"A profound unmitigated loneliness is the only truth of life"
- R.K. Narayan

Jack and Jill met up the hill,
with faces as pale as water...

Their eyes meet and hearts speak. Jill feels chill, Jack is a broken shack. In the muted tension of haphazard sighs, their heartbeats speak very similar stories -  of struggle, and hope against hope. Drawn against the same background of pain, their portraits seem to match well.
After a day full of shouting slogans, the crowds eagerly waited to 'pack up' for the day. Though the government never seemed to take drastic action, yet they loved making all the noise. 'What is India without its noise?' someone had encouragingly quipped and the crowd had mowed on. Shouting slogans against the Delhi rape case was especially gratifying, as it was such a sensational issue of the day. As the crowds made their way out of the park, each seemed to be making plans for the rest of the day.
The two college boys, in their Gap tees and sports watches, wore a wry smile on their face. They were heartily satisfied as there had never been a more apt reason to bunk classes. They had loved the jostling and shouting for a good cause, and they had particularly enjoyed the brushing up against the behinds of plump ladies. They decided to continue the 'fun' in the bus too.
The middle aged worker, in his Hilfiger casual wear, was greatly excited. Raising one's voice was a fundamental right in this country, and he had suddenly felt so much a part of it today. It was a day of celebration for him, and he decided to stop by his favourite strip club before heading home to 'convince' his wife for a night-long fellatio. He really was in the mood today.
The businessman, in his Raymond suit, was mighty glad. Not only had he made a few political friends today, but he had fought for a cause too. It was such a fruitful day and he wanted to end it on a good note. He rang his secretary and 'suggested' that she come to his home for the night, so that they could 'discuss' about her pay hike.
The young politician, in his Khadi, felt like a king. He had led the people into the rally like a true leader. He had also felt a kind of bizarre pleasure in trying to shake the government; it gave a feeling of being part of the government already. He would have a party with his friends tonight. They would binge on imported scotch and watch porn movies all night. He was particularly excited about the new website which 'made' movies with young virgins.
Their lives were so different, yet they all agreed on one point. It was totally unacceptable for a man to 'enforce' himself sexually on a woman, against her wishes.  Rape was an absolutely heinous crime, and they would oppose it vehemently, any time, any day.
In a lane nearby, a philosopher struggled with his article. "Rape is a double-headed monster. It wears two faces," he wrote, "One is the public face, with greatly dramatic features. It consists typically of a bad guy with bloodshot eyes filled with lust and a helpless damsel shivering, crying and begging for sympathy. The heavy breathing and muffled sulking acts like background music. It works on the element on shock and awe. Then there is the private face of rape. It is subtle and makes its way through apparently civilized actions. It is filled with lust too, but there is no drama and certainly no music. It works on elements of advantage, compulsion and sublimation. No law, no rule can arrest it, because consciously or inadvertently, all of us wear this face." He paused for a moment to look outside the window at the cheerful and gay crowd passing by. He was overcome with confusion, at trying to contradict a vivid society with his silly thoughts. And just like everytime, he tore the pages and threw them away.