THE INDEPENDENCE

“Walking down the streets of “independent” India, I saw people who were happy. Some were happy because they got a vacation, some were happy because they got themselves a nice august 15^th sales offer and some of them were happy just because they have to look happy on such an important day. Then I took a right into inner streets and I saw the people who were imprisoned. Imprisoned in their own hearts. Imprisoned by falling rupee and growing crime rates, imprisoned by infamous politicians and famous sadhus, imprisoned between the line of poverty and rich people. Then I took a bus to red fort where the flag was hoisted and they created an artificial wind to keep it flying. I was a fool to search for independence in the nation where the flag of the nation has no independence to fly on its own. ”~vivek         

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Bheekhu saw more people these days in Bade Sahib's office. Ravi, his co-worker (a very modest coinage for another domestic help like him) informed his in a smart tone that it was an election year, so they will have more chores to do in the house alone. He had worked in Bade Sahib's house for almost two months; Ravi had been there ever since he was five, but even he had still not seen as much furor as this. He had overheard the driver talking about "a return to power" or some homonym. While doing the dishes, Ravi once again bragged him about Sahib hoisting a flag some day next week. Bheekhu asked what was the occasion, cursing his negligence and his naive nature. While Ravi howled he, told him it was 15 Agast.

Bheekhu was an illiterate, but he was still not stupid enough to ask Ravi what it meant. But he was curious boy, and eventually rounded the cook in the late hours of a dopey afternoon next day. With a bundle of bidi he bribed him successfully. But his answer was really terse, and left more questions than it answered- it means being free, the Angrej left the country and we were free to do whatever we want.

As the day progressed the skies grew grey. He finished doing the dishes, ate his food and took his place on the kitchen floor. He looked out of the window, the lightening, the downpour being incessant. Free, the word had echoed in his mind throughout the day. He dare not discuss it with Ravi, he made enough fun of him already. But free was not a difficult word. He knew it alright. He knew that it meant doing something out one's own will. He wondered what it could be like to free for a day or two.

Would he be allowed to dress up in a smart uniform and board a shining yellow bus for an Angreji  school? Would he have two square meals each day? Would he get a a proper bed to sleep on? Would he get to see his poor parents again who had sent him to the city for some cash? Will he ever get to dress up in crisp and colorful clothes like these city folks do? Will he ever own one of these cars which run like raging bulls on the roads? Or a shiny handsome bike, which the Chota Sahib owns? Will he ever learn to read, something that he desired with all his heart. Will he ever be free of his limp, the one which he had carried since some polio thing happened to him. Will he ever be free of all these constraints that hold him back and live life as he should- free.

Bheekhu turned and tried to catch some sleep, and secondly the floor was damp while facing the window. He suddenly remembered that he had to wash Sahib's car next morning. He closed his eyes, he was not free; not yet.

NISHANT CHATURVEDI,

ELECTRICAL,

FINAL YEAR.

JAAGO

When will India take charge of India?!!!

We have been sitting in our armchairs for too long .We have complained about corruption, debated about poverty, ranted about overpopulation. But, when has an armchair sparked change?

We are arrived with the resources and expertise. What we need is the initiative. And, once we stand up, we can turn India around. One problem  at a time, because isn’t “charge” one letter away from “change”?

It has come –do we want early elections or not? Well, the answer may differ person to person, but an inevitable truth is we want somebody; rather everybody to take CHARGE. Get up and do it –this call of the hour.

When will we grow up? Enough has been said and told to us-about the right and wrong, about the cheats and cheater, about scams, about our so called “LEADERS”; about the whole of India.

CHANGE.  CHANCE. CHARGE.

Change is what we Indians want; chance is what mostly politicians grab with our help and charge is something which is left behind in the portfolio!! Learn to take responsibilities and get your responsibilities clear- its not just to vote and wash your hands off after voting....this is just a part of our duty. The actual one is to know and scrutinize the candidate to vote for. The responsibility does not end here-you need to take the sword and become warrior if you don’t see change happening.

Don’t  become a part of India , be it. We have seen few people who got up and fought for their place and today those places have flourished. India should not just breathe, it should live! Get out of your rosy and cosy life and pick up the sword. Corruption and poverty are indeed having deeps roots but you can rule the skies and with it clear the system. Fight for your country, with your country and release it from vicious clutches. Release it.

No one shall cause another pain or injury;

All mankind shall live in peace together;

Under a shield of  administrative  benevolence.

Let us build an India.

Don’t sit in the group waiting. Raise your head, put up your hand and turn a war cry that could change the course of history. You can turn hope into conviction, anger into purpose and cynics into converts. Today our nation stagnates. Under  the dark shadows of a billion fingers pointing at one another , shouting about what should be done, how it should be done and who should do it. We don’t need any more finger-pointers. We have enough. We just need a few who will put up their hand and say I WILL. It’s the time the real India stand up. Never believe that a few caring people can’t change the world. As a matter of fact, that’s all who ever have.

  

VERTIKA AGARWAL
Creative Team
IBC

VOTE.SELECT.ACT

Politics is the art of influencing people on a civic or individual level. And, democracy is the relationship between people and politics.

