On the Execution of Burhan M. Wani

Either he and his friends were armed and dangerous and had to be shot on the spot

OR

he was intoxicated and began to cry when surrounded.

You cannot have both. As for the people celebrating his “execution”…

A 21 year old boy issues a “challenge” to the Army of a nation. There’s a high chance he has not ever even fired a shot at anyone. He declares, on social media, that what Kashmir needs is Azadi because there is too much violence and too much impunity in the hands of the military. The army accepts the “challenge”, hunts him down and kills him. The people identifying with the State rejoice, even as his friends and neighbors love him more for having the courage to speak out and die while all they have done is avert their eyes when a mother wails for her raped and murdered daughter, for her disappeared sons, for her arrested and tortured husband.

A new line is drawn.

Who wins?

I do not know, but this does not taste like victory.

It tastes like shame.

Question for the Day: How do you define terrorists and heroes?
The answer: Depends on where you are standing.

The test remains the same though:

Terrorists terrorize _the people_.
Heroes fight back _for the people_.

Watch out, brothers and sisters. The long overdue consequences of our actions await us.

The long overdue consequence of our inaction awaits us.

Requiescat in pace, brother.

“It is very evident that there is a lot of anger and alienation as far as the ground situation is concerned, especially among the youth, and these are some of the occasions when they can actually come out on to the street and pelt stones to vent. Otherwise the way things are controlled and managed here, their emotions are suppressed. As a result, people are associating themselves with the sacrifice, commitment and ideology. More and more people feel that Government of India is not going to resolve issues related to Kashmir through dialogue or discourse. This is the reason why young boys are coming and challenging the might of the Indian government despite knowing that they may not win; and they are displaying their resistance and resilience.”

– The aftermath of the Burhan ‘Encounter’

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Murdered Children/ Incoherent Rant

I don’t know if this is Gaza or Syria or whose doing it is or who they are.. but here are murdered children. Look at this picture. What are we? This is worse than primate behavior. Who does that? Who fucking murders babies? What does that even prove, man? Come on. Fuck. Even video games don’t allow you to injure civilians, leave alone toddlers. I just feel so ashamed of being human right now. I know we do a lot of good too. But it’s just damage control. We are all that’s wrong with this world.


Murdered Children

Injured Children

Murdered kids

Requiescat in pace, my darlings. I’m sorry we failed you so miserably. I know it doesn’t mean a thing. But I don’t know what else to say.

I hope it didn’t hurt. There’s no use saying cliched things like I hope you are in a better place, though wherever it is, even oblivion, it would be kinder than what our world did to you.

We’re not supposed to ask forgiveness from children for letting them die. We’re supposed to protect them.

Protect those weaker than you. Isn’t that what civilization is about? What does bombing or shooting a child prove?

What does murdering someone who can’t fight back fucking prove, man?

Fucking cowards.

Whoever did this.. indefensible act.. death’s too good for them.

They deserve to be damned.

In Love and War

“Get the fuck out of my fucking house.”

She shrunk away from him, turning away so he wouldn’t see the tears filling up her eyes. She needn’t have bothered, as a moment later, the door had slammed loud behind him, and his angry footsteps faded away from where she knelt. Her stifled cries turned to sobs, but only for a minute. Had she not cried enough for this? Had these stone floors not drunk enough of her tears?

She limped to the door, and bolted it from the inside. She was safe now, at least until he decided to return. She had to be gone before that, she thought dully. Gone somewhere far. Where he couldn’t find her.

The mob stormed the village, screaming obscenities and firing indiscriminately as they came. The villagers ran about in panic, many getting slaughtered in their futile attempts to protect their families and children. Shops and houses were set on fire, and the people seeking shelter inside were hunted down and killed as they ran from the burning buildings. An infant wailed endlessly somewhere in the distance. A dark haired boy darted across the burning streets, two younger children in tow, making his way towards the college at the center of their once-quiet settlement. The college of Magic. Abruptly the wailing infant fell silent, and the three children shuddered to think of what that meant.

A loud crash brought forth a strangled sob from her throat. Until she realized it was only their cat. It made its way over and licked her bruised knuckles. “Hey, kitty cat”, she whispered, stroking its soft fur. The cat purred and rubbed against her, and she thought of how they had first found the kitten. Alone and lost in the middle of a fierce thunderstorm, it had taken shelter under his car, meowing piteously until they had found her. At first, he had insisted that they leave it outside in a box, and she had managed to convince him to let it spend the remainder of the stormy night in a corner of his house. The next day she had come home from work to find him fast asleep on the sofa, with the kitten curled up on his chest, also asleep. They had been nearly inseparable since.

She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, and rose up to put out some food for the cat. That’s when she saw the flowers he must have brought home that morning, and her heart ached. Everything was so confusing. How did things get to this? When did they stop laughing at shadows and chasing falling stars?

The boy managed to reach the college grounds undetected, and pulled his young charges inside the gate. Here he stopped to catch his breath, and the two children looked about themselves in awe. Civilians were generally not allowed inside the campus of the infamous college of magic. Though the Council maintained that it was for their own safety, rumor had it that some of the students and teachers at the college dabbled in.. more than just the white arts.

