Friday, May 23, 2008

A Product of Mental Trauma


Im sitting in XY's lecture,
which necessarily is maddeningly dull.
Her opinion on metaphysic poetry
is doggedly resisted by my skull.

Its not just her soporific voice,
which alone can induce quite a coma,
its also Apurva's open lunch box,
and it's mind numbing, stomach clenching aroma.

It doesn't help that said food is two benches away,
annoyingly out of my reach..
that i can smell but not eat it,
makes me want to pull out my hair, and screech..

Meanwhile XY ploughs on,
inciting insanity with innocent ease,
while I struggle to remain coherent, I wonder,
doesn't she KNOW shes causing mass brain freeze?

I survey my classmates' faces,
eyes betraying desperate hope for release,
a maniacal, unspoken call for help-
get XY to stop talking, PLEASE.

Grafitti on my desk negates relinquishment,
supressing hope of any such thing,
its an ode to all those students who died,
waiting for the bell to ring.

At this juncture I'm compelled to admit,
there is certainly a great possibility,
that this mental disembowelling process,
will soon be confirmed by a casualty..

As the overwhelming fingers of unconsciousness,
tighten their grip on my brain,
I succumb to the peace of swooning..
I just cant stand the strain..

Revelation

I shudder as the camera pans the severely congested room, full to bursting with aggressive, irritable and visibly sweaty reporters with their accompanying camera men, all jostling for a decent position for when the much awaited IG of the Noida police arrives on the scene, to give us, the discerning, questioning, enthusiastic public, an update on the investigations of the murder of fourteen year old Arushi Talwar. "उनके पिताजी, डॉ राजेश तलवार को पुलिस की हिरासत में लिया जा चुका है", we're told for the 7th time in 10 minutes, as the considerate news reader attempts to fill the awkward silence on air as we fidget through the viscous minutes before the IG makes his grand entry. He pauses dramatically, probably expecting the said officer to arrive as the camera zooms in on the open door of the Senior Comissioner's room in Noida, the venue of the sensational press conference. He doesn't come. Our news reader clears his throat back in the studio, and his face re-appears on screen. We're treated to a re-run of the video recording of Dr. Rajesh Talwar's arrest (that had occurred earlier that morning), as a faceless reporter squawks an excited speculative commentary, yet again, in the background. "हमें अब तक कुछ नहीं पता चल पा रहा है..लेकिन जैसे आप देख सकते हैं, डॉ राजेश तलवार को noida police arrest कर रही है। कहा जा रहा है की पहले हेमराज का कत्ल हुआ, जिसे बच्ची अरुशी ने देख लिया था, जिसके लिए उसे अपनी जान देनी पड़ी। डॉ तलवार के नाजायज़ रिश्ते थे, जिसकी जानकारी बच्ची अरुशी और उनके servant हेमराज को भी थी, और दोनों ने इस बात की चर्चा भी की थी। इससे डॉ राजेश तलवार काफ़ी खफा थे, और इसी बात को लेकर राजेश और उसकी बेटी के बीच भी अनबन थी।"
Music that sounds like its been lifted from a hindi horror show on zee tv plays while the headline "Kaatil Ma, Kaatil Baap", with the by line "Rishton ka khoon?" flashes dramatically across the television screen. Squawky isn't easily defeated, however. Despite the news reader's attempts to stem the flow, our heroic informant ploughs on valiantly, telling us for roughly the 15th time about Talwar's alleged extra marital affair, Arushi's disapproval of it and her subsequent death in murder of the first degree which was earlier construed as an honour killing, as speculations about the relationship she shared with their domestic help, Hemraj, had surfaced earlier in the week.
The connection breaks abruptly, and the scene in the SC's office in Noida reappears on screen. As the camera zooms in to capture the entry of the fashionably late Inspector General, the news reader sounds distinctly relieved as he states that we shall now be audience to the ground breaking press conference only on that particular news channel, although a quick surf through the other news channels proves him wrong, of course.
The man seats himself at the head of the rickety table that is currently groaning under the weight of the 70 odd reporters leaning heavily on it, mics thrust forth, pens poised above pads. He flashes a superior smile to all the cameras in general, waves his hand vaguely in an unspoken request for attention, and in the ensuing (comparitive) silence, begins to speak.
"सोलह तारिख को जो दो हत्याएं हुई थी, नेपाली नौकर हेमराज और चौदह वर्ष की बच्ची श्रुति की..."
"अरुशी!", the reporters yell, in unison. The Inspector looks confused, but regroups and begins once more - "सोलह तारिख को जो..." - only to be interrupted again - "We cant hear you!" Someone chants tauntingly from the back of the room. The conference takes on the form of a substitute teacher trying to quell a particularly notorious classroom full of students. A quick hustle for a mic, in vain. The Inspector clears his throat and states that he will attempt to be louder, and to many sniggers and successive corrections that he nevertheless ignores, talks blandly about the murders of Hemraj and 'Shruti', reading off a grubby piece of paper. Telling us everything we already know in a torturously slow stentorian, he also adds that there were questionable ties between Arushi and Hemraj, and being discovered in a compromising position by Dr. Talwar was what lead to both their deaths at his hand, although he was himself involved in an extra marital affair. The conference ends in his chaotic and rather hasty exuent, and Squawky takes over once more, speculating on the involvement of Arushi's mother in both killings, and promising earnestly that the viewers will be informed the moment the police reveals any more information.
He then proceeds to interview neighbours who have gathered around the scene of crime, who in turn shake their heads and expound upon the arrival of the kalyuga, elaborate seriously on how their own children have now lost faith in them and how they have lost faith in their domestic help.
The news of the tragic death of a young girl is lost among chaotic allegations and the melodramatic character assasination of a fourteen year old child who is not even alive to defend herself. The thirst for truth and punitive action is lost among interviews that ask nothing and recieve no answers, and rapidly escalating TRPs.
Welcome to civilization.