Saturday, May 12, 2012

বন্ধন

বন্ধন

অনেক বছর পেরিয়ে এসে অনেক মনের সাথে মিশে
আমরা এখন মাঝ দিঘীতে মিশেই ভেসে রই
রয়েছি তবু একলা ব’সে মুখ শুকিয়ে এই বয়সে
তাই ত ভাবি এবার যদি বেড়া ভেঙে আমরা সবাই
মিলে মিশে একসাথে সব যোশেই বুড়ো হই ।

একমাসেরো বড় হলে দাদা দিদি হ’ত যারা
এখন দেখি দশবছরের বড় হলেও বন্ধু তারা
কোথায় গেছে ছোট বেলার ছোটখাট ফারাক যত
গুলি, পিট্টু, বোম্বাট সব মাঠেই আছে মনের মত
কতরকম বাঁদরামি সব করতাম আজ মনে পড়ে
দেখতে যেতাম ফুটবল ম্যাচ বাসে ঝুলে রৌদ্রে ঝড়ে
পকেট তখন গড়ের মাঠ, তাও খেলার টানেই ইডেন যাওয়া
এখন টানে বয়সের সব অসুখ অনেক মূল্যে পাওয়া
দোলের সময় রঙ ভরা সব বেলুনগুলোর ঘোরাফেরা
ঈদ বিজয়ার মিষ্টি কোলাকুলির পরেই ঘরে ফেরা

পাড়ার মোড়ে রবিদাদের আলুর চপ আর লেবু চা
রবিবারের আড্ডাগুলো মনে করেই শান্তি পা

আছিস কোথায় বন্ধুরা সব হলিই না হয় বুড়ো ছেলে
কী আসে যায় বয়স না হয় গেছে কোথায় দূরে ফেলে
এখন যদি মিলত সবাই আবার নতুন জোরে
একিই খেলা খেলতাম কি অন্যরকম ক’রে?
সবাই যদি আবার এসে আগের মতন মিলতো এসে হাঁসিখুশীর ধারে
একসাথে সব বুড়ো হবার মজা হত খেলার মত
বুক বাজিয়ে বুড়ো হতাম একসাথেতে হ’লে

জানি এমন হবার ত নয় দেওয়াল এখন বিশাল বেজায়
মনের কথা মনের কাছে লিখেই হেঁসে খেলে বেড়ায়...

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

melting

melting

Time has come now it is time,
Snows and Heat are melting in us, 
Divides of game and senseless crime,
Fly off the sight of the tired campus,
The piper plays a different tune,
Children are back to their only commune.

The baroness has left us so dignified,
From us our Father she’s not to snatch,
Maria sings tired, a hymn so tried,
To bring him back to a winsome match.
Time has come now it is time,
Years of grief and tender tears,
Seemed never to end and never to rhyme,
We sing and chant now with pride, without fears,
See the children of sixty years,
Moving everywhere from where they were.

Mountains glow and the rivers flow,
No horrid sound comes of them though,
Forests bloom and flowers talk,
Shepherds smile and boatmen row,
Roads and streets are open to show,
That Peace and Wealth are here to walk.

Farmers feast from west to east
And take the bowl from south to north
Happy are we, to say the least
With our food we knew, from back and forth.
The crescent Moon and the glowing Sun
Rise and set so happy to burn
Daughters and sons of the Father so strong
Are never to fight, for right or wrong.
The winds are fresh and the need is prime
Time has come now it is time.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Penultimate

Penultimate

No, No! Nothing is fixed or final
Yet it’s not moving at all
Rehearse the hearse,
or the womb you’d like to nurse
Reject it or welcome,
There is always one more to come.
Flowers will drop or form into fruits without a trace,
Babies will seed from the gentle Grace,
Yet monuments and buildings re-built
Without remorse, or any bit of Guilt.
Reject it or welcome,
There is always one more to come.
Powers play on the stage once more,
As Kids and Children fight to death –
All have points so proud to score,
The lands in vain go out of breath.
Reject it or welcome,
There is always one more to come.
Rats will scare the cats again,
Until the piper plays the flute,
The mourning mayor is still in pain
has left the Town, so immune and mute.
Reject it or welcome,
There is always one more to come.
Farmers decide not to plough the Land
So fighters beyond reach go begging for grain.
Women decide not to be Mothers again
Those wombs that bleed in moan and pain
Might never fight for right or greed
Become a horror, or snatched to the battlefield.
Yet there is just one more to come,
Reject it or welcome.
Beauty and bliss will never cease,
In the days to come as those bygone,
Sense will crush the films and seize,
Yet nothing sinks when the show is on.
Reject it or welcome,
There is always one more to come.
No, No! Nothing is fixed or final
Yet it’s not moving at all
Good or glad; bad or sad,
our own tribunal
Reject it or welcome,
There is always one more to come.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

