A day when women disappeared from Earth

This story was published in “Alive” magazine, September 2013 issue (sister magazine of Women’s Era).

The story is inspired by some of the recent incidents happened to the women in India. Despite, being in an unfortunate situation they fought against all odds where majority of us would have given up. A big salute to them and their courage.

Enjoy.

A day when women disappeared from Earth

What happens after that . . . ?   by Chandni Rastogi

"Enough now, stop crying", Mohanlal said to his wife Sumanti,  who had been continuously weeping for the past two hours in the private dispensary of Dr. Lodha.

"Do you think I find pleasure in this? The burden of two daughters is already killing me . . . now, we don't need this third one . . . A son will take care of us in our old age. By the grace of Durga maa, very soon, we will see our baby boy playing in our porch," said Mohanlal.

"Boy or girl . . . what difference does it make?" Sumanti said, wiping her tears from the corner of her sari.

"All crap. We don't have money to arrange for their dowry. A son is like a return on our investment. You have to watch over daughters, day and night, like a hawk. One small mistake and your life is gone for a toss. . . 5,000 rupees is what I shelled out for this illegal act . . . but that's ok. We got rid of her in just 5,000 rupees. Get ready; we got to leave. Dr. Lodha was saying we can try again,"  Mohanlal said without looking into his wife's eyes, which were still moist and red.

In some other city of India, Naina was going to college with her friend. Two men come riding a bike.  "O lal dupatte wali tera naam to bata.  . ." teased the man in the front seat of the bike.

Naina ignored them and walked past. The man sitting behind on the bike pulled her dupatta.

Anger made her see red and, in anguish, she shouted some bad words to him and rushed to the police station. She decided to teach them a lesson to stop this everyday nuisance.

Next day, on her way to college, those men came again, this time with two more motorcyclists, and circled around Naina. "Hey, baby doll, take your complaint back if you want to see your beautiful face in the mirror. Else, you will regret it all your life."

"Now, I have filed an FIR. Stop pestering me or I will get you arrested."

That same night, while Naina was fast asleep in her house, these guys turned up and threw acid on her face. She cried in pain and passed out.

When she regained consciousness in the hospital, she could not see or eat. Her face was totally burned.  After fighting for years in the court, justice did not seem to be come her way. So she made an appeal for euthanasia in the high court. . .

In one of the metros in India, Shymla's face brightened with a smile as she read the letter.

"What's the matter, bahu, you seem to be on cloud nine?"  said Sumitra Devi her mother-in-law.

"Yes mummyji, I got an appointment letter for a job, in a very reputed company," said Shymla in excitement.

Sumitra Devi frowned, "Does my son not make enough money for you to squander?"

"No, mummyji, it's not about money . . . It's just that, if I could take up a job and pursue my dreams, we can hire a maid for the household chores. Today, which housewife does sweeping and cleaning?" Shymla shot in the dark.

"Look, if we wanted a career-oriented daughter-in-law, then we could have taken some doctor, engineer girl. . . not a no-brainer like you . . . We didn't even take dowry from your family when  we were getting offers of 30- 40 lakh rupees for our son", said Sumitra Devi.  "We selected you because our son insisted. But, if you have to stay in my house, you will have to live as per my instructions and do all the household chores."

" But, mummyji. . . "

"And dare you influence my son. If you oppose me, I will poison his ears and your marriage would be ruined. He is my son and will stand by me, no matter what. Well, if you are not happy in this house, you are free to go back to your father's house. Now, if this conversation is over, then do the dishes in the kitchen."

The news flashed on the TV screen and Sumitra Devi raised the volume of the TV. "Our correspondent from Singapore has reported, the victim of Delhi gang-rape passed away. Her body . . . "

"On goodness, let her soul rest in peace. When will the atrocities on women stop?" said Sumitra. "Step outside the house and you will know what violence is. What I do is nothing in comparison," she remarked, glaring at Shymla.

Tears began to fall from his eyes – god’s eyes. He had cried several times earlier also, whenever he saw his most beautiful creation suffering in silence. But, this time, it was not tears; it was blood, which was falling like a stream of river.

 “This has to stop..." said god “... this brutality”. He looked up and sighed heavily, “You have suffered enough . . . Now, mankind will have to pay for this.”

Soon, the stream of blood in his eyes became strong and started dripping with more vigour. Wherever his tear-drops fell, it started a stream of blood and immediately women across the earth started disappearing.

