Negligence stifled India and not a Virus

 

1-May-2021

Today and at the moment, its constantly circling on the social media that six people including a doctor at Delhi’s Batra Hospital has died as oxygen supply has run out. This has become a  norm in India ever since the outbreak of second wave of Covid19 which has seen semblance of country’s so called robust healthcare system crashing down to dust -unequipped and unprepared. A country of much over a billion people has grappled in need for bed spaces at hospitals and essential oxygen for their ailing family members, friends and kin at hospitals as the undying spree of endless requests has been floating all over at all social media platforms. Dead bodies falling like the trees cut off from the ground. Crematoriums flooded with corpses and disheartening sight of burning funeral pyres on the roads and foot paths posing a sight nothing lesser than a scary war-torn land set to flames by some blazing meteorites attack from the sky. India reeling tripped over under the impact of this disastrous Pandemic like nowhere-else. India has been badly hit by this second wave of noble corona-virus!

The big question, being asked by the whole country, which seemingly has baffled and offended Modi Govt as the accusation of gross negligence and callously prioritizing election rallies and a festive Kumbh over the lives of its own citizens, has been running rife all over the globe even by the mainstream international media. A chief minister ordering arrest of anyone who raises an SOS asking for Oxygen and also to confiscate concerned’s property. Twitter and Facebook been instructed to remove hashtags demanding Modi’s resignation and with posts from the hospitals and crematoriums alleging this inflating the already volatile situation to worse.

Taking credit for steering the country to safety during the first wave, what has gone wrong this time for Mr Modi, which has pushed the country to brink of a devastating destruction of human life this exponentially in numbers? For most Indians, the answer to it has been rather very simple and resounding, that country’s govt has failed its people, it has failed to act despite inputs of forecast and warning, by expert agencies, been shared much in prior but this fell on the deaf ears of Modi Govt whose priorities, all through these seven years, remained building and promoting the pretentious image of Mr Modi.

Corona-virus may not have hit India this hard, it cud have been well managed, its cud have been curbed and even trampled. All state govt administration could have potentially defused the impact by arranging temporary hospitals at school buildings, local hotels, banquet halls and other sports complexes. Private transport cud have been comfortably hired to serve as Ambulances at every hospital. Local sources cud have easily been roped in to volunteer, to organize and to monitor the development at the hospital venues and within their own localities, similarly supply of oxygen from industrial sources, almost every state in India produces industrial oxygen in abundance, could have been ramped-up and all this could easily been implemented at deputy commissioner level while the cabinet could have ensured further essential and urgent aid been coordinated and resourced from inter-state sources.

Abdicating its responsibilities, the administrations allowed it even to deteriorate and, therefore, letting the situation to explode into untamed chaos and panic which eventually has turned unruly and completely rebellious, wreaking havoc upon life. Lack of clear instructions from the center to the states, lack of coordination by the district level administration with its sub-district level and rural level units, failure in creating local facilities to accommodate the ailing people and lack of will and intent has led India this far into this calamitous ruination where every next finger, very rightly, is raised accusing the Govt for failing its people by failing to take control of the situation beforehand and for showing such blatant disregard for their lives.

“Praying for peace and safety of lives of our people and wishing all ailing a very speedy recovery for them getting back to their families and dear ones. We were together, we are together and we will be together in this. Wishing India a fast healing!”

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Storms make the Oaks take deeper Roots – Well Done Qatar!




It was my day at the Messaeid construction project site when my phone received this abrupt erratic text by my wife, “They have announced some blockade on Qatar, please come home fast. We must buy the things from the market before all runs dry.”

I was taken off guard and to my complete dismay I could not make it out on her text. And this is how it all started on 5-June 2017 when very unfair and unjustified land, sea and air blockade was imposed on Qatar by the neighboring Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Bahrain and Egypt. The announcement was not only abject and bizarre but a sheer attempt to discredit the international laws by violating the rights of a sovereign nation concerning its independence, existence and equality by not any enemies but the friends. This had been profoundly discouraging and did not seem to have convinced anyone around the world by any merit of its claims been cited therein and the unfairty of this magnitude would surely have compelled the powerful world to intervene but how ironical that the most of the powerful be the most dumb and deaf. Qatar was to choose its course now - to succumb or to stand up tall in its dignified stature of an emerging Arab stalwart. History is just that Qatar proved victorious showing the stronger face to this absurd adversity reasoned on its very untenable props brutally ill-aimed and flawed!

