G'Love aka G'Rape

This post has been published by me as a team member of The Rodeo Writers team for the SUPER 6 round of Bloggers Premier League (BPL) – The first ever unique, elite team blogging event of blog world. To catch the BPL action and also be part of future editions and other contests, visit and register at Cafe GingerChai

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20000 BC approximately...

Man was hungry. He looked around his surroundings in the forest. There was not even a single animal, until the horizon, to hunt and eat. He did not lose his hope and desire. His hunger made him to examine with more intensity for some prey. At a long distance he saw a small plant of grains. He got life for his life. He plucked those few grains and went back to his cave. Next day, he repeated the same act at a different place but another plant of grains this time. He had to travel miles, daily,  into the forest to search for plants with grains. Months were  rolling on. One shine day, he got few smart thoughts, "Instead of walking miles daily to pluck grains from plants, which  were quite far away from my cave, why wouldn't I cultivate them near to my cave? ". He had gathered few more people, cleared few trees and  uprooted plants, to make the land flat. Then he had started cultivating the plants and this was how agriculture was being invented. That was the first axe ever fell on the green lives. The human population increased, with easy availability of food,  leading to more hunger, and more agriculture, and hence more axes. More axes lead to more tools, like saw, and further to few more technologies.

Now, man has reached the stage of digital hunger and paved way for electronic saw , but the victims have remained same, the green lives.......

--)(--

It was the time of ambiance and aroma of Spring. The huge  and macho banyan tree woke up to the birds chirping and he reflected the early morning sun rays on to the leaves and twigs around his stem. Some leaves were dry and some  were alive. He was young with his aerial roots accruing to the grounds. His stem was sturdy with young cracks and new crevices. Black ants had already inhabited in those crevices.  What made the Banyan excited was the new creeper with beautiful flowers, enigmatic appearance and exotic leaves. She was quite slim and sensuous. He had seen many such creepers in his life till now but this one was special for him, for the reason, unlike other creepers, she was being germinated from the soil between his aerial roots. He admired her branches, particularly those alluring curvy endings and enticing petals . She had grown to the fullest and hugged his stem as if she was  made for him. Her flowers added colour to his rusty look. He felt that she had brought completeness of being a Banyan tree. Most of the birds in the surroundings preferred to have nests on him to have the glance of their wonderful combination. He made sure that the bird nests would not interfere with her growth by growing his branches and leaves according to her space and convenience.  He absorbed her from stem to tip. He expressed his greelings on her in every possible way. He started shedding his bark regularly now.  He knows every leaf and petal of her. He had never commanded or restricted her. He took her the way she was without any conditions.  She was growing rapidly and her roots gradually reached the ground from his aerial roots.  Now, she had got two supports  for her roots, but she still prefers his stem.  She started reciprocating her greelings to him. Now, she had spread all over him, not leaving even a single sub branch of him. For him , the hug was complete, absolute and eternal.  She was totally onto him and into him. He had become her. They became one though they belong to different species. Her roots were in his stem and his stem longed for her roots. He was quite elated and his entire body was filled with juices of greemotions . A greemotion would be the highest stage of a tree's excitement. He proudly displayed his new attire to the animals passed by him. He felt that he was no less equal than a peacock. He was enthralled by his fellow banyan tree's compliments. He was so  blessed with this unique and precious gift by nature.  At times, he protected her from the harshness of incessant rains. He stood by her when she became dry and pale during the season of Fall and celebrated with incredible joy when she got recovered with flowers and leaves, by blowing his branches vigorously to vent his greemotions.

  The sun was making his cycles. One whine day he woke up to face the most unfortunate  situation of his life. She was making steps in the direction away from him.  She started leaving him for the reason only known to her.  The first step she took was the separation of her roots from his aerial roots of his stem. Now, her roots were having the only support of ground. She was standing on herself  . He did not ask her anything nor did she explain him anything. The hug was becoming weaker. He could sense and greel that.  She gradually started withdrawing each branch every day . After few days she shifted all her branches from him and now she was totally on ground as if she was crawling on land.   Every cell of his body could greel the pain of losing her, though she was in-front of him, in his shade.  The pain got multiplied when she began taking the support of another banyan tree. Soon, she occupied the new tree and hugged him, which raked the past of their togetherness. Strangely, she hugged the new tree the same way she used to hug him, complete and absolute. There was no change in her lifestyle and pattern. She looked happy and beautiful as usual. The new banyan tree was also happy for his own reasons. He never complained against her nor asked her the reason of parting ways from him. He was in content with a greeling that at-least she was before his eyes, if not with him.  Though he looked sturdy and tough, he was dead greemotionally . His roots started losing grip under ground.  The next day, he died..... But what made her to  quit him was the ....

