Monday, April 23, 2012



When something goes wrong
On something cleverly shift the blame
Though learning the art of blaming
Is not an easy game

Try patting your forehead
And with grim face blame your fate
Shrug your shoulders
And blame your position as desperate

Smack your lips with a little twist
And blame lack of ability
Sometimes put on a sad look
And blame burden of responsibility

Give a very tired look
And blame your bad health
With an angry tone
Blame your situation which lacks needed wealth

There are plenty of things for which
You can the increasing population
Then clenching your fists y
You can blame the idiotic television

Screw up your face, hold your heart
And blame unfaithful friends
Shake your head vigorously
And point towards modern trends

With rebellion tone and revolutionary gait
Blame your oppression
Throwing your hands in air
In a careless voice blame your nation

If you have a quite one
Then nag and blame your husband/wife
If you have a self respecting spouse
Then in a desperate tone blame unkind life

When everything is lost
And every blame looks a bit odd
Yet you have the Almighty, don’t spare him
Go ahead and blame the God…

                                                                                                                                By Farida Rizwan

Friday, April 20, 2012

Searching For Lost Innocence

          search me          search mesearch me

Searching For Lost Innocence 

Why can’t I enjoy my life now?
As I did when I was a child
The world which was once wonderful
Why now appears to be so wild?

Waste buttons, colored piece of chalk
Key without lock, all were a pleasure
But why now they have become trash
Where did I find different meaning for treasure?

Why can’t I love and believe fairies now
Where did I lose my innocence?
In drawing, writing or come reading
As I did why don’t I see my excellence?

Why do the twinkling stars, sun and moon
Seem no more a wonder of the sky?
Why amusement is very rare now?
When did all questions in my mind die?

Why can’t I smile heartily now
At anyone for a single word of praise?
Now my lips just stretch a bit
As for flattery I have lost craze

Why am I unable to glare now?
At people I dislike and smile at friends
Now why the smiles and glares are reserved
To mostly suit the latest trends?

Though there was not much wisdom
There is abundance of joy in innocence
I don’t want the knowledge I have
For innocence I can happily trade intelligence
                                                                                                   By: Farida Rizwan
Art by Farheena

As I entered my teens, I was shocked to find that growing up and being an adult was not going to be fun..
I was worried and this poem is the outcome of my fears back then.
Fortunately I have discovered the child in me again and l am loving my life now...high five

Monday, April 16, 2012

My Khatti Meeti and Burning Hot Spicy Life


The third prize is won by Farida Rizwan of Chapters From My Life! She wins a Flipkart gift voucher worth Rs. 3,000!
This is what Rituparna said about this entry:
“Childhood is not always about happy memories…sometimes there are the bitter sweet moments that shape the person you grow up to be.”

