth, the people around you have invested in you and how much are you returning, what are you returning? Please don’t be that office guy who works from 9-5 and spends the rest of the time drinking beer and discussing what is happening to this world.
Watch this, and pledge that you won’t become this man.

Monday 8 December 2014

Stigma of 'Somehow Seven'

Every goddamn brilliant work induces a few common feelings viz. motivation, envy, sympathy, judgement etc.
Well this piece of work will just give sympathy which I don’t want and a sense of awe for wrapping up a mistake in a glossy excuse beautifully. It’s not about me. Almost everyone thinks this way only they never put it in words. They’ll applaud and a lot many will pass a contemptuous smirk for giving a convincing reason for laziness, slothful youth and wasted genius.
Yes, my brain is rotten now; a part long since inactive and an active part working continuously thinking about a lot of things. But, for convenience I’d put up just one thought here. Obviously who will read tons of pages of shit?
I’ll keep it short not because I’ve to wake up early to make my practical file to copy aim and procedure, but because the people don’t have the time to read without any reason.
“Somehow seven” isn’t a story it’s the glory of an untold genius or it’s a justification of a lazy moron, an incapable loser – whatever you choose to believe.
So, when Somehow Seven a.k.a SS entered into the field of higher education after the formal schooling, she had a lot of expectations. While in school, the answer to all her queries used to be, wait you’d use all this in college, remember it for now. Her school life will be a story some other time.
But, right now we are talking about college. So, SS joined college. The subjects were familiar initially like Physics, Chemistry, and Maths etc. Her first day in the class wasn’t good; nothing lived up to her expectations.
Gradually she realised that here one has to study all on his/her own. “You are grown up now, too big to be taught. The old, unenthusiastic professors are here to mark your sincerity (75% compulsory attendance) and to tell you the syllabus”, told a senior.
And not to mention that at least some of the professors tried really hard to teach us something, but the incorrigible brains never understood a word – I don’t know who should take the blame.
It’s not the fault of professors obviously, because a few students really knew what to pen down during class and how to score in the exams by learning all what was taught. SS felt deceived, she felt as if their brain was some computer that could store information for some time and empty it right after the exams as whenever she went up to ask something to the top scorers, they always forgot.
She loathed no one, but she respected those students who really loved their subjects, who gave a different answer to her question – “Why do you study so much?”
Mostly people answered, “To get a good job, to score good pointers.” To her amazement, there were also some people who did this because they didn’t have anything else to do, I mean how boring, isn’t it?

