Ranu Das's Blog

A day with The Alchemist

Not always a new place motivates you and particularly when you have left your mom unhappy. Every second, you feel she needs you.“Got your hostel?” mom asked me over phone.Oh god! I forget to bring my beddings everyday. “No, you are not a man who forgets something but you are tired each day,” My heart said.“Yes mom,” I lied.“Be regular with your meals,” she said.A few years back she used to remind me to be regular with my studies. She is mom; she knows what you are not regular with. She got me a smile.“Eyes”, they are good to look at but not in the books. I preferred to take a break from the images , lens, retina and all.The Alchemist- the novel I wanted to read many days back.“The boy’s name is Santiago.” I started turning the pages.Sheeps are so innocent and so is Santiago.“I want you to go kilometers away and become a renowned eye surgeon,” mom said when my result was declared. “You need to keep your father’s name alive.”I know she is still in shock following father’s untimely demise. She needs me now. And so was in case of Santiago’s father. He needed him. But you know all is destiny, the omens.Every morning I get up and run to the department. My backpack is always ready but today I took The Alchemist. It’s Monday. Madam takes class.“Where is your torch?” she asked me.“Ma’am it’s in the bag.”“Does it need some rest?” she raised her left eyebrow. “You keep it in your pocket always.”Who would tell her that any light in the desert would invite tribals who are in war. Santiago really needs treasure? Or the destiny? My sister asked me to be a pediatrician and not an eye surgeon. They don’t earn much fortune. But I know, this was the only option left to choose from, to be an eye surgeon. May be she doesn’t know destiny. Destiny is not money or treasure. It is being a part of something you were supposed to be a part of. It’s all maktub.“Hello, why are you wasting your time reading nonsense?” a friend yelled at me. “Ma’am is going to shout at us. See her in the cabin.”Oh god! Not again.“Hey boy, believe in you,” I said to myself and remembered the words the camel driver said, “To die tomorrow was no worse than dying any other day.”“It’s a month now, can you use your ophthalmoscope?” ma’am asked us.Everyone stood silent. It’s an omen. A storm is on its way. She signaled me with her eyes to break my silence.“Yes ma’am,” I replied. “What I can seeinside is circular yellow field like that of a desert.”“Yes, this is your world now,” she said. “Know that well.”I won’t get a single patient at my place, I need to settle down in the capital. And this thought tensed me a bit. Uncertainty prevailed in my heart.Santiago was lucky to be able to cross the desert. He was lucky to meet his destiny. He was lucky enough to meet Fatima-the woman of the desert.“You have your girl too,” said my heart.Yeah, but the daughter of the merchant?“Oh no! Not now. She is your past,” my heart politely told me.“It’s an omen,” I said to myself having got my answer. “She was an omen.” Santiago got his treasure and returned to Fatima. Why I can’t? Why can’t I settle down in my small town?“Even the alchemist continued to live in the desert even though he understood the language of the world, and know how to transform lead into gold.” I answered myself,“Your destiny is not becoming rich and getting the treasure but it’s knowing the language of the world.”

To know about Santiago, the desert, the merchant, the alchemist, the tribals, Fatima, the daughter of the merchant and ofcourse the language of the world, the novel “The Alchemist” written by the Brazilian author, Paulo Coelho is a must read. You will know the beauty of destiny.

Happy women's day !!

You are weak. You are delicate. You are innocent. You are breakable. You are saleable. You are purchasable. You are procureable. You are useable. You are the dancer in the item songs. You are supposed to be the one who cooks in the kitchen. You are the punch bag supposed to be hit on being angry. You are the one responsible for a broken relationship. You are the one acid is to be thrown at. You are the one supposed to wait with empty stomach until I return from the bar late at night. You are the one who is supposed to keep my mother happy. You are the one who supposed to keep my home clean.
In return? I am there, no!
Take my debit card. You may go for shopping with my friend’s wife. Don’t talk to other men there by. Take the car and the driver. He drives better even after having a peg.
You need more? No issue.
Take my credit card. Oh, yeah, drop by the beauty parlour. These days you look a bit different from the moon. And don’t meet that old friend of yours. I don’t like him. I will be late tonight and may be that I return by tomorrow morning.
Still you need more? Okay!
You look beautiful. You are very cute. You are the woman I wanted to be with in my life. You are the one without whom I would have been nowhere. And baby, you were awesome yesterday night. That’s good, you are smiling. Love you. Go, make some breakfast for me. Where’s my watch? Where are my files? You useless. Do you even know what an office is! Brainless body! You are the God’s one and only mistake.
She is a woman. She has a world. I wonder, even a single man has gone there. She smiles, she bears you; not because she is weak but she chooses to be the one who cares for you. You don’t even know what she really wants. Her world is full of happiness, peace, strength. Yes, it’s too delicate. Her world is full of simplicity, yet strong enough to keep the whole of your world happy. She does not need your help nor sympathy but every “she” wants one that man to her world to shower love. It’s sad that no man satisfy the match.
Oh baby! You are sad for the morning?
You know, my manager’s wife is so ugly.
And she smiles. She forgets all the sorrows.
Hey woman! Be like you are. Judge people the way you judge. And use your strength the way you use. Make this world like yours. At least, this man desperately backs you to make some change.
HAPPY  WOMEN’S DAY.

