Recently Kolkata was rocked with protests over a dastardly act on a young doctor working late at night at a government hospital. What the mother of the unfortunate girl would have experienced on that fateful night was the same that I went through every night when my little one was in Delhi....staying awake, praying for her safety as she meandered through the tough life of long working hours while braving the cold, scary wintery nights. Nothing seems to have changed in these eight years when this piece was written.
I demand Justice. I demand Safety.
As I Stand and Wait
As I
wait for the phone to ring
As I
wait for the SMS alert
As I
wait for the WhatsApp beep
As I
wait for the doorbell to ring
Just a
“Hi”
Perhaps
a “Hello”
Or
maybe “I am fine”
Or
even a “Reached”
Aches
increase
The loneliness
stings
All
the dreads come back.
Night
falls
Television
sets are switched off
Peace
regains
A few
more pages to finish
Before
I turn in for the night
Do
students read ‘Doctor Zhivago’ anymore?
I
wonder
Careless
thoughts
Fears
multiply
The nightmares
return.
It’s 2
a.m.
And
she is still at work
Has
she eaten?
She
must be tired
Let me
go to sleep
Will
someone help me sleep?
It’s 3
in the morning
Will
the wait end?
It’s a
new day
With tea
and newspaper
Same
old news
Same
old stories
Same
old cartoons
Same
old routine
Another
day of waiting
Endless
Relentless.
The
Facebook throws up
Friends
in thousands
Same
old faces in new profiles
A few
updates
Hypocrisy
abounds
Heartaches
and heartthrobs
Hearts
bleed too
For
Rohiths and Kanhaiyas
The
bashing continues
For
Modi and Trump.
For
two weeks
Read
the columns
Heard
the discourses
A new
God is in sight
A
beacon of hope
Harbinger
of Azaadi
They
say he has found a new definition
The
intolerant talk of tolerance
The tolerant
turn to intolerance
So let
us wait for the deliverance.
Age
shows its ugly side
Have
to live with it
The
body weakens
Memory
fails
Trapped
inside a Beautiful Mind
They have
to await
Their
turn
And so
must we.
A walk
on concrete
As
buildings collide
Roller
skates whizzing by
The
breeze stops
Waiting
Wondering
To
blow or not to blow
Beads
of sweat appear
For
company I find
Endless
shapes
Broken
bodies
Twisted
legs
Unsteady
steps
Foggy
minds
Words
without voices
Greetings
exchanged
I walk
on.
The
baby
Has
left his pram
Walks
now and
Prattles
on
As the
dog rises to greet him
Hope
returns
As I
walk back home.
DS
At some point of time in life we feel like enacting the absurd ordeal of Sysiphus ! Let there be hope - your piece concludes brilliantly "The baby Has left .... Hope returns As I walk back home."
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading and encouraging.
DeleteDebi, a beautiful piece ! As the nest empties our loneliness actually becomes an ache . Some of us occupy our time and mind when elders are to be cared but once they go too , the pain , the loss and ache returns. Hope definitely returns !!!
ReplyDelete😢
ReplyDeleteIt is traumatic to learn of how unsafe our young medicos are. After having toiled for long years incidents like the Kolkata rape abounds. I keep thinking of Aruna Shanbagesque incidents and hope that these men are caught and castrated so that they will live life long with the scar for their deeds. Even today, there is a news item about Kolkata doctors being roughed up due to a patients death. Soon ,we will have youngsters wanting to be film/TV stars, Cricketers or politicians largely perhaps.
ReplyDeleteTo every one with a daughter or daughter in law who are employed or even go out to shop it’s a panic nowadays. Let’s hope senses prevail.
ReplyDeleteMe too demand justice! Demand Safety
I echo your concern and identify with your anxiety. The dastardly act was despicable for sure but what astounded me was the way government machinery acted to protect the unholy. I want justice too.But who shall serve it to me ? Not the people I have elected to represent me, for sure. But I shall get the justice the that I want. Someday.
ReplyDeleteAs I read and reread each line, a new meaning showings fourth. I am still living it. Peeking at location share which never seen to get updated, heart racing when there's a call at an'odd' hour, saying nano second prayers before hearing a 'normal' help, advised sometimes of being voyeuristic in wanting to know they are okay... Especially those holidays and late nights... When everyone seems to be having a good time but my mind is reaching... Who else but a mom can stitch memories out of our complex lives! Beautifully scripted comes from the heart
ReplyDeleteNicely penned ,the anxiety, fear n hope.
ReplyDeleteAbout to get into the phase as you were few years back.. so this blog is infact reverberating in ears . Cyber crime is making things more vulnerable now
ReplyDeleteFear, anger but it is still a reality
ReplyDelete