Innocence lost.

As I sit and stare at my computer screen, I sense an impending panic attack. My greatest fear is that I will run out of words and my mind will shrivel up and die. Writer's block, I believe is the correct term, but when you are not a writer and still suffer from this predicament, what do you do then?

How do you explain your fears to your friends and family? Nobody understands your anguish, how can they when you yourself don't know the reason. What secrets have you got locked in that cauldron of a brain, which if not revealed, will cause it to explode? 

Everybody has secrets, some a few more than the others. No secret is worth losing your sleep over and definitely not worth losing your sanity over. Sometimes your deep rooted fears resurface, when you least expect them to. A tragic event has a triggering effect on your mind and out spills these maggots of fear and shame, from the hidden crevices of your brain, where they have been feasting on for an eternity.

It's only when you confront them that you remember all those mishaps. The turbulent emotions, the silent cries, the deafening silence the helplessness and fear. Face them they can't hurt you ever again. You are a stronger person now and no longer a victim but a survivor. 

I read a touching story in the morning and have been thinking about it the whole day. It was about a survivor of child abuse. Whenever we hear or read about child abuse, the abuser in most cases is known to the child. He is either an uncle, brother, father, cousin or domestic help, having easy access to the child. The child trusts these men and doesn’t question their inappropriate touching until it is too late.

What goes through the minds of these little children when they are suddenly groped or pulled into a closet under the guise of horse-play by their cousin? When the beloved uncle steals a kiss from the little niece and puts his tongue inside her tiny mouth? When the servant, takes a nap with the baby and fondles her at will? How do these innocent children react to these atrocities?

Most of the times, they don’t raise an alarm, because these men manipulate them and emotionally blackmail the children. In some cases the children are so young that the parents haven’t even had the wrongful touching talk with them. The kids think it’s okay to be touched in this manner by the uncle or bhaiya, because their parents know them and welcome them in the house.

Many such cases go unreported and the children suffer mental agony as they start understanding about these things. Some of them tell a trusted elder but some suffer silently because their spirit has been crushed at an early age. All these children grow up with a lot of issues and carry a lot of mental baggage on their frail shoulders. Their whole outlook towards life and society changes dramatically and even their sexual relations are affected.

Parents should teach their children very early in life, about the kinds of touching which is allowed and the wrong kind, which is not. They should be told to raise an alarm at the slightest hint of unease and if they are uncomfortable with anyone behaving in a manner not to their liking.  Children should be able to trust their parents and be certain of their unconditional love and trust.

The incident of abuse should be discussed openly and the parents should talk about it with the child and also take her/him to a child psychiatrist. Never ever should the child be made to feel guilty or a victim. His/her act of bravery should be rewarded with profuse praise and the channel of communication between the child and the parents should always remain open and honest.

Let’s create awareness about Child Sexual abuse and help protect the innocent children. I am supporting the initiative by adding their logo in my blog’s sidebar.

Lucks aka Sulekha

Racing towards fifty on wobbly legs

I am fast approaching the half-century mark and am feeling the effects of the upcoming golden jubilee event. Hey, don’t be too hasty in writing me off as an antique, because I still have a couple of more years left, before I hit the ‘F’ mark. I am not vain and know that we all have to become old one day and we all will surely die someday, but I am not ready to become old right now.

So to keep myself from going to pot, and also to ward off the sarcastic and hurting remarks of my so-called well-wishers, I went looking for a magical cure for old-age. My first stop was an imposing looking, and important sounding, beauty clinic; even their advertised treatment   had exotic sounding names. I was convinced that my search for an elixir of youth had ended and I was going to be transformed into, if not a Miss Universe, then at least, a Miss World here.

I entered the pristine white lobby with a spring in my otherwise limp step and flashed my 20 odd, yellowing teeth at the receptionist, who recoiled at my gap- toothed ugly smile. She opened her drawer and took out her wallet,  I held out my hand thinking that she was going to give me the clinic’s visiting card but only when she extracted a Rs 50 note from her wallet that realisation dawned. She was giving a hand-out to the crazy old lady with a million missing teeth. Oh, if only the floor would open up and swallow my huge frame, or at least some part of me!! No wonder my family members ridiculed me, I was a freak!