One day my mother wanted some puffed rice and she sent me to the shop to get it from a neighbourhood vendor whose shop was quite some distance away. I walked all the distance only to find the shop closed. I dragged myself home and informed my Mom so. For some peculiar reason her response was odd, “How is that? He is always open on Tuesdays. He is closed only on Fridays. He has to be there. May be you did not go all the distance because you felt lazy. He is always there and you better go and get the puffed rice. I am getting late in serving the breakfast”.
Now I started to wonder what I should do now. This was a frustrating and situation which made me angry. My mind started on its evil journey where I decided to get back at my Mommy. I decided to use the word always as much as possible in everything to irritate her. The word would be my trump card in coming days.
I am stood there lost in my world, when my Mommy continued, “Now when are you going to get the puffed rice?”
“I am not going alone. Send someone with me so that you will know I am not lying. You are ALWAYS sending only me on errands.”
My Mom summoned my sister who was busy talking with her friend, and sent us both to get the puffed rice from the shop that was closed.  My sister loved to catch me red handed doing mischief and I could see the grin of anticipation on her face. That gave me another idea that I should include her in the revenge which I would have on my Mommy.
Why I talk like that, question would arise in your mind, “Don’t I love them?”.  I think I do and quite a lot. But this feeling of anger and revenge comes over me when something irritates me or I feel I am being pushed against my will. I am very sure that I do not want them hurting or in pain even for a moment but I enjoy seeing them being frustrated or troubled for a while.
 As we walk towards the shop, I start wondering what if the shop keeper has come back. What if he had temporarily closed it? Would I be labelled a liar? I was tensed for a while but then I relaxed thinking there is always a way out. I can ask the shopkeeper where he had been a little while ago when I had come down.. Whew!!! What a relief it was.
The shop was closed. So I laughed out loud and said, “See, coming all the way down here was a waste of time and energy for both of us.. Mommy is so silly and she mistrusts us ( I wanted to include my sister  with me)ALWAYS”.
 We are walking back slowly when all if a sudden my eyes fell on a kitten shivering in mud water. I love kittens a lot and wanted to have one at home. It was so cute that I was willing to fight hard to keep it with me. Then I realized that I need not do it at all because there was else who would do all the dirty work for me.
“Babe!!! (my sister’s pet name). Look what a nice little kitty.  I am sure if washed it is going to be all white and shiny. You said you wanted a pet few days ago… (she wanted a parrot or dog for a pet) how about taking this and cleaning it. Shall we take it with us?”
My sister was a compassionate being towards animals and her inevitable response was, “Wow! It is so pretty. And poor thing it is suffering so badly. I hate its mother who has left it to die here. Come let us pick it up”
“Wait I saw it and I am going to take it home”, I said that only to provoke her into leadership. It worked for she replied, “I am bigger than you and it will be safe with me.. I carry it home properly. Here hold this bag and money. Let us pick it up and take it home and clean it”
I did not want to go back home so soon. So I said, “We need to clean it before we show it to others. Or else they will tell us it is stray dirty kitty and will not allow us to keep it”.
Here the use of ‘we’ was just another form of ‘you’.  I was damn sure my sister was going to do all the work for me.
I knew with all her pride and ‘I am the leader’ qualities she would do everything all the way, and also fight to keep the kitty near the bed where we sleep.
All the while I loved the thought of my mommy waiting sitting on the small stool in the kitchen wondering “Where have they been…???????”
So off we went to a roadside water pump and clean the kitty … most of the work was done by my sister, where as I helped by pouring water and making comments. She was soaked and got dirty in the process. My mind was working on the two words ‘Always’ and ‘Never’. I wanted to include them in the coming communication as much as possible and see the effect.
We entered the house quietly.  I gave back empty bag and money to Mom, as she sat there with the questioning look on the stool in the kitchen. How silly it is that she thought I was lying and we both are coming back with the puffed rice.
“Where is the puffed rice?”
“The puffed rice is in the shop that is closed. You ALWAYS doubt me when I say something. You NEVER agree that I do not lie”.
My mommy looked at me to say something but then was shocked to see my sister soaked wet and all dirty with something in her hand.
“Where have you both been to? What is it you are carrying in your hand?”
Now it was my sister’s turn to take over and she did it smoothly, “We had been to shop mommy. It was closed. While we were hurrying back home we found a poor kitty who came running to us. We could not help but help it.. Look how cute he .... errr she is”
My worried Mom exclaimed, “God! You two have been playing around with kitties when I am waiting here to get the breakfast ready. Your daddy will have to leave for factory in about 20 minutes and what am I going to serve him now?”
My turn for revenge and I said, “It is your fault Mommy. If you had trusted me earlier you would have had lots of time to cook the breakfast for daddy and all of us. You ALWAYS mistrust me. You NEVER believe what I say”.
“What is wrong with you Fari? When did I not believe and when did I mistrust you? Stop saying always and never… may be once in while I may feel you are playing a prank on me … Ya Allah! It is so late now to cook anything else”.
My mother was very upset with the confusion of cooking breakfast, in addition to a very dirty daughter with a sparkling clean kitty shivering and meowing pitifully in her arms. Finally she said,“Both of you take that kitten out and keep it out until I finish my cooking. Don’t disturb me now”.
“But mommy we NEVER have any pets. Why do you ALWAYS refuse to give us any pets? We want to keep the kitty with us please please please…..” I whined and whimpered.
“Shut up. It is too small to survive without its mother. Go back to where you found it, look for its mother and put it back with her. You don’t want to kill it? Do you?”
My sister was aghast to hear this. “Mommy! This is quite a big kitty and I will take care of it. I am much better than its mother in taking care of it. If I had not seen it, may be some dogs would have gotten to it and torn it into pieces. I want to keep this kitty and I am not going to put it back from where I brought it”.
By then my dad asked mom if his breakfast was ready because he was getting late for office.
My Mom told us to keep the kitty and rushed to fix something quickly for dad who was getting impatient. He usually spent a lot of time getting ready for the office and then hurried up with remaining tasks. I, at times wondered why he spent so much of time grooming himself every morning where as it took my Mommy lesser time to get ready to go anywhere.
My dad walked in asking “Is the breakfast ready yet? I have to leave in few minutes”.
“I am having trouble fixing something for you today. These girls took so much time to come back from the shop and they did not bring anything. In a minute I will roll some rotis for you”, muttered my Mom
My Mommy was an excellent cook, so she had rotis and egg omelets ready for Dad who was mumbling and grumbling at the same time. He did not like cats much and if he saw the kitty when he was in a shitty mood then there was no chance of us having it.. but I knew one thing for sure - if they threw the kitty out they had to throw my sister out too. Once she decides to help an animal then there is no stopping her. Her sympathies are very strong and it can take away her mind completely and stunt the working of her other sense organs. She cannot think straight, cannot hear the reason, cannot see the facts and loses her fear.
We both hid out of Daddy’s sight until he went to office. Then I had an idea flashing in my mind. I had watched people bottle feeding babies and when my little brother was born I wanted to feed him too. But mommy never allowed me to feed him because she was afraid I may choke him or something. I don’t blame her because there were times when I would get lost in thoughts of God knows what and would forget what I am actually doing. So here I saw the chance of bottle feeding this kitty. My sister beamed with happiness when I told her that we should bottle feed the kitty. Soon we both broke our piggy banks. To our horror we found that someone had been tampering with them. We had way less money than we actually put in it. But this was no time for playing police or CID, so off we rushed to the shop to buy a feeding bottle. We had a little argument over the colour; my sister wanted red and I wanted yellow,  finally she won the argument by putting some extra cash. We rushed back home and my sister slowly went up to my mother who was now busy getting the lunch ready. It was amazing how my mother was engrossed with cooking most of the time, and when she was not cooking something she was busy feeding someone. My sister asked in a very pleasant tone,“Mommy can I have a glass of milk?”
“Off course Beti ( daughter) .. so finally my lovely daughter realized milk is good for her hmmm” beamed my Mom
“Mommy I want to feed the kitty”, answered my sister sheepishly.
“Oh God! Is it still alive? It must be lucky to survive you two demon girls. Have you been picking it up and bothering it much?” said my mom horrified.
“No Mommy we have made it sleep in the basket on an old sweater” my sister pacified her
“Whose old sweater?” asked my Mom worried.
“Grandma’s old sweater. Fari said that is the best one for our kitty” said my sister. I was never in good books of my grandma and we always had a cold war brewing between us.
“Off course she would say that… I can almost hear her saying that and I can also hear your grandma shrieking and making a fuss out of this.... OH! What else for today?” My Mom was almost in tears now. She had tough time managing me and her mother, because none listened to her.
“Don’t worry Mommy. I will tell Naani that I took her sweater and please let me keep it. She won’t say anything” My sister explained.
My sister was right. She was my grandmother’s pet and she would forgive her a few murders gladly, where as she would not forgive me one dirty look in her direction.
So she came back with the milk and we both took turns in feeding the kitty. We had to decide on a name and we decided to call her either Rosy (because of her pink nose) or Julie for some unknown reason. Finally we ended up calling her Julie because my sister’s teacher was also named Rosy and we did not want the cat to share the teacher’s name.

