Can Indian Women Trust The Police?

The streets of Inderpuri were swamped with mobs of people vandalizing and damaging police vehicles after a woman claimed to be gang raped by police officers.

Although the Crime Branch is yet to conduct an inquiry into the matter, this is not the first time that law enforcers have been accused of exploiting their positions.

In 2005, a 16-year old girl was raped by a police officer in south Mumbai. According to an article Constable Sunil Atmaram More, the accused in the Marine Drive rape case, has admitted in his statement to the police that he raped the teenager after threatening to inform her parents about seeing her in a compromising position with her friend.

http://in.rediff.com/news/2005/may/04more.htm

More was in a drunken state when he raped the girl in a police chowki. He was later dismissed.

On November 28th 2006 a slum dweller woman (name withheld) from Shiv Colony in Karnal was falsely arrested and raped in police custody by constable Ram Kumar and detained for 14 days.

The Chandigarh Police recommended a regular departmental inquiry, and placed the head constable under suspension. The police denied her allegations without any investigation.

http://www.ffdaindia.in/MonthlyReviews/rapes-by-police-and-security-forces-rise/

A high court from central India had issued a notice to the Government of India and 13 other state authorities regarding the gang rape of a tribal woman, while she was trying to register a complaint about her husband's murder.

When registering the FIR at the police station she was gang raped by policemen in front of her parents. She was then forcefully detained in isolated police custody for 14 days being raped by officers regularly.

http://www.ffdaindia.in/MonthlyReviews/rapes-by-police-and-security-forces-rise/

According to the National Crimes Record Bureau (NCRB) courts tried 132 policemen for custodial rape in 2002 but only 4 were convicted.

Does this mean that women are safer not reporting any crimes committed against them?

These examples and statistics show that there are occasions when women who have sought the help of the law have only been met with more disappointment and worse, faced more trauma at the hands of police officers.

According to The Indian Penal Code and Criminal Procedure Code, reports have recognised the ongoing police abuse against women and made amendments to ensure a variety of legal protections to prevent custodial rape.

The amendments state that women cannot be forced to go to any police station for questioning against her will and she must instead be visited at home. The police must request permission to enter if a woman is present where an arrest is being attempted unless she is the person sought for arrest.

The bill also prohibits the arrest of women after sunset and before sunrise except in "exceptional circumstances."

When a woman is arrested, a female officer must do the search with “strict regard to decency and modesty”. However, the females make up only 5.4% of the Indian police force, so the realities of implementing the amendment are assumed not to be so straight foreword.

But how many women know these laws exist? And are these laws implemented?

http://www.legalserviceindia.com/articles/afse.htm

More women should be aware of their legal rights as the law has made provisions to ensure their safety, even from the lawmakers themselves.

The question remains, has the law done enough?

Racist or Recessionist?

I have been following the Australian attacks on Indian students very closely since they began and as I was skimming through the Times of India this morning I came across a few comments from people across the globe on these attacks. They were in response to a previous article TOI had published on a Sunny Bajaj who was assaulted in Melbourne.

 

One of the comments in particular stood out. The writer said, “ it is really sad to know about the attack on Sunny Bajaj in Australia. However, it could well have been an instance of robbery. Note that a black guy was also involved.”  Yes it actually said that.

 

I was shocked and to some extent titillated. Here was a clear instance of racism. I’m not sure if Mr. Onkar was trying to redeem himself by saying the attacks could well have not been racist when he was clearly making a racist statement.

 

I have been studying in the United States for three years now and till date I have not witnessed any racial attack or slur on Indians or any other nationality, and mind you, my university is very international. On the other hand, I have heard Indian students speaking in Hindi and saying things like ‘yeh saale gore log’ (these bloody white people) many times. Most of the Indian students are always in groups of other Indian students. They hardly ever mingle with the other nationalities, they speak in their native languages and you can often find them speaking loudly in buses or in the library.

 

I am an Indian student too. Yet oftentimes I have felt like my fellow Indian students were being a nuisance, however till today I have not heard a single word against Indians or any other nationality by my American friends. The point I’m trying to make is that you cannot rule out the fact that these people are being tolerant towards us.

 

Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying that these attacks are entirely the fault of Indian students, but what we fail to see is that these attacks could have taken place anywhere.

 

Another comment made by one Ashwath who has been living in Australia for a few years said, “ Most Indian students here live in the worst suburbs not because they can’t afford to stay at a decent place but because hey can save that extra 25 dollars a week to fund their expensive iPods and cell phones.”

 

That is another issue one needs to take into consideration. Clearly the majority of these students come from affluent families and can afford to live in a safe neighborhood, and if that’s not good enough they can easily live on campus or close to campus where there is a high amount of security.

 

Ashwath went on to say, “ The chance of robbery in these suburbs, like anywhere in the world, especially when you flaunt your gadgets, is very high.” That is not a refutable statement. Every city, town or county has its rough neighborhoods. Take England as an example, yet there continues to be a large influx of students and tourists from India every year.

 

One cannot put a finger on Australia and say it is a racist country. There is racism all over the world. I started this article based on a racist comment made by one of my own people. Even within India there is racism everywhere. We have caste systems, religious stigmas, riots and all kinds of violence over where we’re from, what sect we belong to and what god we affiliate ourselves to. Some have reaped political benefit, like the Shiv Sena, which uses racism as its electoral mascot. 

 

While these attacks are wrong, unjust and unfair, we cannot classify them as racist, at the same time the numbers are too high to classify them as opportunistic too.

 

I have friends living and studying in parts of Australia, like Gold Coast and Melbourne who are bewildered by this sudden racist label. According to them these attacks have been over hyped. As far as they are concerned, nothing has changed. People still treat them the same, yet now there is a sudden increase in phone calls from concerned family and friends, which they deem unnecessary.

 

Another point I would like to make is on these protests that are taking place. One of the rallies, which saw the participation of nearly 1,000 students, was organized by the Federation of Indian Students Association, Sydney Chapter, along with the National Union of Students. Students were chanting 'Vande Matram' and 'Baharat Mata Ki Jai'. While it’s all well and good to be patriotic I think it needs to be noted that after all you are in a different country. Behavior like that could anger people. Think about how we would react if a bunch of English students rallied and started shouting ‘ God save the Queen”.

