Seven Letters

Seven Letters

Letter7- Ashton 

Its funny how sometimes actions precede words and reasoning leaving no room for communication. I suppose this is how we give you a reason, an explanation and the intention behind what is now terminated in its physical form. If I were in your place the only voice clouding my mind would be screeching the word ‘why’. Why is but a form of a question that requests a suitable rationale that helps settle the form of an argument. Maybe this should help all of you find closure. These seven letters are not just words of comfort and solace to the ones we love. It is an echo of suppressed souls searching for light at the end of a tunnel, a message that resurrects the belief in complete ownership, a dream to create a world that accepts no fear and a hope that ignites the world to fight its lostness behavior.My name is Ashton Rodriks and I chose to be the poetic justice of  ‘Renaissance’.  It was during the winter of 2007, when we named each other as brothers. It’s strange how the true nature of a relationship is more often with the like minded than blood tied. We were no more than ordinary teenagers who studied at PES international, Allahabad. There was nothing in common; no sport, no subject, no activity or the lack of it that bound us together. But the revolt against one event united us. Usually one of two things happens when you strike an animal. He would either crawl back to his safe space in fear or stride forward in aggression to attack. We were the third kind. In the same year our classmate, Madhumita was raped by four college students. She was abducted and tortured for 15 days resulting in her death. Her family had to undergo psychiatric treatment to recover from the remains of their lost 16 year old. The culprits were caught and trailed but look how well the largest constitution in the world is constructed. The verdict provided safe passage to the prosecuted under the act as minors. The law speaks about equality wearing a blindfold to avoid discrimination. This suggested that a verdict would be passed only on the basis of evidence. The words in a blindfolded book, written years ago, decided what was right and wrong. I suppose this is why the word humane does not exist anymore. If humanity did exist then there wouldn’t reside such hooligans amidst us nor would there be such an unfair court of justice. That date, that event, that animalistic behavior, that injustice stands the foundation to our action. We did not fight the men who committed this crime; we did not crawl back in our safe place and do nothing. Our fight was against this ideology, this system and what it was creating. Renaissance was born to resurrect all true intentions of human existence.   

Name the Name before you close your eyes

Name the Name before you shut your ears

There is wrong and justice you long

Raise your voice and make that noise

Prove your name to silence the shame  

One day

We will be humane

She will be remembered on the 17^th of December.  

LETTER 1- JOSEPH (God will Elevate) 

Hello, my name is Joseph. It does not matter where I come from or where I was born. My life only began on that date, the 17th of December. I remember taking physics notes from Madhumita. I hated science. I remember the moaning, when we stood in the school quadrangle paying 2 minutes of silence. Her voice kept echoing in my head, reminding me to read the last chapter on mirages. She had given me her number to call if I needed any help. I kept calling but there was no receiver. I wanted to cry, I wanted to fight, I wanted answers but I didn't know whom to ask or where to begin. Every time I walked up to my mother, she would shun me down saying its not something we speak about and that I was too young to understand. I was sorry, I am sorry. Soon I learnt that everything bad in our society is suppressed like an insignificant cog that will perish to the silence of its functionality. I stopped asking questions and hoped for the verdict to bring justice. Our justice system was as silent as my mother. I met the brotherhood after a few weeks at the graveyard. We all had our story with nobody to hear. One of the four boys, Anirudh was the son of our cabinet minister. We tried hosting rallies, walks for justice but we were 17 and nobody gave a fuck. We realized that nothing we do right now would make a difference so we decided to be patient and wait for that one-day when we could and avenge the ideologies that killed our friend. That was the turning point; the realization that set my life to its path. I picked up science as my major and held an engineering degree in quantum physics. Our society is crippled. Only words that mock the misery and point the solutions but nobody holds the courage to stand up and fight. It seems like people have familiarised themselves to the wrongs and found a luxurious spot to hide. Maybe that’s why nobody wants answers anymore, nobody wants justice anymore. Even after so many years and so many rapes, all we have done is a few twitter posts and Facebook condolences sitting beneath our cozy roof made from bribe and injustice. I pity those people who happily reside in this country, I pity those souls who find comfort in such shelter, I despise those who only speak because no matter how many die, they still seem deaf to the moaning and tears of those abused. Over a million cases circulating in the justice department which obviously is a sellout to the needs and greed’s of the wrong. It is sad that nobody has the balls anymore to stand up and fight. To pick up a sword when need be and shed blood if that’s what can make a difference. Over the years this hatred has brewed to its boiling point and with this I hope you muster the strength to stand up for what is right. Gandhi was a different era; some people don’t understand the language of kindness and to get to them, we must get our hands dirty and fight. If you want our children to have a better future then shed the blood today and leave the rest to god.  

