Indian Couple Refuse to Give Their Child a Religious Identity

Read the original news here http://friendlyatheist.com/2009/12/27/indian-couple-refuses-to-give-child-a-religious-identity/. I saw it first on the front page of 28th December's "Times of India" (Mumbai circulation), but couldn't get the link to paste it here

Not often you woke up for some pleasant news like this. Thankfully, at least once in a while you bump on something like this. I appreciate the stand these couple have taken and I sincerely wish others follow this.

I just happened to remember the days when I left the religion column blank whenever I was asked to fill up any form.

I wish similar thing happens with nationality as well. Imagine the day when we don't need any nationality to identify ourselves, instead we all say we belong to earth. I wish it happens one day :)

One world, One humanity!

A tree called vengeance - Digging to its roots - Part VII

(NOTE -- Please read in the order the story is posted... from Part I)

I am the best in school. Studies to sports to extracurricular, I am always ahead. The undisputed star of my school, Brandon Foster. Everyone is a friend. No rivals, no enemies, no competition. Perfect my life it seems, but not normal. I want someone to compete with. But sadly I don’t find anyone

I am writing a play for my school function. At least in that play the protogonist of my story will have a normal life. There will be a villain. What will be his name? I will call him just A Guy. I will play both the characters. My mom says why not take others to play one of the characters. I don’t like it. I am the one who can rival my self. Play was a hit. I start writing more and more plays around these two characters. Everytime I play both the characters. It’s fun. Now I know how I want my rival to be. All my teachers praised my work. “Brandon. If there is anyone who can rival him it can only be Brandon”. They’re right.

But lately one guy has arrived in my school. He looks very much like me. I hate him for that. I hat him everything. He matches me in everything I do. I win one, he wins the other. Our rivalry is becoming well known. Nowadays he creeps into my home. He scatters my things just to irritate me and flees away before I call my mom. But he doesn’t know I am afraid to call my mom. One day he spilled the milk. I said it was him. But my mom doesn’t believe me. She thinks I am lying. She scolded me and warned never should I talk to her about him. I think she looked a little scared. I would never tell her about him after this. And she never looked worried after that.

I moved to graduation school. Damn! He joined the same school as I am. I still don’t know his name. I still call him A Guy when I talk about him.

But one day I found out his name. He was playing cricket. Somebody said, “He plays like Dave Madison, that Oz player”. Let’s call him Dave Madison. Yes, that is the name of A Guy. Dave Madison. Strange thing is, since he got the name Dave Madison, he started to look more like Dave Madison rather than me.

*********************************THE-END**********************************

A tree called vengeance - Digging to its roots - Part VI

(NOTE -- Please read in the order the story is posted... from Part I)


Brandon Foster. I write that name on the beach sand. I pee on it. That does no good to calm down my nerves. I write it again and spit on it. No good. These are all silly little things people do to control their anger and frustration. It won’t work for me. I need to avenge. Brandon slept with my girlfriend, and only thing that will bring me back to normal is when I cause bigger hurt to him. Only way to I can do is by sleeping with his wife and letting him know who his wife is having an affair with. But he is not married. I will wait till he is married. Or I will get him married and take my revenge. In whatever way, I shall have my vengeance. Doesn't matter the number years that I might have to wait. Longer the wait sweeter the taste of my vengeance will be. The most sweetest thing, the most sweetest way.

I hit a pub. I am drunk. The girl sitting on the couch is checking me out. She is hot. Perhaps, the hottest there could be. While looking at me, she rolls her glass over her glossy lips. I smile at her. She smiles back. I know my next move. I order two drinks and go to her with drinks stretched out in my hands. She looks already drunk. That’s good. She doesn’t mind drinking more. I stretch out my hand and offer her a drink, “A drink for the gorgeous lady from Dave Madison”. She smiles and takes the drink. We continue talking.

We went on flirting with each other and I made sure we drank a lot more. I don’t have plans to take her to bed. I will wait for the right time. Not today. It is too early.

I give her the number. Not mine. I will give her Brandon’s number. I tell her my name is Brandon, Brandon Foster. She asks why did I lie little while ago? I tell her Dave is the name I use for one night stands, and for a girl like her I am Brandon Foster, the real guy. I tell her I don't want to end it for one day. I think she liked what I said. What happens when she meets Brandon? She’s too drunk to remember the man or his name she flirted with last night. I have made sure of that.

Brandon is a looker. Just because I hate him, doesn’t make him any ugly. I am sure she would like him. I want her to meet him. I want both of them to fall in love. Then, I will write my story of vengeance. I will make Brandon learn how it feels when your worst enemy sleeps with your girlfriend. I will stay behind the screens and these two will be puppets, and I will be their puppet master. I will just have a ‘guest’ appearance. I will direct these two. I will watch over them if they go off my script and bring them back on track, but never shall I let them know who is the director. If they know, it would flop.