Julie survived and became active little cat. My mother was wrong that she would not survive without her mother. She turned up to be a wonderful pet at first for both of us and finally got to be all mine.
 No! I did not do anything drastic. It just happened naturally with natures call. Afte drinking all the milk and absorbing all the nutrition, her body had to throw out rest of the waste.. which did not come out with good odour. My sister is very sensitive to stink and could not stand it even for the love of the cat. My mom was very strict that we had to clean up whatever mess Julie leaves behind. So the big question stood in front of us as to ‘who will clean up after the kitty?’ My sister puked when she tried but I could do it without puking. So finally I told my sister she had failed in taking care of kitty because cleaning after the kitty poo is a part of care-taking. My sister was in a dilemma and knew she was losing her leadership position, but she was helpless. We split our rights (it was much easier than the Ambani split) on Julie into 80-20. I got to own 80% of Julie for cleaning the crap.

Initially I was worried that my studies would be affected negatively because of Julie but it actually affected me positively in every way.. other than my tiffs with grandma over the cat. Julie would curl up near my legs and give me company when I studied. I felt her company but no interruption at all. I could concentrate more clearly because she never allowed me to feel bored and made me relax.

My grandmother found Julie to be my Achilles ankle, so started taking advantage of this new found weakness in me. She always believed that we were at war and she had to win this at any cost. She tried to prove that she was to be obeyed no matter whether she was right or wrong. At first she tried to tell Daddy that she is allergic to kitty hair but then my sister started wailing so loud, the topic of chasing away Julie was dropped like a grenade whose pin has been pulled out. My sister even scared me to some extent … Phew!