 

Even community leaders in Melbourne have asked students to put an end to these rallies. Yadu Singh, coordinator of the Indian Consul General's community committee on Indian students' issues, said an urgent meeting in Pennant Hills, "One thing is clear - the rallies have served their purpose and we don't want any more rallies in Harris Park, that is the community's view," Singh said, adding "They are disrupting the normal life of the people in the suburbs."

 

Then there’s the issue of recession. According to an article by Sitaram Yechury for ‘People’s Democracy’ to attribute such attacks as an expression of racism alone, in the present context of global recession would be like missing the woods for the trees.  Racist outrages are an expression of a deeper malaise.  Between January 2008 and January 2009, Australia's GDP growth rate plummeted from 4.2 per cent to 0.3 per cent.  The last quarter saw company profits falling by 7.2 per cent.  Business investment tumbled at a record rate of nearly 9 per cent.  Additionally, this year has seen one of Australia's worst droughts.  As a result of this, unemployment climbed to 5.4 per cent in April 2009 from 3.9 per cent in February 2008.  The Australian Prime Minister has declared, for the first time, that the economy has moved into a state of recession.  Though the Labour government in Australia has begun distributing a whopping 9.9 billion Australian dollars to low income families directly, clearly serious problems of livelihood are affecting its people. 

 

This, coupled with the fact that Indian students often take part-time jobs to help pay for tuition could be seen as another reason for the sudden attacks. Nearly a lakh of Indian students currently study in Australia constituting 18 per cent of the entire student community there.  So there’s no doubt that these students are taking away jobs from locals.

 

These attacks have to stop. There is no question about that. As students we should expect that the environment we go to study in is safe and secure. Yet, we still have to realize that we are living in another country, that we need to respect and follow those laws and that we should also not put our selves in a situation, which could lead to such attacks. Violence can take place anywhere; we need to make sure that we take the necessary steps to stay away from such areas.

 

I’d like to end this on a lighter and slightly ironic note. Bollywood, the Indian film industry has been condemning these attacks and expressing their disapproval through blogs and the rejection of doctorates. They’ve been doing their best to boycott all ties with Australia.  However, filmmaker Mohit Suri has taken things one-step ahead and has begun scripting a movie based on the real life attacks. Is it just me or when Indians were getting attacked in England years back, London based director Puneet Sira came out with “ I proud to be Indian”.

Well if my guess is correct and a similar template is used, maybe not in real life, but in reel life, looks like the Aussies will be getting their just desserts thanks to Suri. 

http://blogs.reuters.com/india/2009/06/19/attacks-on-indians-in-australia-racist-or-recessionist/

The Future of Media

We have already said goodbye to the Rocky Mountain News, which after one hundred and fifty years of serving Colorado, printed its last paper in early February. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer ceased it’s print edition after one hundred and forty six years, and now only serves online readers with a new and improved website called the SeattlePI.com. Many more newspapers are either considering closing shop, or following in the footsteps of the Seattle Post.

 It’s a pressing time for journalists and publishers. I think everyone in the media business was aware that newspapers could no longer be the only source of income for the publications. The Internet is a fast growing source of information and with the improvements in technology everyone is moving online for up-to-date news. Yet, newspapers have always been around, they have played a vital role in the lives of readers and have served as companions at the breakfast table, coffee shops and on the commute to and from work or class. But we have to face the hard cold facts now; maybe everyone in the business was in denial of this decline. The recession however set the deadline and determined the lifespan for newspapers.

 

So what’s next?

 

In it’s March/April edition, the Columbia Journalism Review asked eight reporters from different organizations to write an article on where the news industry will be in the next five years. Two of those articles, “Unchaining the Monitor” by the editor of The Christian Science Monitor, and the other called “ Two Tents” by the editor in chief of Politico stood out. The situations they presented seem plausible, even though they were solely based on mere speculation.

 

Firstly, I think the industry has accepted the fact that major retrenchment will take place in order to sustain a news organization. But this downsizing also has its advantage. It acts like a filter, leaving us with the best in the field. That means better reporting, more efficiency and a multi-skilled work force. This was an underlying sentiment held by all the articles I have read, not just within this publication, but others. Furthermore, experts in the industry share the same sentiment.

 

According to the German publisher Axel Springer’s chief executive Mathias Döpfner, “The number of players will diminish, but the strong players may be stabler after the crisis.”

 

Coming back to the articles at hand, “Unchaining the Monitor,” to me seemed the most plausible situation in the next five years. The article accepts the fact that a lot of newspapers will shut down. However, it turns its focus to the survivors. Their future is bright, they have “ transformed themselves into true multimedia operations with a core editorial group publishing, via newsprint, mobile, the Web and … foldable electronic readers.”

 

There is an understanding within the news industry that print is dying and the future is in multimedia. Convergence is key. David Ng, executive editor of the New York Daily, said, “While I think it’s important for the news room to integrate, it’s doubly important for the business side to converge as well.”

 

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer is probably one of the best examples of this transition. Another prediction the article made was the move from a five-day a week print publication to a weekly one.

 

Raju Narisetti, managing editor of The Washington Post, shares a similar view. According to him, “eventually you might see most papers with smaller circulations that pay a lot more than 50 cents each day for the serendipity and habit of reading a physical paper.”

 

The transition from print to online is a very realistic scenario, and the article highlights that by saying The Monitor wanted “to retain longtime print subscribers and thought [they] might find some modest growth in a reduced-frequency, twelve-by-ten inch magazine/newspaper hybrid.”

 

The business model described also seems plausible. According to the article, “ traffic analysis told [them] that aggregators and people using search engines liked [their] individual articles but that, like most news operations, [they] had a hard time converting the one time visitor into a return visitor who returned.”

 

In a global context, a leading Indian newspaper publication, The Indian Express is also struggling with the same idea. How to retain readers online is a pressing issue. The business model presented in “Unchaining the Monitor” also addressed this issue saying their goal was “to quintuple page views- then five million a month- in five years.”

 

The article continued to talk about a shift in approach to journalism. The Web being more interactive, would mean ‘conversation, citizen journalism, and other forms of reader/user involvement.” Journalism is definitely going to become more interactive with the move to the Web. Blogs and individual websites have proved this.

 

According to Rick Edmonds, Poynter media business analyst, in a phone interview, “ Print will move to being more analytical and opinion based articles. The news is already available online for free, so now we need to give readers something else.”

