World Travel and Tourist Destinations

When I see children, I see all good that remains in this world in their faces and actions. Doesn’t this world always christen children as; ‘the future of the world’, ‘the father of man’, ‘the epitome of innocence’ and ‘the icon of love’?

And this very same world also takes the pleasure to crush the very innocence of a child when they are used by adults to cater to their wild sexual needs.

Chubby Cheeks, dimple chin
Rosy lips, teeth within
Curly hair, very fair
Eyes are blue, lovely too
Teacher’s pet, “Is that you?”
Yes, yes, yes.

Aashu loves to recite this rhyme; she is after all her class teacher’s favorite student.

Aashu is a normal, pretty and lovable six year old child. She is the ultimate representation of joy, freedom and innocence. Aashu goes to a neighboring school and studies in 2nd grade. She loves Mummy, Papa and her doggy Bozo. Her best friend is Rashi and she shares her food and even her favorite crayons with her. Aashu loves to draw rainbows in her drawing book. Life is beautiful for Aashu and she blooms everyday basking in the love of all who know her and care for her.

But……

A month has passed since all have started noticing the changes in Aashu, she doesn’t laugh anymore, she hates going out to play and bursts into tears with no reason. She hits Rashi and doesn’t like Mummy,Papa or Bozo.

Mummy and Papa think it is just a phase, maybe it is the workload at school; after all Aashu is ‘no more a kid’.

They have no idea as to how ironical this statement is! 

Yes, Aashu is no more a kid, her innocence, her modesty and her childish dreams have been destroyed and thrown away.

Nobody noticed that Aashu’s seven color rainbows had changed into red ones; she had started drawing small, childish stick figures which she would later slash them and tear the pages.

Those figures were Aashu herself!

Aashu used to bleed everyday but as the bleeding would stop in few minutes, she could never tell Mummy. Without proof, Mummy may think that she is lying and give her a good spanking. Already it pains every day and she doesn’t want more of it.

Aashu is scared!

Aashu wants Mummy to hug her tight and talk to her with love but she doesn’t want Papa to hug her, she is scared of Papa.

Papa is a ‘man’ just like the uncle who makes her bleed everyday, maybe Papa too will do the same and hurt her if he hugs her, so she remains far from Papa.

Mummy had told her on her 5th birthday( how happy we all were that day, we had many balloons, chocolates and glittering ribbons all over my room and I got so many gifts, Papa had given me the huge teddy bear) that GOD hurts only those who have sinned in this world.

So, that meant she had sinned and that’s why uncle hurt her!

She hates this world, she hates school, she hates uncle, she hates Mummy, Papa and Bozo.

She hates herself! 

Aashu now wished only one thing – TO DIE!

I have never known Aashu personally, I have never met her but I know that this is the story of millions of children who are victimized by sex-fiends every second in this brutal world.

If, I could wish for something, I would wish that a story like Aashu’s never existed.

‘CHILD ABUSE’ (Yes, I have written it bold and loud so that the readers can feel at least an iota of this harsh reality), this is a phrase I have detested since the day I came to know what it actually means.

Before 19th century, child was considered a property and when I think of it now, aren’t they treated the same way even today when their childhood is scarred by actions of abuse? 

“Universal Declaration of Human Right’s recognized ‘child rights’ in 1948.

The UN Convention on the Rights of Child came into force in 1990(this shows that it took almost half a century for adults to declare that children have rights too).

“The world would be a better place if we would bend down to try and protect these saplings from being trampled upon.”

This space and word limit is too short to describe this horrendous crime but I wish from the bottom of my heart that this piece would have scarred the heart and burnt the soul with rage of every reader. Because it is said;

“When the heart and soul rebel; a change is achieved”

We all should act or we may have to change the nursery rhyme to-

Wounded cheeks, broken chin,

Torn lips, no teeth within,

Ragged hair, dirty not fair

Eyes full of tears, full of pain

Teacher’s pet, “Is that you?”

No, No, No. I don’t want to be the pet.

Just save me from this big bad world!

Authored By Lekshmi. G.Nair, India

This is a short depiction of the post election anarchy in Kenya after the general election which was in December 2007, where over two thousand were brutally people killed and over three thousand others displaced internally. The evil is seen through the eyes of a ten year old boy called Fla. The occurrence opened the hypocrisy of love and brotherhood which many people in the world sham to exhibit to their neighbors. Despite this having happened in Kenya it can be can be, has being and will be a cause of many civil strives in the world.

This article is dedicated to all the victims of the civil strive and gives thumbs up to all those who assisted the victims in escaping and the later giving them refuge in their homes and other places.

The heart is one of the most vital organs in the human; it pumps the blood which contains nutrients and oxygen to all parts of the body. But the heart is a source and a reservoir for a lot vices as hate, envy and greed. As in the saying ‘the matters of the heart’ it harbors a lot of lethal secrets. When the heart is overburdened with sorrow it bleeds; but not literary! It pains forever.

The different campaign trails passing by the village of Barito gave great excitement to Fla; many gifts came along ranging from money and an assortment of clothes and other political apparel made the December holiday unforgettable. Little did the young Fla know what would follow some days to come? In his mind he did not fully comprehend significance, and innocently sang to the tune and echoed his parent’s political stand.

The election formed two main political rival parties based on ethnic alignment; in all his life he had never conceived the idea that his people were foreigners in their own country. He spoke the local language but he always wondered why they had different naming systems. Then came the polls day, the anxiety of the delayed results raised temperatures in all citizens; creating sharp divisions in every human indulgence. Things that were easily agreed upon earlier become bones of contention.