By the time we reached the neighboring supermarket, it was all deserted, the usual goods laden shelves were a barren look, to get afraid of some fearful draught just had struck. The next shops and the next were not any different but the land was calm, people on their course, the traffic at the same pace and Qatar was as beautiful and blissful as it has always been. My only big worry of getting fresh milk for my small kids was, anyway, helped out by one of my friends, sending us few milk bottles that he had arranged earlier in the morning, he said. Never ever from that single day on, did it become the reason of life in Qatar to be under any impression of this Blockade but instead we in Qatar have grown more resilient, stern and confident of the fact that Qatar is guarded by the wisdom, foresightedness of the visionary. The adversity imposed has proven a blessing in disguise for this nation to prosper and scale new heights of all round development.

It’s always on the part of men to take the responsivity, it’s always for a leader to lead by example, to stand up to the storms irrespective of the might of the dark be. If history has recorded times of the grand failure of the nations, fall of the kings, crumbling of the pride, History also has its very bright pages honored by the grit and unwavering courage of those great leaders who fought for self-esteem of their mother soil and disallowed to be threatened, tamed or barred to flourish. History would have this glorified Qatar leadership as it has embarked with a new golden entry in the magnificent pages of history of a nation of the bravest.

This is not any Troy to be a prey of Agamemnon of Mycenae to fall!

And Qatar has very righteously validated the George Herbert saying that ‘Storms make the Oaks take deeper Roots’.

A splendid sprawling town this Qatar is and I am an expat full of gratitude to this soil for its serenity and sovereignty, for its welcoming lap of warmth embracing the strangers. The cool and scented breeze of its shores has fragrance of home, of love and of pride.

We Love you Qatar for being a land of the loyal, of courageous and of a thousand splendid suns of glory and wisdom. May you prosper !

Fallen from Grace

Excerpts from my Fiction Writing  ( 4-July'17)

 ‘An Outrageous out-run of human relationship’

To the very honest fact that history of my personal life for last two years has been through on a constant roller coaster of emotions, life still has stayed beautiful and promising though despite a seriously staged propaganda which has drawn that very thin line between the truth and the lie!

That father in me was denied access to my kids for over a year and twice! Barred and banned to hear their voice even over the phone!

A terrible scenario of an event witnessed by a son seeing his father and brother pushed, hit, abused and threatened by a mob of his own in-laws family!

A black series of years of imposed aggressive intervention on every thick and thin of my married life!

Volunteering propaganda against me and the family for deliberate reasons to solidify the build up for a tomorrow of anticipated confrontation…that eventually exploded

Knowing it that It is always on the part of men to take responsibility, I have fought back onto life even on its undying unrest. 

I recall reaching you at your home one fine evening with my grievances and you advised me to analyze he reasons leading to such distrust and commotion paralyzing the relationship, probably dismissing the essence of my predicament thereof!

I had nowhere to go to, no one else to reach. It had been furious reactions, twisted and far exaggerated!

Sadly but truly, My mother-in-law remained instrumental ensuring there is no truce on peace -  an apparent motherly desire to see her daughter very on her own, separate and free of any in-laws dependence!

And while I limited my tours to her place in the state of mental chaos caused, my every act and move been vainly published and interrogated!

The only reason levied been myself on good terms to my family- indeed a closely knit family was distasteful to them. I stand clear and firm on my opinion till today!  Over and through, I have gone through the emotional wreckage and before I could face the dark into its eyes, a part of my life had slipped off my hands! 

A man who prides the grace of his lady been subjected to the wrath of her inconvenient actions, her endless and unjust shows of hatred!

 For me, hatred still is a very strong word, I may dislike but may not hate!

a dozen long stemmed roses, chapter-3

Chapter- three

After a decade of life in the States, following the decline of  Detroit’s economic strength, Nilaya’s family finally had decided to shift to their native India.  And two years ago, when the family flew from Coleman international airport, she bid adieu to Detroit looking forward to an Indian adventure, assured that they would never be back. 

                       

                         At Detroit, her father was a banker with Citizens Bank at 777 Woodward Ave. Her parents have been of Indian origin, in pursuit of a better career, when her father, Nilesh, a chartered accountant by profession, was offered a lucrative job at Citizens Bank, they had migrated to States. Nilaya was seven years old when she accompanied her parents to Detroit. She was the only child of her parents who was born after two years of their marriage and she was named after the youngest princess of Indian Kashmir.