THE THIRD NATION (A FICTION) Pt- III

Read Part-II


“For past few weeks you always poke me with religion. What’s wrong with you?” I literally cried. “When you see my face, you kiss me. When you see my belly, you kiss me. When you see my thighs, you kiss me. Why don’t you talk of Muslim that time? Don’t they belong to a Muslim girl?”I cried, I was feeling like I have lost my last reason to live the life. He, whom I loved, accuses me for being a Muslim. “What do you want from me?” I asked him.“It’s not your fault. It’s our ancestors’. During partition of India, the basis was religion. In 1940, Jinnah told that the Musalmans are not a minority but a nation. Savarkar had said that it is a historical fact that Hindus and Muslims are two nations. During that time 14.5 million people displaced, million died. They say it was about ‘One divisions’ or ‘Many division’ but truth is that Muslims have got a country and Hindus didn’t get one.”“Don’t say India is for Hindus,” I prompted.“Ofcourse, it is not. I am fed up debating with pro-Hindus. Logically they are right. By the two nation theory, Muslims got their share but still a few patriotic Muslims refused to be a part of partition and remained in India. Well, it’s appreciable. Why didn’t they try to stop partition then? Either get back Pakistan or give Hindus their nation.”I knew it was high time to take a stand because religion came in between the relationship. I quietly stood up and went in my room. I remembered his warm embrace. I remembered him making funny expressions for me. But partition was need of the hour. It was better to be displaced like Sindhi Hindus of Punjab who did that non-violently. I decided to come out of live-in relationship. I patted myself for using protection every night. I don’t want my child to be another Kashmir.Time passed painfully. Almost after three months Adarsh appeared at my door to take me back.“Sorry, actually I was fed up answering everyone’s question regarding Muslims. When they compare Indian muslims with that of Pakistani terrorist or with ISIS, I literally had no answer. After contemplation, I think that the need of the hour is a third nation- a nation for seculars, a nation for us. Either India should be divided once again among Hindus and seculars or India should unite back and fight back the terrorists. I know you put me wrong. You are going with me. Get ready.”When the basis of partition was crystal clear then why didn’t they declare a separate Hindu nation? I was quietly reasoning his logic through. May be he was right. If Hindus get a separate nation, we may no longer be named as terrorist. “Baby, I know, I have hurt you a lot. I should not have talked about religion. I promise, I will not ever make the same mistake. Love you baby.”He waited from morning to evening hoping to take me back. I showed no interest. A Muslim can never have a family with a Hindu. I love him and this makes me feel proud. I hope that the next time we both are together, we will be in a third nation. Lastly he stood up to catch up the last train to his destination. I had last minute to stop him. I observed him as he walked to the door. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…”I knew I made my mind and so I stopped at seven.