On Sunday, two days after the election, Fla woke up as usual ready to attend the Sunday school which was part of the day’s joy; on top of having to wear his best clothes. Unfortunately, he did not notice the unusual dead silence had befallen their homestead. He was later to realize that the livestock had not been milked or fed, the door to their house had been broken and his parents were missing. As he proudly and piously strolled towards the church; that’s when he realized that all was not well.

On the way he saw a group of machete wielding people of whom he recognized almost all of them and another that was kneeling down begging for their lives. Thinking that there had been a robbery somewhere in the village, he thought in his heart thieves deserve to die.

In Barito, it had become a common site of law breakers being dealt with by the mob; mob justice due to the corrupted form of legal security system where the guilty went scot-free. On a closer look he became petrified seeing; his father mother, uncles, aunts and other close friends all bleeding from cuts and beatings. His heart went cold and he surged forward ready to undergo anything than see his family being hurt.

An uncle-through tribal intermarrying quickly grabbed him and firmly pinned him against his body deterring him from passing to the kneeling group. When he persisted an electric slap cooled him leaving him only watching with his mouth agape. The leader of the group, a well know church elder passed the verdict and the rowdy, blood thirsty group descended on the helpless group; merciless kicking and slashing followed till all lay down as still as logs. Blood spattered from their bodies soiling everything. When all were still, petrol was poured on the bodies and lit.

The odor of the roasting human flesh is something that will never be erased from his mind. Later they razed their homes and confiscated anything that they would lay had on; livestock, household goods and businesses.

Fla phobia for everyone, he trusts no one than himself and his nights are filled with nightmares. His heart bleeds as he wonders why such impunities could come from the people he played and prayed with, dined with and regarded them as his own.

Since then he has vowed not to go to the place he called home and has opted to be placed in an orphanage rather than be adopted by many willing families.

Despite the continued counseling, don’t you think one day his bleeding heart might propel him to wage vengeance on the killers of his family making the violence to never end? This should be a lesson to all people in the world, ‘not all those who laugh with you love you!

Authored By Jeremiah Alfred Ngunjiri, Kenya 

Watching the news channel yesterday, I was compelled to reflect on the status of women in India. The Arushi murder case, though claimed to be solved by the police, sent wrong signals across the country. People are against the labeling of Arushi-Hemraj love as ‘illicit’. How can a girl, emotionally dependant on a person much older than her father, be termed as having illicit affair with the person? This instantly reminded me yet another pathetic situation: the cheerleaders controversy, where several ‘moral groups’ were deciding on how should the people dress.

It is surprising why the culture which gives such “lofty status” to women, treats them as “pearls”, has troubles with their men acting lecherously while looking any meagerly clad women, and then charge the women for fault. It is the Indian custom which has given greatest value to women. Indian women have always lived up to the expectations, failing to power respect and admiration in the society. 

The IPL league initiated with the thought to start the new phenomenon of entertainment in cricket. IPL people expended a lot for making it a grand hit. The association had the purpose to take domestic Indian cricket to global viewers. In the beginning everything was all right, but then the politicians again started to grab the attention as it was done in the case of bar girls. However, in a temporary amnesty, the order to ban the dance bars in Maharashtra has been returned by governor. But the girls are always squeezed between moral policing and regulatory efforts on one hand and extreme poverty, susceptibility to health risks such as HIV/AIDS and sexual exploitation on other hand.

The majorities of these women have little occupational skills and are inadequately educated. A few of them might have come into such profession fascinated by glamour of being entertainers and singers.

Cheer-girls are a bit of entertainment or activity package which IPL had promised the audiences countrywide. Group of cheerleaders might have been barred by the politicians to come in cricket matches, but none of the political leaders can dare to challenge the love for western culture in our youth. Group of cheer-girls are liable for criticizing Indian culture and therefore are trapped by the politicians. But I think we should witness such responsive policies when the Bollywood beauties extend obscenity so boldly.

Various cheerleaders are not enchanted with the activities of crowd also. These girls may be barred from the game, but the authorities cannot plan to get back our own culture from clutches of ignorance and negligence. These girls might go back to their states but their recognition amongst youth has formed an imprint on impressionable minds of young group. We cannot eliminate obscenity by asking the cheer-girls to go back. We have to instill amongst us what is called as “Indian Culture”.

The politicians, the so called supporters of Indian Morality, made and are still making a big argument over the cheerleaders. They objected on the kind of clothes these cheerleaders wore. But then, why do Indian politicians wear khadi? Because it reflects their association with Gandhi. Similarly, these girls were also wearing something that has been associated with games across the world.

The kind of gestures which Bipasha or Rakhi Sawant would do in their dance number is fine, because they can see it in the private theatres. Cheer leaders were also performing on large stadiums as well as in front of thousands of people. The cricket matches were being shown on television messing the so called Indian Culture! The advertisements which come on TV, the type of show models, male or female, bathing in pools or anywhere, are they not against Indian Culture?

These too are transmitted throughout India. The kind of jokes which come on various laughter shows, they speak directly or use double-talk, which derogates comedy, but such things are accordance to the Culture because children cannot understand them. I am surprised what these leaders and politicians are upto. They were believed to take care of the welfare of the public who selected them and not expected that same chosen person will take the “cheers” away from their lives. Rejoicing ’the woman of substance’, in Indian Culture, it seems is similar to dropping a woman to a substance.

Authored By Arun Kumar M., India