Thursday, March 10, 2011

And, why do women need liberation?—1

“I am quite pissed off with all this bullshit about women’s day and women’s rights! After all, who are they fighting against, or from whom do they want these rights or liberation?” declared a colleague this morning, as I was reading this powerful and sad letter that a neglected, hurt wife had written to her husband. Stifling the urge to bang my head on the desk, I began explaining to him the various facets of women’s rights, the radical beginnings of the IWD (International Women's Day), and how women’s rights cannot be reduced to mere male bashing (now that’s actually a compliment to men, if women's liberation/rights are equated to just male bashing!).


A lot of people believe that women today are quite empowered, in fact, even liberated. But, is it really the case? Firstly, let’s consider the case of women who work in the IT companies. Most of them are quite educated in terms of the degrees that follow their names. And, some even command salaries in the range of 8-12 lakhs a month. Of course, they have the freedom to come home at anytime, provided they come from the work place; not after a late night dinner, a get-together, or a party! I have seen many beautiful, ambitious young women succumb to the drudgery of domestic work and house keeping within days of marriage. As if that’s not enough, many of them abdicate or are made to abdicate their bank accounts to their husbands or in-laws! Most of them don't even think even for a moment before they append their husband's name to theirs! Some of them stop wearing make up because their husband doesn’t like it; and some wake up at 4 to cook three different dishes because the mom-in-law has diabetes, the father-in-law has hypertension, and the husband doesn’t like bland food! Well, it’s another story if the girl doesn’t know how to cook; after all, just knowing how to code a bug-free program or writing the most thorough business report is not enough to lead a happy family life if you are born a woman. And, like a small consolation comes the pocket money from the hubby, which some women use to buy concealers to hide the black and blue marks of ‘marital bliss,’ which come as a bonus from the new home. And, the new age man thinks why do the women need freedom/liberation and from whom!

Secondly, let’s look at the women who work in government offices or those who make a nominal salary, which is most often essential to give their children a better education. Since these women do not make much money, the disposable income in their hands is much lesser, which they end up using to buy things only for the ‘family,’ which is the one they married into; not the ones they were born into.


In my train/bus rides, I draw some of these women into a conversation to understand a little about their lives. A lot of these women complain of the time they spend at work, primarily because it interferes with the time they could spend with the family, especially because their husbands are also away at work. It’s completely a different issue that the men do not spend time with the family. The idea that the family is the sole responsibility of the woman, no matter how educated you are or what position you hold at work is drilled deep into their psyche! As if their own doubts on their professional capacity isn’t enough, the companies themselves hold an anti-woman view. Let me illustrate this with an example of an incident that happened in my mom's office. At the time of the incident, I was too young to even realize the underlying misogyny. There was an important audit happening in the office, and lot of people (including some 4-5 women) had to stay very late (and that’s 8 PM) to finish some reports. The husbands of four women came to office by 6 and stayed till the work was over and took them home. The remaining one lady had to stay till the next day morning because of lot of work, lack of trains after 10, and her husband not being in town to pick her. This one incident captured the imagination of all the women (and the men) of the office, and they spared no opportunity to brand her a slut! That was the end of any woman wanting to do well, work hard, or even climb the management ladder in that office! And, a lot of people still think why do the women need freedom/liberation and from whom!

Finally, let’s look at the wage laborers, domestic helps, vegetable vendors, fish sellers, and agricultural laborers. In fact, the subjugation, oppression, and exploitation that these women go through can never be compared even remotely with what the other women go through. Here, class plays a diabolical role, which men from upper classes with the tacit sanction of patriarchy unleash unspeakable violence (physical, mental, economic, and social) on these women. There’s no need for one to go searching for stories to prove this claim; you simply have to open the newspapers to see how the murdered corpses of a dalit girl and her mother were raped by upper caste men of the entire village or how a woman girl is strip searched for alleged robbery. And, a lot of people still think why do the women need freedom/liberation and from whom!


More to follow in future posts on housework, unaccounted labor, and street violence.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Audacity of Grief

It slipped. 7 months. Too long to stay the grief it seems. She remembered the 7th thirteenth after 7 days of the passing away of the 7th born.

Try however hard, the grief refuses to stay the way it began; it seems to change shape the way smoke from a fire changes as it drags itself away from the source and mingles with the rest and become colorless, soulless.


With no one to pick the line on the other end, the phone rings and rings; and one day, it slips her hand.

A fire that singes only the heart and soul douses itself with no tear gas; and one day, even tears dry.

Crouching with just a pillow to my heart and stomach stifle I the ball of grief; lest it also slip away…

Monday, January 10, 2011

Memories

Within dark valleys
And between trees
Hide moments away-gone
Sequestered by thoughts
Of the rain, wind, and hills
Entombed in yours and my
Eyes, ears, and heart

Roving through flesh
And within skin
Trespass words untilled
Ploughed in by seeds
Of the past, present, and future
Nailed in yours and my
Destiny, fate, and mind

Creeping up the walls
And through crevices
Snake hope untold
Of the quiet true love
And the noisy quite love
Fastened in yours and my
Path, dreams, and tears

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Ad makers, please give us a break and use some grey matter, for a change!


