The World of Raju Sharma

I have often been dubbed as a rude, cut and dry person, somebody who can hurt others blah blah.... I have no qualms about. Have got used to it and perhaps this has become a part of me now. Forgot when was the last time I thought about myself. However something which has always suprised me about myself is my sensitivity to pregnant women. Yes, I seem to be extra sensitive when it comes to pregnant women, whether they are walking in the streets, in the mall, or just anywhere. Perhaps it all started as I had witnessed my wife going through two preganancies. I do not want to talk about the problems therein. They are there. Yet the beauty of creating or more aptly co-creating a life inside the womb is an ethreal feeling. There is somebody inside because of you and what you planned (or even failed to plan).

Of late there is a strange kind of laceration that we can see all around us. This wound is at its embroytic stage. However the puss from this disease is seeping out steadily. There is a foul smell already. The wound is deeping day by day and is infecting other body parts. The stench from the bleed and wound is toxic, putrid and gets down your spine. Nobody has any respite from it, though some of us pretend to or actually run pass the way. The puss has some of the world's most decayed ingredients, substances which have always been abhored by men and women alike. Ladies and Gentlemen, this laceration, this deadly wound is the fanatic intolerance that is raising its head around us. Somewhere in Kerala, a person's arms have been severed by people who did not believe in what he did. This is grotesque, brutal and calls for immediate condemnation by all and action by people who have the authority to take action. Co-existence has been our buzzword and let this coexsitence thrive under...