 

That is another issue. The news is available online for free and anyone can have access to it. One of the biggest problems online newspapers are facing today is their news stories are being picked up by major search engines like Google and Yahoo. With regards to this issue, in an article in the New York Times, Ken Doctor, an analyst at Outsell, a media research firm, said, “The A.P. is trying to assert its value to the member newspapers,” by shifting the industry discussion “from fair use to fair share.”

The A.P. and other wire services have licensing agreements with Google, Yahoo and others, for some of their content to appear on those sites’ news pages, while newspapers generally do not. But general Web searches on those sites often turn up wire service material that is not covered by the agreements.

 

Matthew Jackson, a telecommunications professor at the Pennsylvania State University is skeptical about how news organizations are going to tackle this problem.

“There are copyright laws, and although Google are trying to find a solution with news providers, they still haven’t found a way to determine how the shared profits will be determined.”

 

The second article that I felt was plausible was the “Two Tents” article. It described content and also different methods of providing news rather than the traditional method of news articles and stories.

 

The venue of the article was Politico and according to the writers predictions, they “proved that niche publications, producing highly focused journalism for an audience with intense interest in particular subjects, can achieve the same ends- both editorially and financially- that in the past were the sole province of a handful of big newspapers and broadcast networks.”

 

I feel like that is a likely situation given that news is moving towards being packaged as per the consumers’ requirements. It is becoming a product that in itself needs to be marketed and have all the elements of the product mix in order to sell.

 

Narisetti furthers this idea of niche publications as he talked about whether consumers would pay for content online. According to him, “consumers will pay for certain content. The key is to give what is not competitive or what is commodity for free and charge for what is more valuable or unique even as we make the payment experience seamless.”

 

Shifting from America to the international paradigm, Europe seems to be having better luck with getting consumers to pay for content. An article in the New York Times discussed how Europe is trying to generate revenues for online content.

VG Nett, a Web site loosely affiliated with Verdens Gang, a tabloid newspaper has been doing extremely well. It has a profit margin of more than 30 percent and rivals Google as the most popular Web site in Norway.

VG Nett, like most newspaper Web sites, generates most of its revenue from advertising, but is starting to raise money from users. VG Nett recently started charging up to 780 crowns a year for live streams of soccer matches. And a social network connected with VG Nett charges users to upgrade their profiles. Access to news, however, remains free.

 

Both Jackson and Edmonds drew the comparison between the news industry and the music industry in light of making a profit. Few Europeans are unwilling to pay for music directly, through services like iTunes, so the industry is instead bundling music costs into a broadband subscription, like basic cable channels do in the United States.

The Washington-based Project for Excellence in Journalism, however is skeptical of applying micro payments to newspapers, and has suggested providing access to newspaper Web sites for a fee paid at the Internet service provider level. For such models to succeed, newspapers would have to work together.

 

As for the methods of delivering news, I feel like most news organizations will move in the same direction. Consumers are bored of the old way news is delivered, more so the younger generation who are what will sustain the news industry in the future. The youth today are more technologically savvy and access news online. However, moving beyond the Web 2.0, other delivery mechanisms are also available, all mind you, that are based on the Internet. Blackberrys, iPhones and even other cellular devices provide access to the news with a click of a button. All news organizations need to do is make an agreement with the network provider and have them add on a fee to the data package. That fee can go to news organizations providing the news to start with.

 

According to Politico’s predictions, video dispatches from journalists on the road will become wildly popular. They will have daily Web TV program, even though a “little cheesy, perhaps, but damned if it does not routinely get two hundred thousand viewers a day.”

 

The bottom line however, is the news industry is changing. Viveck Goenka, chairman of the Indian Express Newspaper Group is concerned about the possibility of a decline in investigative journalism. “ If news organizations around the world don’t come up with a sustainable business model we might have to cut costs in terms of the kind of content as well,” he said. This is worrying as one of the main roles the media plays in society other than being a news provider, is that of a watchdog.

 

I am hopeful however, that the news industry will collectively come to adopt a business model that will not only retain the key elements of journalism but will also be able to profit from them. The news industry has taken a beating from the Internet. Classifieds have been lost to Craig’s List and other websites and Google and Yahoo have been leeching off news providers.

 

However, having gotten over the biggest hurdle, the acceptance of the fact that print will no longer sustain the media is a big positive for the news industry. As of now one can only speculate, through trial and error I feel a business model will emerge from which the news industry will benefit. Will newspapers be around for another ten to fifteen years? I would like to believe they would. We may be a fast moving society, but I think it may take some time before we cut out a tangible source of news from our lives.

 

 

 

 

Fool Proof

“Holy crap Rach, we’re really screwed tomorrow,” said Sam over the telephone.

“Chill, chill, I’ll think of something I promise. I’m sure we’ll get out of this. Look if we’re going to get fucked we might as well enjoy it,” I replied chuckling.

I always did this. Every time I got nervous about something I ended up saying something crude or stupid trying to shed some humor to the situation. This time it did not seem to work.

“ What is wrong with you woman? Are you seriously insane? How the hell can you be casual about this? No, Rach what the hell are we going to do? Seriously I’m flipping out,” she babbled on.

Sam was starting to get on my nerves now. How the hell was I supposed to know what to do? The five of us were in the same mess together and why was everyone expecting me to bail us out of this? I put the end of the pencil that I was playing with in my mouth and started to chew on the eraser bit.

“ If we don’t go to school tomorrow then we don’t have to take the exam. Just don’t go to school tomorrow,” I said, thinking it was a good idea.

“ Are you a moron? Where is your fucking brain Rachel? Our parents all know we have this exam tomorrow. There is no way any of us are going to be able to get out of school tomorrow. Besides, we had all weekend to study for it but no, you wanted to go for that stupid concert and talked us all into it,” she retorted.

I hated when Sam did this. Okay fine, yes I procrastinated. Yes, we all should have studied for our French exam, but it was an Aerosmith concert and I really wanted to go. I felt a little bad. There was no way my parents would have let me go without the girls. It was an overnight weekend concert and they obviously did not trust me. I had to talk Sam and the other girls to come with me. Okay think Rach, how do we get out of this mess now?

“ Sam, I’ll call you back. Don’t say anything to anyone yet. Let me just think about it. I’m sorry but just trust me I’ll find a way to get out of this,” I said.

“ Whatever Rach, just call me back soon okay?” she said sounding worried.

“Yeah, yeah I will. Toodles,” I said.

