LOVE AND
RESPECT WOMEN
Women plays different roles in their life
time and so as Men. She is a daughter,
wife, mother, grandmother in her
personal life and a working woman in
her professional life. Men also lives
many roles but the basic difference is,
women creates and nurtures another life
whereas, men protects it.
Men seeks respect in society but women
seeks love as well as respect not from
society but from her partner whom she
loves. Women are not only suppressed
but also neglected by men in many ways
when it comes to gender parity.
Men have always considered themselves
as superior than women, but in fact its
totally opposite. Men feel they are
superiors and are strong enough for
everything but actually they can't do
anything without the help of women, in
fact the entire universe can't function
without female energy.
IF YOU CAN'T RESPECT
WOMEN, YOU CAN'T LOVE
THEM
First of all, one has to understand that
there is very thin line between LOVE and
LUST.
Love and Respect goes hand in hand.
Imagine a guy who loves his girl but
don't respect her in front of others then
what would you call that thing? Will she
ever be able to give respect to that guy?
Will she ever be able to love that guy.
And even if she does it by means of
marriage or society thing then that will
be
THE QUEUE
The walls had a silence, so thick and impenetrable, even the prisoner
had to think twice about getting a word out. Grey bricks and darker
creeks build these shields up, creating a world of their own. Those
who were still human enough to remember what trees or the world
outside looked like, would often compare those creeks to twigs. They
grew haphazardly, one branch giving life to another. Again, they were
foolish enough to compare.
The routine however, had them bound. They were bound to their
reality, to the life inside. Without any hope that, would more likely
hurt someone than result in their salvation? This was where the ones
held captive felt at home. They felt at ease, and their synchronized
marching resembled that of the military. Some may have ended up
here from there. However, there had been a punishment to endure.
Some for life, some for a month and some until they tied a rope
around themselves and let go. Yet the walls had it clear from the
start. You came here to repent. To measure an inhuman amount of
time that could make your repentance certain, if not guaranteed.
The mindless axe picking on the grounds, the harsh unrefined gravel
and the weary shoes of the labor, all of it was the reflection of a
prisoner, a robot now maybe. Was this the perfect way to claim one
guilty? Was it the path of redemption, of God? Who knew? Who knew
about any of it? It was what it was. The day started in the dark, and
then revealed you to the scorching sun heating up a bare field that
was simply part of the collateral damage along with our misery. Then
they robbed the light again.
A howling echo that screamed "LIGHTS OUT" would end our day. His
single command that made people helpless and more animal again,
creeping back to their hole. These iron bars restricting you to a
square foot; and your body functioning with the morning bell and the
timed announcements of an intrepid guard. No one could capture an
image like this. Not even the mirrors, which deprived the cell. The
identities of each on in here had faded. It had faded into numbers
and black and white stripes of a uniform.
Individually was a foreign concept. Merely 2 months in this,
remorseless pit and you were lost for life. One thing was certain
though-rehabilitation was a dead concept. They could not rehabilitate
even for the dead. Every single atom here was bereft of any memory.
There were just walls, rocks and ashes. Of those who were, are and
would be. Nothing else would ever matter.
Even with the screeching megaphone, blasting at the break of dawn,
no sound would escape the walls. Just the monogamous march would
resume. At first it could even seem astonishing-the meticulous,
rhythmic stomps. Nevertheless, within seconds it would turn foreign
and dissolve. Dissolve in these bars, discarded and quite often just
beaten out of you.
The routine allowed us to walk, to breath, to break rocks, and breath
some more-it felt futile. It was just a petty scheme to pacify the
inhibitors. The lining up, according to our numbers, had no point. We
would never be anything but pawns in this game of chess; and
reaching the end of the board to triumph, was impossible, as the
black and white was endless. In addition in this realm it would not
function that way. One breath out of place could land you in hell; or
worse-the infirmary.
Yet they will call you out the next day, line you up, scan your head to
toe and shove you back in the cell like apiece of old meat. The
distance from the queue to your home, to your cell, it would not even
size up to two rooms. It was enough to see the fresh meat as and
when it rolled in though. Each branded with a shiny handcuff, and
then their disarmament. One by one, their clothes, their beliefs, their
heaven or hell, everything-stripped off. You could only hear faint sobs
at night that could be innocent grievances. Silence, however, felt
thicker."LIGHTS OUT", then the faint quivers of new cell mates, the
expected thrum of a stick, and then the silence again.
article by Shreya Vatsa