--)(--

Before the  Neem tree  could continue the above  story, the crow and sparrow got curios and asked the Neem tree, "Why did the creeper leave him suddenly?"

"She was a bad creeper, she was a sweeper",  the guava tree shouted.

"She was not a beautiful creeper, she made him weeper ", the bush  proclaimed.

"We should never believe creepers", echoed the young mango trees.

"I hate the other banyan tree which attracted the creeper ", the sandal wood tree hissed.

"Be silent guys, let the uncle Neem complete the story first", the tamarind tree said loudly.

The Neem tree resumed the story......

--)(--

After few days, he died..... But what made her to  quit him was an unavoidable compulsion. It was not the creeper who had left the banyan tree, but it was the initiation of the Banyan tree. Indeed, both of them had decided to part ways. The greemotions of both of them were hurt deeply. What made him to take the tough decision was his ability and cognizance to  sense that trees were being cut down in the nearby surroundings and he would be chopped down soon . He had only one desire before his death. He wanted to see how they exactly look like when they hug each other and hence asked her to leave him and hug his friend, so that he could greel the reflection and resonance of their hug for the last time, before his leaves stop photosynthesizing. She left him with much greeling pain and agony.  Though he was dead greemotionally, he was chopped down to death, by confining him to a stub. The creeper could not bear the greeling of greemotional pain of losing her source of germination before her eyes. The vision of his stub made her to stop photosynthesizing. The next day the stub was also cleared . After few days she was removed from the other banyan tree and was cut into pieces. She was dumped somewhere else.

--)(--

All the trees had started shedding  few water drops from their leaves.

"I am moved by the story", mango tree said in a low voice.

"It is like a love story", teak tree concluded.

The Neem tree said," No, it was not a love story, as they had  never loved each other, they were each other.

Teak asked surprisingly, "But they had died for their love, right?".

 Neem replied, "We tress never love like humans, all we do is  greemotionalize our greelings. What made both of them to die a greemotional death was not their physical  separation, but the thought of separation from the Soil  from where they had grown up because every tree dreams of only one thing in it's life. It is to die naturally and get decayed in the soil  to give rise to new trees."

All the tress and plants clapped with their leaves and branches for the Neem's wisdom. They were about to discuss regarding how to deal with the injustice of millenniums, but remained silent as they heard sounds of living beings walking on two legs and greedy brains. Somewhere,  the sound of electronic saw resonated all over the forest, alarming the flow of greelings and greemotions. The photosynthesis had already started to decelerate.

--)(--

2100 AD,

Man will be still hungry, not by need, but by greed. He will look around the solar system. Until Pluto, there won't be even single technology that can completely satisfy his greed.  His greed will make him to search, with more satellites, for more energy. At a long distance he will see a small planet in the nearby solar system. He will get greed for his greed. He will go there and pick some stones  and will come back to earth to do some experiments. Next year he will go to some other planet and will bring few more rocks. He will be traveling trillions of light years yearly into the Milky Way to search for planets with special rocks. Decades will be rolling on. One swine day, he will get few smart thoughts, "Instead of traveling trillions of light years yearly, why won't I shift my base to that planets? " He will make new planets  his home and will invent new trigital technology, through which he will rape every planet he lands upon there after in the Milky Way. This is how universe will be facing it's first absolute and complete virus, which will be born out of human's love for machines.....

..................

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.......


Planet Something said," Is love human?"

Planet Anything replied,"Am not sure about it but greed is definitely human"

Planet Everything opined,"Yes, because virus is human, may be, Human is virus"
Planet Nothing concluded,"Love is non-human, because for man, love is pure selfishness"

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* Greel = Feel; Greelings = Feelings.
* Greemotions = Emotions.

 PS :  This story is fictional and does not confirm to any of the sciences discussed here.
   

PPS: Here are the posts of my team mates for this contest

 

Nethra, Anney, Pooja, Swathi, Pranjal, Arjit and Anurag

Run

The race started.
Your run is faster with pace
You are precise at everything.
Your marks, numbers and statistics.
Your job, not career, and money.
Your achievements, promotions, rewards speak louder.
You craved for approvals and confirmations from others 

More impressions and tags.
You sank others to stay afloat
You thought you would win the race.