I got off the phone with Sam and sat down on my bed. I resumed chewing my pencil and thought hard. I had almost chewed off most of the eraser when an idea struck me. It was perfect and fool proof.

Picking up my phone, I punched in Sam’s number and told her to get the other three girls on conference with us.

It didn’t take long for her to get Alex, Jo and Tash on the phone. Sam was good at rallying the troops. I was the one that roused them up.

Tash and Jo were on her landline speakerphone, while Sam, Alex and I were on speaker on her cell phone. (Honestly I don’t know how she does it).

“ Okay girls. I’ve got a plan. And before saying anything and interrupting me just listen okay?” I said.

There were four “Fine’s” and I began narrating my plot.

“ So here’s what we do. You know how behind the school, up near the football field there’s the wire fence with all the trees? Well there’s one bit, which is well covered, with trees so no one can really see anything,” I said.

First interruption. I was expecting this anyways.

“ Rach, how do you know that?” barked Alex

“ Oh I go down there sometimes between class to sneak a cigarette with Dan and Kyle,” I said, quickly regretting that I didn’t.

“ Rach! I’ve told you a million times not to smoke in school. What if you get caught? You’ll get expelled!” said Sam.

God! Sometimes I really hated how annoying my friends could be.

“ You know they’ll never expel me,” I said cockily. “I’m a model student and the head of every major student organization in school. Plus I’m basketball and house captain. They can’t expel me,” I continued. Why were these shit heads digressing I thought.

“ Okay whatever, can we get back to my plan,” I snapped.

“ Go on,” sighed Jo and Alex together. I was pretty sure Sam was rolling her eyes and Tash was trying to muffle her laughter. I loved Tash. She was gutsy and rebellious like me, but way more subtle.

“ Well I’ll get a wire cutter with me tomorrow. All of us come to school normally, but carry a change of clothes,” I said.

Second interruption.

“ What? Why?” shouted Sam. “Rach what the hell are we doing tomorrow?”

I wanted to punch Sam right now. I was trying to get us out of this pickle and all she kept doing was annoying me.

“ Seriously? Well my plan is that we skip school, climb through the wire mesh, call a cab to the back of the school near the water tower and then go out somewhere. We can wait till school’s almost done, take a cab back in time and then just go in through the primary section because they get out early. Coach Shannon goes to pick her daughter up, so if anyone asks just say it’s about after school practice,” I said, sounding very pleased with myself.

Rightfully enough, there were four immediate reactions.

“ Are you crazy?” yelled Sam.

“ That’s brilliant Rach!” laughed Tash.

“ What?” said Alex.

“ Rach, there’s no way we can get away with all that,” said Jo.

“ You guys are fucking morons seriously. People skip school all the time. Trust me, no one’s going to know. Their just going to assume we’re sick or something. They never call our parents anyways to find out if we’re actually sick. Plus no one would ever expect us to skip school. Especially when we have an exam,” I said.

“ You know she does have a point,” said Tash. I loved Tash. She always backed me up at everything.

“ Rach your actually serious about this?” said Sam. I could tell she was getting convinced. That was how desperate we all were.

“ You guys, we’re all really good students. We always get A’s, the teachers love us, the principals in my pocket, and besides we’re not doing this for some joy ride or thrill factor. We’re actually desperate. And our parents will never find out. Come on. Get with the program”.

“ I’m in,” said Tash.

“ Yeah. Rach is right. We are desperate,” said Alex.

“ Me too. I’ll do it,” said Jo.

Sam was the only one left to be convinced. I knew she was hesitating. This is classic Sam. She’ll hesitate and go back and forth but in the end she always gave in. She just needed the extra push.
Tash came to the rescue.

“ Sam think about it. Do you really want to fail the exam? Or skip school tomorrow, study all day and then get an A. It would ruin your average if you don’t. Think about it. Think about college,” said Tash.

Okay so she was getting a little dramatic talking about college and everything. It was just a stupid little mid term but all of us were very particular and OCD about our grades.

“ Fine. Whatever,” said Sam. And that was how Samantha Brown gave in.

“ Good, now that that’s settled, don’t forget to get a change of clothes tomorrow. We can’t be running around in uniforms. If a cop sees us, or a teacher we can get into a lot of trouble. So change of clothes and please act as normal as possible. Sam, you especially,” I said.

“ Yeah, yeah I know,” she said. “ So we’re meeting outside school tomorrow then?” she asked.

“ No you idiot. People will see us. Just come to school at the usual time and go to the boys’ bathroom in the gym. We can easily walk out on the steps that lead to the football field and there are no classes scheduled there during first period,” I said.

“ You my girl, are bloody brilliant,” said Tash.

“ I try,” came my cocky reply. I had to admit it was a pretty good plan though.

“ Anyways, can I go now? I want to go watch Gossip Girls before bed.

“ Oh. I forgot that was on tonight. Yeah I better go too. We’ll see you tomorrow. Good night hun,” said Tash.

The other three mumbled goodbyes and I put the phone down. My ear was hot from holding my cell phone there for so long but a smile spread across my face as I thought about the next day. The plan was definitely was foolproof.


The next morning I shoved a pair of jeans and a t-shirt into my sling bag. I had put the wire cutter in my bag the night before after stealing it from my father’s toolbox. I went downstairs and sat down to have breakfast with my mother.

“ So you’re prepared for this exam?” she asked.
“ Uh huh,” I replied chewing through my piece of toast.
“ I haven’t seen you studying all weekend,” bantered my mother.
“ I studied. Chill. Relax woman. Your always so paranoid about everything,” I said.
“ Just make sure you do well okay? No B’s or C’s. I only want A’s from you,” she pressed on.
“ Yeah mom. Take a chill pill. I’m out. Bye. See you after school,” I said, walking towards my front door.

“ Read the questions twice and go over…” I shut the door before she could finish. God why was everyone so anal about everything.

I got to school and walked straight to the boys’ bathroom. The girls were already there.

“ Oh my God Rach where the hell have you been,” said Sam.

“ Having breakfast,” I said. Tash and I both laughed and high fived each other while Sam gave me a really dirty look.

“ Okay. Change and we can call a cab. I’ve got the wire cutter,” I said.

Alex took out the phone and dialed the cab company since she was already dressed. I heard her give directions to the cab company as I pulled my t-shirt over my head. I told the girls to stay back while I went and cut the fence down so it did not look too obvious what we were doing.