Next day, Satyajit Verma, CBI officer, hurried to the police station. It was crowded with people, press, media - as if some celebrity was visiting the police station. He approached the officer, and said, without taking a breath, “Inspector, my wife is missing; so is my daughter . . .”

He looked around to find many familiar faces. “We are all here to report our missing daughters, wives, mothers and sisters,” said the man with a familiar voice.

“What?”

His phone rang. “Satyajit, come to office immediately. There is an emergency. All the women in the town are missing,” said the loud voice on the phone. It was Shrikant Menon, Satyajit’s boss.

'What the heck is going on?' Satyajit thought as he drove to his office.

He turned on the radio. “Our international correspondents have confirmed the news. Women are missing everywhere. Where are these women? All the women around the earth are mysteriously missing. They were last spotted last night and, since then, they all have been mysteriously missing. No one knows what happened . . ."

Satyajit looked outside on the streets to find only browns, greys, blacks and blues. Pinks, reds, yellows, purples were missing. Abruptly, life appeared to be so colourless and bland with the disappearance of women.

As he entered the glass building of CBI headquarters, an exquisite piece of architecture, he realized he is wearing his night shirt with a pair of jeans and slippers. Ever since his wife went missing, he had been lost and confused. Megha, his wife and an activist, had been protesting for days against violence against women. Earlier, he suspected she had been kidnapped but with the disappearance of women around the world the problem seemed to be bigger than he thought.

"Sir. . . I am so sorry, I am so disturbed ever since Megha went missing. . . I just rushed to the office . . . " Satyajit said, looking down at his clothes.

Two kids pushed him from behind and ran to Shrikant Menon.

"Daddy . . . daddy. . . look at bhaiya . . . " said the younger kid.

"Kids in CBI Headquarters . . ." Satyajit wondered aloud.

"Sorry, they are my kids. This is Rahul and this is Rohan. In the absence of my wife,  I couldn't leave them at home by themselves. There are many like me. So, don't be surprised to see a lot of kids around," said Shrikant.

Just then Shrikant's phone rang. "The PM is on line. . .  will be right back..." he whispered to Satyajit as he walked out of his cabin.

Satyajit turned on the TV. "The mysterious disappearance of women has shocked everyone worldwide. Let us talk to some of the renowned personalities of our country and see what they have to say," said the famous TV reporter Neeraj Bakshi.

"First, we will talk to Bollywood actor Samar Khan, who has crossed 50 but he is still an eligible bachelor . . .Samar, what are your views on the sudden disappearance of women from planet earth?"

"So much for 'being human' . .  . if I don't have a woman in my life, neither does any other man!" said Samar Khan.

"We will now talk to our Dalit leader Lalit Tripathi," said Neeraj Bakshi.

 "Very shocking . . .my wife missing. .  . I okay. But other's wife missing . . . I sad . . . very sad."

Controlling his laughter, Neeraj Bakshi said, "We have with us spiritual guru, Sitaramji Bapu."

"This is god's blessing to mankind. Now, men can have some peace in life. You say a word against women, next day, you open your eyes to see a huge protest and women activists outside your house. What democracy is this, where you cannot freely express your views? That activist, Megha Verma, is an expert in making mountains out of a molehill. She made my life miserable. In fact, everybody's life miserable. She is a housewife, no work, so get on the streets with a horde of people and torture innocent people like us, who are far away from the materialistic world. Now, men can attain tranquility of mind and soul, through my spiritual speeches, " said Sitaramji.

"This looks to me a terrorist attack from our neighbouring country, who always envy us," said a minister.

"But, sir, women around the globe are missing," said Neeraj Bakshi.

"See, I am concerned about the women of our country. Other women do not come under my jurisdiction," said the minister.

"They wear such short and skimpy outfits, all the time involved in fashion. I think, they would have enticed some aliens this time. The aliens have abducted all the women from our planet," said Subhojit Chakravarty, chief minister of one state.

Satyajit switched off the TV.

Shrikant came back. "All day, you keep answering the people. When do you work? Anyway, press reporters have come. We have to give them some lead . . . Just tell them it's an alien attack."

"Sir . . ."

"I know, Satyajit, I know. You don't know how things are under the weather. I have got umpteen phone-calls from the PM, the President, CMs, MPs, governors and the press. This time, my wife is also not with me. I have to take care of my kids . . . They have exams next week. I have to leave for home . . . The maid is also not there. . . Until I make some arrangements at home, I will work from home, so are the other officers with male kids. I have no time to explain. Please understand and take charge."

Shrikant left with his kids but Satyajit pondered, "Should I feel happy that my daughter is not with me or sad that I don't even have my kid around, unlike the other officers?"