Days were rolling on.
Gradually you have realized 
that the race is infinite 
and you are in a vicious loop
Now, you are mere a cog in the wheel
like a restless performer
before the ever changing spectators.
Your run is not a means to your happiness,
rather, you are means to someone else.

Finally when you stopped running
everything is void and ceased
All the tags are vanished
neither the race nor the spectators
It is not about that you have abandoned us,
but the truth that you have abandoned yourself.

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Written for

1. 3WW : prompts -->  abandon, gradual, precise
2.  One Single Impression (Floating)

Whack, You or Me?

Note : This post is my entry for  Blogadda's   ‘Whack!! this Wednesday’ contest. 
 

I have my culture, tribal

though you say we don't

I don't have civilization

Though you have at their rapid speed

I have never asked you to be like me,

But every step you take

leads to my conversion and

adaptation to urbanization, no no,

its elimination of my culture

Both my language and me are in extinction.

tigers are better treated than me.

Call me dog, but treat me like me

I don't want to whack you,

but..

.................................................................................

I speak my language, rural.

You call it vernacular and native,

and you look down at me ....

You speak their language,

you call it refined and polished though colonial,

You have media, money and manipulation

You rate it higher and feel superior

I don't want to whack you,

but..

.................................................................................

I toil hard with nature, in nature,

That is my nature to give fruits

You toil smart in ACs for them

You take away our fruits for peanuts

You think about every brand

everything in brand

I don't think about any  brand

as long as it is a bowl of rice .

Else, we do have better choice,

subsidized branded pesticides.

I don't want to whack you,

but..

.................................................................................

I wait for it, every year and everywhere

from the sky, from the ground and every way

For you it is their consumer product, in bottles

They suck it from my sweat and blood

whenever you gulp it into your throats.

I dwell deeper for it into many wells

also, much deeper into debts, then

Much more deeper into life , and

Finally out of life, does it matter?

pushing my family into a deeper well

I don't want to whack you,

but..

.................................................................................

I take up all the so called low grade jobs,

with technique and precision

dirty, smelly, stinky and tough, under sun.

You call  it impure and isolate us.

You memorize few strange stanzas, under roof

make it aplomb with rituals and presentation..

And hence self proclaimed sacredness

to grab money, power and respect.

I stop my job,

check whether society moves on

You stop yours.

I bet Gods, it hardly impacts,

neither you sacred lines nor the myth.

Here, you are like Them,

exactly like them,

You are almost them. You are them.

I don't want to whack you,

but,

.................................................................................

But, before I whack, let me tell you who i am

I am one of the group called WE

We are tribes,

we are rural,

we are farmers,

we are peasants,

we are workers.....

We are sure,

We are not "We the People"

We have been neglected and humiliated

in the name of westernized and globalized development.

Then who are We?

We are "We the'y' people".......... But Y ?

Because you and they have media, money and manipulation (3M)

Anyway, I along with the WE want to whack hard

Whack whom?

No, not the you.

We are not like you

We and I  want to whack the system not the people,

who are mere puppets in the hands of system.

Yes, the same system which you have named like

Capitalism, Corporatism , Consumerism, Colonialism. (4C)

But I/we call it Feudalism

I/WE whack Feudalism and

all the 4Cs and 3Ms

out of the seas and borders

but only in books and blogs.

Anyway it is time for them and you to whack me, as usual.

not in writings but in reality, daily and forever.

Whack me, Sir ji! Whack me!

PS : The 'I' in all these stories represent the social 'me' and hence I claim the share in 'I'.  

PPS: Thanks to Rachana for passing the Que.

Forest talks...

Like a scattered rough hair
it is a zigzag forest without fear
but seems like a combed hair
in between the green tress

The huts with sleep of solace
are being swallowed by corporates,
only to be replaced and recreated
with modern-artificial-commercial ethnic art
for the privileged gated communities.
Bamboo baskets in posh MNC stores
pour incessant rain of dollars

Now, forest is not about , not about,
Bamboo tress and wild creatures.
It is not about beautiful birds,
not even the hamlets of innocent and ignorant tribals.

Now, forest is filled with sounds of harsh bullets,
where, the god of forest is murdered by Dynamites, and
the goddess of forest is raped by the Khakis.



Forest is standing lonely and desperately,
in front of the courts for weightless natural justice.
Hapless Kids of hamlet are fighting hungrily,
for the left over biryani packets.

The land upon which they are standing,
is being grabbed in-front of their eyes.
Though the lives of hamlets are at crossroads,
forest still awakens at night for GREEN dreams.