THE THIRD NATION (A FICTION) Pt-II

Read Part - I


Time changed, things changed and we started living together in Delhi. His family abandoned him. And my family didn’t know about him. We were happy. He loves me a lot. There were a few differences, we sorted out. We had similar views on religion. We didn’t find any harm in practicing two religions at the same time. If we can have multiple life insurances then why can’t have faith in multiple religion. One or the other will lead us to heaven. I am criticized among my friends for being with a hindu boy. I know he might have faced the same. We never compared the two faiths because we love each other. We love peace.
“Hey baby,” he kissed me.
“Oh it’s time,” I smiled, “Quickly get ready.”
“I am ready, just I need to shave. I know you will take time.” He pushed me towards the bathroom.
It was Rohit’s birthday celebration. We did our post graduation together. Rohit and Adarsh were good friends. The hall was full of friends and relatives. I was the only Muslim and that made me feel awkward.
I felt others avoided me. But Adarsh never let me down. He was always with me. We enjoyed a lot at the party. Adarsh even had a few drinks. We were a bit in a hurry as Adarsh had interview next day.
“What did they ask you?” I enquired about the interview.
“Not much, about current affairs. Oh, they have even asked me about my stand on current ordinance passed by the Central Government which allows Bangladeshi Hindu immigrants to be citizen of india.”
“One minute, let me guess. You are against the ordinance. Right?”
“No, not at all. All were in favour of the order except the interviewer.’ He replied.
“Why are you people partial to Hindus? A hindu or a muslim, a Bangladeshi is always a Bangladeshi,” I reasoned. “Will you leave some of your land for them?”
“I have not thought about it. And may be yes, if others do.” He smiled, “Okay leave the topic. Please get me dinner my sweet heart.”
In the morning I was afresh. It was bright outside. I had forgotten what happened last night. I was happy. He was sitting near window with the newspaper.
“What’s there in the news today?” I asked him while cuddling with my pillow.
“Our Prime Minister is making us proud in USA.”
“And?”
“Curfew in Gurgaon.”
“What the hell!” I was shocked to the news. “Why?”
“A few miscreants put beef in a temple last night. Eye witnesses say it’s a muslim boy.” He continued, “There was almost a riot last night when we were sleeping. What the hell wrong with these Muslims?”
I was quiet all of a sudden. Why? Just why can’t people live peacefully?
“I condemn what happened last night but you can’t blame the whole Muslim community.” I shared my views.
“Yeah, but repeated nuisance created by Muslim miscreants compel us to think this way.
Those days we argued very often. Everywhere the topic was same, Hindu-Muslim. Muslims think that they are being exploited. They don’t care about the so called Muslims exploiting Muslims. A few Muslims wave Pakistani flag in India and apart from criticism, nothing is done against them. Had it been in Pakistan or Saudi Arabia, the terrorist groups would have killed them. And the Hindus think Muslims are terrorists.
“Hindus have been exploited,” he said.
“Be straight forward. Say it, you hate muslims. They should not be in india, isn’t it?” I was aloud.
“No, not like that but all Muslims always unite and separate themselves from any talk. For instance, if a Muslim boy is accused of some misdeeds then the whole Muslim community comes up to declare him innocent.”
“Yeah, ofcourse, if an innocent boy is victimized then why should not we come forward?”
“Every time it happens, be it Kasab or be it Menon. You think all are victimized, why?”
“You hate me because I am a Muslim? You want me to convert?” I wanted to make it clear.
“When did I mention that?”

                   ...Part III

THE THIRD NATION (A FICTION) Pt- I

“All Muslims are not terrorists. You know, you always make me feel like a terrorist. What’s wrong with you these days?” I shouted at him.
“I don’t know about all Muslims but you are a terrorist. You have made my heart captive for long.” He pulled me towards him and tried to kiss my lips.
I pushed him back and switched off the television. I knew a single word anymore would spark a controversy. We are together since our post graduation days. I proposed him when we were in the first year and got a negative response then. He loves mathematics and when it comes to me it’s physics. It’s needless to say, physicists harbour great minds. Anyway, coming back to our story, it’s him who used to
top every assessment. He was the handsome guy with a brain. You know, he was the crush of every girl in the college, even a few seniors were in the list.
The college days were over. He was at his home in Kolkata and I was in Assam, the state of tea. The University declared the result after a month. As usual he topped the list. It’s Adarsh Roy. Do you know how it feels when someone whom you love gets success? I had the same feelings on hearing his results. I bet you would have done the same thing I did. I ran to the college notice board. Yes, it was him. And the next name reads Afia Choudhury. I could not believe this. It was impossible. How could I be at second position?
We departed but the tiny phone kept us in contact. One chilly night when all were sleeping, surroundings was pin drop silent, my cell-phone woke me up. It was a message that read, “Are you sure you love me? See, you are a Muslim and I am a Hindu. Do you think we can be together?” His words made me want to cry. He loves me.
“Don’t be afraid of religion. It’s meant for our safety.” I replied.
We decided to go for a date. He was confused and so was I. We took the corner seat at the restaurant.
There was no one except the receptionist. He was busy with the television- remote. “Two cups of tea,” I ordered.
“Should I think your message as a proposal?” I spoke out.
“Don’t you think society will kill us?”
“May be,” I was not worried about that. “So, you love me?”
“Your eyes and the little nose in between make you the prettiest girl in the world.” He stared at me. “I want to settle down with you.”
“I don’t have a problem. I can promise you my cent percent. I will love you till your last breath.” I held his hand in assurance. “Who won’t love to live a life with a handsome guy like you?” I smiled.
“What about your family?” he asked me.
Yeah, family was a problem. How would they allow me to live with a Hindu boy? But, I was 26 years old then and that made me ready to enjoy my freedom.
“I am ready to live with you,” I replied. “But I will not change my faith. If you can’t accept me, it’s fine. Love and faith never die.”
“I love you.” He touched my fingers on the table. “Let’s settle down here in Delhi. Here nobody cares about religion.”
“But I can’t marry you now. I need time.” I was imagining my family’s reaction actually.