“Alistair, take Nova to Professor Edward. He should be at the top of the North Tower. If anyone stops you, show them this.” Saying so, the older boy pushed a small rock into the younger boy’s hands, even as the young girl looked on, startled. “Nova,” he started, and she backed away from him. “That’s not my name”, she whispered, her eyes locked on to the parchment he held in his hand. “Listen to me, Nova”, he said, louder than he had intended. And now it was Alistair’s turn to watch as she backed further away from the older boy. “We’re not going in without you”, she said, looking past him and into the fires scattered just outside the gates. The older boy looked upset, and bowed his head. But when he looked up again, he was smiling. That made Nova begin to cry, and that made Alistair want to cry as well. But he held on to the rock in his hand tighter instead, and grit his teeth to help fight back the unwelcome tears. “I’ll be alright, Princess”, the dark haired boy assured her, and taking two steps forward, he suddenly knelt in front of her. “Please take the scroll”, he said, head bowed and hand outstretched. Nova hesitated, then reached out and plucked the parchment from his fingers. He looked up and smiled, and asked her to dry her eyes.

The Rapist Scum of U.P., India

Find someone attractive? Just follow her home with your “friends”, barge in when she’s alone and rape her to your heart’s content. Doth the lady protest too much because you’re a ugly fucking asshole? Set her on fire and let her die.

Or are you more of an outdoors-man – oops – rapist? [You don’t get to call yourself men if you are no better than filthy, diseased cancerous cells plaguing the rest of our society.] Well, if the great weather and better escaping opportunities are your thing, then find a National-level athlete and “tease” her. If she protests? Why, run her over with your car, of course!

Or do you think all of this is too risky? Would you prefer assaulting someone who can’t fight back at all? What is all this protesting and fire and running people over? Well, in that case, be a sick, pathetic, vile little less-than-human pig, and rape an infant, the younger the better. Oh, the number of years your soul shall wander Hell. *laughs* Three thousand sons wouldn’t get you salvation, Asshole. What kind of God do you think would forgive such a thing? Just because you’re a messed up @#@&#@^ coward, doesn’t mean your God is a dirty pig too. Ha! In fact, I keep my faith in the fires of hell that are burning for you.

Moksha, it seems. Your skin should be slowly peeled off with hot iron knives, before your flayed body is dipped in tar and venom. May your screams resound endlessly, rapist-murderers. And may your death make you cry a million times before claiming you.

God, how I hate those who prey on children.

You disgust me.

I loathe you.

The Indian Ban on Porn: Playing the Devil’s Advocate

Note: The govt./executive is the Devil for the purposes of this post.

Guys, we belong to a culture where rape is alright because, for most men in this country, the consent of a woman is an alien idea. Even marriage is like, “beta, be an ass, if you please. We’ll find you a girl to fuck. Come let us go their house and drink the tea she has made. That way you can check out how “sweet” her cooking is, as well as her body.” 
So, today, these men waiting for mommy and daddy to find them a fuck-girl aka wife, cannot comprehend the sexual autonomy women seem to be painstakingly working towards. 
Why?
> Because they know that, with the kind of jackasses they have become, no girl in their right mind would want to sleep with them. And this is the pathetic fear that makes them desperate to rape. They see women on the street, and if she’s with a guy, the automatic insecure, deprived notion that pops into their head is, “If she can sleep with him, why not me?”

Why is this relevant to this discussion? 
> I have a blog. Said blog has this cool feature relating to stats, and this includes a list of the search terms that people have used to reach my blog. Because I write about all these things, there’s a lot of “rape” and “sexual assault” tags. The kind of stuff I read on that list, i.e. the kind of stuff people are searching for, sometimes just makes me want to be sick.
>>>
Don’t get me wrong. I am totally pro-porn. But I’m not pro getting off on the pain of real victims.

What does this have to do with anything?
>> I’m not sure if, as a nation, we can differentiate between reality and fiction. And, in countries that don’t have such a problem, having a fantasy about raping your neighbor after seeing a porn clip about it stays just that: a fantasy. But, in incredible India, it’s just about waiting until said neighbor has a blackout, just like in the porn video.

What am I trying to say?
> As a nation, we don’t deserve porn. But, then again, we probably don’t even deserve to govern ourselves. Which we have time and again proved, historically, and at every turning point, instead of moving towards a society that respects its members, we have chosen to go the other way. Instead of demanding our rights, we have simply watched them go floating by to their ICU rooms, partially because there were too many of us dying for food, and partially because the handful of educated Indians wanted to do nothing but get out.