The wire cutter worked like a charm and in about five minutes I had cut down on one side and bent the wire back so we could all climb out. I ran back to the boys’ bathroom to where the girls were waiting.

“ Okay so that’s done. Now lets just wait for the cab. Alex you keep watch and we’ll run as soon as it come,” I said.

“ Fine. I don’t know where you come up with these mad ideas,” she replied.

In about ten minutes our cab was there and we snuck out as carefully as possible. I had butterflies in my stomach and part of me was excited, the other a little nervous. We managed to get over the fence okay and into the cab. We all knew the cab driver wasn’t going to ask us any questions but none of us had decided where we were going to go.

“ Where are we going?” asked Sam.

“ Lets go to the hookah place we always go to. People know us there, won’t ask any questions and it’s away from teachers and school,” said Jo.

“ Yeah that’s a good idea,” said Sam and told the cab driver where to take us.

We got to the hookah place okay and sat down, relieved on the plush couches around the place. We did say we were skipping school to study and we had brought our books, so one by one we pulled out our French books and notes from our bags and started to study.

I’m pretty sure we looked funny. Five girls sitting around a hookah place at eight in the morning, smoking hookah and cigarettes and studying like our life depended on it. We didn’t say much to each other for the rest of the time. We honestly just sat there and tried to salvage whatever time we had in order to do really well on the test we were planning on taking the next day.

Around noon we ordered some burgers and fries and sat around chatting about what we thought was going to be on the test. We forgot where we were, forgot that we had skipped school and just sat there like model students doing our work and eating. After we were done, we decided to quiz each other on our French vocabulary when Sam suddenly looked shocked.

“ You guys, are none of you scared? I just realized what we did and I am a little scared to go back,” she said.

“ Chill Sam, I’m sure it will be okay. I’m positive nothing’s going to happen. Just chill. We’re leaving soon anyways so don’t worry about it,” I said.

“ Yeah, Rach your right. Sorry,” said Sam.

An hour later we were all ready to leave and had done more than enough studying to be confident that we were all going to get an A on our exam. We called a cab and made our way back to school, the whole way laughing about how we got away with our little scheme. The girls kept slapping me on the back and congratulating me on my brilliant plan and I couldn’t help feel really proud of myself. I had gotten away with it.

As we turned into the road that led up to the school my mouth dropped. Nothing, trust me nothing could have prepared me for this.

There were four cars in front of us that were jus waiting in one line and I instantly recognized all of them. My mother, my father and my two uncles were waiting for us.

“ Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! We’re fucked. I’m fucked. My parents are going to fucking kill me,” I panicked.

As we drove up, I made eye contact with my mother who I could tell was fuming. I couldn’t figure it out. The girls and I were panicking. HOW THE HELL DID THEY FIND OUT?

The four cars surrounded our cab and the driver was forced to stop. My mother jumped out of her car, (God help me I thought) and pulled our door open.
“ Get out. All you girls are in big trouble. Get out and go straight to the principal’s office. NOW!” she yelled.

I didn’t want to look at her and honestly I just wanted to walk ahead of the girls. Principal I could handle, Mom, no fucking way. I didn’t even want to try.

As I tried to walk away, my mother grabbed me by my arm and slapped me right across my face. Tears were streaming down here face and I could tell she was really, really upset.

“ Have you no respect for me? What is wrong with you? What if the cab driver took you girls somewhere in the desert and raped all of you? How would we find you? You couldn’t even call and tell me what you were doing? No! You had to go off. I’ve been worried for the past three hours,” she yelled at the top of her voice.

Okay, now keep in mind that schools already over by this point and there are kids everywhere, and here was my mother whacking me and yelling at the top of her lungs. I however, was too shit scared to even be embarrassed.

“ The school called! They said all of you were not in school today and they got worried especially since all of you had an exam. They wanted to know if you were sick,” she continued yelling. Then she turned to the girls and said, “ Oh your parents are waiting for you girls in the principals office.”

Now all of us were pretty much shitting ourselves. We just stood there while my mother continued yelling at us as we looked down at our feet.

“ March! Now! Office,” she barked, like a fire breathing dragon.

We made it up to the principal’s office, some kids chuckled as they saw us, and others I could tell just felt plain bad. As we walked in, there were four pairs of parents just as pissed off as my mother.

I don’t know how long the shouting went on for. Each parent was drowning the other one out. It was quite funny actually but had I laughed right now I’d have really had it.
When they finally calmed down (I think they just were out of breath) Sam explained why we had done what we did. Our principal listened to us and surprisingly was really nice about the whole issue. None of us were going to get into any trouble since that was the first time we had broken school rules. It was the first time I got caught.

My mother however being the martyr/ savior/ saint that she thinks she is was furious with my principal.

“ How can you let these girls get away with this? I want to se some punishment,” she said. “ My daughter needs to learn a lesson.”

Oh God. I hated my mother sometimes. The principal said he couldn’t punish the other girls because their parents were not insisting on any kind of punishment. But since my mother was he gave me three days of in school suspension. Not bad I thought. I got to spend three days chatting away with my principal who was very fond of me.

But the worst was yet to come.

When the whole charade was over and everyone had gone home, all my mother said to me was “ Eat your lunch.”

My father hadn’t said a word to me up till this point and I knew I was in for a huge lecture later on that day. But what he did I did not expect.
As soon as I was done eating my lunch, I felt someone yank my hair into a ponytail and before I knew what was happening I heard my mom scream, “Darling not that short.”

My dad had just chopped off five feet of my hair.

My hair was my mascot. I modeled for it. People were always complimenting me on it. It was my biggest asset and I was more proud of it than anything else.

I can’t remember for how long I cried that day. My mother felt sorry for me and held me the entire time. She was nice enough to even take me to the hairdresser and get my hair cleaned up from the rough cut my dad gave me. I hated my dad and I swore I would never speak to him. I felt ugly. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror and I was dreading going to school the next day. I had always had long hair and now I had an ugly bob with an even uglier bang on one side. My dad I could tell was sadistically happy and I even remember calling him a sadist and a narcissist.

I didn’t want to go to school the next day because I knew everyone would make fun of me. I knew I looked really different and the whole school knew what happened by this point. My father however, being a sadist insisted I go or I would get another months worth of grounding.