The history of India takes us back to the individual republics of the 6^th century BC, that is, the sanghas and the ganas which closely resembled a democracy. India has been following democratic rule since the year 1949. But is the system followed by our government really democratic? Is the common man being given rights the constitution claims to bestow on him? If yes, then why is politics a bad word? Why is a politician seen as some corrupt, sadistic individual who knows nothing, but thinks he knows everything?

Take the example of Rahul Gandhi who is being considered for the prime minister’s post by the Congress. After almost three generations, we think that the Gandhis might give it a rest. But, no, they just have to run a monarchy in disguise. Our constitution boasts about the right to equality, however, it was flushed down the drain long ago when it became a ritual for rape victims to wait for a decade to get justice. Educational privileges and the right against exploitation are violated every time a kid is forced to beg on the streets with the notion “pity pays”. And the suicides in Gujarat due to penalising of farmers are a sorry acceptance of the “right” to life and property. Democracy in India allows us to break laws which guard these civil liberties, to name a few.

The answer to all questions lies at the root level. The bug is in each and every individual who votes and in each one of us who does not vote. It is nice to write an article on what a pathetic excuse of a democracy our country is. It is nice to blame the system for all its loopholes which fail to prevent trafficking, suicides and the growing difference between the haves and the have-nots. It is great to read such articles and reflect upon them. But, it is not nice to accept the victims of this system as our own. It is not nice to put ourselves in their shoes and stand up against the prevalent corruption as long as our needs are satisfied. And, due to some mental barriers, it is just not nice to vote with a rational mind. An empty stomach is not a good political adviser. Think about it.

SANJANA MAHABALE,

LITERARY MEMBER,

IBC

VOIDS IN TIME

 Today. Yet another day, at the end of which my brain is reluctant to think. It’s more tiring to have a tired mind, than a tired body.

 This place. I have been here before, endless number of times. But its not mine. I stand at the edge. Do I belong here?

 People. They keep running and running, trying to reach goals set by others, trying to conquer more than others, trying to prove something very irrelevant. It’s a race, where you don’t lose, but people make you feel you did, not by telling you so, but by reminding you of their triumph. But a part of me knows something is missing. My surroundings are empty, thoughtless and hence, powerless. 

I should get down from the bus and walk the rest of the distance. No, I am too exhausted for it. But I should. So I hear myself yelling “I had to get down.” The driver unwillingly stops, my co-passengers glare at me and the conductor giggles at my back. Is this one of the decisions I was going to regret? It’s a pitiable thing to think so much about such a small happening, but my brain keeps on going back to all the faces, my limbs make me regret what I just did. But I needed it more than it was wanted. I start walking, without any realization, I leave the park behind, and my mind wanders off to the summers when I thought tooth fairy was real. All the memories I have are those from the frame of ‘outside the gate’. Did I never go inside to play? Or were they just too impolite to remember? At that time, it was just laziness, but now, I realize maybe it was more than my body’s reluctance to join the other kids. Maybe it was my mind’s.

 Repeated trips to the hospital makes any being more fragile than he was before. Though, I am no one to blame these health factories, I can relate to their psychological setbacks. “But I am more than that. I don’t state the hospitals as the reason of my lack of motivation. Only the guilt of my mistakes can make me prosper. Like those kids there-” as I wandered out and back into my subconscious, I merely saw a bunch of teenagers terrorizing a little pup. Will some of them regret this act? God, I hope they do. Though, I know how they feel; how they are frustrated, confused, like everyone is, more or less, at the time of learning something new.

 Then these are youngsters, trying to learn the most complex mathematics of all: life. Though I am no one to know them, but still, it is not just right to show their dominance over an innocent creature to prove to the world that you are unafraid. Rather, it’s just the work of a coward. But they’ll learn for themselves. Some will wait for big happenings; others will be inhibited by smaller ones. Some days they’ll discover themselves; others, they’ll invent. Some will invite troubles to themselves; others might run away; sooner than later, they’ll know; hard way or otherwise that little things matter.

 Hypothesis of a biologist would suggest I am completely aware of my limbs, moving forward, like trying to win, against each other, a motion in vain. But all I feel right now is my blood thumping through my ears. Was I running out of breath?

 I see a smile of an old man sitting in Mr. Oliver’s window side seat, and it makes me wonder do I have to wait till the last chapter? No. Every happy chapter begins with a smile, and the sad ones end with a smile!

I see a vagabond, and I see a woman sitting on her bedroom window. For one, her house is a prison, for the other, the world outside the house. For any prisoner, their prison is the safest place they know. Scared to be outside, crouching at the thought of being left free; but the spark of not being where you are, overpowers the importance of now and here.

 Sometimes, life is plain, mundane, redundant, but that time, is the most useful time. It’s the intermission of a movie, where you have seen the movie, and, yet, are eager for more. It’s the comma in the sentence, where you still have sentence left for reading, yet, understand the first half. It’s the time to learn, the time to format, to dispose off useless stuff, to be excited for more.

 Like the walk I had; the void which I filled with memories and judgments. Now, I am not regretting my decision of getting off the bus. Aching more than before, I reached the stairs to my apartment.

 Today. I travelled more than I walked; but am still shrugging at the expressions of the fellow bus passengers. 

                                         -Sanjana Wadhwa,

                                     Computer Science,

                                   2^nd year