Phil...

I agree, I do not know every record of yours, every match you’ve played or every bowler you have faced. I agree I don’t know you as a person, I don’t know where you played your first cricket game or what your favourite flavour of ice cream is. But, I know that deep inside, I was praying you should become alright. In fact, I was positive that you will get better, you will wake up, you will hold the cricket bat in your hands again, smile and play. Even if that means I have to wait for ten years for that moment to occur, I knew eventually you would wake up.

But you didn’t.

You were supposed to, Phillip Hughes. You were supposed to. Why didn’t you?

I don’t know why but I can’t stop the tears from pouring, I don’t know why I can’t think of anything else but the moment you fell down. I don’t know why I feel so damn bad.

Maybe it is because I have grown up watching cricket. Maybe because I have seen so many bouncers being bowled. Maybe because never once did I think that a bouncer would kill you.

You were supposed to make history. You were supposed to play on, retire and then have a life of your own. You were supposed to live. You were supposed to make it, Phil. Why didn’t you?

I don’t know you. But it hurts, hurts so bad. Maybe it is because I saw your face when the ball struck you. Maybe it is because it was in the middle of the pitch. Maybe it is because it is the place you have grown up worshipping and loving, that watching you go hurts even bad.

You were supposed to come back. You were supposed to play. You shouldn’t have gone.

I am sorry I am so selfish, but I was so sure you will make it. I am sorry for everything that happened to you.

Because, all I can do is write.  

Because, all I can do is write

Here is a taste of the mentality of Indian guys, first hand.

Some look at you creepily.

Some look at you like they want to eat you up.

Some look at you like they are going to kidnap you.

And there is one other kind. The kind which shakes you up. The kind which wants you to curl up into a ball and never wake up.

When I see this kind, my insides are squirming in fear. But I always put up a façade. A façade of bravery. And when the situation is over and I am still alive and breathing, I write.

Because, all I can do is write.

Auto man: Where do you want to go?

Me: Gem Hospital

Auto man: 120

Me: Nothing more than 100.

Auto man grumbles but asks us (Pooja and I) to get in.

He takes us in a route which we are unaware of. I ask him to use the main road but he says that was the closest and continues driving. He kept asking me for money. I refused. I told him I had gotten into the auto only when he agreed to 100.

Auto man: I will drop you in the middle of the road. Take another auto and go.

Me: I will call the police if you don’t take us to gem hospital.

I agree, I might have over-reacted. I might have responded harshly. But his look and the way he spoke made me and I am not ashamed of what I said.

Auto man: So? If you call the police? Do you think that will scare me? Talk like a woman. This is not the way for a woman to talk.

I was scared. We were in a tiny lane with no one at the vicinity. Kidnap, rape, murder were the many things constantly flashing in my mind. I did not speak a word after that. I did not speak because I had a sister whose face was pale with fear. Because, I wanted to go home safe. Because, though I don’t want to agree to it, I will never be able to overpower him, if situation arose and we would both end up, god knows where.

But one thing kept nagging my mind. Who is he to tell me how a woman should talk? Who is he to confine me to a certain rule that he has on his head? I am a woman and I was in danger and I spoke, wanting to protect myself and my sister. I am not ashamed of trying to threaten him. Because, I had no other way out. Being a woman does not and will not stop me from protecting myself and my loved ones. It is the right of life and I will not have that plucked away from me because of the disgusting Indian mindset about women. 

After a few minutes which seemed like hours, and after the many unknown turns and cuts, we saw the huge Ganesha temple on the corner of my street. And though my sister did not notice, I saw her closing her eyes for just a few moments, thanking the Gods that we knew where we were and we were not in danger anymore. What a way to celebrate Ganesh Chaturti!

I threw the 100 rupee note on his face and hurried up, because I knew I had to write.

Because, all I can do is write.