আশার কালো

আশার কালো

আমি হাঁঠছি …
কানায় কানায় কালো ভোরের ভয়ের আলো
আমি এবার হাঁটছি ছবি থেকে বেরিয়ে ৷ রাস্তা দিয়ে ৷
তখন সকাল হয়নি চারিদিক কালো ছিল ৷ 
প্রতিদিনের পরিচীত রাস্তা 
তাই খানিকটা আন্দাজে খানিকটা দেখে দেখে 
যতদূর পারি হাঁটছিলাম ৷ 
আস্তে আস্তে অনেক কিছু যেন শুনতে পাচ্ছি আমার চেনা পথে, 
এতদিন যা রয়েছিল আমার কানের বাইরে ৷ 

আমি শুনিনি, বোধহয় কালোয় ঢুকিনি তাই ৷ 
একটু শীত করে উঠল একটা আলতো হাওয়ায় ৷ 
চারিদিক অন্ধকার, তবু জানি 
আর কয়েক ক্ষণের মধ্যেই 
আকাশ পরিস্কার করে আলো এসে ভর করবে ৷ 
গাছের পাতা, পাখির নড়াচড়া, চিপ্-চিপ্-চিচীপ ডাক, 
দূধের চাকার আল্তো ক'রে চলার শব্দ, 
ছোটখাট বাড়ির কল খোলার শব্দ 
কানের বাইরে গাছের বীজের মত উড়ে বেড়াচ্ছে 
আন্দাজ করতে পারছি – 
সকাল হবার শব্দ আমি শুনছি আর হাঁটছি ৷

হঠাৎ কালো নিমেশের মধ্যে ধূসর হয়েই 
ফরসা হয়ে গেল মুহূর্তে ৷ 
ব্যাস ৷ 
চললো গাড়িঘোড়া অনলস অনর্গল ৷ 
শুরু হল কিছুক্ষণ আগে শুরু হওয়া জীবনের ছন্দ ৷ 
আমি এখন অনেক সাবধানে হাঁটছি, অনেক মন দিয়ে শুনছি ৷ 
সবাই কথা বলছে, কিন্তু কেউই যেন ঠিক শুনছে না ৷ 
অগনিত যন্ত্রর দিকে অবাক দ্রিষ্টিতে চেয়ে থাকা মানুষ 
লাভক্ষতির কথা, অসুখ বিসুখের কথা বলছে, 
কেউবা রক্তাক্ত কাগজের দিকে তাকিয়ে 
এক অদ্ভুত ভাষায় কথা বলছে – কিন্তু সবাই বলছে ৷ 
কেউ আবার কার সাথে কথা বললে কতটা লাভ হবে সেটা বুঝে নিচ্ছে ৷ 

সকাল হবার আগে যখন মানুষেরা ঘুমিয়ে ছিল, 
তখন তারা যেন অনেক সহজ, অনেক সচেতন ছিল, 
অনেক জীবন্ত ছিল! 

আমি হাঁটছি ৷ 
আমার চারিদিকের জিনিষ গুলো আমার মনে দ্বন্দ্বের শাঁখ বাজাচ্ছে ৷ 
কি শুনবো বা দেখবো বুঝতে পারছি না ৷ সুর্যের আলোতে 
আন্দাজ অনুমানের অবকাশ নেই, তার ওপর যা নির্দেশ তাই দেখতে হবে ৷ 
গুলিয়ে গিয়ে আমার চোখ হল কালা, আর কান হল কানা ৷ 
আমি ভয়ে নাকানি চোবানি খেয়ে, ঘেমে নেয়ে হাবুডুবু খাচছি জীবনের মরুভূমিতে ৷ 
আমি হাঁটছি, হাঁটতে হবে তাই ৷ 