Still, there were students who could write down a lot during the exams without understanding that what it actually was and most importantly that why was it needed? SS couldn’t learn this way; the rationality hardwired in her brain stopped her to do so.
She loved to write. Cramming thousands of words and readings volumes of literary work was never a “load” for her. Still she wasn’t a literary genius because she was pursuing B.Tech.
She failed to understand that why these books seemed boring to her, as if it had been written to make no sense. She was never really afraid of the thickness of the book. She felt as if whatever she read here, she won’t be able to retain it, because she couldn’t believe what was written there. Moreover she couldn’t fathom the “use” and practicality of these subjects.
It was her fault as there were people, who could learn from it, prove existing theorems and made exact copy of the circuits given in the lab sheets. She felt that it wasn’t learning it was cheating. But, the silly girl didn’t know that the process is slow. It’s not copying, it’s inspiration which would help you in your inventions tomorrow, but maybe, if only you wish to invent something, most engineers choose to take orders from big MNCs. She believed that she just wasn’t designed to be an engineer.
She compared it with sports. “You don’t read a book on ‘How to play Basket ball’ for a year, read theories, imitate moves of the top players, read history, names of the top players etc. You simply jump into the court, grab a ball and play and learn. This is how it should be”, she thought.
Oh! Silly SS didn’t know that one couldn’t play with atoms, machines and wires. They have to be read, learnt from the book, re-learnt when the need arises.
Unfortunately for SS the ‘need’ never occurred before exams.
SS, the careless girls was good at mathematics and thought that numbers weren’t important.
“How can a number on the scale of 10 rate my intelligence? I don’t care about it, to study and to answer the questions asked in the exam is my duty and I’ll try this”, she felt determined.
She tried but failed, always, because she questioned a lot. “Something as useless as chemistry, I wonder how one can score an A+. No doubt there is a lot of practical use but here it all seems to be a big sheet of data to test our memory skills. My senior in chemical engineering told that even they don’t have to use it ever, anywhere. I’d rather learn a dictionary, it’ll be used at least”, she yelled at her friend who was a chemistry genius. She said, “Grapes are sour, buddy!”
She liked mechanics, she liked FBDs (Free Body Diagrams), she could connect with it, and she could get the feel of it. And thanks to the mechanics professor, she could devote all her time to other subjects and still manage to get an A.
The results were declared; SS managed a decent 7 out of 10. But the judgement day lurked in ambush. She had to explain the three missing numbers to her parents.
“I asked my seniors and even they never use actually what was taught to us in Chemistry and Engineering Drawing is not meant for me. I was never good at drawing straight lines. Moreover, the teacher was boring and I’m not going to use it anyway, not my branch”, SS explained.
But, she felt as if her mother wasn’t listening, she thought that the words were hitting an empty vessel.
Her mother interrupted and said, “You’re just making a lot of excuses. Nothing is going to be of any use anyway. You’ll do MBA after all. But, didn’t I tell you to seek inspiration from Sharmaji’s daughter? She did MBA and during her B.Tech period, she was a 9.6. Now, don’t say that she has a photographic memory. I know that girl since school. She couldn’t even do speedy calculations as you can. Pointers are a measure of your sincerity and intelligence. Improve it! Your problem is that you are finding a lot of reason, a lot of purpose in everything. Seeking purpose in every task is vicious. You don’t seek purpose when you hang out with your friends, do you? Just work harder. Make flash cards if it helps.”
Time passed and it was now her time to prove herself in the subjects of her own stream. Whenever she failed to ‘understand’ something, she went up to her classmates for explanation, only to hear that, “Samajh nahi aaya to rat lia, tu bhi rat le (I didn’t understand so I mugged it up, you do the same).”
And hence her flashcards converted to handbooks and her frustration grew. She failed to learn because deep down she didn’t want to, she didn’t believe it. The culprit ‘Purpose’ was still counting on its last breaths. She stopped all her writing and reading only to devote more time to staring those handbooks.
She looked up at the top scorers with awe sometimes and sometimes with disgust. She really wondered if they could do something real on their own, that if most of them really had an idea of where their learning was going to be used.  And people looked down on her as a dumb and beautiful girl who would get success because of her latter skill.
She hated it. She preferred to die than just be a showpiece, however, she couldn’t.
Placement session started and there was a fight to learn a lot of algorithms, codes, theories etc to get placed as an engineer, to wait to be told by the boss to do something, to make something out of these swots.
She did get a job albeit not because of her face but because she knew who she was and how she could benefit the company. She was not an engineer but she was happy.
Yet, a question always used to trouble her that whether she really failed as an engineer? Or she failed to regurgitate the swallowed texts during the exam?
She never found an answer.

P.S – It’s purely a work of fiction and it is not meant to be generalised even if the same is the opinion of some people. It is not true everywhere and for everyone. However, if you think it is, please do let me know the reason in the comments below. Other views are also welcome.