                       ..... Part- II

…BETTER READ PHYSICS

it’s not about religion

The stories from grandma don’t matter to us anymore as ours is tech-savvy generation. We would prefer to Whatsapp “What’s up baby?” to a friend rather than listening to those boring tales. But with all your patience if you can bear them, you are going to add different angles to your thought. Here, by grandma I have not meant only her but any elder.One evening, I was curious to know about the childhood days of my two elder brothers. They liked to have adventures. One day they set out in a jungle to collect firewood. It was very thick jungle, sometimes even elephants used to enjoy their leisure time there. The trees were too tall. They were late that day. It was almost evening and they were still in the middle of the jungle surrounded by tall thin trees. The sky turned black, the wind was wild. They sat down making a tree shelter waiting for wind to calm down. When trees, wind and the surrounding, all were at peace, they heard someone making weird sounds right above their head. My eldest brother told that he was afraid but he decided not to look above. “I decided not to give a wink even if the hell comes right above my head unless it’s in front of my eyes,” he quoted.They were there for a few more minutes and then reached home with their hearts beating normally. This little story of him encouraged me to think differently on the Almighty. “Which religion is the best?” was a common topic for debate among our friends when we were in our early teens. And either the religion with more participants used to win or it used to end up with a fight. At present age we are mature enough to not go in an open debate with such a topic. But friends are always friends. One day, one friend of mine just started a friendly discussion about religion.“See, among Hinduism, Islam, and Christianity, only one is the truth. The three can’t be truth, isn’t it? The true religion will exist at last. Do you agree?” he asked me. As it was logical, I nodded. I shared my views about religion and the God that there is someone who has created everything, I only believe that. I also believe that He does not want anything from us except we play it peacefully.“Exactly, but you should find out which religion he belongs to? And spread it to others,” he said.“Everyone has his own way of life, let him discover in his own way.” I repeated, “I believe He needs nothing from us, not even spread of his name.”“You are selfish man; you don’t want others to know the truth. Hunh?” he smiled. “You are not going to get through this world, buddy.”“If I need to spread something, I will spread peace. Let peace prevail. And if for this cause I need to forget Him, I can do this. But I believe whoever has drawn the sketches of which are a part does not want anything other than the intact sketch.” I expressed myself.“So you are telling you don’t want to find out what your parents want from you? You are not bothered about their needs? You will let them go in their own way once you get everything you need from them?” he questioned.“Oh buddy! Please! With all due respect to parents, they are not the one who has created the sun, the moon, the earth. They are human beings like you and me. They have emotions, they need care and we do have responsibilities towards them,” I said.“So you are an atheist? You don’t believe Him?”“How am I an atheist? I believe in Him. He is there. I just don’t think about Him, that’s it. Yeah, I don’t pray, I don’t offer him anything. I know He is selfless. He doesn’t do partiality.” “What you believe, what you are telling is just one chapter of a whole book. A religion tells you, where do we go after death, what happens to us there, and many more things. If educated people like you don’t think and study over religion, who will? ” He tried to make me think over religion; rather he tried to make me afraid of the God.But believe me, I don’t fear Him but a man. “See, like a flower drops from a tree, it might be that we have been dropped. And now we can do nothing except being grateful from our hearts.” I said.He was going to start again, I stopped him, “Hey, you hear ‘Aazan’? It’s time for your ‘Namaz’, go man.”
And our discussion ended here. Everyone thinks we should fear the afterlife. But I am with my elder brother. It’s simple, “No thought, no fear. Don’t give much thought to your afterlife and our appearance, better read physics.”