তবে এবার আমার সাথে আছে বিভীন্য স্তরের শতসংখ মানুষ ৷ 
সবার মুখেবুকে একই মন্ত্র, আর দাও আর দাও দাউ দাউ করছে 
স্পষ্ট হলুদ আলোয় ৷ 
সভ্য মাপা অঙ্ক কার সাথে কতটা তফাৎ সঠিক ভাবে দেখাচ্ছে ৷ 
8.5 আর 8.3705 কত আলাদা এই বলছে ৷ 
যদি বলি একই ত, খানিকটা জল দিয়ে মিলিয়ে দিলেই ত হয়, 
তাহলে তা ত মহৎ অসৎ হয়ে যায় ৷ 
যদি বলি তা এক নয়, তাহলে নিশ্চিন্তি ৷ 
তাই বলছি ৷ 
এই হল দেখাশোনার মুশকিল, আলোর হলাহল ৷ 
অন্ধকারে কিছু কারচুপি হয় ঠিকই, তবে যুদ্ধ থেমে যায়, 
হবে কি করে কোন সীমান্তই যে দেখা যায়না, সবই ত এক মনে হয় ৷ 
তাই 8.5 আর 8.3705 ঘাপটি মেরে 
আলোর অপেক্ষায় থাকে আবার ক'রে যুদ্ধ করার জন্য ৷ 

মাপা কথা, মাপা হাঁসি মাপা ফারাক 
আমাদের কিন্তু মনে করিয়ে দেয় যে 
“আমরা চিত্র, অতি বিচীত্র, অতি বিশুদ্ধ, অতি পবিত্র”, 
তবে আলোর মধ্যে নয়, যেখানে আলোর প্রবেশ নেই, সেখানে ৷ 
আমরা ব্যাস্ত, অতি বিদ্ধস্ত, অতি বিরক্ত, অতি বিভ্রান্ত আলোর মধ্যে ৷ 
...
কিন্তু আমরা যখন সন্ধে বেলায়, বাড়িতে ফিরে 
কেউ সোফায় বসে, কেউ মেঝেতে পা ছড়িয়ে, 
কেউ বিছানায় এলিয়ে চা খেতে খেতে আঃ বলি, 
তখন আমরা আর সেই আমরা থাকিনা ৷ 
তখন নরম হয়ে নিশ্চিন্ত হয়ে 
অনুমান, আন্দাজ করার সময় পাই ৷ 
আমি হাঁটছি ৷ 
বড়দিন শেষ হল, বাঁচা গেল, 
এবার বোধের গন্ধ বেয়ে 
একটা স্বাভাবিক চিত্র ধরা দিতে পারে ৷
এখন কাল রাত ৷ 
তবে বিকেলের ঠিক পরের, 
না ভোরের ঠিক আগের বোঝার উপায় নেই ৷ 
আন্দাজ অনুমানের ওপর ভরসা ক’রে ছবির থেকে বেরিয়ে 
আমি হাঁঠছি …

Friday, March 23, 2012

মনের ক্ষেত

মনের ক্ষেত

কত নিবি কত দিবি
কিকী হ’লে কত হবে
এই নিয়ে ভাবাভাবি
কতশত বকাবকি
ডাকাডাকি চোখাচোখি

হিজিবিজি লেখালেখি
একেবারে হাবিজাবি
কথা তোর মুখে রাখ
ভাবা তোর মুছে যাক
দেওয়া পাওয়া নিয়ে তোর
মন হয় ছারখার ছাড়ে নাযে চীৎকার
বিকেল হ’য়ে আসে ভোর

ছুড়ো থেকে বুড়ো হ’স
মন তবু বুনো মোষ
কেঁদে যাস বারো মাস
তাও সবি খেতে চাস
ঝাল ঝোল মেখে খাস
বয়সের গাছ ডিল
থাকে না যে মুশকিল
তাও আজো জিভে জল
লোভী পেটে অম্বল

ভর পেট হাঁসিতে
সুর তোল বাঁশিতে
মানে খোঁজা ছেড়ে দে
বেঁচে থাক দিন ভোর
মন প্রাণ খোলা থাক
পেয়ে যাবি লিখে রাখ
চকচকে সে পাথর
ঘ’সলেই চমকাবি
যত আছে প্রশ্ন আর হিজিবিজি হাবিজাবি
একদিন দেখে নিবি ক’রে সব ধুত্তোর
মুছে গেছে সবটাই রেখে তোর উত্তর