I live in India whose greatness lies in the freedom enjoyed by it's citizens, or more specifically freedom of speech and expression as mentioned in the Article 19 of the longest written and the least understood constitution of the world. To introduce myself, I think just one word would suffice, and that is, Criminal.I’d like to thank this column to give me an courage to express myself. I want to make some confessions but I won’t go to a church. Solely because, Church, or in fact Temple or Mosque or Gurudwara are sites granting us "forgiveness". I want to make it right here as an apology to the victims and an advice to other criminals like me. I don't want forgiveness, I want to set my mistakes right.I hereby confess, that my crime is “Inactiveness”, the slumber of my conscience. My mortal sin, which in fact proved that I'm less than a mortal, is that I never did anything in my entire life. My fault is that I just live my life peacefully and I don’t harm anyone except a few insects and mosquitoes. I breached the god within me by wasting immense potential in me by following the herd and making money and fun. Well, I could have made money and enjoyed my life and yet not wasted my potential but still I chose to make more of it, make more money like a maniac, think of just money, love, fun, entertainment, my beauty, skin, movies, this girl, that boy, gossip, career plans etc. My crime is that I could have been much happier and made others happy too but I chose depression, laziness and distractions for myself. I ruthlessly killed the trying angel inside me because of the fear of being mocked, because of being too much out of the league, because of being too different, because of being too impractical, empathetic, and philanthropic, I didn't even let that final scream of my inner self be heard. I suppressed it, for days, months and years. I got tired of doing the little good I was perhaps doing because I saw others utilizing that time in again making money or above mentioned things. I wronged my just self by never speaking. I silently watch others commit a crime because the change might just be too small. I kept quiet when others said that the crime they just committed was a mistake and too small to make a change.And to enlighten you all about the scenario, it indeed might be trivial, but I feel like a criminal if I do so like waste food, water and other resources. I see people taking a hit at the system but I just keep quiet because I over-think probably.So, let’s call it mistakes and talk of the bigger crimes I’m guilty of, crimes that make newspaper headlines.I could have done something to curb what ills are taking place in the world, especially my country but I chose to wait for others. I did nothing more than shedding a few tears at the plight of girls who suffer excruciating pain daily, at the cry of the 6-year old who was raped by her Gods (read: Teachers).Moreover, I stopped reading newspapers so that I stop being sad about something which I can’t change. I started running away from the truth like that innocent pigeon which closes its eyes and thinks it's dark for the whole world and the hunter won't be able to shoot at it.Okay, I realize that solving the problems of a country is a big and impractical task but I did nothing to improve the situation of my very small city, forget the city I did nothing for the area I live in. The reasons again are the same what I mentioned above.I did nothing to preach the guys I know who encourage prostitution by visiting one such area in the vicinity. I did nothing, I knew everything but I was just too lazy or too scared to say it. I was aghast to know that prostitution is encouraged by such educated, young boys. My mistake was that I was disheartened by this fact and I didn't try further.My inability lies in the fact that I just tweet or share the indignant remarks made by the politicians and other esteemed people blaming the rape victim while I just sit back and plan a business idea instead of planning on how to curb all these crimes to bring a change.I appreciate this stirring movement, the awakening, the revolting students against the fee hike in MNNIT. But, I feel like a hypocrite for I never stirred a movement when a young girl was being raped in the neighborhood The reason, because the fee hike affects me, not her unheard cries.I never travel alone, because you see the current scenario, it’s dangerous when rapes can take place almost anywhere, if not schools, hospitals, buses then you may read the old ladies or young girls being raped in their house itself, it’s easy to break into a house, isn't it? I feel lucky to have a chaperon with me always to accompany me for the entire journey to make me feel safe. But, my offence is that I would never raise my voice until my chaperon is killed during the journey and I’m raped. My inanity is that until something happens to me, my world will be beautiful, full of joys, stress and burning desire to succeed, while I read others being burnt alive just because she was a poor girl.I write this just to avoid you all from feeling like a criminal and help me do the same. Trust me, we can start right now and bring a change, if only all of us unite. Do you think it’s impossible? If an aeroplane, a cell phone, a computer, a touch screen phone can be made, why not this have a solution – the only reason is that we aren't trying hard enough, we aren't united, and we ourselves are criminals. When we can study a whole book right a night before the exams and score 90% do you think we can’t eradicate this problem? When we can code solutions to lengthy, difficult problems, when we make huge circuits work – do you think we can’t find a solution to this?The crime is that none of us is trying, after all enjoying the college life is more important.