My body, my control, my Consent

Well in a country where the C word called consent is assumed upon, where the legal implications of anything and everything are uncared for. Where rape is as common an incident as stealing and as prevalent as love for cricket.
Consent is a luxury only the educated and elite have, or as I say who are in a position to sue you, if wronged.
I recently came upon an incident where a lady delivering her third baby was undertaken tubectomy with the consent taken forcefully. What’s shameful is the fact that the consent wasn’t even hers, it was her mother’s.
Well the section 13 of the Indian Contract Act defines consent, it states that two or more persons are said to consent when agree upon the same thing in the same sense.
The consent must not be obtained by undue pressure. It must be free and voluntary and given after a full explanation of the reasons for which it is required (informed consent)
Any individual above the age of 12 can give medical consent unless (he is neurotic or is an accused (section 53(1) CrPC.
Moreover, In any procedure affecting the rights of a spouse, like sterilisation, hysterectomy, informed consent of the spouse must be taken.

So in this scenario all these conditions were obviously ignored upon. I saw the face of the lady who gave consent holding her grandson in one hand and the tubes(fallopian tubes) of her daughter in another.

We are living in 2018, we give speeches on gender improvement, yet frown upon when a daughter is born, yet we come across a 16 year old married girl, yet we perform procedures on women without their CONSENT.

It’s my body, it’s my right, it’s my choice, it’s my decision to do with it whatever I like, and it’s my right to be informed and to give consent.

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An ode to the “Carefree Days”

To the smiles, the giggles
The courage, the passion
The determination and the dreams

When and how did It get messed up
I had it all planned out
But didn’t leave room for adversities

To the days I believed I could accomplish anything
Now struggling for a decent accommodation

To the days I thought that my friends would stay forever
Now they are mere names on my contact list.

To the time I thought my struggles would finally be over if I bear pain
Now it feels like the obstacles have just begun.

To the time I thought I would travel the world
Now travelling across India merely is a fantasy

To the times I laughed, to the times scoring more marks felt like I was the king
To the times when day dreams felt more real
And reality a mere blur

An ode to all those times I could dream
Rather had the courage to believe in those dreams

When my dreams scared me
And never did let me sleep
Now the sleep is eluded
But what is amiss is those Dreams….

Rules of Love

Travelling in a bus and reading a unique book titled “Forty rules of love” I began to think, Are really there rules of love, well if there are I don’t seem to know about them as I’m passionately celebrating my singlehood…

While the couple sitting in front of me and big believers of PDA, they are so romantically involved in love that they are oblivious to all other thing that exist.

Well love is like that… It really makes you go blind, not blind exactly but you seem to see, hear and process the things that you want to.. all else is deaf ears…

According to me the only rule of love is that you maintain it. Just keep loving. Love is not a noun but a verb. It’s something that you do and is reflected in your actions.
Like the unconditional love of a mother. The love of teenagers, First love that is so pure…

So cheers to those in love and those like me who are in love with the idea of love…

Just Musings

I think deep down inside we are just fooling ourselves…
Putting the adult face forward
Trying to keep down the kid inside..

He screams he shouts he rattles about the way he’s being treated
Yet from a distance you see an adult man

The absurdity of this situation is slightly amusing.
It’s strange why this doesn’t bother me anymore..
The fact that I did like him and the fact that he still doesn’t…

I gasp, I wonder Am I in the fairy tale love with the adult I always imagined him to be
Or relieved that this manchild doesn’t reciprocate my feelings

In a cycle I lay.. trapped in the never ending spiral
Of loving… Loosing and loving again just to get hurt

As if being hurt is a proof that you have a heart
As if being struck in the adverse effect of being alive

Yet I stretch my hand and reach out,
Cause sometimes it’s better to reach out and regret
Than to just not and be sorry
Cause it’s better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all
Be it a man or Et Al…

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