YOU ARE NOT ILLITERATE, NEITHER ARE THE DOCTORS...

First day of my internship! I was over enthusiastic and soon I came to know the real challenges I was to face in my day-to-day life for being a medico.             It's not that we, medicos always blame the other party for any untoward incident but we do most of the times. And I think we blame it right. Well, I know what's in your mind. All medicos are in my support and the others are not. Here, I am sharing a few instances when patient-parties were not satisfied with my services.              I was posted in NICU. One evening, a two days old baby with life supporting system rushed in. Ideally, no attendant is permitted inside but they were more than five. "It's ICU, you should not be inside. Stay one, others go outside." I told them. (Since morning I  have uttered the same sentence many times to many patient parties.) I repeated thrice, they overheard. and lastly when I was loud, one of them shouted at me, "I know this is ICU. I am M.Sc., my younger brother is MBBS." Also someone in his relation was Zilla Parishad Chairman. I realised that I shouted in vain.                Next incident was in casulty. The patient suffered RTA (road traffic accident) and in every medico-legal case we need to maintain extra documentation. I was asking a few questions to this patient but he was busy in talking to someone who was standing right behind me. I literally lost my temper and shouted at both of them. Do you know what I heard from my behind? "You are a doctor, you should be polite." He continued, "I am also educated, I'm a reporter." I was like... just leave it. It's obvious that I overheard him (because I am a doctor and I don't have the right to argue). After around half an hour, the reporter came to me with a prescription. "Why 'calpol syrup' has been prescribed? The baby is not having fever but he is suffering from a swelling on his forehead." He asked me. I know he has every right to ask a doctor such questions but his intentions were not good.                It's not that we always come across non-co-operative attendants. One evening when I was busy with paper-works, I heard the sister telling one old lady that she has taught her how to deliver medication once and now she can't do the same. The old lady replied,  "I am illiterate, old and the baby's father is differently abled. You are trained for that or else I would have been a doctor. I don't know anything, you have to help me out." I stopped writing for a moment and looked at her. "You are not illiterate," I murmured. I asked the sister to help the old lady and to attend her every time she gives a call. How would have others reacted if they were in place of that lady? Let me make a guess,"Hello sister, Govt is paying you for this, then why should I deliver the medication to the baby (though he is my son). You'll have to attend my patient or else I am going to complain against you." They would have been like "I am the master and you are just a servant." It  happened many a times with me.
                 Anyway, I know, I have to be happy with my day. It's 1st July, the Doctor's Day.

YOU ARE NOT ILLITERATE, NEITHER DO THE DOCTORS...

First day of my internship! I was over enthusiastic and soon I came to know the real challenges I was to face in my day-to-day life for being a medico.             It's not that we, medicos always blame the other party for any untoward incident but we do most of the times. And I think we blame it right. Well, I know what's in your mind. All medicos are in my support and the others are not. Here, I am sharing a few instances when patient-parties were not satisfied with my services.              I was posted in NICU. One evening, a two days old baby with life supporting system rushed in. Ideally, no attendant is permitted inside but they were more than five. "It's ICU, you should not be inside. Stay one, others go outside." I told them. (Since morning I  have uttered the same sentence many times to many patient parties.) I repeated thrice, they overheard. and lastly when I was loud, one of them shouted at me, "I know this is ICU. I am M.Sc., my younger brother is MBBS." Also someone in his relation was Zilla Parishad Chairman. I realised that I shouted in vain.                Next incident was in casulty. The patient suffered RTA (road traffic accident) and in every medico-legal case we need to maintain extra documentation. I was asking a few questions to this patient but he was busy in talking to someone who was standing right behind me. I literally lost my temper and shouted at both of them. Do you know what I heard from my behind? "You are a doctor, you should be polite." He continued, "I am also educated, I'm a reporter." I was like... just leave it. It's obvious that I overheard him (because I am a doctor and I don't have the right to argue). After around half an hour, the reporter came to me with a prescription. "Why 'calpol syrup' has been prescribed? The baby is not having fever but he is suffering from a swelling on his forehead." He asked me. I know he has every right to ask a doctor such questions but his intentions were not good.                It's not that we always come across non-co-operative attendants. One evening when I was busy with paper-works, I heard the sister telling one old lady that she has taught her how to deliver medication once and now she can't do the same. The old lady replied,  "I am illiterate, old and the baby's father is differently abled. You are trained for that or else I would have been a doctor. I don't know anything, you have to help me out." I stopped writing for a moment and looked at her. "You are not illiterate," I murmured. I asked the sister to help the old lady and to attend her every time she gives a call. How would have others reacted if they were in place of that lady? Let me make a guess,"Hello sister, Govt is paying you for this, then why should I deliver the medication to the baby (though he is my son). You'll have to attend my patient or else I am going to complain against you." They would have been like "I am the master and you are just a servant." It  happened many a times with me.
                 Anyway, I know, I have to be happy with my day. It's 1st July, the Doctor's Day.