When I walked into school it was like people were honestly waiting to see what I looked like. What I didn’t expect though, were the flow of compliments I kept getting from people. Apparently (I did not see this) I looked like a chic French model. Everyone thought my bob was extremely sassy and suited me really well. At first I thought people were just making me feel better but it was only until the girls dragged me to the bathroom and forced me to look into the mirror that I actually realized how awesome I looked.

That day went extremely well for me. Kids kept walking into my principal’s office to see my hair and even teachers came. Everyone wanted to see me and not one person said anything bad about my hair. I was suddenly the most popular girl in school and one teacher even went to the extent of saying that I was going to be a legend in this school.

When I went home that day my father was the first person to ask me how it was. I could see the sadistic smile on his face. I could tell he was waiting for me to blow up at him at tell him how I hated his punishment. He wanted me to feel some remorse for what I did and that was his way of achieving that.

I however, calmly walked up to him and said, “ Daddy, my day was awesome. And you know what? I love my hair. In fact I’m going to keep it like this for a while. Everyone loved it in school and I think this was the best thing you’ve ever done for me.”

I kissed him on his check and walked off to my room as he stared dumbfounded after me.

My plan did end up being a really good one after all. I got an A on my French exam, three dates and an awesome, awesome haircut.

50 FT

Every cliché known to man couldn’t possibly help me out right now. I’ve tried a series of things, and then I’ve tried them all again. Nothing seems to work. I am still here, at the very top of a fifty-story high skyscraper, standing on its ledge looking down.

I look back, biting my lip and think about what I am about to leave behind. Everything. My free spirit lurks somewhere behind the water tank that is perched on top of this skyscraper. It’s a façade. This whole building is a façade. Exactly like this place in my life. Don’t get me wrong. This building is beautiful. It has no imperfections, no flaws; it is not tainted in the least. There is not a single crack in any of the glass panels. None of the metal is scratched. Its surface is impeccable.

Yet, I now think of what it is like on the inside. It is tarnished, ravaged and appalling. Why not? I think. The plumbing and the wiring were not meant to be seen by anyone. Yet without it this structure would not function.

I think about myself. Tainted, tarnished, ravaged. I am at the threshold of letting go. But do I really want to. I was none of those things before. My foundation, my structure and well for the most part my ‘plumbing and wiring’ were neat, clean and presentable at any given time and place. But these cracks were not placed by me. No. It was like I had rented myself out to a real estate contractor hoping he would better me. I did not realize that he was on contract and his job needed to be done fast. Instead of taking the time to re-model and re-structure, he stuck with his contract and haphazardly did what he thought was a decent job. His ‘decent job’ left me with scratches and fractures. Not the best of contractors I’ll admit. But I have never picked them. They always seem to pick me. I am their protégé.

I shake it all off. Every bit of it I shake off. I yearn to hold on but I realize there is no point. My mentor has moved on. My mentor has now taken his expertise elsewhere.
I have to get out of here I tell myself. I have to spit out all that I have swallowed for it has no nutrition, no nourishment.

I look down from the ledge. I look back again. I shut my eyes tight and count till five.

Then I jump.

I fall.

Five feet.

Fifteen feet.

Thirty feet.

Forty-five.

I fall all fifty feet.

I hit the ground hard. Yet no pain has been inflicted on me. I pull myself off the floor and dust of any remnants of my fall. I look back up to where I started. There is no remorse. No regret. I feel whole again: it only took me those fifty feet to find closure.

Rearing Llamas and Alpacas

The foul and putrid stench stuck my nostrils and I was forced to wrinkle my nose, while still keeping a straight face as I entered the arena. My gaze wandered for a while before locking into a pair of glassy eyes. Intrigued, and slightly amused, I approached those pair of eyes, half expecting a wad of spit to slap me in the face, yet thankfully that did not happen.

 

Drumming my fingers against the edge of the pen, I paced slowly, trying not to break eye contact, anxiously waiting for an approach. I realized my pacing was making her nervous, so I stopped and stood right in front of her, and relaxed my otherwise stiff posture.

 

I reached my hand out towards her head which was a few inches away from me. Running my fingers through that soft fur, it felt like little silk worms were weaving constantly at her crimp. Even cashmere doesn’t feel that soft. Maintaining these animals must be real hard work I thought.

 

“I see you’ve met my alpaca, Grayson,” said a voice behind me, accompanied by a tap on my shoulder.

 

I turned around to find a sweet looking old lady standing there, a stack of pamphlets cradled in her arms.

 

 “Welcome to our llama and alpaca festival,” she said, shaking my hand and introducing herself as Kathy Kenworthy, Grayson’s owner.

 

Kenworthy was just one of the many breeders who participated in The Pennsylvania Llama and Alpaca Association’s (PLAA), Llama and Alpaca Festival at the Agricultural Arena in The Pennsylvania State University. Breeders, volunteers and families were buzzing around individual pens, either tending to their llamas and alpacas or just observing them in amazement.

 

“The purpose of the Festival is to educate the public about llamas and alpacas,” said Festival Coordinator, Sonja Leach.

 

The breeders at the festival were not only engaging the public in the festival but were also answering the queries people had about them.

 

Kenworthy spoke at length about Grayson and her other alpacas, stating how easy they are to look after. She stressed how effortless both llama and alpaca farming is to manage.

 

Although both llamas and alpacas come from similar regions of Peru and Bolivia there are differences between them. The most obvious one is size. Llamas are much larger than alpacas, about 2-3ft taller. Alpacas are also more expensive than llamas, almost 3-4 times more. Alpaca’s unlike llamas are not beasts of burden and are bred primarily for their fiber. One of the best ways to distinguish between an alpaca and a llama are its ears. The llama’s ears are curved inwards, often referred to being ‘banana shaped’, while the alpaca’s ears are straight.

 

Even though these animals may not originate in the United States, they are not hard to look after.

 

“It is easier looking after alpacas than it is looking after our two dogs,” said Lisa Rudy, an alpaca breeder.

 

Before starting a llama or alpaca enterprise, it is advisable to visit as many existing llama or alpaca organizations as possible. Almost all the breeders I talked to, strongly recommended attending seminars and festivals in order to equip yourself with the knowledge you need.

 

“My husband and I only got into farming a month and a half ago, but we did do our research before hand,” said Rudy.

 

Although the rearing of these animals is manageable, the initial investment one would need to make is expensive. The animals itself are expensive.

