Meri Skirt se Unchi Meri Awaaz hai – Letter to Mr. President

Disclaimer: The writer is not a believer of religion, economy and politics (in the same order).

Dear Mr. President,

No animals were killed while I was writing this. But a girl somewhere in my country might be facing molestation, rape or some eve teaser as I write or finish this piece of writing.

I am not going to reiterate the incident that happened in a city where you live and at the time when you were having your dinner. We all were out of our minds and sight by the incident and I along with some of my friends came to meet you today morning. As expected we were not allowed to meet you. We don't wish to hear condolence messages from you; rather we claim serious belief of reinforcement of my security on the very roads where the Army, the Navy and the Air force showcase their pride every year on the Republic Day.

Sir, I have not read the Constitution of India, but I am told that if you wish, with your interference you have all the powers to call the people who can amend the Constitution of India. I request you to amend and ensure stricter enforcement of laws pertaining to attacks on the dignity of women of this country.

I wish you to act before my sister admitted to Delhi Hospital walks out and breathe the air that led her succumb.

I am not writing this letter for apathy, sympathy or empathy, favor or soothing words of praise in my honor to strive pain. I am writing this to claim what is mine.

I don’t hope for a positive response. But yes, I am expecting a prompt action.

With Best Possible Regards,

The Women of India

P.S.

I need not to teach you about the importance of women saying that they are the ones who brought Olympic Medals to the country.

Try sending water through the pipelines that your officials have laid through the city instead of smashing it in my face when I stand for my rights.

And finally, don’t let Google say ‘Do you mean rape?’ When I type India.

Amit Purohit

The Lone Soldier

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India and Her Passing Days

I am Back to my Ink and Paper

India and her passing days


I filled my Form-C last week. It was on my table and the Food Security Bill as well as the Lokpal Bill at the backdrop of my mind. I purposely paused life a minute asking myself where my country is heading. Usually, at such junctures I used to ponder over love, life and loss and used to scribble something on the blunt papers at my desk. I saw the front page of a daily newspaper filled with cartoons depicting a day in life of India. I was startled. It depicted my country as a circus in the form of caricatures. It kicked my adrenaline high but after a ponderous look at the funny cartoons I zeroed the fact.

I am not writing this to crib about all what is happening around me. I am actually writing this at a surprising note. It is making a boiled egg out of me thinking the fact about 1.3 billion living, cribbing, dying and still moving the complete unit in some direction. The parliament actually stopped functioning debating on the fact that how the scams going in my country shall be probed. They didn’t try to consider the basic reasons and killing them in the bud. People think they are anti national. I think they are smart. The reason is simple. If the basic reasons erode how the heavens they would mint the money when they would be onboard. The Look East policy is being implemented. The Lokpal bill is somewhere crippled. The Food Security Bill has lost the way to its platter. Somewhere people say the investment in Gujarat will be ten times the Revenue budget of this country. Whereas the IIP is loses its grip in the very month preceding the investment talk. WikiLeaks became one of the effective ways of selling your ideas. Whilst, the Cairn-Vedanta deal made India’s red tapers the coffee talk somewhere; leading business men sit in London. Azim Premji added white kerosene to the fire of scamster India at the IMF. And couple of collectors kidnapped, some burnt alive in the ongoing rage of money. All was done but the mass hallucination was yet to come. The religion of this country is what the TV mongers show all the time. Cricket. And some sneezing Indian player was looked upon by a billion eyeballs. The news about rape a common event here (almost one happens every hour) or the number of children dying out of malnutrition (actually more than those in African nations) vanished in a nick of time. The parliament blockade was actually replaced by the mere thing who wears which thigh pad first when he comes to bat.

I rested at my terrace and tried counting the stars. I was successful as the pollution in the city made very few visible. I closed my eyes. The electronic screens showing the news shaped as a haste clown near my eyes. I wrote this thinking nothing about some enormous things in proportion, sometimes countless in numbers and emotions; somewhere at a place they call India…!

Amit Purohit

The Lone Soldier

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Love, Honor And Killing.

Love; Honor And Killing


12th July, 2010


A famous newspaper quoted: “If you find something wrong with a newly married couple don’t go for the police go for the Khaps…!”

The TV screens flashed killings of some young couple in the northern parts of my wonderful country, India. I very well know the name of the place; the lobby of people and the date, time and reason when the killings happened. But I don’t wish to mention all here. This is because the sentiments I wish to talk upon I guess is paramount. The media did it the most idiotic way they could with the word honor in bold and red. I turned off the tube. Two of my female friends were confused over honor and mercy killing. I smiled out of a stifle. We need to react and generate awareness on such burning societal issues and the so called young feminine India boasting of ruling corporate and begging all the way for reservation in every nook and cranny of the system was confused. Mercy and Honor. My heart pumped lava instead of blood thinking of the visuals related to the incident. People were doing what human kind and its creator can’t deem of.


