Wednesday, April 18, 2012

The Diary of a Young Girl

Dear Anne,
Hope you are doing well and so is your kitty.
Today I read your personal diary, written in a hide-out, during World War II, which was later published as ‘The Diary of a Young Girl’,a war memoriam.
Frankly from the moment I started reading your diary I was mentally making notes to quote for a review, as I have resolved to write as many reviews as possible this year.
But when I completed reading, I was so disturbed that not even a word would come out of my mind. Reading the ‘Afterword’ was even more saddening.
How could people do this to you Anne, or for that matter to anyone else? How could they kill people in heaps, these mortals?
You wrote this diary in 1942 in a remote town in Holland under the pains of hiding from approaching enemies. But still how is that you reflect almost every part of me, even before half a century?
You, I find, epitomize a woman, confident, never-giving-up, clear and streamlined in one’s thoughts and actions!
It is really a pity that you should die, after fresh hopes of the allies winning the war and you released from your hiding place, going to school and picturizing yourself as a brave-women-not-a-regular-house-wife.
And see your confidence:
“If god lets me live, I shall attain more than mummy ever has done, I shall not remain insignificant, I shall work in the world and for mankind!
And now I know that first and foremost I shall require courage and cheerfulness”
How positive you were about life, when all the adults in the household were sceptic. Little girls are always wiser than men.
But nothing has changed Anne, the evils are now walking the masquerade with different faces. Srilanka, Libya, Syria, Israel-Palestine, China, Kashmir… everywhere.
Again and again we prove ourselves, that we have learnt not even an alphabet from history.
It’s disappointing that Jews who were tortured during the WWII should do it again to Palestinians! I know you would be on the side of Palestinians, wouldn’t you Anne?
I so wish that this book is placed as the non-detail paper we used to have instead of the Scarlet Pimpernels and Oliver Twists.
There were many parts from the Afterword which made me cry, but this was unimaginable.
“It was Anne, and I ran in the direction of the voice, and then I saw her beyond the barbed wire. She was in rags. I saw her emaciated, sunken face in the darkness. Her eyes were very large. We cried and cried, for now there was only the barbed wire between us, nothing more. And no longer any difference in our lives.”
- From the Afterword, by your friend Lies Goosens, who was doomed to the concentration camp two years before yourself, on meeting you again, a good in bad.
You have by your words, stirred the conscience of the Germans who stood silent when Hitler ordered the genocide against non-Aryans and made them feel guilt for being mute spectators.
Now I wish the international community and the Indian elite, see this video and and wake up and vote against Srilanka in the UN resolution. If you had known, this is another one in the ugly pages of history.
Because, deadly crimes cannot be undone, but should be punished for prevention and you know it better than me!
And coming back to to the book…
The book is special among all war tales because, it was not written with an intent to make a story. But it had a story, so hard to ponder.
I initially liked reading this book because it was like talking to oneself, later I liked it because of the little romance with Peter and that tender kiss, which I suspected to have been inserted by someone else preferably your father, Mr. Otto Frank. But you have said that you could not fall completely for Peter, obviates my suspicion. Now, that should be Anne right, a bundle of confusions,contradictions and conclusions!?
I salute you Anne, your innocence, your efforts to enliven dampened spirits and to improve your attitude and for living through the tough times of life!
Your diary is not only a war memoriam, but a reflection of what all children undergo with or without wars during their adolescence.
I found why the end haunted me so silently. From the first word of this diary I found you extremely boisterous, to the brim. Even the abrupt end of the diary makes me empathize the untold suffering undergone by a girl of your kind.
The end is not only abrupt to the diary, but to Anne, to the man kind itself.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Remembering my bicycle days…
My only treasure was my bicycle,
With it I rode all the roads.
Rains have crushed my insides.
Still I remember that drop which touched my nose.
Even thunders were disparaged.
Cold did not throb.
After days I can remember only,
How my heart was washed with rain.
Sun has scorched my head.
Reprimands where not responded.
I know the long lane waited for me to ride
Along my way I saw not only springs but autumn too.
When I thought of the springs waiting,
Withering leaves too gave reasons to smile.
Later I realized that my destiny was not what it should be.
But who cares?
I want the ride and won’t mind my road.
Was alone with my rides, rain and burning sun.
My ride is over now.
My bicycle is on the lonely corner.
It’s rusted with paint worn to shred,
Waiting for someone to care…
Now in my solitude when I think
It’s not my lessons that made my life worthy,
But only my voyages have made my days tasty.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

It aches...

This was the most painful matter i have ever read...During a chaos in a paricular Indian state the rebellions attacked a pregnant lady and tore her womb and took out the foetus and threw it into fire and shouted around it...
Is anything more needed to show our cruelty and irresponsibility?

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Prayer At Her Last Seconds

The womb was dark.
There was no one to speak.
Not a scene to behold,
No frenzied tales to be told.
She was all alone...
Her tears added to the liquid around.
She is no more a foetus,
She has a heart and some blood,
To sense and shed.
She had dreams to see this world,
To kiss her mom...
To cling to her dad...
To play with her siblings...
She could hear her mom biding adieu,
Alas,no one could listen to her weeps...
She has to move to a newer world..
Not even a soul to caress there,
Only devils dreaming to harass her.
The doctor did the final ceremony
They bade her goodbye,crying
"May her soul rest in peace..."

Friday, March 21, 2008

When Do We Turn Selfish?

We were born with hands free to hold anyone...

We did not mind who was next to us in classes,shared lunches,had quarrels,performed tantrums!

We grew up...Parents pressurized us to outwit our peers who then turned our counterparts...

We aspired to win this world...get accolades, wanted recognition..

We squeezed ourselves in meaningless competitions.

We now have jobs,money and caring spouse...

We rush this life chasing our beloved materialistic dreams and obviously win them...

We will ultimately end our race one day with castles on cash...

Have we ever thought of those refugees leaving the lands they were born,were they played and were they made love...

Have ever prayed for those who were differently abled,physically or mentally challenged?
We waste our money and time in building landmarks with marbles paved and woodwork decorated instead of building lively bonds with people who need us to share and care...

We professionals too selfish to turn around and appreciate the falling snow preferring the falling dollar value...

When are we going turn human?

When are we going to feel the hunger of hundred thousands which is the only true pain?

When will we understand and sympathize the child which works for you sparing studies?

Life is all about living and not existing...

This is an alarm to the extinction of empathy...