Note : This post has been selected by Blogadda as one of the Tangy Tuesday Picks

Written for

1. 3WW : prompts -->  fear, ignore, weightless
2.  One Single Impression (Trembling)

Mother's Day, Motherly!

Mother Love. It gets more space in media around May second Sunday. Celebrations, seminars, bouquets, interviews, greetings, blogs, gifts n more. That is a feel good factor indeed. Of course, mother love has been existing in this evolving and uncertain universe, as a most certain thing, since the inception of life.  I had read in many books, magazines and articles about greatness and divinity of mother's love. I had watched and felt it in innumerable Indian movies. Anyway, what is 'Mother Love?'
 

Mother love, to put in a simple way, "The love of a mother towards her children/kids."  Let's say it again, clearly. "The love of a mother towards 'her' children/kids, ONLY her children/kids. Sometimes more love for, and only, her favorite kid among her kids.  Does it mean that mother love is bounded by certain parameters of being Self? Is mother love really altruistic and selfless?

When a mother loves her children, is it the love towards the children or is it the self love? I mean a mother loves her kids only because they are extension of her physical identity or does she really love the person in the kids? If a woman loves her smile, what do we call it, love or self love? In that case whether loving her biological extensions is self love or real love on kids?  I am not saying that self love is a bad thing. Loving one is quite a healthy factor in a person. My question is whether mother's love is all about just an extension of loving oneself/herself?  

When a mother says, "I love my kid", is she loving the 'my' first and the 'kid' next? Is it the 'My' factor makes her to support every act/feature/character of her kids and love everything related to her kid. Is it supporting and loving herself? Does she really love the person in her kids? Does the mother instinct in a woman take over the ability to love the person in her kids? Is mother love motherly?

My intention is not to lessen mother love. It is  a fact that almost all the living creatures are being genetically programmed to love their off-springs and vice versa. Every mother is a  beautiful person  from their children perspective and vice versa. My question is if at all mother's love is so special/unique/eternal/etc, "Can a mother really love her biological kid and a non-biological kid with equal intensity? Isn't the "My" kid syndrome pop up at every instance she showers her love towards 'her' kids?

The most striking feature in mother's love is the ability of a mother to sacrifice anything for her kids. Sometimes she can go to any extent to serve her child needs and security. This trait is present in every living being. Is Mother love one more instinct/trait or love? 

Mother love, most often, is defined as the only self less love where the person loving you loves you irrespective of whether you love her back or not. Is this something that a mother loves 'herself' in the kids and hence no expectations, only sacrifices?  Is it ‘My’ kid syndrome??

Contrary to this syndrome, we have many such instances in nature, where animals of one species feeding offspring of another species. I call such love as mother love, in fact, motherly mother love . It can be offered to anyone by anyone in this world. Indeed it do deserves celebrations and honors in a much higher level than the invisible Dog God.
You may doubt if i know what love is. May be i don't, because there are as many perceptions of love as the number of persons want to define it.

Finally.....self love, instincts, love, selfishness.....these are just names from different interpretations to one eternal and ever evolving-consummate-unadulterated-basic-essential-crucial-necessary-affectionate emotion of every creature's life called "Mother Love".

Irrespective of the above logic, my foremost intention is to raise a much relevant and substantial question to rake an honest answer within us.

"Do we love our mother just because she is our natural/biological mom by chance or do we really love her for the person she is?"

Had the 'My' mom syndrome peeped into your motherly mother love anytime? Am i blowing an invisible balloon? I guess for all these quite out of the box interpretative analysis, the only solution is  ....

"When logic stops, love starts....."
 .............
........
...

"I love my mom, because she is more than love to me"












 P.S:  This is my entry for Blogadda’s ” WRITE A TRIBUTE TO YOUR MOM “contest on  account of Mother’s day..

Best mom
Of the world

Trial and Terror - 55 Fictions

Note:- 55 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of fifty-five words.

Trial 
 

It is been over one year since the process of prosecution has started...

Every one is eager to hear the judgment over HIS cruel deeds...

Today, after all hearings, the judge proclaimed, 'Death Sentence!'

Every one in the country is happy and welcomed the sentence, including HIM, as HIS suicidal  mission has been accomplished now.

------()------

 PS : Instead of hanging HIM, i would prefer to torture him for lifetime in prisons. May be we need few changes in our legal system

Terror
 

A small girl came across a stranger....

He was in a special dress, with sophisticated  arms and advanced ammunition...

He has got an AK 47 hanging around his sturdy shoulder...

