When the Indrani Mukerjea story first broke, I had ignored it. I was like...'oh okay..so yet another of those scandals, duh!' We just had a Radhe Maa few days prior and I was least bothered. As hashtags trended, it still hadn't grabbed my interest. I thought it must be some bong's story ( mukerjea sounds bong :| ). I did check 1-2 news links to know what on earth all the brouhaha was about. When accidentally, I glanced the name of the school she passed out from, that's when my eyes opened really wide. OMG....My old School! I couldn't believe it. I, then, started digging more into the news and got the real picture of the whole crime. Shocking would be a too minuscule a term to describe my reaction. As per the various date-of-births given, I tried to remember if I ever saw her in school. She must've been my senior, though, I'm having a hard time exactly placing her face.
Our school was an English medium girl's convent ( with all those strict nuns/sisters ) and yes...from what I know most students ( at least my classmates ) are in good positions, many settled abroad. So needless to say the education and upbringing in our school, plus morals taught has been the best. Yet...people can err no doubt about it. I just feel horrified to what extent a person can go to fulfill their ambitions. To say that her father abused her or whatever, is no excuse. People, as they grow up, maturity and realization develops on its own. So...one who is criminal minded would be criminal minded even with good childhood. Plus, from being such respectable school like ours, this is such a shame.
I have nothing to say...except ~ Indrani Mukerjea, ye tune kya kiya
Humari school ka naam badnaam kar diya :x :x
Days turned into nights...nights to dawn,
The second floor curtains, however, remained forever drawn,
Hiding what mystery, nobody knew,
Tragic or amusing, not a clue,
No movement, even with all that hustle-bustle around,
Inside its inner quarters, eerie silence echoed,
A place that kept enclosed, her only secret,
her lover, for whom she deeply cared,
It was her little world, none else welcome,
Immortalizing her love; keeping it forever young,
By the box she’d wait patiently every day,
While the fresh flowers too bloomed, bright and gay,
As the clocked chimed, she’d know he was ready,
Oh..he was but her elastic teddy.
Copyright 2015 © Nandini Deka