But after our division over Julie, the kitty was with me most of the time…and my grandma started picking on her. It was Julie who broke everything broken around the house, it was Julie who ate every missing food in the house, it was Julie who dirtied everything in the house that was dirty…Everyday Julie committed at least 8 grave sins and it was concluded by my grandma that she will accompany me to hell. I may have turned into a school dropout fearing Julie’s safety but my Mom fell in love with the kitty and so I could leave her in the cruel world filled with crueller grandmas and go to school. My Mom fed her milk and other soft food initially and later on fed her fresh fish etc. When I was not around Julie would sit under my Moms stool in kitchen and be safe.

My dad never liked Julie, since he got the negative reports of her as soon as he came home from work – worn out and tired.

The dear cat would curl up on our bed and stay there the whole night sleeping cosily, where as I and my sister lost sleep fearing we would hurt her. Gradually we got used to it and for once in my life I was not kicking everything and everyone around me in my sleep. Julie taught me to sleep still… [and I still sleep that way even to this day though Julie is no more with me].

One day a verbal duel took place between me and my grandmother. I was coming back from school with my sister when all of sudden, instead of running into us, Julie flew at us at the level of 2 feet above the ground and landed a little in front of me. I was shocked as to what must have happened and then saw my grandmother coming after her… and concluded she had kicked the poor kitty.
“How dare you kick a poor little cat like that Naani?”
“I did not kick it.. why should I get into the bad book of God for some silly little stray cat by kicking it? She came in my way and I stumbled on her”
“Stumbling on cats does not make them fly, only kicking will”
“I said I did not kick her.. that is it”
For some reason my sister was not saying anything and that irritated me a lot. She usually avoided arguing with grandmother and our dad. I could not help it.
My aunt rushed out to see what was happening and asked me why I was crying because I was already in tears thinking of Julie who was sitting aside licking herself calmly.
Somehow between sobs I blurted out “This cruel old woman kicked my cat and it came out flying at my legs”.
“Is that the way to talk about your grandmother?”
“May be not but let us talk about that later. Why should someone kick poor Julie?”
My aunt was confused and irritated for some reason.. but she managed to ask my grandmother ‘why did she kick the poor kitty’.
“That devil of the cat is always running between my legs and trying to kill me, I actually stumbled on it. I swear on Allah!”  exclaimed my grandmother.
“That is it. She swears and we cannot say anything more”, said my aunt.
“Swearing will not take away Julie’s pain”, I had to complain.
“FARI!… will you please SHUT UP now? When someone swears on Allah it means what they are saying is true. If not, Allah will punish them. We are not to dispute this because Allah knows all”.
I was in utter confusion here because I had seen Julie fly .. and there had to be a kick behind it, as she had no wings.. but, aunty was arguing that swearing on Allah meant that there was no kick. My eyes were lying. My aunt loved me and usually stood by me in most of the situations. So this was very irritating and also was irritating was the fact of my sister’s silence. May be she was tensed about the math’s test the next day or may be she had not seen Julie fly out like I did.
I did not argue more but decided that I had something to prove. My mind started chugging away like train engine.. chuk chuk chuk chuk.. and then flashed an idea.
I slowly slipped into a room where few things were kept on the mirror. I broke a nail polish bottle, wiped the mess with my grandma’s blouse, sprinkled face powder in all four corners of the room, made mess on the wall with my pencil and sat to do my homework. I felt Julie had been avenged and she slipped quietly near my feet and went to sleep proving me right.