Next day, Satyajit Verma woke up, went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He looked around for the coffee and sugar but could not locate them. With Megha around, he never had to bother about the household chores. He walked out of the kitchen with a glass of water and grabbed the newspaper - only to see the headlines:

'Women under Alien Attack: President declares State of Emergency'.

Four months later . . .

CBI headquarters looked more like a playground for kids - without swings, without climbers, without slides! The children were running around the cubicles, instead of trees. Toys, crayons and colour-pens scattered all over the floor. Walls reflected the modern art of future artists. This was the condition of all the offices in the country, since the alien attack on women.

Satyajit was in a press conference. This room had been luckily spared by the little artists, who were fussy and cranky due to the absence of their mothers.

"Sir, today's headline says 'No women, no crime'. Could you please tell us, what does that mean?" the reporter asked.

"Well, in a country like ours, 90% of the crimes are committed against women. Because the women are missing, the crime-rate has come down significantly," said Satyajit.

"Does that mean downsizing of the police force?"

"The government has decided to lay off at least 70 percent of its police force and other crime investigation services."

"So, for the first time, we will see the police stations closing down across the country. Is it a good sign or bad?"

"No comments . . . please," said Satyajit and dispersed the conference.

In Bollywood, super-stars Shah Nawaz Khan and Gambhir Kapoor are having a conversation.

"Once upon a time, I was the busiest actor and, today, absolutely no work. Nobody wants to make a movie without the heroine," said Gambhir Kapoor with frustration.

"Yaah . . . I thought movies run because of superstars like us. How wrong I was!" said Shah Nawaz Khan. "Hey, I have a fix."

"What?" said Gambhir Kapoor.

"We can con the public."

"How?"

"Simple. You take the get-up of a heroine in my movie. I will take it in yours."

"Ahey . . !"

"Dude, we have done this several times for comedy. This time, we will do it for necessity. It will only be between us. No one will ever come to know."

"Which heroine's get-up are we going to take?"

"Your sisters Sona Kapoor and Mona Kapoor. For you, it will be easy. You resemble them a lot. I will have to work hard on this. Don't worry, I will get the make-up artist from abroad."

"Great idea. We will have easy access to their designer costumes, wigs, hair accessories and . . . everything these girls use."

Film stars Samar Khan and Akki Singh walks towards them.

"What's up, guys?" said Shah Nawaz Khan.

"Nothing much. With no heroines, the film industry is doomed. We now get our bread and butter from Kyoo channel," said Samar Khan.

"We joined them as news reporters," said Akki Singh.

"Kyoo channel? Okay, okay that . . . We start with K  . . . " said Shah Nawaz Khan.

" . . . and we answer all your questions . . . same one," Akki Singh completed the sentence.

"I also got an offer from National geographic channel for their documentary on crocodiles. But I said no. Once, I used to work with gorgeous heroines and now these crocodiles. . . No way!" said Gambhir Kapoor.

"Gorgeous heroines . . . Ah, man, my wife is missing. No worries. But why Piggy Chops? No wife, no mother-in-law, yeh dil maange sirf . . . Piggy Chops," said Akki Singh.

Akki Singh and Samar Khan broke into laughter and started singing, shaking their hips. "Subha hone na de . . . . ek dusare ko hum sone na de . . . mai tera hero."

'Here, I have become a robotics engineer after producing sci-fi robot movies. I want to take Indian cinema to the heights of Hollywood. And look at these morons! They can't think beyond women,' mused Shah Nawaz Khan.

Satyajit returned home and rested on his lounger in the living room. Usually, he would go to the kitchen to fix himself some dinner. Today, he was haunted by the memories of Megha...

 Megha was protesting against a case for which he was investigating. This was the case where a women in South India was raped by 40 men.

A women in skinny jeans and rust-coloured, short kurta, with a printed, maroon stole wrapped around her neck elegantly, was busy talking to the press. She had magenta colour on her lips and big, black mesmerizing eyes. From her disposition, she could easily be mistaken for a fashion model.

"She is Megha Saxena, law graduate from London, daughter of affluent doctor parents. When she talks, people get a current of 440 volts," said Neeraj Bakshi, pointing at her from distance.

"We will wait here, till she is done with the media," said Satyajit, "as she had some prime information about the case."

"In cases, where a woman is sexually abused, usually, the victim or the victim's family is reluctant  to report the shameful deed. What are your views on this, Ms. Megha?" said the reporter.