Conclusion
The Indian government is supremely ineffective. Nevertheless, as Nietzsche would agree, let them fuck up. Let them fuck up, and let us fight them, and then let them do worse things, terrible things. And let us keep fighting back.
Why?
>Because that is the only way society improves, and our’s is in desperate need of improvement. And this dialogue must be made part of the battle (i.e. on the link between porn and rape, because only such a discussion in the open media will get the point out and across that these guys are usually actors, and there’s a LOT of fucking consent involved.)

~~~

Bottomline: The freedom of our people is of supreme importance, but nothing is more important than protecting our children. And we are failing. We have failed. Let them ban what they like. We’ll find our own ways. And, maybe, maybe the guy stalking some minor girl because she’s pretty (-_-) will next time be forced to pay attention to something else when he goes online, when the search results of “rape stories” and what not show not imitable ideas of sexual violence, but simply an account of how every rapist was beaten up by his society, and the jail term he has served.

PoA: Obviously let it be known that this is wrong, and it shouldn’t be done. But, keeping in mind that the class that has just stopped struggling to survive does not have the cultural license in this nation to form meaningful relationships (or any relationships, for that matter) with the opposite gender, and has literally turned to porn, and subsequently rape, as entertainment.

Because that’s the one thing Indian society has in common with violent, exploitative pornographic content: A serious lack of consequence.

A Sordid Affair: Capitalism and Socialism

I have a theory on why the World is going to hell. And, it somehow relates to why capitalism wasn’t the worst idea to begin with.

At the last point of time when socialism had any shot at affecting capitalism, i.e. at the time of the Cold War, people were just beginning to appreciate their individual rights. To even suggest to such a population, standing on the brink of what looked like cities of gold, that they must necessarily share their wealth with anyone, was nothing short of blasphemous. More importantly, it was unfair. Most importantly, it seemed regressive.

“Let the people choose” was the cry of the day.

Fair enough. Had the World not seen enough of foolish kings and cruel dictators? Had we not had enough despotism to not want any more of that in the State? Of the People, By the People, For the People, cried the People themselves. Yes, the World had seen enough of force and violence and oppression. It was choice we craved, and Capitalism was the only way visible to get at it.

And, what have we chosen?

In my humble opinion, I believe humanity has underestimated its ability to evolve/adapt to situations. People, as they existed in their natural state, may benefit from a survival-of-the-fittest kind of system that is capitalism. But, as generations are born and die within this system, the more they internalize these values, these codes of behavior, this sense of what is alright, and what is not, the more our basic values and core principles shift.

What values does capitalism promote? What do we have in place of the things that even cruel kingdoms could boast of? What is it that we value if not valor and honor and intelligence and compassion and understanding and creativity and communication? What is it that we allow the system to teach our children? What does this system reward, appreciate, encourage?

Competition?

Money?

Consumption?

Greed?

No, maybe what we really need is a capitalist government with socialist people. And, I think somewhere the Indian constitution grasped this need. [Or did whichever constitution they “borrowed” the concept of Directive Principles from. Irish, I think?] The Directive Principles of State Policy, contained in part IV of the constitution of India, are not enforceable by any court, but the principles laid down therein are considered fundamental in the governance of the country, making it the duty of the state to use these as guiding principles to establish and maintain a just society.

But, as a nation what do we promote?

As a people, who do we idolize?

And, who shall our children look up to?

The Lost Spy

I used to be someone else at one point of time, she remembered thinking, a few seconds before she picked up her brush to smoothen out her hair. Her fiance hated it if her hair was all messy, as was its natural state of existence.

I used to be someone else.

We all were, whispered back the creepy old mirror he had insisted she keep, even though she’d tried to tell him about how it watched her at night. He’d simply laughed at her, and she had gotten nearly hysterical explaining to him the things it said to her. In her voice. When she had said that, he’d stopped laughing. But, the gleam in his eyes made him seem a hundred times happier, as if she had just told him that she was carrying his heir. Then a cloud blotted out the light from the sun, and she realized with a start that his eyes were hollow again. Hollow, like they had been the first time she’d met him, when he had wrapped his bleeding, broken fingers tightly around her narrow, chafed wrist, and begged her to let him die. She stood, frozen, and he watched her, curious now. Then she sniffed, and he was beside her in a moment. “Have I upset you? There, there. Don’t cry. You don’t have to keep it. I’ll take it back to my mother’s.”  And, glad that the spell was broken, she glared at him, informed him that she wasn’t crying, and stubbornly half-dragged the cursed mirror all the way back to her room.

At least some things stayed the same.

Like her hair, for instance, which was refusing to behave in any manner remotely lady-like. Sighing, she tied up the loose strands with a ribbon, her thoughts suddenly, and nervously, wandering to the man she never thought about anymore. The one who drank her up with his eyes so hard, fast and deep that there was  no longer anything left of her for all these hungry beasts. And they knew it, which is why they hated him. But they punished her for it all.

You, you have always been you. Even a thousand years before we ever met, she thought fervently, even as the doors to her bedroom chamber opened. She whipped around, trying not to look guilty.

He always knew.

Hours later, when he had finally fallen asleep, temporarily convinced of her loyalty and satisfied with her adulation, she would crawl to the narrow window and pray to the moon. The Moon, which was the only thing that had stayed constant in her long and insipid life. Everything was colorless. And, the only thing that broke the monotony of the gray was the color of blood, splashed across everything  that she had ever held dear to her.

They would pay, she thought bitterly, but quietly.

Quietly, because he always knew.

And he must never know you.