I almost forgot about my avenging event by working math when shrieks and squeals made me realize the war had begun.. there they were blowing horns and inviting my army (only little me on one side all of them on the other) to fight.
Someone shouted “Fari! Why did you do this mess here?”
“I did not do anything” I answered back defiantly.
“You are a liar” my grandma’s voice was heard over other complaints.
“May be yes, but so are many of you” again a defiant answer from me.
“We want to know why you did this.” Someone shouted back. Now was the right time to teach them something and I said, “I did not do it and I swear on Allah that I did not do it”.
There was utter silence all of a sudden. It was as though the world had stopped and stood still. Then all the muttering of Taubah Taubah started and they started to plead with God to forgive this devil child because she did not know what she was doing.
“What?” I said finally because it looked me this thing is never going to end.
“You stupid girl! How dare you swear on Allah just like that and that too on a lie? Don’t you know how fierce is the fire in hell?” asked my Mom desperate and anxious.
“Now you are not trusting Allah because you are not believing when I am swearing on him. That will make you accompany me to hell”
“How can we trust you when we can see what you have done here? Nobody came here and no one is insane to do this” shouted my grandmother.
“So when you see something and you are sure, you can question the swearing on Allah but I cannot? Hmmmmm….” I answered.
It was at this time in argument that my dad walked in. My grandmother gave a dramatic explanation of everything, where it ended as me swearing falsely in the name of Allah which was presented in fluorescent words. 
My dad was tired, and he did not need this when he came back home.
“This girl needs to learn right from wrong and there is no more room for explanation. She needs to be punished”. Said my dad in tough voice.
So when my mother fretted (she never wanted any of the child physically punished), everyone stood around and watched, a nylon wire was brought, twisted and used as a whip to lash my legs. Yeah! Only legs. Meanwhile I was asked to say sorry to God and promise to never insult him in such way. I did not. I was hurting very badly and my skin had given way in one or two places making it bleed a bit. But no! I had decided not to give in and it was Dad who gave up after 6-7 lashes. It was the only time he had punished me and it was tough for him.
My grandmother smirked and unfortunately I saw that. I could not forgive her easily for that. My aunt wept and tried to pacify me,  but given the anger seething through me, she could not even make any eye contact with me. I was not going to look at any one of them. I was wild, angry and felt I have been wronged. For many days to come I was quite most of the time and just gave angry stares at my family when they tried to talk to me. I did not ask for food and my mother had to remember to feed me something. I stopped allowing her to comb my hair, help me have bath etc. I created my own island in the house and started living on that island and meanwhile unknown to anyone, unheard by anyone.. secretly I had decided that God was my enemy like my grandmother.

My Mom and other members with their loving ways, someone reached out and connected back with me after sometime. The advantage of the incident was that it made everyone become over protective with Julie, who enjoyed her life in our family for a long time to come.

Today, my Mom and Sister have lost their lives to Breast Cancer, along with my Dad, who though suffering from Hodgkin’s cancer died naturally. Their memories have now become a treasure. My sister was a partner with me in everything that happened in my life before our teens. Relationships are not always sweet and fun, it has its darker sides too, but no matter what happens, how angry we are, we cannot stop loving our families.
The incident I have written about has all the sweet, sour, spicy and bitter memories of my childhood. Though just a simple happening in the humdrum of life, it has left some impact on me as an adult. I still cannot relate myself with any religion because I have seen with my innocence the blind way people follow it. I am totally against physical abuse and punishments, because I can still sense the shame and hurt I felt when my grandmother smirked while I was being beaten. I am very careful and cautious when talking to children because I know how sensitive their minds and hearts are.
We cannot take our children and families for granted because it is the small every day happening that will chisel the character and future of the generations to come.  

This entry is a part of the contest at in association with


 The people who have become a treasure in my memories .. I miss them every moment of my life. 


Family faces are magic mirrors -
looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present and future.