               On her 16^th birthday when the family matured the idea of getting back to the country of their ancestral land, Nilaya was more than excited, though this has been in family-talk for many years now each one of them remained passive about the ordeal. To Nilaya, it meant life here in Detroit, she was born here at this house, had her schooling, had friends and mates here.

At seventeen, Nilaya was a grown up girl of a tall stature. Her physical measures stood five feet nine inches. Hazel bright eyes, high cheek bones, sharp chin, scattered eyes lashes and curved eyes brows forming that natural extension to her chiseled straight nose. Her ebony black hair locks flown swayed on to her face were an inheritance from her mother, something that apparently insisted her breed of an Indian origin.

“all my thoughts of India is an adventure, as some rusty and epic tales buried in those old history literature piled on some silly city library shelves beneath a heap of time’s  dust”, Nilaya looked up to her mother who was into her favorite pastime of reading.

“If life is an adventure!”  Poorna, her mother, smiled at Nilaya.

“It’s a decision that should have happened long ago, but its better late than never”

Nilaya always admired her mom’s philosophical digs. A woman as deep as sea, calm; beautifully at peace yet ordinarily phrased to the complex life of an agonized family. To Nilaya, her mom Poorna was a stranger on earth, a lady is a philosophical gem, a mystical search of this age; Bold, clear and very precise but to a frivolous of minds, Poorna would be a mysteriously complex and labyrinthilabyrinthine.

 At forty-one, Poorna has been more controlled a woman who knew her grace. Born in an Indian Hindu family of Brahman clan, Poorna was the youngest of her three sisters. After graduating in Arts major from Banaras Hindu University, she had taught English at a Christian missionary convent school for a year to follow. 

She was twenty-one when the proposal for her marriage came from Nilesh’s family through a far relative who mediated. Owing to Nilesh’s educational background and bright career prospect, her family didn’t waste any time to consent. Poorna was formally told and not asked of her heart as in most of the Indian families where the elders decide to chose and consent for all such decisions for their kids’ life. The wisdom supporting it is that the elders are the best fit to foresee a life, which however a grown up cannot fathom at all.

And both would laugh loud till the silence makes it more profound and meaningful to both the mother and the daughter.

The day finally had arrived, tickets were done, baggage packed and the cab at the door, it was the day to leave Detroit. They flew to the country of her birth.

Till a  year after Nilesh’s  death and cremation, Poorna had toured Detroit extensively in the struggle to find herself a  job to survive for Nilaya and herself. India, for her, had been the last resort she had to choose if left with no other avenue to rescue their life from the clutches of hardships life had suddenly posed on to them. Poorna’s miseries were numerously multiplied. 

All of the years of her defiant struggle to save her marriage overshadowed by the shameless infidelity of her husband, now had this uninvited doom awaiting - Nilesh had died of Kidney infection after two years of Chronicle sickness that had spent all of the family reserves for the rainy days, an addition to her melancholic ramifications. 

Life offered no respite to her woes. A woman without a husband, Torn, weakling and remorseful, Poorna set herself with her daughter on a hopeless journey to India. 

She called up her in laws and conveyed about her planned arrival to them.

a dozen long-stemmed roses, chapter-2

Chapter two

Nilaya was heartbroken and lost. Something had slowly changed between the mother and the daughter ever since that night. Nilaya’s hostile behavior was embarrassing to her mother Poorna who was unaware of  her daughter's agony knowing not what Nilaya had seen, knowing not what had taken the toll on her daughter’s mind and heart. 

Mothers are cops. Poorna was not a clueless mother, she could feel it well in Nilaya's eyes that her daughter might have seen her in some unusual.

 She had smelled the foul perturbing her daughter. She had observed Nilaya following her like a spy in disguise. And at times, she refrained visiting Dinesh even in late of night fearing her daughter may wake up to reach her and see her in the drawers.

‘A deceit to my dead father, why mother!’ Nilaya would sob alone all those restless nights.

 She couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes

 ‘This woman whom she admired and loved, had been turned out a whore’

Her eyes followed her mother Poorna wherever she went and it revealed on numerous occasions assuring herself that the flashback of  that night actually had been an affair her mother have had with her uncle Dinesh in lesser than a month of time they had been to India, that was  disgusting and shameful.

‘While Relatives and friends had still been visiting the house making condolences at the loss of her father and this witch of woman was lying under this bashful man satisfying her amorous propensities!’

She couldn’t believe it!

There was something known to her intuitions that Nilaya could not comprehend, a fear lurking as if a secret that is kept from her for so long.