 

The llama price range can vary from $200 to $1000-plus for males and $400 to $3,500-plus for females. This price variance depends upon the age, sex of the animal (males usually cost less), quality of breeding or show stock, and location of birth or bloodlines (recent imports sell at a much higher price than domestic llamas because of improved genetic potential). Llama owners need to consider which of the creature's multiple uses will fit with their goals. Llama owners who plan to market breeding llamas will probably need to get pedigreed animals.

 

The price ranges for alpacas, like llamas, also depend on age, quality, and sex. Prices can range from $10,000 to $30,000-plus for good-quality females and from $1,000 for a gelding (used for companions and fiber animals) to as much as $60,000 for a prime herd sire.

 

“Because of the small number of alpacas in North America, the main market for alpacas will probably focus on breeding stock for some time,” said Leach.

 

 Alpaca producers getting into marketing of breeding stock should purchase registered and blood-typed stock. When considering a llama or alpaca operation, find out whether any permits or licenses are required for raising llamas or alpacas in your state.

 

Besides the animals, one will also have to invest in land and good quality orchard grass.

 

“It’s not that bad though, you can raise up to 4 alpacas on an acre of land,” said Kenworthy.

 

Since llamas and alpacas both have flat plantar pads on their feet unlike other livestock, they do not damage the landscape and they also double up as ‘lawn mowers’. This reduces the cost of maintaining the farmland.

 

Feeding these animals is also inexpensive. According to Rudy, “Two bales of hay a week is enough to feed up to six llamas.”

 

Alpacas are also simple keepers, requiring pasture, good grass hay, and pellet supplementation for free range minerals. Rotational grazing of llamas and alpacas can help utilize the pasture to a greater extent. Water needs to be accessible at all times. Using pastures to meet most of the nutritional needs of the animals will also enhance profitability.

 

Fencing is similarly an easy task. Most standard 4-foot-high fencing is generally adequate for llamas, however, a 5-foot-high fence is recommended for alpacas. Producers need a small catch pen, a chute, or other safe restraint to catch llamas or alpacas for trimming toenails administering vaccinations and shots, or handling an injured animal.

 

A three-sided shed or other shelter should be provided for inclement weather. Llamas and alpacas do not adapt well to dark sheds, but prefer shelters with large doors or windows. For a group of five adult llamas accustomed to each other, an open shed should be at least 12 feet by 16 feet, while six mother llamas and crias can fit into a 16 by 16 foot shed. Alpacas are generally about half the size of llamas, so shelter sizes can probably be reduced.

Alpacas and llamas have a habit of sharing communal dunging areas called dung or potty piles. This trait makes manure cleanup easier and helps reduce the spread of internal parasites.

“The manure is great fertilizer and does not burn, so can be used right from the animals to the flowerbed and garden,” said Kenworthy.

Because llamas and alpacas are from the dry, thin air in the high plains and mountains of South America, heat stress is a concern during a hot, humid day. They should be sheared in the spring and a small wading pool or sprinkler may be needed to help keep them cool. They need shelter from direct sunlight, and air movement is also necessary.

The amount of vetting these animals need is also very little compared to other livestock. Routine de worming and two yearly vaccinations are enough.

“They seem to be rather disease resistant and hardy,” said llama breeder Carol Reigh.

Female llamas produce one offspring per year after a gestation of around 350 days. Alpacas also produce one cria after a gestation of about 335 days. Twins for both llamas and alpacas are rare. Birthing is usually quick and trouble-free, and occurs during daylight hours with the mother standing during delivery. Avoid over-interacting with crias though, sometimes cria males that are bottle fed or given too much attention at an early age, bond to people and not with other llamas. When they have bonded to humans and grow to maturity, they perceive the humans (usually male) to be in competition for females in their herd. Their behavior problems toward humans can range widely in severity.

Llama and alpaca farming is becoming increasingly popular, not just because the animals make outstanding pets and companions but they also double up as a cash cow for owners.

Many breeders at the PLAA have also started learning how to spin and weave llama and alpaca fiber since the animals produce fine, soft fiber. There is a high demand for llama and alpaca fiber since the popularity of these animals has increased.

“Many designers are now introducing alpaca fiber in their garments because the fiber is so soft, and it is also non-allergenic, producing a good alternative for wool,” said Rudy.

The benefits of alpaca and llama farming eventually outweigh the initial investment, not just in monetary terms but also as far as effort is concerned. Once the farm is set up, it is not hard to keep adding more animals to the herd. These animals get along well with other farm and domestic animals.

They are so easy to raise and can be handled by just about anyone even seniors and children. They don’t bark, bite, dig or have fleas and are quiet and peaceful animals.

Be warned though; according to Reigh, “Llamas are like chips, you cannot just have a few. We started with four and now have close to forty.”

The Road to Purgatory

 

On the white, sandy coast of the Arabian Gulf, where shallow, turquoise water laps gently on the never-ending, beautiful beaches is a place called Dubai. Located in the heart of the Middle East, it is marketed as a vacation paradise. Glittering, seven-star hotels rise from spectacular man-made islands, shiny new emerald courses designed by golfing legends pleasure the sporting senses, food and drink from every corner of the globe is in abundance, and traditional Arabian hospitality ensures the best of attention for every holiday-maker.

It's not only the holiday companies that are giving it the hard sell. Employment agencies dangle the carrot of year-round sunshine and a luxurious, tax-free lifestyle to people in the West and offer unbelievable, life-changing opportunities to the people in the less well-off countries of Africa and Asia. The very size and nature of the development going on ensures that Dubai is never far from the free advertising offered by features on TV news and travel channels; in newspapers and magazines. The branding exercise by the rulers is wide-reaching, with sports sponsorships by the likes of Emirates Airlines keeping the destination present in the subconscious mind.

The truth about Dubai is somewhat different to that advertised. Having lived there for 15 years, I have the experience to back this statement up. I have seen many family friends move to Dubai, solely based on what they’ve heard about it from what they’ve read. Brushing aside any word of caution from people who actually live here they come to chase the carrot dangling in front of them like a loyal but slightly dim donkey. But from the moment they arrive, they realize that the image of Dubai that they had built up in their minds was just that: an image.

This fact is evident as soon as you walk out of the doors of the airport in the middle of the night and get hit by a wall of heat akin to the blast felt when one opens an oven door to check the cake within. I experience it every summer; more so on returning home from State College, Pennsylvania where what people call ‘hot’ there is like a mild winter in Dubai terms. The summers never change, if anything it gets hotter as the years progress.