Gail Lumet Buckley

Friday, April 13, 2012

Miracles Do Happen

Sometimes I wonder whether miracles do take place in our everyday life, or is it just our imagination wanting to please us. Miracle is a word used in regard to me very often. It is the word which made a lot of difference to my personality in my childhood. I was born feet first at the time when women would not go to hospitals to deliver kids but give birth in home with help of midwives. They say it is a miracle that I did not slurp off my mother’s life. Thank God for that. Then it is a miracle that I could walk with my disability and also run in time to come. With their hopes soaring, it was a long wait for my parents for a miracle to cure me which never happened. They even shifted to Whitefield so that the miracle would be close at hand to them.
They always told me have faith and it will happen. “In seconds you will see that the disability has just disappeared. Pray intently. God is kind to small children. Have faith. Or else you will be the loser”. I did not believe them. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I just thought that it can’t be like that. I am born with a disabled foot where it is twisted, they were saying that suddenly it is going to be like a normal foot, which was not easily digested by me. I forced myself to have faith, pray intently but inside me the doubt always lingered. So I gave up. If they were telling the truth then there was no chance of me getting cured because I couldn’t have strong enough belief and faith. The doubt lingered in me. If they were lying, even then the result would be same. So I gave up the effort.
 I grew up with my disability. But it did not control me. I had it under my control. I walked, ran, jumped and did everything I felt like doing and my disability just watched me helplessly unable to stop me. Then one day I found it was not there anymore. It had just disappeared like my parents told me. The miracle had taken place. And who worked the miracle? It was just a simple person, a friend, by name Hema.
She was the lady who made a lot of difference to my life. I met her when I was going through a very rough time. I had so much of burden on me that I felt sure that God wouldn’t let me down because if he did, then the burden would fall on his shoulders and he would not want it. I was almost on verge of blaming God for not being fair to me, but then she stopped me. The lady who had mobility in just one hand, yet so calm, smiling and that too in such a genuine way that it deeply entered my heart, asking me to be comfortable, she just did it. She not only had me seated comfortably but made me feel so comfortable about my whole life in general. It would be a shame if I blamed God after meeting such a wonderful creation of his. It was her calm approach that impressed me. Not blaming anyone, she was so grateful to everyone for the wonderful way they had treated her. Whereas I was complaining that my parents took me to a holy man and waited for the miracle to happen, she mentioned proudly how her parents had carried her to every temple in the hope of getting her cured. She saw the love in their behavior whereas I could only see their silliness. She had the wonderful sight to see only the better side of every situation, where as I did not posses that sight. I saw her paintings, embroidery, handicrafts, and also got to taste the food prepared by her. Nothing stopped her from living her life to the full. Yet disability to move three limbs should be disadvantage for anybody, no matter what they are made up of.
I never missed any opportunity I got to meet her. We developed some strong bond between us. We exchanged our ideas and at times we argued a lot. But we never tried to change each other. She always was so calm and accepting and I was a rebel. We became very good friends and remained that way for a long time. Then I had to shift to Byndoor and we could not meet again. One day I was shocked when my mother called me and announced that Hema was no more. My mother had also developed strong love for Hema and wished to meet her, somehow it never worked out.
In the short time we shared together, Hema just made sure that I was cured of my disability. Where everyone had failed earlier, she had succeeded. She worked the miracle for me. It had just gone away. I never felt that I belonged to the category of the disabled anymore. I realized this when I was coming back from after meeting her one day. I was on a crowded bus when a stout lady, looking very tired, got in. I was seated on a seat reserved for the disabled, and when she looked at me with hope I just stood up and offered her the seat. Earlier I always thought I deserved to be seated no matter who was standing, because even I had difficulty in standing for long time with my club foot. Standing there I realized I had been cured of the handicap.
I heartily salute the wonderful person, who, in her short time taught so much that I am a totally changed person today. She was not just an ordinary person born just to go to school, get a degree, marry some guy, bear some kids, get old and die someday. She was born to prove to the world that 'where there is a will there is a way'. You can be grateful to God no matter how he has created you. You are special in a unique way. She was born to teach me the best lesson I ever learnt. Though she is no more with me, her calmness lingers around me even today. 

Monday, April 2, 2012

Make World A Better Place For Differently Enabled People

The time to bring about a positive change in the world around us has been long due .. may be for centuries now.  It is tough for a person to choose a particular or specific change when you see the world around you.  Violence, terrorism, crimes, litter in streets, the paan stains, domestic violence, child abuse, education system, bribery, communal divisions, stinking politics, discrimination in name of gender, caste, status… Whew! I cannot stop to take a breath as the list of things keep hitting my thoughts.

I have to calm down, take a deep breath and concentrate on one thing that hurts me the most and the situation I would like to change as much as possible. Also I want it to be a problem that I can do something about. No use howling at the moon... which is beyond my reach (?). Deep breathing works, the picture becomes clear and I can see now what I would love to change in the world around me. It is the Indian attitude towards differently enabled people or just people who are generally different from us. 

Many of us must have experienced the looks, chatters and rumors that go around when you are even slightly different from the mob around us. Be it the dressing style, color of skin, pock marks on face, hair styles, pimples  or even slight limp, it is good enough to attract the attention of Indian people.  You don’t have to perform Herculean tasks in India to get the attention of the mob. In my childhood, riding the bicycle got me enough attention, that is was good enough for my parents to stop me from enjoying a fun ride in the evening.
Not many hesitate to stare and embarrass people in India. NO! They do not feel it is indecent to stare at someone. Some will even go ahead and ask questions as to what is wrong with the person. Recently I was shocked when an elderly man asked a young girl in the bus, whether she had tried fair and lovely? I thought he must be her grandpa or something; imagine my shock when he got down in the next stop giving her a wicked smile. I have no clue why the girl put up with such nonsense silently like a TV put on mute.

The portrayal of intellectually challenged people in our Bollywood cinema is disgusting. What is comedy about being IC? Is that something to laugh about? I don’t know how far our society is affected by our cinema but sure there are residues left behind by such portrayals. When they steal action scenes, music, and stories from Hollywood, why can’t they learn from them to create differently enabled characters in our Bollywood movies?