Only thing I hope for now is this slut doesn't forget to call up the number I gave her. She is one helluva drinker to meet her in the pub again and start it all over.

A tree called vengeance - Digging to its roots - Part V

(NOTE -- Please read in the order the story is posted... from Part I)

I met Stella in a strange way. It was a blind date but not a blind date at all. At least that’s what she told me when I met her.

A lady calls me and says in a husky voice, “So, what’s up handsome?” I am taken aback by the way the girl is talking to a stranger. I ask her, “Who's this?” She says, “Very well”, she seems a little surprised, she continues, “Don’t you remember?” 'NO'. I almost said it. But I wante to meet this intrepid girl. So I blame it on alchohol and fix up a date with her.

When I see her the first time, perhpas the one that I will remember, I am sure I hadn’t seen her before. There is no way you could forget that pretty face once you see it and worse, after flirting with her just the previous evening. She tells me I met her in a pub. I say may be. Whatever it is, one good thing I had done was leave my number with her. Worst would have been me taking her number. I don’t remember a single damn moment of what I did in pub. Funny thing I don't even remember going to pub last night.

But none of it does matter. Strangest might be the way we met, but our wedding was one of those conventional ones. We married after four years of being together. We’re happily married couple now.

However, never could I find a convincing answer to the question, how did she got my number? Is it really true that I was too drunk to realize the girl I met? I asked Stella many times, was she really sure that it was me whom she met. She always said ‘Yes’. I can’t ask the same question anymore and embarrass her. I will have to find out on my own.

One probability I thought was it might be somebody’s prank on me or her which turned out to be our fairytale? But why would somebody give my number to her? If it were a prank, the prankster would have identified himself/herself by now. But it hasn’t happened so far. Then there could be only one other way. That is Stella might have called up a wrong number which luckily turned out to be mine. But I don’t believe in luck and chances.

Will I ever find convincing answers to my questions? I don’t know.

A tree called vengeance - Digging to its roots - Part IV

(NOTE -- Please read in the order the story is posted... from Part I)

Sometimes people are not what they appear. Appearences deceive. No, that is wrong of me to say that. We deceive ourselves. Because we see what we want to see. And when you see something you don’t want to see and there’s no other way to see it, only then shall you believe how you’ve been decieving yourself all this while. Like I realized the day before Stella died. I mean, the day before Stella was murdered.

Every friend of mine warned about Stella and her relations with her guy friends. I be honest, I underplayed all those warnings as just rumours. Just to convince myself I confronted Stella with all I heard about her. She agreed about her past and didn’t forget to mention that she has burried it and now want to move on and experience love not just sex. Too matured talk for her age, I feel. When you sleep around with lot of people at lot of different places enjoying the ultimate pleasures of life you tend to show lot more maturity than your lesser active peers I think. I myself hasn’t been a guy known for his fidelity with girlfriends, mine and others' included. At the end of the day, we know we both are sluts. The fact is we’re willing to forget and forgive each other's past. And that would be enough to make any marriage work. That’s how almost all the marriages on this earth work.

It has been three months since our wedding. I don’t know for what reason, I feel today is my happiest day of my life. I finished my work very early. I want to take Stella out and have a blast. I want to give a surprise to her. I buy her a gift. A diamond necklace. She's gonna love it.

I go home with this little gift hid inside my coat pocket. I don’t press the calling bell. Calling bells take away the surprises sometimes. I don’t want her to know about my presence. I want to catch her by surprise and want to see her expression when I will put this necklace around her neck.

I step inside home. A deathly silence has taken over. I don’t like this silence. It’s like some horror movie where as the deadly silence pervades you can be hundred percent sure that something is gonna pop up and scare the shit out of you. Boo!

I looked for her in the kitchen and in the balcony. She wasn’t there. She must be in her room. But it didn’t give good vibes as I walked towards her room. I heard moanings of a girl. If I hated the silence first, I hate this noise even more. Room's door is kept ajar. I step back for second, wondering could it be Stella? No. What silly! It might be some porn movie she’s watching. A wry smile passes through my face. But is Stella's voice. As her husband I know her sounds of pleasure, every bit of it.

I slightly push the door. What I saw completely shakes me off from my ground. It is indeed Stella who is moaning. She is lying there in bed completely naked, with another man. I look at the guy with her in the bed. I felt like the world is coming to an end. It is Dave. Dave Madison.

I am shell shocked. I don’t know what to do. I leave the place without a word.

He's sleeping with my wife. How could she let him do that? Why Stella? Why? Why are you doing this?

How could she do it to me? She said past is past, but what is it doing in the present? She’s going to pay for it. I am going to make her pay one hell for it. If it had been anyone else, a divorce paper thrown on her face would have calmed my nerves, but she’s doing it with Dave Madison. My worst enemy in this life. Price she has to pay for what she did or is doing, perhaps, will keep on doing, is not going to be a small one, and I am going to make sure of that. I will make sure she will not do it to me again.