A Voice for Change

 "We understand death only after it has placed it's hands on someone we love." So well has the author Anne L. De Stael understood this abstract yet real phenomenon. Maybe I too find a reflection in it after I lost a dear one to the poisonous pangs of death. The loss left me cold and clammy like the beveled body.  BODY that's what we call when a walking, talking mortal becomes immortal. He may be my friend, my neighbor, my father, my nobody and sometimes my everybody yet the moment breath becomes air he is just a BODY. People assembled in grieving moods inquire, "When will the BODY arrive? When will the last rites be performed? Are there any prayer meets later?" Whose convinence is sort where?  "Not today dear, please die on the weekend. There is a new client coming to close the deal. Your deal closure will be celebrated on a Sunday." Can't we make such requests? Can't we just have a pre-scheduled appointment with death? Why can't we pla

 "Ayyo Amma, aapko rape karke du?" I'm already raped by his courtesies. My first ever interaction with a South Indian at a local book shop. I look at him ghastly, "What do you mean?" Almost shouting into his face standing in rapt attention of me. "Nahi karneka toh bolneka,humko kya hai?" Not stopping he goes muttering under his breath, "Bhalai ka zamana hi nahi rehne ka?" I applaud him that he has all the ethics of asking a woman before Raping her. Suddenly, I develop huge respect for him and look at him fondly. To which he picks up the books I have selected for a friend and with hand gestures again continues to please me, "Akka, wapas puchta isko Rape karne ka ki nahi?" I amusingly nod, at least he has been kind enough to come from Amma to Akka, and he starts wrapping the books. All the while, I admire his innocence and zest for English language but above all appreciate the passion for his work. Very neatly and meticulously he rape