There is no line of privacy drawn when it comes to Indians. We want to talk about schools, grades, dress codes, marriage, divorce, and everything that would be considered personal in other nations.  Imagine the situation of differently gifted or special needs people in this scenario.
I have had personal experience with myself where I dealt with my club foot and limp in my childhood, and then with developmental hindrances faced by my daughter and dyslexia of my son (something I avoid discussing because I don’t want him to be branded now; since, he has been able to escape a name tag so far and he can do it for his own good in future).
In my childhood, I had to face a lot of teasing and jeering from other children and also by elders. Why go far, my grandma would say at times when I was being naughty, “God did not make you limp for no reason, if you had straight feet you would be out of everyone’s reach”.  When I think back about it, I feel so angry because that was such a wrong thing to say to a child who is yet to understand such remarks.  Often I did very well in my studies and sadly instead of being appreciated, I would be accused of being sympathized and shown partiality by teachers.  It was easy handling me even when I was young, because God had given me strong personality to face people and throw their tantrums off my tough hide. Nothing deterred or penetrated deep inside me.  I cannot say the same when I had to deal with the problems faced by my child. All my raw nerves were exposed for the world to hurt me and they did with a vengeance for failing earlier. Initially, I hid behind steely masks not giving them the pleasure of success; but then slowly I myself turned into steel and became stronger to face them and give better life for my child.

I do my bit everyday to bring the change in the attitude of the people towards special needs people in general and girls in particular. I wish that more and more people would join the cause to spread awareness and bring about a change. Many countries have seen the change and I have myself witnessed it in USA.  

Farheena was a happy go lucky girl in USA. She wore a smile and confident look most of the time when she went out there, which sadly disappeared once she came back to India. People who see her pictures from USA at times have trouble recognising her to be the same shy, withdrawn girl they see her to be now.  The big difference has happened just by the way people respond and react to her.

I feel sad that she could walk around happily in the Wal-Mart, Publix and other malls without caring as to who is looking at her, which she cannot do now. In USA she so often welcomed strangers with a ‘hi’  and they readily waved back a big ‘HI’ to her, which at times was leading to quite some communication with Paula, my friend as a mediator. No one treated her as a special needs girl there; she was just a special girl enjoying all the love and attention she deserved from people. There were some special people like Tysha, who went out of her way to show how much she appreciated and loved Farheena, though we met as strangers.

 Back in India, most of the time Farheena is pushed into silence by people asking what she is saying over and over again, or discussing what is wrong with her without even realizing they are hurting her emotionally. They ask questions just because they have to satisfy their curiosity. They need not bother, as they very well know that they cannot help her in anyway. At least they could allow her to be herself without having to make her a topic of the chat.
Words heal and words hurt. Use your words wisely and mind what you say to people around you. Everyone has a heart that hurts. 
At times I have to be rude to stop people from being silly and acting silly towards Farheena. I had prepared a list earlier, which if people read to improve their behavior would make the life of differently enabled people a lot better. When you check this out, you will realize how unnecessarily we are adding to the burden of the special needs people which can be avoided so easily.

Please bring about a positive change in the world around us so that everyone gets to live happily and securely here. If you actually do not want to do something that is fine, but please take care to avoid doing certain things which would be a great help in itself.

Do Not......

·     Build a flight of stairs up to your front door. My daughter goes through so much of extra effort everyday to enter our home. Many grand buildings in India have been built without keeping the people in wheelchairs in mind.
·         Tell a special needs person that they are better off dead or ask stupid questions like ‘Why did God do this to you?’ If God has done this then, he should be having the answer. It is said that people meet God after death. Please try that route. The special needs people may not highly benefit the society but then they mean no harm to anyone either. Why aren’t those questions posed to the harmful people in our society? No one asks that to the rapists, murderers, crooks etc! Amazing is the mind of the people around us. Sigh!
·         Remind special needs child about their special schools and mention about how unfortunate the children going to those schools are.
·         Make the mother the sole responsible caretaker of the child.
·         Avoid talking directly to the challenged child, but talk about them to someone nearby assuming they have no ears, eyes, intelligence and heart to hurt.
·         Always ask what is wrong with the child and how, when, where did it happen blah blah blah… Why do you need to know all the details? Can you help in anyway?
·         Tell the parents or special people themselves that they have to find a solution to their condition no matter how much money it will cost. Do they actually need to hear this from others?
·         Introduce a challenged person to someone as the one suffering from such and such condition and portray them as victims of curse. We often hear the “Ayyo Karma .. Karma” mutterings from so called know all smart ones.
·         At times people ask about Farheena as though they have heard about her condition already and she realizes that people discuss her. No. She is not happy about this. Don’t make the special needs people conscious of their condition and make them feel that they are gossiped about by people.
·         You need not patronize them either. Treat them as normal people because they are normal. Find the definition of abnormal in a good dictionary and know what it is.