I still recall what it first felt like when I first moved to Dubai. It must have been more than thirty degrees Celsius, and it was nearly midnight. The following morning, I woke up to the haunting strains of the Call to Prayer at a nearby mosque echoing around the streets, and upon opening the window blinds, I was half-blinded by the sheer brilliance of the Arabian sun and the glare of the sandy-colored buildings, which almost seemed to amplify its heat and light.

It wasn't long before I learned that for around 5 months of the year, people are generally confined to air-conditioned surroundings - moving from the villa or apartment to the car to the office, and at the weekend to the shopping mall or the hotel. Of course, I knew there would be heat, but I wasn't prepared for the ferocity of it, or the way it didn't abate by a great deal at night-time. But people still go to Dubai all year round. I can't personally see the attraction of spending two weeks confined to a hotel, but then that's just me.

Over the years I realized that the weather was a minor disappointment when it came to the “Paradise City” image that Dubai portrayed. There were bigger and much more pressing problems. As I grew older, I saw the portrayal of Dubai peel away, like an onion and its layers, till I was left with the raw and quite disturbing truth of the situation.

The next layer of the image to fall away was the promise of a tax-free lifestyle and the resultant opportunity to live like royalty. Everyone who has moved to Dubai with the tax free incentive has been disappointed. Not only is the cost of living high but property rates, even the cost of renting is through the roof. Even the cost of education is phenomenal, equating to approximately the same cost of tuition in a reputed university. There are a dizzying number of fees and charges added here there and everywhere. Although not necessarily taxes, people still find that more money comes out of their pockets than what goes in.

I will admit that mine and the lifestyle available to the middle and upper class is good. Sumptuous brunch buffets for reasonable prices can be indulged in every weekend. When the weather isn't too hot to breathe, you can venture to pleasant, palm-lined beaches (although the number of public, free beaches is diminishing all the time as more of the coastline is swallowed by new hotels and resorts). Glamorous, sprawling shopping malls with high-end outlets and indoor ski slopes shelter you when it is too hot, tempting everyone to give the plastic a good battering, and Arabian-souq-themed resorts with idyllic - but essentially fake - surroundings enchant those who like their experiences packaged, clean and safe like a Disney movie.

Those with a more adventurous bent can explore the real souqs scattered around the Dubai Creek, with their hustle and bustle and sights and smells, selling gold, spices, textiles and what traders will unashamedly refer to as "genuine fake Rolexes". It's in these places that you start to see the true heart and nature of the place. You see what the real make-up of the city's population is. It is a society of carefully-choreographed and jealously-protected levels of wealth and power, only a few of which are openly displayed in the brochures and advertisements. It is hierarchical and then some. The Sheiks of the Maktoum family sit at the top with absolute power, and are completely unassailable and beyond criticism. They are seen as men of vision and wisdom who have brought great prosperity to the area on the back of the oil money, and, admittedly, they are building something quite unprecedented.

The non-royal locals are the next level, just above the Western expats, and then come the higher-caste, educated sub-continentals. Behind them are the service staffs, a lot of them from places in Asia, like the Philippines and India. Ethnic origin counts for everything. It is a common occurrence that after a car crash, fault is assigned based on nationality and skin color rather than who was actually to blame. There’s more however, if a driver runs over a camel, which is the national animal, they are required to pay more blood money than they would if it were a human being.

 

There are more levels in this pyramid of privilege. The poorest and lowest levels have the most people in them. When you finally become aware of them, whether on vacation or in your first few weeks of living there, you take more notice of the dirty white buses ferrying laborers all over the city and the Emirate, to the hundreds of building sites that mark their presence with spindly, towering cranes.

 

You quickly come to the realization, mostly through informal channels and word-of-mouth, that these men - generally from the poorer parts of the Indian sub-continent - are here for one thing and one thing only: Work. The affluent lifestyle is not available to them. They are here to build the place, but they aren't really welcome in any other capacity. They are turned away from the magnificent malls that they built and won't even get within 50 yards of a five-star hotel. Even in public areas they are seen as a nuisance, with public beaches becoming notorious for being ogling posts for men who have never seen a woman showing more naked flesh than her face and hands.

 

While you belt along the Sheikh Zayed road in your air-conditioned, gulf-spec car towards another hotel or mall, you spot these white buses, with their barred-over windows and dirty exhaust fumes, and you can't help but thank your lucky stars that you aren't one of the men aboard. These men stare blankly at the unreal surroundings, either on their way to work a 12-hour shift or being conveyed back to their filthy, cramped labor accommodation to eat as little as possible so they can afford to send as much of their meager earnings (US$200 a month or less) back to their families in India, Pakistan or Sri-Lanka.

 

The summer is the worst. Most people are desensitized to the common sight of these men as they drive past construction sites. Dubai never stops building, and it is usually at the expense of these men. They work in 45 degree heat, even during midday when the sun is overhead and the heat is at its peak. Most of us would faint, and people have. Yet these men continue to toil. The stains of sweat patches cover most of their blue overalls. They are not allowed to take their helmets off, even though the sweat makes their forehead itch because they would be a liability to the company should anything happen.

 

These men were enticed. They were made promises. Their dreams were exploited, and they are often trapped in this existence as unscrupulous employers hold their passports.

 

You see it all the time, newspapers will report about the living conditions in labor camps, how some employers haven’t paid the laborers for months, and god forbid if they ever try to do anything. On one occasion about 200 laborers decided to sit on Sheikh Zayed road to protest their living conditions and wages. There is a rule against striking and protesting in Dubai. You’re just not allowed to do it. Those laborers were deported and their visas cancelled.

 

Some people have observed their plight. And some have been troubled by it. It troubled me, because I realized that I was living a lifestyle at the expense of these people. Above everything else - the wafer-thin facade, the oppressive heat and the hidden costs - this was the thing that affected me most, and ultimately it contributed to my decision to leave. That's not to say I regret going there, because I don't. It opened my eyes - not just, to how things are in Dubai, but to how they are in the world at large. For me it is a microcosm of how the world works, with a few people at the top holding all the money and power, while the great majority live in poverty, often unwittingly subsidizing the lives of those above them.

 

 I now wonder if things have really moved on since the days of Egypt, when slave labor was employed by Pharaohs to construct amazing structures in the sand. But things haven’t changed; situations have forced people into a life very similar to that of slaves and now humanity is dangling by a fine thread.