Monday, March 19, 2012

Stopping by the field on a golden afternoon

Stopping by the field on a golden afternoon

We do not know whose kids these are playing on the field.
They are running, running and running.
Hands and feet full of mud, numb without rest.
All we heard was catch, catch, catch and catch
Giggles of music pump through the hearts
Games changed in every minute, fun was at its best.
From the swings to the slide they moved and ran without grace, with pride
Seated on the grass under a huge aged tree,
Our heads were slow to be with them in the eyes so free

Names of the games? O heavens who knows them!
Rules there seemed to be little or none!
No points, no one won, all were in, no one out, none lost,
All for fun

They appeared and re-appeared so fast
Their madness so tired and fresh ran all over the field, and seemed only,
Only to last
When they spoke on the run
No meaning came from the wordless fun
Not a word they sang made sense to us
They understood them though without a fuss
And then again
Even after what all they did! It was time again to run, run, run and run.

Infected, injected with happiness above words, we felt our nerves found our sense
As friends would return we promised ourselves
Left the kids and the tree, in between their games
So full of fun: without sense, points, or names.


Seventh heaven

seventh heaven

There was an accident
Men were fighting for their only love
They were bold, brave and strong
Were tall, agile and had not a dent.
Yet the flight had the better of them
Was all ‘bout the choice that was but the same
They focused on their game, for right or for wrong.

They built mountains of wealth with their knowledge and their skill
Were kind and good to all who wanted help and food
They were known as such, as men of strength and worth
Knew all in town as much as it
Knew them like their own;
Now their love’s smiling there
They’re fighting for the Kill.


These were men of letters and from the hall of fame
When they talked, the pin never dropped
When they smiled, all were obliged
When the love was not so still
They’d take her to the hill,
All by turn and plan, as if he were the man
And this became the Game.

No one ever thought with a single anyone
She could tie the knot – now that it was done
Her loving body still, tender with a dent.
The town was out of tune, sang with a noise
How’s she tied to one? Did she have a choice!
But she did have her own, until was it known
As a blind accident

Friday, March 16, 2012

Times to modern times

Over the recent times, there has been an explosion of intelligence across the world. We take cognizance of intelligence through multiple and sometimes confusing choices of machines and instruments. Every other product is fast getting outdated in time with life becoming faster every day. To cope with life’s speed we have household and office instruments serving us. The objective of all these is to make our lives more convenient and comfortable. However, the price we are paying is that of impatience and insecurity, widely visible in our domestic and work environments. I marvel at the number of passwords we need to remember and the number of security checks we have to go through every day! It is alarming indeed; as for passwords, it started from simple to complicated, then to complicated ones with special characters and now there is a need to changing them periodically. Also, with the not-so-ignorable evolution of security checks, we need to innumerably swipe our identity cards. We have various new forms of secured banking nowadays, trying to make our lives easy and with as less of human contacts as possible. You call a number and you have a voice talking to you. Even if you are in a tragic or in a heavy mood, the mindless voice would warmly ’do the needful’ welcoming you, thanking you and then, on choosing a series of options, you will either have to hang up or get disconnected with your query un-answered. Well, if you are lucky, you could also talk to a human being! On withdrawing money from an ATM machine, you might have to answer a series of marketing questions and in the course, might miss the bus, or, if in haste, might even forget to collect your ATM card. With several debit and credit cards in our wallets, we are pinned down with more and more numbers, and the magnitude of fear of losing them is no less than losing yourself. Our dependence on machines and instruments clearly endorses our trust and submission towards them as a response to the changing period we are living in – that of mistrust and insecurity, the two new perceptions of ‘modern times’.

Invisible produce of machines

All of this produces tension in the human minds and is displaced with cynicism and mistrust. Life is uncontrollably becoming faster and pragmatic with little room for the slowness and abstraction. To cope with this horrendously fast life, our perception of sports and entertainment is also changing. We have shrunk the five-day test matches to less-than-a-day 20-20 matches. In the very few children’s park we have, there are more adults than children because it is not safe anymore for children to be in the children’s park. Our insistence to mechanically driven fast life is childish notwithstanding. My objective is not to give a list of examples, but to understand the implications of this not-so-old phenomenon. With more gadgets, more machines, more instruments, our menu-driven lives are becoming more convenient and simple. And yet there is a growing mistrust, discomfort and un-ease in terms of connecting with people. We tend to be glued to our machines, sometimes overlooking human companies. Now then am I suggesting that we go back to our olden days? Incidentally the old barter system has re-started since quite some time in a new name called countertrade. And in Spain, there is a group of people who have gone back to the old barter system. But I am suggesting none of that. I am just trying to look at the pattern and understand its implications.