I tried to sound well educated and sophisticated, while explaining to her that I was here for an appointment with the beauty therapist. She wasn’t completely convinced but she did call up the manager on the intercom, all the while keeping an eagle eye on my humongous frame.

I am a large woman but still was surprised when the so-called beauty therapist and slimming expert walked in, she was 10 times my size and her wrist resembled my thigh. I knew I was in the wrong place immediately, but couldn’t make a fast get-away due to my stomach-impediment. So she cornered me and bombarded me with her beauty jargon. I listened with only half an ear as I was still trying to get her entire frame within my line of vision.

She requested that I follow her into the treatment room for a demonstration. I did that, but by the time we reached the end of the long corridor, my eyes had had enough of her jingling, jangling gigantic behind. Inside, we were welcomed by their cosmetologist, who took one look at me and commenced a verbal attack my skin tone, and open pores. Her opening statement was, “you need at least 24 face treatments because your skin is very flabby and you have open pores and also black-heads. Your eyes need work too, the dark-circles need to be worked on and we have to do something about your extremely dull and dead looking eyes.”

I mumbled an apology and waddled out of the beauty clinic from hell, they had made me feel a hundred to my fast approaching fifty. On reaching home, I asked my kids, “Do I look like I have dead eyes?” They shook their head in denial and said, “You have the prettiest eyes in the whole world.” Bless my angels; I felt 18 and not 47 at that instant.

My search for the fountain of youth ended on that fateful day, what about yours?

Lucks aka Sulekha

Brutal Murder and Crystallization by Shloka and Sulekha

Friends,

Let me tell you how this post was created, While I was writing my article, my daughter Shloka happened to read it and commented that it could be made into a poem. Within two minutes, she had come up with this beautiful poem,"Crystallization". Sharing both the prose and poetry with you all and would welcome your thoughts on the same. Thanks....

Brutal Murder

She raised her hands over her head to protect herself from the raining blows, cruel, merciless, whacks on her frail, defenceless body. Her fingers snapped one by one, with each strike on her silent, still form. The shadow didn’t relent and kept on beating her.

Blow after blow, repeatedly, until she was broken from head to toe. Blood was oozing out of her open wounds, mixing with her tears. She kept on imploring him not to hit her, he kept on ignoring her cries.

 He beat her till she stopped whimpering, stopped moving, stopped breathing. Only then did he take a break, but gave one last thwack, just to be sure and walked out.

The Victim was HOPE and the assailant was NEGLECT.

Lucks aka Sulekha

Poem By My Rockstar, SHLOKA

 Crystallization

Silent pleas,

ignored and side-lined.

Imploring eyes,

Responded to with snaps of, “you’re fine”.

A cowering frame,

dying to be ignored.

As tears fall freely,

from eyes that implore.

Crystallization,

Is what I aim to do.

Forget the tears,

Or at least be able to pretend to.

Love isn’t real,

at least not in this world.

A hope or a dream serves,

no one but little girls.

I need to believe,

In endings well deserved.

In knights that slayed dragons,

In lines that learn to curve.

But, I know now,

Things always stay the same.

A laugh is a laugh,

A game is a game.

And I am older now,

Don’t hope for the old foolish things.

I hum the songs,

that I no longer dare to sing.

But that doesn’t change,

The person I used to be.

A little bit more buried,

A little less than me.

Shloka Rawat

My Inspiration- My Dad

"Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.  ~Gloria Naylor"

I have inherited my fondness for books from my Father.. He truly loved books, and being an avid reader, whenever he came across a book he really liked, he would send a copy of the same to me. “Who will cry when you die?” by Robin Sharma was my father’s last gift to me before he passed away. I tried to be strong and carry on with life, but I think I still needed his love and support to go on… That’s when I came across this book again, left in a dusty corner since I’d nearly stopped reading any books, despite my life-long pursuance of that very habit..

Upon opening this book, I came across certain beautiful quotes in the book (mainly compiled by the author) that my Dad had underlined, and these have become my mantras for the New Year, and for evermore.

Sharing them with you:

1. Take more Risks.

2. Get good at being uncomfortable and stop walking the path of least resistance.

3. Living is a gift and we must make the best of it, every day of our lives.

4. There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all.

5. So long as you live, keep learning how to live.

6. Without the rich heart, wealth is an ugly beggar.

7. Reflect on your weaknesses and vow to transform them into strengths that will add richness and energy to the way you live.