"A girl is on her way back home from college or office, she gets assaulted by some men. She struggles to protect herself but her efforts go in vain because the  perpetrator is more stronger then her or is armed with weapons. What's her fault in this? The shame is for those men and not for the innocent girl, who had fallen victim to their ill intentions. . ." said Megha in an agitated voice.

"What would you achieve with this kind of protest?" said the reporter.

"It is a wake-up call to the people and the government. Surprisingly, in a population of 120 crore people, only a few thousand protest. What are the others doing? This should be every women's battle. . . 

"Protesting does not mean you come down on the streets with a torch . You can protest from the comfort of your home. There are many campaigns which are active on Internet. Don't just be a spectator; be a part of it."

"Will this kind of protest change the system and the mind-set of the people?" said the reporter.

"Yes . . . for sure. Once upon a time, evil practices like sati, child-marriage and dowry-deaths were very much prevalent in our country. Today, they have become history or rare . . . only because people stood against it, they fought against it. So, I am very hopeful."

"Ms. Megha, in one of your recent articles, you have referred to women as an endangered species. Could you throw some light on that?"

"There was a time, when the crimes were committed in isolated places and in the dark. We turned indifferent to those crimes. As a result, today, crimes happen in broad daylight, in public places, in public transport. If no action is taken against this, a day will come when these psychologically-sick men would break into our house and fulfill their vicious needs. Women are not safe even inside the house. They are not safe in the womb either. Thus, they are an endangered species."

Satyajit picked up the newspaper to avoid Megha's memories. 'One man assaulted by another man in the outskirts of the city limit', was the front-page news:

"In the outskirts of Delhi city, a man has assaulted another man for pleasure. It appears that, after the disappearance of women from our planet, men have resorted to assaulting members of their own sex for their vicious needs. This is  not the only case of its type. Many such cases have been reported lately across the country. When we spoke to the chief minister,  Ramprasad Yadav, who had earlier blamed the dressing-sense and fashionable lifestyle of women for sexual crimes against women, he said, 'These are the people, who are mentally sick, who should be sent to an asylum.'

"Further, many suicide cases have also been reported. Many youths have decided to end their lives out of frustration and loneliness."

Six months later . . .

Satyajit is getting ready to attend the most-talked-about seminar by senior scientist Dr. I. N. Sane, where the scientist is going to talk about his latest invention, which will supposedly change everyone's life.

A man in his early 50s, in a formal attire, with his hair coloured in all shades of blue, took the mike in his hand. His hair looked more like a shade-card for blue.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen...ah, sorry... Today, I am going to talk about the most outstanding invention of my life - Barbie girl. It will take the human race out of the jaws of death," said the scientist.

Soon, an object covered with pink satin-cloth appeared gingerly from the roof of the stage. Scientist pulled the veil and uncovered the object, which looked more like human version of the Barbie doll. "Here's my 'Barbie girl'."

"I am a Barbie girl . . .in the Barbie world . . .out of plastic . . .mmm ... fantastic," a song was playing in the background, giving the impression of a party.

"This may appear to you as an ordinary doll. But it's not! It's a female robot. Yes, android."

The song in the background had stopped.

"Here's my marvelous Barbie girl to challenge God's creation - woman," said the scientist with pride. "It can do everything from cleaning to cooking . . . with more efficiency than women. You can change the display of the android from Katrina to Kareena to Deepika. . . and the most wonderful part is it will not bother you the way women did."

Said the scientist, "It will greet you in the office, entertain you in the hotel, educate you in the school and her presence will be ubiquitous. You can buy one at your local grocery store or borrow one from the libraries. It can be used as a wife, girlfriend whatever you want it to be. . . with no expensive gifts, no diamonds . . .  nothing!"

 "Any questions?" asked Dr. I. N. Sane.

Satyajit and TV Reporter Neeraj Bakshi looked at each other with brows raised and a corner smile. "Here comes the quick and dirty solution to the deadliest problem ever," said Neeraj Bakshi.

"Sir, who was your inspiration for such a mind-blowing creation?" asked Neeraj Bakshi teasingly.

"Chetti . . "

"Who  . . . Chetti?"

"Chetti . . . the robot. I am a big fan of him and he also helps me in my lab," said the scientist.

"Oh .. h."

"The disappearance of women from the Earth reduced the population by 40 per cent. Further, as a result of crimes and frustration, only 50,000 men are left in this country, as per the latest statistics. At this point, it is imperative to save mankind from diminishing. My invention is an important step in saving mankind from further shrinking," said the scientist in depressing voice.