Mechanical wave of inevitable-isation is perhaps best in the west

More machines means less people. Is it a mental model? Was this the apprehension of various Indian trade unions who protested against computerization? While these union leaders were talking from a job perspective, a demand-supply imbalance, I am not talking at all from that perspective. However, in a country where population is forever increasing, how can we afford to shoo away people? Mechanization is not an option in the West because their population is perpetually at stake; they have to make a lot of effort to inflate their decreasing population. They need to depend on machines more than we do because they lack people. We do not. Do we have the sense to understand what is good for us and what is not? I am not against machines, neither against technology, and I would be out of mind to blatantly deny the benefits, predictability and objectivity of mechanization. It is thanks to technology that I am a blogger today – I do have a virtual corner where I can write about my conviction. Even in the Indian context, I’d say that technology has also brought a huge section of our population into reading, because in order to use a particular machine, you are obliged to read, either numbers or letters.

However, my point is that of bringing out a balance between use and overuse, that of setting a limit. While it is inhuman to make human beings work like bonded labourers, it is equally cruel to convert human beings as nincompoops. We invent a machine and invariably ‘inevitabilise’ them, as if the world would come to a halt without them. It may be more appropriate in the west, where crudely speaking; there is a dearth of people.

Times

For doing a simple calculation, we do not need calculators in every single shops and groceries, for talking to our family members locked up in different rooms, we do not need to send mails or text them, and for our day-to-day living, we certainly do not need credit cards, for showing people how much up-to-date we are, we do not need to change our mobile phones, neither do we need to 'respond' to the explosion of intelligence with the several i’s and e’s. Every household does not need to have thirty-nine TVs, forty-six laptops, ninety-eight computers, sixty-five A/Cs, nine hundred mobiles and countless remotes to run those lifeless objects. We don’t need to order everything on-line might as well go and fight with people to do the daily buying and selling; might as well meet up with friends and relatives rather than texting, mailing or ‘virtualising’ them. Not everything that is applicable in the west is applicable throughout the world, however much enticing and convenient they are. We are forgetting perhaps, and this is for the world at large, that human beings are a replica of nature, not of machines, however predictable and unmistakable the robots are. Our escapades from life and its understanding seems to have been routed through attractive machines with their expertise and zero-defect capability. But it is also making us intolerant towards human imperfections. Their overuse is paralysing our senses.

We need to have to stop somewhere. Otherwise we will have tired hands and myopic eyes running and gazing at those lifeless machines with heavy and indolent legs, that of dinosaurs. When and how we say times to modern times is the question.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Freeday

freeday

I was free for me the other day
Thinking of how to make it last and stay
The day so close, I walked the streets,
With the traffic behind, beside,
In front of me
Honking and barking all over free

Is it all about me I thought
As the day drove into a parking lot
Then dozens of past came hurling at me
I whisked away from the stationed plot
Struggled and ran and felt a cramp
There inside me was a traffic jam

I smelt of yellow books as I'd touch her nose
Came running and rushing the thorn and the rose
On the bus, in the talks,
On the run and in the walks
I loved to be with you all the time
The love stayed on but fled the time

Now in the dark, is the tired day
It didn't last, it didn't stay
I heard a brake in the moving space
And watched me drive
In living race
A little far and free of me.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Men and women – not men v/s women

Men and women are mostly written or talked about when it is about men v/s women. Opposite genders, they are placed on opposite sides, confronting with each other through ages and mindlessly trying to be equals. Let me see if this paradigm of being and staying on ‘either’ sides or being equal to each other can be changed. For doing this, I will talk about both men and women in an unstructured way. My experience with women has not been negligible at all. As a child I was surrounded by my mother, aunts, mother’s and aunts’ friends, as a teenager by my friends, then by my wife, her friends and later by my daughter and her friends. What I am trying to say here is that my experience is nothing special, almost anybody would have had similar experiences. However, I promise to take a serious insight into these two variables.