 Letter2- Ancita (graceful) 

She had the perfect smile; every morning she would greet everyone around her. I benched two rows behind Madhumita and I remember her turning around during lunch hours and offering me her home baked pound cake with a tinge of coconut. I was delicious. Hey, My name is Ancita and I lost my friend and lunch pal. Girls in India are prefixed to certain characteristics. We are to abide and be the ideal puppets of men to one day get married in a rich and royal family. When we are raped, the fault is ours. How we dress and how we carry ourselves is misleading. We provoke men and invite them to rape us. That’s how the media rampaged her case. She was 17, a girl in regular uniform like most of us. Everyday, after the 17th, I remember crying when the bells struck for lunch. I tried everything, changed seats, new lunch box but the bells kept ringing. My family found it best for me to change school and move to a new environment. They felt the city wasn’t safe and I was deported to live with my aunt in Kolkata. I was friends with Ashton who introduced me to the brotherhood. I was the friend of a raped girl and I remember every pondering eye that made me feel like the victim. I visited her family who tried finding their loving child in me. Unfortunately I was sent kilometers away. I wanted to be there and fight when I saw Madhu’s mom. ‘You’re a girl, you must be careful’. I was reminded this at every second of my life. Even years later I had a curfew. I had to be home right after my hotel management classes. Complete isolation. It’s funny how women are worshiped in my country. I feel like we are treated as an offering- first placed on the pedestal, raised and groomed like a sheep before we are sliced to death. To top it all, I will never forget the words of this saint who wrote an article in the newspaper saying Madhu should have called them as brothers and begged for mercy when they raped her. I am not afraid to say it. It wasn’t her fault. She was brutally tortured and she deserves to be remembered better than that. I promised myself, I would wait, as that day will come when I will give her death a better memory because everybody in the society, men or women who have killed the girl more than the killers, need to know what is right and wrong. If blinded by religion and rules of Karma help you to sleep well, then God save you from the crime you have committed by remaining silent all these years.   

 Letter3- Anish (Supreme) 

I was told, right from a very young age that if you aren’t the very best you are nobody. An obvious truth that the one who comes second is usually forgotten. I trained day in and day out to be the best. But you must learn to never underestimate the second. She was always there, competing neck to neck in every subject, especially Math. I remember exchanging heated debates over the minutest detail. We never spoke much as friends because it was clear to me that I had to always best her. I remember this one time in grade 8 when she beat me in Math. She walked up to me and said it was luck. I never believed in it and that’s why I gave her an awkward smile and walked past her. The day it happened, I was rather furious because now there was no competition. You see, with competition comes respect and I respected her, more than anything else. Such a foolish word it seems today- respect. I don’t know what they were thinking when they, when they harmed her. I wanted to look them in the eye and ask them, I wanted to bring them out in the open and strip them off their masks and show them who they really were. Yes its their fault, it completely is but I cannot stop but wonder as to what drives these humans to such animalistic raw barbaric acts of pleasure. It made me stop and realize what I was competing for. We have created this elaborate structure that forces us to have identities. Be distinct by hook or crook. It drives this insane necessity to accomplish no matter what or how. Its addictive, being on top. What happened with Madhu forced me to ask myself whether I would be willing to crush somebody down to put myself on top. I WOULDNT. I will bring them down to win this final battle because if competing is my final competition to beat, then I am going to beat it by all means. There is a thin line between want and need and this drew that line for me. Renaissance opened the doors because this was the most important lesson and now it was time to commit to my final task. Years past by and I have done nothing short but prove myself in every avenue, accepted every challenge and accomplished it. Its all been only a prep time for the final battle. I don’t know whether I won this one or not but in my mind I have proved my point. The greatest fear a man can have is the lack of choice and she was forced into something so brutal. It was a murder. She didn’t lose her life due to exhaustion, or assault. She lost her life to the lack of choice and today I have chosen my way to redeem her death.   