"Sir, how can you save mankind from diminishing with this equipment . . .I mean 'Barbie girl'? How would you manage to make the population grow, in the absence of women?" Neeraj Bakshi wanted to know.

"Well, gentlemen, I saw this coming. Let me tell you, my team is already working to enhance the features of 'Barbie girl'. Perhaps, a day will come when my invention would produce humans -  thus, making god's creation redundant!" said the scientist. "I am giving some samples of 'Barbie girl' for evaluation to some of the distinguished personalities of our country  . . . I feel honoured to offer my sample in the service of spiritual guru Sitaramji".

"Dr. Sane, is your hairstyle a prospective rage for the young generation?" asked one reporter.

"Ahh, this was an accident," said the scientist, moving his hand on the curls of his hair. "I was trying my hands on a project in genetics, where crossing of human and bird would yield an offspring which would belong to the hybrid specie, named after me . . . something like sanepians. But the experiment resulted in something like what you see on my head."

Satyajit managed to smile for the first time since Megha disappeared.

Two months later...

Satyajit's phone rang, flashing Neeraj Bakshi's number. "Yes, Bakshi? Okay. . . okay. . . yaa, sure. I will join you at Sitaramji's place."

Satyajit stopped outside a palatial house that had Italian-marble flooring. As he entered the bungalow, he saw Sitaramji's black Mercedes Benz parked in the front porch. Neeraj Bakshi, who was already there, ushered him inside the house.

"Sitaramji got a shock from 'Barbie girl' . . . electric shock! I told him so many times not to use 'Barbie girl' while it is charging," said Sitaramji's secretary.

"What was he doing with 'Barbie girl'?" asked Neeraj Bakshi.

"What do you think?" said Sitaramji's secretary, giving him a meaningful look.

"Tomorrow's headlines: Great spiritual guru Sitaramji passed away. . .'," said Neeraj Bakshi.

Satyajit gave him a crooked smile and said, "Headlines . . . how many of us are left to read the headlines? Some 1,000 . . . wait . . . 999, with demise of Sitaramji".

"I know . . . people are dropping like flies with the malfunction of that stupid machine 'Barbie Girl'. . . including the scientist insane . . . scientist I. N. Sane," said Neeraj Bakshi.

"Who knew the world would end this way?"

"If life deals you lemons, make lemonade. The only good thing about all this is . . . booze . . . booze is free. No bar-owner, no bartender, no bouncers, no timings . . .only unlimited, booze," said Neeraj Bakshi.

Satyajit Verma and Neeraj Bakshi entered the famous Peaceland Bar, which used to be crowded with celebrities and hot chicks once upon a time. All you see now is the most expensive and the famous alcohol adorning the most exquisite showcases, with the doors hanging open. Empty bottles and broken glasses were lying all over the place. The bar has become rustic and dreary... just like the lives of the people, who were biologically still alive!

"Hey . . .look in that corner . . .the man in white T-shirt and jeans . . ." said Neeraj Bakshi.

"He looks a lot like the film star Shah Nawaz Khan . . .but . . ." said Satyajit.

"Are you that super star Shah Nawaz Khan?" asked Neeraj.

The man looked up with red, drooping eyes. The man's face was disguised by his grey beard and his clothes were stinking of alcohol. He gestured them to take a seat.

"Surprised to see me, Shah Nawaz Khan, in this condition? Now, the fact is that I have become a real Devdas . . . in memory of my wife Paro. All this time, I thought she is with me and she would remain with me forever and ever . . .but . . ." said the actor gulping his alcohol down. "I was so wrong!"

"I was so lost in my stardom, I didn't realize her worth, took her for granted many a times and now see . . . she left me forever.  You know what? I deserve this . . . not only me all the men on this earth deserve this ..." said the actor in a quivering voice.

"Even I thought, that without Megha, I will not live even for a day or even for a moment . But see, I am still alive . . .or am I dead?" said Satyajit Verma.

"When we were together, we kept arguing and competing with each other in this rat-race. Today, I feel so incomplete without her. I never told her, but I loved Neha," said Neeraj Bakshi.

The developments over the past many months made the men realise the folly of their snobbery with women. They realised that the world would be a real hell without women. Bur now, it was too late to do anything. They had lost all hopes of finding their better halves again. All they could do now was to see the menfolk perish and wait for their iminent end arriving sooner or later. But before that they wanted to see their women for last time. A little hope has survived in some corner of their minds.

And lo and behold! There stood Megha Verma, Parvati Khan and Neha, smiling mysteriously.

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