MY SILENCE: QUESTIONING THE SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY...

An ambulance rushed me to casualty. My nose was bleeding, my scalp was bleeding, my thigh swelled up to twice its original size. Above all I was fighting to take my part of oxygen in. I was disoriented, feeling like hell. Doctors started fluids, checking vitals, suturing scalp.
“110/70”, I heard someone shouting. I opened up my eyes. A new set of doctors took me over. They reduced my fracture and applied skin traction. Now I was oriented. Casualty gate was closed. All the security personnel were placed at the gate as second line of defence, police personnel being first were outside the gate. It was hard for them to control the mob. A huge mob! It was dying to get me.
I know, the God “Saturn” did this to me. I was in market-place when a group of six or seven boys captured me and within a minute the group turned into a mob.
You are wondering, what was my fault? Our college, Silchar Medical College, Silchar has two ways – IN and OUT and there is a temple beside the IN-Way where devotees worship the God Saturn. Well, Idon’t have any probem with that. But occasionally they block the IN-Way of the college with curtains to welcome mass gathering. And I just wrote to a local daily two days back questioning the justification ofblocking the entrance of a tertiary health care centre like Silchar Medical College. The fate I ended up with was this. “I have respect for the God too; I never meant this; I just wanted you not block the way,” I cried, I shouted to the mob.
My good luck, this was a dream. A bad dream, one should never remember.The mob caught my family members too. My mom was in ICU, younger sister was having strip of bandages around her head. The tears from my eyes brought me to the reality and then I never dared to think against the devotees, forget about writing in any local daily.
And that’s why I am silent; why are you?

(This article is not intended to hurt any religious sentiment but to question sense of responsibility.)

My silence: Questioning the sense of responsibility...

An ambulance rushed me to casualty. My nose was bleeding, my scalp was bleeding, my thigh swelled up to twice its original size. Above all I was fighting to take my part of oxygen in. I was disoriented, feeling like hell. Doctors started fluids, checking vitals, suturing scalp.
“110/70”, I heard someone shouting. I opened up my eyes. A new set of doctors took me over. They reduced my fracture and applied skin traction. Now I was oriented. Casualty gate was closed. All the security personnel were placed at the gate as second line of defence, police personnel being first were outside the gate. It was hard for them to control the mob. A huge mob! It was dying to get me.
I know, the God “Saturn” did this to me. I was in market-place when a group of six or seven boys captured me and within a minute the group turned into a mob.
You are wondering, what was my fault? Our college, Silchar Medical College, Silchar has two ways – IN and OUT and there is a temple beside the IN-Way where devotees worship the God Saturn. Well, Idon’t have any probem with that. But occasionally they block the IN-Way of the college with curtains to welcome mass gathering. And I just wrote to a local daily two days back questioning the justification ofblocking the entrance of a tertiary health care centre like Silchar Medical College. The fate I ended up with was this. “I have respect for the God too; I never meant this; I just wanted you not block the way,” I cried, I shouted to the mob.
My good luck, this was a dream. A bad dream, one should never remember.The mob caught my family members too. My mom was in ICU, younger sister was having strip of bandages around her head. The tears from my eyes brought me to the reality and then I never dared to think against the devotees, forget about writing in any local daily.
And that’s why I am silent; why are you?

(This article is not intended to hurt any religious sentiment but to question sense of responsibility.)