As a child, I did not understand why women struggled to be equal as men, what the need was. Do they think they are inferior to men and hence strive to be equal? When I grew up I understood that women were fighting for justice: justice for equality. I find this amusing because in all oppressions against women that we know of, the oppressors are not men alone. If we really probe, we will see that injustices against women were done equally by men and women. I can go on in detail with depressing statistics to show that right from the birth of a girl child, to a daughter being married and ragged and dragged, to gang rapes, to burning of witches to not giving rights to widow re-marriages, to disinheriting women, only men were not involved. It was both men and women torturing or ragging a woman or a set of women. If I zoom in a little, we will find that in most cases it is women who torture women, sometimes with the cold war going on silently. with men not even aware of what is going on. It happens amongst families, friends. Woman to woman jealousy is a phenomenon not unheard of. Sometimes it can be felt in offices amongst women colleagues, sometimes at home, between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, between sisters, amongst friends, and sometimes even between the mother and the daughter what have you!
The objective of writing this is to show that the feminine fight for justice and equality would have had a much more sense and force had it not been a gender battle. It is a battle against oppression, against the social malice where both men and women are included. If women fight against men, the oppression against women will never go because in the women’s side will be those women who torture their own gender with an alacrity and enthusiasm that men can only aspire to match. Women, although less corrupt and more intelligent, are perpetually fighting; tacitly with women and openly with men.

If we re-look at the two variables, we will see that both the offenders and defenders have a mixed gender. If that is so, how can we say that women are tortured by men? Even in a situation where a woman is violated, we are surprised to find that in most of the cases, the scoundrels involved in the crime are both men and women, not men alone. A woman can be conceited, calculative and harmful for the society inasmuch the same way as men can be dishonest, violent and mindless.

The approach that one gender tortures another and the appeal that women should be treated as equals are both wrong. Should be treated? As equals? What kind of an insulting statement is that! How do women associate themselves with such a humiliating cause to fight for! Can men and women ever be equal? If three and three make six, they are just numbers, but what can three men and three women make? They make six human beings each different from the other. Equal is more mathematical then anything else. Wonder why Einstein said that everything that counts can not necessarily be counted, and everything that can be counted does not necessarily count. So equality is a tragedy we are seeking for, aren’t we?

Attraction between men and women is natural and will continue to be so. One of the outcomes of attraction is submission, the willingness to do something unconditionally. To most women, being a housewife is an insult! There is a group of people who thinks that since men go to work, women should also have to follow. Women to them are tortured because they do not have economic independence. Do we mean to say that women who have economic independence are not tortured? A major part of confused women, just to prove a point, go and earn money from the outside world, although deep inside, they’d like to be at home. What is more interesting is the way these two groups of women, the working women and housewives talk about each other. A housewife snaps and says, ‘I don’t need to work’ while a working woman says, ‘I can’t put up with housewives, they are so limited. For me they are just vegetables and good for nothings’. Where do men figure here! Trust me they like women anyway, vegetable or otherwise. This is very vital in bringing about a change in the mental model because women who have economic independence are also tortured, both at home and in offices. I think women should not be tortured even if they don’t have economic independence. Every single day, women are passing judgements on women and curbing down on their liberation by not understanding what the real issue is.

Let me zoom in a little more. A man tortures his wife on bed by applying force. This is a battle that needs to be fought, but when she goes to her mother, she does not get her support, and about her mother-in-law, less said the better. She goes to NGOs who rightfully fight against the man, but doesn’t realize that there are other women supporting the man. A group of confused men and women have been telling women to go out and work without sorting their issues at home. As a result, a majority of women are now being tortured at home as well as at their workplaces by both men and women. If they are at home, they are tortured; if they leave home they are tortured doubly. The reason for this torture is not having economic independence; the reason is women’s inability to unconditionally support women and be strong when it is most needed.

When a housewife wants to cook something for her husband it doesn’t mean that the wife is his servant, or that she is being treated as a doormat! Some of those housewives’ same-gender friends, especially those who are working would tell her just that – that she is being treated as a doormat. When a husband buys something for his spouse, the only person he’d be scared to inform would be his mother! Now imagine the opposite, the husband would be proud to say that he cooks for his family, to declare ‘I can cook’. In the same way, the wife can proudly say that she gifted her husband a XYLO. So the action is not the issue, the actors are. These are simple silly examples, but it is these situations that create our mental models and cloud are thoughts until they become disproportionate, uncontrollable and incomprehensible.

Well wait a minute… am I talking sense? I leave that to you men and women…come up with a very honest answer so that it can help change our models and the way we look at the world. And this is a global challenge. Men and women around the world don’t know what they are fighting for and who they are fighting against. Torture against women is caused by society comprising men and women and should be fought by society as a whole.