Saturday, December 26, 2009

Little girl

Hi,

I know I am back very soon, but just could not help but relate this story to the world.

Sneha, a ten year old girl lived in Pondicherry with her foster parents. The world was not too rosy for her, as her foster mother detested her. Mr. & Mrs. Singh had taken her under their care in 1999 from a cathedral, when she was just a month old.

Mr. & Mrs. Singh could not have children. Mrs. Singh had earlier supported her husband when he suggested adoption, but later said why adopt legally. She wanted to have a child so that she could shower her love and motherly care. She said she wanted a girl child, so that they could ensure a miserable life could be transformed into a bright one.

Sneha was named thus, as they wanted her to symbolize the love that they held within. As Sneha grew older, Mrs. Singh distanced herself from her. She started ill-treating her. Mr. Singh earlier tried to make peace and save the child. Frustrated by the mere sight of his wife, who was so loving and caring, spanking a four year old he started working late hours, doing odd extra chores, and gradually the beautiful home turned into a motel for him.

Sneha, in the meanwhile, could not help but wonder why her mother was like this. Lack of mother's care and father's attention converted her into a recluse. By the age of 6 she could not speak properly. Sentence formation was poor, pronunciation was erratic, and worse she stammered. Admission in a good missionary did not make life any easier for her. Other students were better off, more confident and had friends. She failed Class III.

Back at home she was yelled at for the first time by her father. That day Sneha cried and asked God why she had parents at all.

The next day she came to know that her mother had passed away at night in peace due to a heart attack. Silently she said a thank you prayer to Lord. Mr. Singh was shattered. He suffered a stroke that resulted in paralysis.


NOW, where is
Sneha in your mental framework? An unfortunate kid who suffered a lot in infancy causing her character to shatter as much as this that she will probably never do anything commendable in life.
Where is Mrs. Singh? A woman who spoiled not one but two lives. She should have tried to understand that her behavior could destroy a bud.
Where is Mr. Singh? Poor chap... what could he do? Uselessly suffered...

Ever wondered after such a narration why Mrs. Singh was what she was? Why Mr. Singh suffered a stroke? There is no dramatic story behind all this. Just a simple fact that we did not know.

Mrs. Singh was incapable of bearing children due to deformed ovary. She hence felt responsible for not being able to give her family the happiness they deserved. She tagged along the idea of adoption, but once they had Sneha at home, each sight of her made her realize what she was incapable of...not because she had done something wrong, but because God had played a game. Her frustration would peak when Mr. Singh would say how lucky they were to have Sneha... would a borne child have been that lucky for them... of course not. Her frustration grew. She had no outlet, but Sneha.

I am sure you are thinking how irrational of Mrs. Singh... Now tell yourself truthfully - don't you often shout at your friend when your exam goes bad? don't you vent out anger at waiters, autovallas sometimes? din't you ever tell you mom not to interfere? don't you fight with your girlfriend or boyfriend because they were not awake at 4 am to hear out your grievance? don't you shout at a close friend when they ridicule you? If the answer to any of these is affirmative, consider this -life had ridiculed Mrs. Singh, and what she did was a result of uncontrollable impact of helplessness.

On the other hand Mr. Singh away from home absorbed himself in work. Wife had become a monster and child was a useless heap of bones and muscles... this is why people don't adopt he would tell himself. You don't get your genes, and obviously this is what happens.

On December 25, 2009, when Pondicherry was celebrating Christmas, Mr. Singh frustrated at Sneha's failure in mid-term itself, blocking her for the year told his wife what he had been thinking for over 5 years. That night Mrs. Singh committed suicide by taking an overdose of sleeping pills, because she felt she was to be blamed for not bearing a child who had their genes.

Next day morning Mr. Singh hoping to talk to his wife and apologize for his erratic behaviour, made tea and came to her bed. She was dead. He suffered a stroke and has been paralysed, we do not know till when...

Sneha... what happens to her? Who is to be blamed? Rationals may say X/Y/Z...

I rest my case,

PS.

Diary

Hi,

This is the first blog i am writing... Not that I have just developed a penchant for writing, but that I have just crossed the technological threshold of moving from paper & pencil to this e-typewriter.

So many things to express and re-express...

Why such a name to this blog? This blog finds its roots in the commencement of life itself. When born did we know wrong from right? Did we know the difference between bad and good? Did we know the difference between Godly and evil? Yet we were conditioned by our environs to understand these, comprehend situations and act as per rules, regulations, rights, etc etc.

Did we ever come to know why good was good OR why bad was bad...? If you think yes, believe me that is what you believe... it is not true. The conditioning that we received has shut the window of understanding the 'BAD'... We think we know what is good, and what is bad. Many melodramatic Bollywood movies showcase the same... Why judge the result is what I have questioned all my 23 years of life. Judge the reason boss! Get the virtual distinct from the real.

Forget the two sides of a coin funda... any situation has to be analysed as if it is an object with as many faces as the players/conditions involved. The planes that now develop will give you an understanding of what it is. I know this sounds crazy. Will illustrate via further posts what I have to say

Will be back soon... Bye for now

PS.