8. It’s a funny thing about life, if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it.

9. Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that crushed it.

10. To get more from life, you need to be more in life.

11. Start your day well. You will never be the same.

12. There is in the worst of fortune the best chance for a happy change.

13. Be the change that you wish to see most in your world.

14. If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.

15. Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present, you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.

"I love my father as the stars - he's a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart.  ~Terri Guillemets"

I dedicate all my awards and accolades to him. He would have been so proud of me and my accomplishments. Thank you Dad, for showing me the way and for always being there for me. Love you forever....

Lucks aka Sulekha

Silent anguish

Silent anguish

Silence is the loudest scream,

in the confines of a lonely heart,

Sometimes you need to speak,

to make yourself understood.

Nothing hurts more than your silence,

It grips my heart in its vice-like hold,

rips apart the remnants of my soul,

with its quiet undertones.

I try to placate my heart, and reason,

I can’t hear you above the din of my,

thoughts and feelings for you.

My jumbled up wishes and desires,

are drowning out your words.

The sound of your voice,

Is unable to reach my parched ears.

Sometimes I can hear your heart beat,

From a thousand miles away.

When it happens, I know that,

You are thinking of me. I feel,

A touch of the wind,

kiss of the sun, and hear,

 the twinkling of the stars.

At times when I am sad and lonely,

I feel a warm touch on my soul.

It’s when I cross your mind, and you,

Whisper my name in your sleep.

I feel your name is mine to keep,

Your memory is my keepsake.

Though I think of you night and day,

I was yours for Namesake.

Lucks aka Sulekha

When will my tweets on twitter cause a furore?

When will my tweets on twitter cause a furore?

When I tweet, nobody appreciates them, When will I become famous? When will I become important enough for people to want to know about my life’s every tiny little detail?  Whether I‘ll be celebrating holi or not? If not, then what would I be doing instead and where would I be going? Which conference hall would I be lecturing in and who all will be there to cheer me?

God when will you make me important enough, so that when I dedicate some tweet to someone, the world notices and comments? When I check into a hotel and I tweet, people go,’ Wow’. When I don’t like the room and demand to be shifted out to another one, I tweet, and people go, ‘double wow’, and when I tweet about helping the poor overworked staff in shifting to a better room, people go, ‘what a woman!!!’.

When will my dinner become a topic of discussion? My choice of restaurant, a news bulletin and the number of dishes I order a national concern? When, What I’m going to dig my fork into becomes an event to be awaited with bated breath and when will people not pluck out their eyes in frustration at my nonsensical tweets. When will all this happen?

When I am a well-known actress and I check into a seven star hotel and tweet about the fishes in the aquarium and how my room is located inside the glass aquarium, everybody starts marvelling at my good fortune, never mind the fact that the producers or organizers of the show or movie are paying through their nose for my hideously expensive room. My tweets are my own and my followers are amazed at my witty comments. I go to the bathroom and tweet, ‘More fishes here’, and the world goes, ‘cho chweet.

God, when will I become so famous? When will my tweets cause a furore, on Twitter?

Sulekha aka Lucks

She just wanted to “Live and let live”

She was in love, so much in love, wasn’t trying to make a point,

Didn’t decide to rebel, just to shock the world.

But her family, she did disappoint. They hung their heads in shame,

And threw her out of the house, without a penny to her name.

Her crime was only this that she had dared to love.

Had decided to make her, sweetheart her whole life.

She wasn’t ashamed of her choice, and flaunted her love.

But people objected to it and made so much noise.

The world was up in arms, against these two.

Wanted to tear them apart, But how could they succeed?

These two had decided never to part, and to live in each other’s heart.

Onlookers watched them go, Hand in hand, cheek to cheek.

She had an arm around her waist; And She kissed her on her dimpled cheek.

Smiling at each other, they walked home in no apparent haste.

Two young ladies, so much in love. Why did the world cringe?

Why couldn’t it let them be, why didn’t it believe in, live and let live?

What was the young lovers’ unpardonable sin?

Sulekha aka Lucks