Reacting to a friend's comment on Delhi Gang Rape and Girls Venturing Out at Night

I do not disagree with you. I do live my life with as much caution. I just DO NOT LIKE TO. I do not believe in destiny. I do not believe in God. But I believe I should be able to live a life where my gender does not prevent me from being happy. And I feel happy when I am walking alone on the street, sitting alone in a coffee shop, travelling by the last metro...where you bond with people you meet at those junctures...people who do not rape you.

Moral Policing of Women

Yes of course, a woman's safety lies in her, not drinking, not smoking, not carrying a mobile phone, not arguing, not dancing her heart out, not singing to herself, not working, not having sex when she wants, being pregnant when the entire world wants it to happen but her, taking care of the dog that her children wanted so much, not writing explicit, not swearing, not walking alone, not complaining, not wearing clothes she feels beautiful and hence confident in, not getting promoted in jobs, not getting ahead of men her age and men in general, not living life in her own terms. Yes, a woman is safest that way, because she ceases to be human, perhaps she has become a spirit like that of a Murakami novel. Something deep inside the jungle with half a shadow. The entrance stone has been opened and the door is still ajar.

Provocation

My constant attempt has been to not to get provoked by vocally expressed intelligence; I need to keep reminding myself - keep calm, you are learning at every step; enjoy that process, and that vocal intelligence out there, is a product of naivete, because if it was not, it would not be so loud.

Real Time Memories

My real time memories slip into my subconscious, effortlessly. But the new raw material in my subconscious become predominant – as I grow up; become a man from a boy. While they say it is ‘sub’ conscious – it forms a new consciousness in me. Images and sounds, shrieks and wails, blood and gore – more gore. A memory taken for granted.

(A child encompassed by domestic violence). 

Even the Title was Empty!

You got what I am doing right?

I am going through my blog's draft articles segment to see if I left any traces of an article, perhaps inconclusive (they all are, but...) and if I could just add a word here, add a punctuation there and publish them. 

Since this was an absolutely EMPTY draft, I thought I'd utilize the space to tell you what is it all about.

Gravity

She pulled out one of the patterns. But it was glued to the rest, hence she could not quite separate it out. Instead she had mozzarella cheese like patterns clamoured to the cubes and cylinders. She decided to walk through. Her hair got sticky and was smelling of patterns. At one point she had to resort to crawling. The tunnel kept narrowing down. She clung on two symmetrical patterns and whoa! She was dangling in mid air space upside down. Somewhere there is gravity; but she had left the world far behind long time back.

She woke up with a fall.

At Random

Oh! This draft was empty! 

Commenting on a child's photograph in which he is not facing the camera

...like an elusive man he busies himself to random as if nothing ever happened...as if there never was wit, wisdom and opportune moments to be captured...and hence it is felt at each passing minute reminding civilizations of the greatness of a child's heart...