Two souls fall in love. They are not of the same caste. Some people in white turbans behave like courts and issue life sentence for the love birds. The so called youth of India executes it. The brutal the execution the more is the pride carried off. The news keeps coming in newspapers. They talk of the northern part of this country. I feel safer in Gujarat. Love is merrier here. And the day I think of this the page 5 of a leading newspaper tells me of a case of honor killing in Surat – where I earn money. Sometimes I think the proactive media has made us notice vices like honor killing these days. Love is ancient and so honor killing would be! Honor, I seem to be in such cases of killing is a mental block. The word mirage would rather suit such notion rather than a mind’s block. The situation goes pathetic when the couple marries against family’s will and remains alive. You read it correct. The situation gets worse as they tackle the tide their home all alone just because they decided to live life at their own terms. Their parents feel like they had been murdered. Casteism was an old man’s thought and now the same is killing his successors.


The Sunset Time


With all these emotions roving and raving in my mind, I thought of taking a break and watching some music videos. And some anchor was interviewing the local police commissioner over the couple’s murder who sought police protection a week ago in the same news room. I thought education has cleansed the minds of my country’s people. I am wrong. Religion and Honor are Everest sized mental blocks of people and people can’t see the sunshine beyond it. It reminded me of the ‘Sania-Shoaib’ marriage episode which followed nasty SMSes, Facebook status and tangy tweets. People just can’t accept the fact and carry life on.


Love is godly. They say it is beyond boundaries and borders. It is because of love we breathe and feel our existence. Killing love and its beholders in the name of honor is itself questioning love’s existence on this planet. This ultimately makes me think of our existence and extinction. We are against the emotion which binds us all. And the worst part is we count on it as our token to unravel our geographic and economic problems.

Sad is the story that all is happening in a country where romantic films run for 25 years at a stretch and the countrymen there kill those who are the real inspiration behind such immortal stories…!

Let me love without the honor part of it; I will be breathing in the end…!
Give me freedom!

Amit Purohit The Lone Soldier.
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The Great Indian Bandh

The Great Indian Bandh


5th July, 7:30 am

I don’t belong to any national party. Be it the congress, BJP, RLM, RJD, BJD or ‘ETC’. I started off late today with fifteen minutes behind my schedule. I ran all the way to the bus stop to catch the staff bus. The bus sauntered 50 yards and then some ruffians with an orange tag around their necks stopped us. They asked everybody to vacate the bus. Nobody shook unless one of them pelted a stone and broke one of the headlights of our bus. I was happy. Monday blues suck and we received an automated holiday with a constant fear of our bosses’ phone calls with the cars allotted to our projects catching us sleeping in the second half. I and my three other roommates were happy but our stomachs weren’t. And the rain came to the party. We worked for Larsen & Toubro Hazira. Hazira is known to be one of the largest manufacturing hubs in India. The coastal belt has companies of the likes ONGC, NTPC and Kribhco. But all the buses stood stunned making a queue today morning on the wishes of certain bikers.

Our intestines began cribbing and the first thought that came to our mind was tea. We approached the nearest dairy parlor and found the owner locking the sheds. People requested him but he was helpless. The police stood nearby and so did the ‘bandh’ bikers. The men in brown stood like traffic police controlling the buses rather than bullying the bandh barters. We walked all the way to out flats somehow managing a packet of milk and bread, which charged hundred bucks. Welcome to black marketing! Somehow we managed our breakfast oblivious of the fact that our intestines would be dried all the day. We were happy and our happiness died as we switched on the TV. I was surprised with the scene that big shots of a national leading party voluntarily took the pride in getting arrested while protesting. They felt like the Mahatma or Sardar while getting arrested. We called our maid to get the utensils cleansed as we were planning to call our regular chef in the day time. To our surprise we heard her crying over the phone as some ‘bandh’ monger banged her husband’s head. The chef called us and asked for leave too.

12 pm.

I called the nearest 30 min home delivery pizza vendor. None picked up. I went out in search of Maggi or some stuff and faced locks. I came to know this brutal truth that the medical stores didn’t cater such items. We were hungry and angry. The electricity went off as it rained harder. The afternoons were horrible. The pain in our stomach reflected in our eyes. 4 hours later. We somehow passed the afternoon. The fan that hung off the ceiling started rolling. The electricity was in. We again switched the idiot box. The conveyor of some leading party declared that the ‘bandh’ was unique and successful. I wished to bang the screen. The traffic over the bridge started rolling in too. It seemed the grocery shops were trading. We thronged the shops and ate to life. But the thought that jolted me was the complete idea of the bandh and the atrocities it followed.

6:30 pm.

Bandh is anti people. Some people protesting against fuel hike are actually protesting against people’s comfort. There are unique ways of protesting against things like fuel hike. Why bandh? It is not only anti people it is anti human. The visuals of ambulance trapped in the mid of the roads and patients dying at the crossroads showcase this. We the people make the government and when it hikes prices some of us do this and favor those who promise to roll back the prices if given power. We the people do stupid things like bandh to give away pains to some of the people amongst us. Think logic. The only positive side effects of the bandh were we saved electricity, natural resources a day. This is it. Some of the women craving their husband’s company and some of the children cribbing for their working parents’ company were happy sharing lunch and pleasantries.

Thinking of alternative sources of energy and dependence from things like petrol will be a solution. A country with more than 50% of its population below the age of 45 is shameful thinking like this!

Jaago India Jaago…!

Give me freedom…!

Amit Purohit The Lone Soldier

An irate young Indian.
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