 Letter4- Sudarshan (Good looking) 

She was taller than me. I remember falling in love with her in grade 2. My sisters always chuckled at their smitten younger brother.  I remember my mom giving me a rupee everyday to buy myself a chikki (Indian delicacy). I remember tricking my classmates to stand next to her for class photographs. I remember watching her play throw ball for the yellow house. I remember hiding a birthday card in her bag every year. I remember calling her everyday after school. I remember pretending to be her girlfriend to escape her mother’s suspicions. I remember the one and only time we met outside school to share a dessert. I remember her innocent smile every time I passed by her in the playground. I remember sitting next to her in 5^th grade. I remember practicing together for school dramatics. I remember fighting with her during a boy’s vs. girl’s battle in charades. I remember her singing in the school choir every morning. I remember her reciting verses from the bhagavadgeetha. I remember her pink frock that she wore for a fancy dress competition. I remember her making sure that i had done my homework. I remember her wishing me luck before every exam. I remember every little thing that made me love her. I see her everyday, even to this day where she stands beside me. In the same college uniform, smiling with a dimple on her right cheek. My name is Sudarshan (Su) and Madhu was the love of my life. It’s a matter of choice today of how I wish to remember her. Where the entire country wishes to brand her as the rape victim, I only chose to remember her as the girl I loved. After a few years, I realized that my hatred for those 4 rapists would bring me nothing. It would only enhance the pain and distort my memory. I wont kill them because I am not a killer nor would she want me to be. I cannot walk up to her family and tell them how much I loved their daughter because I never got a chance to first tell her. I do send flowers to her family everyday on her behalf. I could never leave school because her memories keep me alive. I chose to teach moral science and the values of life. I lived for years as a troubled child wanting revenge in fact Renaissance started with that motive but what is revenge? A tit for tat! Become the beasts to kill one? They were just a small fish from a pond filled with impurities.  I was hurt but every time I thought about it, it made me want to kill myself because I could nothing to protect her. I stopped only to know that it would not be the solution. It’s a shame how our societies function. Attack the week and brand them on baseless gossip without any human consideration. She was a loving daughter, an adorable friend, a fun sister and every adjective that attaches goodness to a person, yet she will always be spoken about as the rape victim. I ask myself why and the only answer I get is that people like exampling the bad, not correcting them. With our action today, we don’t wish to seek vengeance. With our actions today we only wish to ask you if you are human enough to take control and right the wrong that resides in your head.
   

Letter5- Anjaan (Unknown) 