‘how could a woman sleep with the brother of his dead husband man a month after his death !’

"Just a month, mamma", Nilaya was torn apart at the thoughts of her mom being touched by this man, being kissed…a woman who belonged to her father and still does!

Sharp blades of a sarcastic scissor was shredding her inner being, she had wanted to know, she had wanted to ask her mother.… ask her everything, ask her if her father knew this, did she betray her father even when he was alive! had he died knowing this!

She recalled her mother visiting India many times alone to see her ailing parents.

“Was she coming down to India to see this man who happened to be her dead father’s younger brother?”, a questionnaire was formed and she was literally screwed at mind.

Six months passed away, what was apparent became truth.

Dinesh would interfere; he would pat her mother’s back, press her shoulder and would pass by.

The obscenity grew!

Nilaya could clearly see blushing face of her mother every time she was to feel her daughter’s presence around to see him touching her in such derogatory way.

Nilaya had grown up in a family of liberal values. Her father was an incurable romantic who had loved her mother from the moment she could remember. His good morning kisses, she felt, had still not dried from her mother’s cheeks.

It was two o’clock of a Sunday morning.

She turned to her mother who was in deep slumber by her side on the bed. Ever since in India, their buddy-chat had stopped. Lights were on, Poorna could see the distress on her daughter’s face.

‘What happened, you are still awake!’, Poorna rubbed her eyes and sat up placing her pillow behind her back.

She hugged Nilaya pulling her closer and run her fingers into her ebony hair,

‘What’s eating you?’ the gentle tone in her voice was nostalgic to Nilaya over the pains of her recent life. Nothing lesser than her mother could have eased her suffocation.

‘I miss my father, I really do miss him!” a outburst and Nilaya broke down to a pool of tears falling on to Poorna. 

She sobbed like a bereaved daughter..left alone..fatherless…insecure and cold!

A dozen long stemmed roses, chapter-1

 Chapter One

And in the late hour of that naked midnight, Nilaya woke up to the hissing sound of a woman’s breaths that grew more  into creepy whispers, as someone fumbling in ecstasy for a hidden treasure .

She sat up on her bed, half -awake; the door on her right was half open to inside of the room. The dim blue light from up was spread mild on the light cream colored walls of the room. Nilaya found herself caught in the frenzy. She slipped off her bed, pushed her feet in to he sleepers and walked over to the next door.

 She glanced in from the gap between the two wooden leafs - the shade inside was pink of light, a master bed was the centerpiece of the room, a large chandelier hanging up the ceiling, a twin sofa in the corner, a clean five shelved book rack was neatly placed with the front wall, but to Nilaya, it still was the curiosity of the sound. A hustle again, and she lowered her eyes to the bed, and what she could see, made her step back to the corner of the door for fear of being spotted at this forbidden time in somebody’s bedroom. 

The big butts of a woman with legs curled up were the first sight….the round of her bright white skinned cleavage was awesome and revealing, her cleanly shoved essential was opened up like a rose petal open up the morning sun, a man standing holding his massive phallus in his hand, had stirred her own libido, a thrown away black satin undies fallen on to the ground, was almost near Nilaya’s feet at the door. 

A strong heartbeat rose and she moved away out of the door and to her bed and feign sleeping which would have never happened all that night in midst the hustle in the next room that caused it to Nilaya - a strong hidden ferment of desire to see more of it, more of what was happening therein, more of those whispers.  Unaware of her being present besides into that spell of intensity of their intimacy during the night to a point of her own sexuality been aroused yet again

And then like a thunder bolt from the blue did strike jerked her body back to senses. A sudden realization of something that just had happened, led her heartbeat dropped to numbness, she just had seen something very familiar lying at that doorstep. A shock wave engulfed her and her eyes widened in mistrust of what her heart was about to make her believe.

Her legs trembled as she gathered herself to stand up on the floor. With sinking heart, Nilaya stood up and moved forward to the door again. She was breathless, heavier than ever and dragging herself not to trust her instincts this one time in her life. She neared herself close to the door which was still half open to inside. In that defining moment of courage, Nilaya lifted her head up to look in where she just had seen the woman curled in to a man.

“It was that satin cloth on the floor she knew for sure”

And then she froze to the reality of the moment, she saw Poorna’s face shone in the shade of dim pink light! A revealing thought flashed through her mind.

Terrified and not daring to look back, she ran towards the door to the other room. A flood of warm tears begin transcending as if some dam inside her eyes had broken.