She asked him innocently, "Are you a terrorist or a soldier?"

He responded , "It all depends on which side of the border you belong to..."

 -----()-----

PS: Any ism will start from fundamentalism which leads to extremism first and then converts into Terrorism  ...

Mother - 55 Fiction

 Note:- 55 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of fifty-five words.

Mother

Saraswathi has been eagerly and anxiously awaiting for her mother from village, since yesterday...

Today will be the most significant and crucial day in her entire life...

She is quite tensed and nervous about the results...

But, much before her mother could reach her, she delivered a cute baby girl, at the young age of 13.

------()------

PS:  Saraswathi was married off by her family at age of 11, and was widowed at the age of 13. 

Facts:

1. 
   
   
   
   According to the United Nations, maternal mortality in India (which indicates the number of women dying in childbirth or from pregnant-related causes) is 25 times higher for girls under 15, and two times higher for 15-19-year-olds.
2.  Religion plays a key role in such harmful traditions and practices. Tradition and superstition are further reinforced by necessity
3.  Rural poverty similarly puts pressure on families to transfer the economic cost of a daughter to another family as early as possible.
4. Married girls are generally separated from their immediate families, taken out of school to be "transferred" to her new-husband home, where they are expected to be used as free labor, sex objects and procreative machines. The teenagers health is put at risk. They are much more vulnerable than mature women when it comes to sexually transmitted diseases. 
5. Education and the empowerment of women are, beyond a doubt, two of the best remedies in a largely male-dominated country.
6. May 9 2010 is Mother's Day.

Sides - 77 Fiction

Note:- 77 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 77 words.

Sides

As the police caught the real culprit,they released him after seven days of brutal torture for being a suspect.....

He was subjected to harsh and cruel treatment in all the possible ways....

Even his finger couldn't touch his own body....
He could hardly move. It was tough even to utter a word properly....

His pain reflected in the tears of his mother's eyes....
Including his innocence, nothing mattered to the police, except his name ..... Anwar

-------()-------

PS : Inspite of writing and reading many such incidents, i could not stop myself from raking it up again due to the ongoing operations in red alerted Hyderabad since a week .

Imposition

Karthik is studying in fourth standard English medium at St Paul's Convent High School..... 

 It was one more day for him in the school. Inserting a pencil in between, his little fingers were being twisted hardly by his class teacher, in an attempt to crush the pencil so that Karthik can feel the pain of being guilty for the blunder he has committed....

Second time, he was being made to be slapped on his cheeks by all his classmates for repeating the same shameful mistake. 

He never told his parents about these punishments. He was not sure of their response as his elder sister never did such mistakes. Besides, his low grades made him not to raise the issue with his parents.  He felt low and dejected. He had a tender anguish in him. He could not tolerate both the physical and verbal abuse by his teacher. The punishments were haunting him even at playground.

 Days  were rolling on. Karthik didn't learn from his mistakes. It was one more day for him. Third time, Karthik was being beaten brutally and was hospitalized for attempting the same blunder.  Then followed his parents, media and school management to respond in their convenient ways.

In all these three instances he had made the mistake of uttering few normal words in his mother tongue, Telugu, unintentionally. In that school , only two languages are allowed for communication. First one is English and the second one is English.  Vernacular languages/mother tongue is a strict no no.



PS : 
1. Based on a real incident in Andhra Pradesh.
2. The insistence of usage of English as the only  language of communication  in schools is resulting in gradual erasing of mother tongues/vernaculars

Escape

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 10; the tenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Note:- This post is a pseudo-77 Fiction

Escape

I was standing at the river bank with a female body at my feet...

You don’t need to study medicine to know how she had died...

She died when a metal rod  repeatedly hit her head so hard  that her brain popped out of  her skull...

I wasn’t anxious to call a doctor, as at the time one end of the rod was cracking her skull, the other end happened to be in my hands....

......................

..............

.......

Wait...... read the story again with the following roles  :

                          I            - Capitalist Corporate

               She         - Earth             

               Rod         - Consumerism

           Doctor     - Conscience

        River       - Evolution

 Now, rather than thinking, " Who is escaping here?", .....

It would be better to ask , " Who is allowing the Escape to happen?"

Escape happens every second........ to us, with us, by us and around us......  and hence impacting us ..... and finally to erase us!!!

We can Escape easily from the responsibility of Escape with the help of numbers and statistics, but we cannot escape from the Wisdom of Nature.

PS : Intelligence is not an end in itself, it is one of the means to reach the ends.

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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.