I never understood why she liked dolls. I remember her being completely immersed in their lives Raj, Jasmine and Riya. It seemed as though she lived in two worlds. She would tell me stories about them, all fabricated plush of fiction spurred by her imagination. I loved listening because she would have this enthusiastic narration of hope. The purity that resided in her Dollyland was something I admired. I remember the times when her imagination could create real emotions. She cried one day, for hours because she ended up in an argument with Raj. Raj was her dreamboy, the guy who would one day step into reality, riding a horse to marry her. Inshallah (If God wills) I used to tell her. Little did I know that my innocent neighbor would be stripped away from her ideal fiction so brutally. She used to spend hours changing their clothes, grooming them and hosting dolly Teas. My name is Anjaan and Madhu was my childhood friend. People have forgotten to fear and as years have passed by, I have only seen the wrong getting stronger. We are all born with the sole intention to be happy like a kid who constantly seeks love. Look where we are today. Not a single man afraid of his actions, hoping to achieve Jannat or face Jahannoom (Heaven or Hell). Science may have introduced us to progress and quantified the components that build us but it is yet to answer the permutation of emotions that factor the actions of mankind. Our society is far away from being a cohesive atmosphere. I never understood why she liked dolls and as reality dawns upon me every morning, I try and keep my daughter away from them because I have no right to let her build a world that she may never see. She needs to be awake and aware of reality. How unfortunate to be a father in this world where the absolute right of free thinking for a child has to be curbed to the gruesome truth of reality. Eh Khudah (Oh God) I hope you have a reason because this world does not seem like your beautiful creation anymore. Our revolt today, after all these years of being patient aren’t just to avenge her death, it is to remind the people who no longer fear God or the life beyond reality. Our revolt is to harness all the hatred and kill it so that our children can have a better life where playing with dolls can help a child build the world she wishes to reside in. Madhu was a beautiful friend and I wish that the world henceforth remembers her in the same light; a doll dressed in her bridal outfit, filled with dreams of an ideal world that one day will see reality.  I thank you Renaissance for giving my life a purpose to make a difference and I love you all.Until the next time we regroup and hopefully in a changed world, a better one.Inshallah.          

Letter6- Surina (Wise) 

I believe there are different ways in which we as humans can connect and commit to something on a higher level. Music to me is a deep sense of connectivity that exhibits every single molecule of what composes me. I started singing in school and reciting prayers was my very first step. I could feel a sense of calm when I sang; it bought this inner joy that connected me to my world within. I was never acquainted to Madhumita. We weren’t even in the same year but I knew she used to sing for the school choir and the only connection I had was in the notes of every verse I sang. Most of us listen to music as a symbolic interpretation of our mood. I pick a sad song when I am sad and lonely and that date was the first time in my life when I had no music. There was no rhythm; no tune, no lyrics and no prayer that made me feel better. Singing was my religion and it suddenly had no answer for me. I remember reciting a prayer for her but it only felt empty. Months passed by and I started feeling so uncomfortable within myself. I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t smile and I just wanted to know why! I tried speaking to my Guru (mentor) but nothing she said then could help me erase everything from my memory. After asking around, I learnt that Sudarshan was the closest to Madhu so I decided to walk up to him and ask him how he was coping with life. Hoping to find a way to move on. He asked me a very simple question and that question bought me to the brotherhood. All he said was‘ I had a dream last night that I was greeting Madhu’s parents with my family beside me. I was seeking permission to marry their daughter but suddenly it started pouring and I was blamed responsible for not having considered the possibility of it raining.’ He turned to me and smiled.    He said‘ There is a storm within us that causes a very uneasy feeling. It surfaces only when something we truly love is hurt. I only woke up this morning with tears in my eyes that have washed those greetings away.’‘So we make a choice, do we find ourselves a shelter and hope for the storm to eventually fade away or do we do something to predict the inevitable so that nobody ever cries again? ‘It’s been years now, I learnt to sing, capped my emotions and waited for this moment when we could tame the storms forever. Today is that day, the 17th of December 2017 and I am ready to start singing again. I feel connected to the world, like everything is in perfect sync. This is my symphony, my last piece of art to the world and I hope that everybody hears my voice.

I can see the storm on its way as I stand strong and ready to play

I cry my heart to say goodbye and end this hatred in a try

No second chance as I may perish, to the winds of noise and actions of choice

Animal or men, now one and the same

Lets stand up and fight again

No army, no guns, no losing of sons

Its us we question the internal frustration

We need to be free to seek what is right

Hey! Let me remind you freedom is my birthright

This is my voice; it’s meant to be heard

Let me fly like an innocent bird

If the laws of nature are trusted again

If God really does reside in the Rain

Then promise me this; we will be humane once again. 