  • ·         One smart quote says that “Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former”. I am sure about the truth in that quote after listening to people who have complained that special needs people take so much from the society and relatives giving back nothing in return. Once a lady told me not feed Farheena much, because if she got heavy it would be tough for me to handle her. It was a time when I used to carry her around. I am so glad Farheena is my daughter and not hers.
    ·         What is the need to proudly flash your knowledge in front of the special needs people about their conditions? Many people confuse mental illness, mental retardation, and other such ailments but never try to keep quite on the issues. They want to talk about every person they know with a certain ailment, every doctor they have heard about or every book they have read on that particular topic. Why not try your GK with Amitabh Bacchan on KBC?
    ·         Complain that people with challenging behavior are just naughty or blame the parents for not teaching proper behavior to their children. It is not easy to be a parent to ADHD children. I may not have personal experience, but have closely watched the struggle of the mothers with hyper active children.
    ·         There is no need for every person under the sun to know personal details about anyone and that includes differently enabled people. Don’t ask extremely personal questions relating to menstruation, hygiene etc.
    ·         When they achieve something it is through hard work and not by luck. Avoid saying you were lucky to achieve that.
    ·         Show exaggerated sympathies along with the typical tongue clicking and feel great about yourself… It is not helping anyone people. Keep those sympathies for yourself. Special needs people need empathy and not sympathy.
    ·         Resist asking stupid questions like “Does she eat?” God! How do you think she is surviving?
    ·         Special needs people have emotions and feelings, may be stronger than what we realize. My daughter doesn’t talk fluently, but that doesn’t mean she cannot think. At times she has come out with amazing comments about people who ask silly questions in front of her.
    ·         Argue in front of the concerned child whether the money being spent on treating them is really worth or not.
    ·         Mention that they don’t have to struggle with studies and homework, how lucky they are. Think over it in silence once again.
    ·         Complain how easy life is when your Mom is doing everything for you.
    ·         Bring in God into the issue and remind the people that may be they are being punished for their past sins. No one has spoken to God and heard that personally from him. We are not great enough to make assumptions on his behalf.
    ·         Give them stares and make them feel uncomfortable. This is the worst thing we face in India.
    ·         Insist on assisting a person even when they flatly refuse to be helped. Respect their choices and decisions.
    ·         Touch them without their permission. Not many like to be patted on the head or touched on cheek.
    ·         Lean on their wheel chair when you talk with someone else.
    ·         FINALLY, TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THEIR INNOCENCE. It is terribly wrong to take advantage of a special needs person in anyway

Many people say that I am earning favor of God and good Karma by taking care of my daughter. I don’t want to hear about the good karma. To hell with your heaven, people.  I don’t give a damn about that. All that matters to me is my daughter and I love her. 

My friend Madonna says, “I firmly believe that those spirits who choose to come to this earth with a disability are the strongest, most advanced spirits of all. They are teachers, here to show the rest of us the real meaning of love and compassion. Every time I see one of them, I am humbled by their selflessness and their ability to love others in spite of the obstacles they face in this world. They are not to be pitied or treated with contempt, impatience or irritation. They are here for a teach us to love unconditionally”. She is absolutely right there.
Many years ago, I had read an article in newspaper and typed it out to read once in a while when I needed to change myself.
A few years ago at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants, all with special needs assembled at the starting line for the 100-metres dash. At the gun, they all started out, not exactly in a dash, but with a relish to run the race to the finish and win. After running a little distance a boy stumbled on the asphalt, fell down and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and looked back. They all turned around and went back. Every one of them!
One girl with Down’s syndrome bent down and kissed him and said, “This will make it better.” All nine linked arms and walked across the finish line together.
Everyone in the stadium stood, and the cheering went on for several minutes. People who were there are still telling the story. Why? Because deep down we know this one thing: What matters in this life is more than winning or living for ourselves. What truly matters in this life is helping others win, even if it means slowing down and changing our course.

We need to learn and change the world to make it a better place for everyone.

Farheena .. The special princess for my friends in USA


Rayyan Lost in Laptop

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