On Religion.

I remember when I was twelve years old, there was a history class going on at school and we were studying religion. The first thing the teacher asked us was, "What is religion?"
A lot of the kids said, "Praying to God."
The teacher smiled and she said," That was close, but not exactly accurate."
So, all the kids looked really puzzled. Then she said, "To go to the library from the class, how many routes can you take?"
The entire class shouted out numerous answers, and once she could get the class back to decorum, she said, "You can take many routes but the destination remains the same. Religion is similar to that. Religion is a path to God. There are numerous paths, yet the destination is the same."
The reason I recount this particular lesson is because of the rampant religious discrimination that's been going on recently. More specifically the religious discrimination that has been going on in front of me. I've got two friends. Let's call them Ali and Akash. Akash has this filthy habit of using the religious slur, 'k****a', as a way to call Ali. Akash's reason for using that word (despite my several protests) is because Ali makes fun of Akash's father's business. So recently Akash and Ali got into this really ugly fight and at the end of the fight, Ali stormed out of the classroom after saying, "This entire community is like this."
A wave of sudden patriotism towards my community washed over me and I stood up and shouted, "You can't talk about a community like that!"
Ali stormed back into the class and shouted back at me, "Really? Is it your father who calls me a 'k****a'?"
I simply looked at him and said, "Have you ever heard me use that term?"
Ali looked ashamed and said, "That was uncalled for. I am sorry. I am really sorry."
I shook my head and said," It's fine."
He kept apologizing and ended by saying, "I thought I was speaking to a guy." I laughed, and left it at that. But somehow, I couldn't stop thinking about the whole thing. My heart was filled with a strange amount of sympathy for the guy. I tried to imagine the amount of insults and slurs he had to face every single day. And why? Because he is a Muslim. But isn't he a human being? How does following Islam give you any less dignity as a person? And most importantly, how is a Hindu any different from a Muslim? If you prick either, they will bleed. If you tickle either, they will laugh (unless they're not ticklish). And if you poison either, they will die (unless they're Rasputin). I don't claim to be a great scholar on Islam but from what little I have read, I think Islam is beautiful. Islam talks about being compassionate, helping your neighbours, giving alms to the poor and taking pilgrimage. The saddest part about this is that a lot of people are ignorant of the beauty of this religion. All because of a few fanatics who preach distorted versions of this faith. These people have profaned the faith and have missed it's true essence. It also doesn't help when people with political influence (namely someone who's name rhymes with Gonald Frump) say things that are religiously discriminatory and excite separatist and racial sentiments. But let's talk about India for now. All this separatism and religious hate goes back to the time when India used to be a colony. In the Revolt of 1857 (which we all have read and forgotten), leaders like the Rani of Jhansi and Tantia Tope who were Hindus put Bahadur Shah Zafar (who was a Muslim, mind you) on the throne as the Emperor and the Hindus and Muslims were united. Look, I'm not saying that the British specifically ingrained religious hatred and systematically destroyed the unity of the people and corroded any progress society had made but they did have that thing called "The Policy of Divide And Rule".
So what I'm trying to say here is, hate is taught. If you ask two children to play together, their only question to each other will be, "What do we play?" and not "Are you a Muslim/Hindu/Jew/etc.?" like it would affect their opinion about the other child, (although any kid who does ask the second question that way instead of the first one, needs to be taken to a psychiatrist, immediately.)
I'm not trying to be Anti-Hinduism or disrespectful towards any religion, community or person, I'm trying to be Pro-Humanism and what I've been trying to say for the last God-knows-how-many lines is that maybe we need to stop looking at superficial things like race, creed, gender, religion, colour as things which define a person and focus instead on their sense of humor, compassion, hopes, dreams, intellect, ideas because these are the things that actually do define a person and at the end of the day, these are the things that actually matter.
Thank you for reading the whole thing.
Peace out. :)

On Self-harm.

Them.

Concealed.

Her kajal hid the dark circles that ringed her eyes;
And the rain concealed all the tears she cried.
-02/05/2016

On Self-destruction.

I lay on my bed, going over last night's conversation, probably for the hundredth time. His words echoed in my head. I checked my phone, he'd heard my message but hadn't responded. I considered texting him again but didn't. A lump formed in my throat and all the pieces he'd helped me put back started to fall apart once again. My lower lip quivered and my eyes started to get blurry. I switched off my phone and walked towards the bathroom. As soon as I was inside, and had locked the door, I clasped my hand over my mouth in a vain attempt to not cry. My hands shook as I took of my clothes and turned on the shower. Desperate tears fell out of my eyes as I remembered every single memory we had. From the very first 'Hi.' to the conversation we had last night. I suddenly realized that I was on the bathroom floor but I didn't even know when my legs gave out. "Why, why did you have to make me love you?" I cried, shaking all over. I leaned against the wall and pulled my legs close to myself and looked at my reflection in the blue plastic bucket filled with water. I put my face in the water and tried to breathe it in. But reflexes jolted me out of the water and forced me to cough up the water. "Give up." I ordered myself as I put my head in the water once again. But my body wouldn't comply and once again I was left on the bathroom floor coughing up water. "Let me die." I whispered to myself. "No." a voice in my head said. It was his voice. "Get out of my head." I said hoarsely, the exhaustion of it all making me feel dizzy. His voice adamantly repeated, "No. " "Why do you even care?" I thought. "After what you said last night, you might as well have shot me in the head, but at least that would be more humane." I shook my head and slowly stood up. The water from the shower ran down my bare skin. I walked towards the cabinet; a pale faced girl with bloodshot eyes and semi-wet hair looked back at me from the mirror. I ignored her and opened the cabinet, looking for something I hadn't used in quite some time. "Hello, old friend." I whispered as I took out a stainless steel razor blade. The light bounced off its metallic surface and made it shine. I raised the metal to my wrist and his voice begged, "Please. No." My hands shook as I tried to ignore it. "Don't die. Please. Don't die." his voice begged, louder. "I'm already dead." I whispered, and my heart gave a little squeeze. I looked at my wrist for a moment and then put the razor down. I looked down my chest, at my abdomen. The previous scars had faded and were almost gone. Then, I made the first cut. It was a small one and didn't hurt much. Then, I did it again, and again, and again till my entire abdomen was covered in cuts. It burned a little when the water from the shower came in contact with them, but the pain made it hurt less inside. The water washed away the tiny, ruby red drops from my abdomen and the skin near the cuts turned a pale shade of red. I turned off the shower and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. "Don't ever love anyone again." I whispered, brushing my fingertips against the raw wounds. I put on my clothes and looked at the mirror as I plastered a fake smile on my lips. Then I walked out the door like nothing had happened.