 (17^th December 2007- at a book release)

Speaker:

Something unbelievable happened today in 1903. Humans for the very first time touched the skies. A device, a man made flying object was invented on the 17^th of December. There were several better qualified and financially established companies that had hired the best people to device this object. It could help humans fly and yet the common men with no resources successfully made the first airplane. How did this happen? Was it a miracle?No it was a passion that two people shared wanting to do something, that sounded impossible simply to change the world. Being Human and having a noble idea has suddenly become a rare commodity. I see that the world has progressed, with the need and greed to keep wanting. Endless technology and the endless resources to buy them have led to this inflation in human evils that the obsession to achieve every materialistic good is the only driving force for mankind. I pity the truth because the truth is no longer a mans word. Everything that can kill us is suddenly the more superior need. ‘That’s how the world runs child’ is preached by our education system. To learn and adapt to the progressive wrongs. Lie and deceit are our tools of survival. Who are we to change the world? Who are we to want a safer planet? Who are we to question the evolution of mankind? We are simple men and women who disagree to the terms and conditions, the rules and regulations of our society that is built around squashing meek individuals like bugs on the windscreen. Madhu was a captive for 15 days, not to the men who abducted her. They were merely the symptoms reacting to the problem called human mentality in the 21^st century. Over the last ten years, the brotherhood has been silent and all we have seen is the increase of strength in the devil residing within. Is this how I want life to be? Is this how I wish to submit and be submissive to the sins and sinners?NOI know for certain that a lot of you may disagree to our methodology, to our way of seeking justice but I ask you this simple question- do you have the right to frame an opinion after hiding beneath the thick blanket in your comfortable and cozy house?This press conference was requested to launch my new book –‘ I want a low calorie life’But all I have to share with you are these SEVEN LETTERS.The brotherhood, the club, rests today with these letters as our final signature, our final opinion, our final voice to make a difference and rewind to the world where sanity existed. I ask you this simple question again- what’s the point in living a life of constant fear? A fear that beats the democracy of living and steals your right to enjoy life the way you want?Let me acquaint you to the brothers of renaissance.Joseph- A quantum physics majorAncita- A pastry ChefAnish- An investment BankerSudarshan- A Life Science ProfessorAnjaan- Doll ManufacturerSurina- SingerAnd me, a writer who has these seven letters to share about an event that happened on the 17^th of December 2007. I have never been happier because today is the day when it all unfolds. It is the grand finale and the end of a brotherhood that was incepted years ago to change the world and hope to amend the wrongs in our crippled society. We had no patch, no secret meetings, no hang out place nor any agenda. All we had was our final goal that streamed us into our respective lives. We marked a date to reunite and commemorate the death of our friend and give her a better memory. In these letters will you find seven voices, seven paths, seven lives that represent each direction Madhumita could have selected! Madhumita was a beautiful friend, a loving daughter and an absolute joy to every life she touched and yet the ideologies of our society that have created monsters like rapists, killers and fear loathing individuals in the society, killed her. At this point, 6 members of the brotherhood have taken their lives. We have done this to prove the world the absolute right of choice and their deaths are to be marked as a reminder to the world that its time to change. Its time to redeem what is right. It is to justify the life of Madhumita and kill every single wrong that resides within each one of us. 

Name the Name before you close your eyes

Name the Name before you shut your ears

There is wrong and justice you long

Raise your voice and make that noise

Prove your name to silence the shame
One day

We will be humane.

We will be remembered on the 17^th of December. 

Now it is my turn to do the same.

Peace, Love, Empathy.  

By the time the news made it to every household through the internet and live television, the police had found the bodies and each death recited a story.

Joseph had sliced his throat with a carving on his chest reading- Fight the wrong within.

Ancita chose to kill herself naked surrounded by home baked pound cake filled with poison.

Anish had killed himself by infusing carbon monoxide in his room.

Sudarshan hung himself at PES international.

Anjaan died of cocaine overdose

Surina was found with a plastic bag wrapped around her face. Cause of death- Suffocation and Ashton Shot himself in front of the entire world to make sure that the world heard their story. 

These seven children gave up their lives to remind us of the pollution that resides in and amidst us. If one death did not make a difference, they chose to give us seven more, as scarifies, as an offering to God, as a demand to change, as a reason to fight and a goal to make the world a better place. Its our turn. We may brand their lives as suicide and let it die as a newsfeed or respect their deaths as martyrs and complete this battle.