The latest advertisement for Chakra Gold tea shows a muslim couple looking for a rented apartment in Chennai. The landlady looks at the girl with suspicion, turns her face away in disgust, and thinks the girl doesn’t even have a bindi on her forehead and so they must be…her facial expressions confirm the rest—the aversion that the brahminical castes have for the marginalized. She decides to move away only to be nudged by her husband to ‘behave’ and perform her wifely duty, which is making tea for the guests! And, of course, one sip of chakra gold ‘opens’ her mind and she accepts the muslim couple as her tenants. Watch the ad here.
What is the underlying message here? Has Chakra gold suddenly woken up to the marginalization that minorities face in this country? So, does sipping Chakra gold change one’s communal mindset in just a moment? Or, what type of reaction does Chakra gold expect from the viewers other than picking up the tea? Wouldn’t the viewers feel their misguided anger and disgust for the minorities validated? So, in an ostentatious manner, is Chakra gold promoting anti-muslim feelings? I think so. The ad is most repulsive for this very reason. And, what was even more revolting was the man correcting the woman about her behavior, which is actually very far from the truth. In fact, having been a house hunter for ages, I know for a fact that it’s men who ask for your ‘affiliations’ (read caste/religion, besides of course your marital status if you appear to be a modern woman) before they would rent out the house.



So, why do people make such terrible ads? Is this what happens when the corporates have a free hand in the market? Isn’t there a body that monitors this kind of blatant propagation of surreptitious communalism? I can only imagine what kind of market research would have happened behind the making of such an ad. The same type that must have happened behind the making of movies like A Wednesday and Peepli Live. Just pick up a so-called burning issue and capitalize on it in the most idiotic and silly manner. The day isn't far when there will be ads for say swords and AK 47s that will use montage from the Gujarat riots and Kashmir!

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Laws of Loss


Language of loss
Has no words
No alphabet
For words dissolve
Beyond the horizon
The way the sun
Went down one fine morning
Never to rise again

Language of loss
Has no grammar
No syntax
For rules break up
Beyond the line of punishment
The way the tears
Welled, frothed around the lips
Never to fall again

Language of loss
Has no music
No rhythm
For notes tune off
Beyond the curtains of tolerance
The way the beats
Fell, slowed near the heart
Never to beat again

Friday, December 3, 2010

Riddles


Wriggling between drops and waves
Come sacred verses
Sanctified in blood and death
With lies and love hidden, camouflaged

Crisscrossing lines of fate and destiny
Come bloody words
Shrouded in veils and wreaths
With thorns and myrrh wrapped, perfumed

Preening through pride and moss
Roll stony silences
Encased in poems and smoke
With polish and finesse swathed, draped


Thursday, November 25, 2010

A Small Note


Dear readers

I haven’t been writing for quite a while; primarily due to paucity of time and space (both mind and physical). :)
I will return soon enough. In the meantime, if possible, do leave your thoughts/opinions/ideas for possible write ups.

Thanks
Happy heart

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Why should there be peace in Ayodhya?

It seems like there’s enough written on this much flogged issue of the Babri Masjid–Ram Janmabhoomi dispute. But, I wonder if the common person actually understands or even bothers with the case, except when the so-called peace of the country is altered by communal riots, which are regular enough to be marked on the calendar. This so-called peace of the country was brutally violated when bloody-thirsty, fascist Hindu mobs pulled down the majestic Babri masjid on 6 Dec 1992. It still is etched in my mind clearly; it was the first religious brutality that I saw (on TV) as a teenager. The memories of that day still send a shiver down my spine. For those who can ‘afford’ to be ignorant of this, here’s a short recap of the events that led up to 6 Dec 1992.

In 1527, the Mughal ruler Babur constructed a mosque in Ayodhya. It was one of the several mosques built by the Mughal rulers who also gave us many more such beautiful monuments and buildings. I am no expert on the architectural or the historical significance of the mosque, but I understand the importance of the structure by its sheer age (500 years!). This living piece of history was the site of innumerable of controversies, thanks to heresy and rumors of it being the birthplace of a mythical hero. And, of course since the mythical hero happened to be the hero of the dominant classes of this great democracy (where supposedly the rights of the minorities and their places of worship are protected), the mosque was brutally demolished on 6 Dec 1992; a good 500 years after it was built. The mobs weren’t satisfied with just the demolition; they bayed for blood and butchered several thousands of Muslims across the country.

Now, after almost a decade and a half, when it’s time for justice, people want peace; there are hundreds of columns written every day urging for an out-of-court settlement or even a verdict that will not hurt the sentiments of either community! How flippant, irresponsible, and convenient are these calls for peace? In the name of peace, what the fascists want is injustice. Nothing can be more pusillanimous than delivering a verdict that doesn’t ‘hurt’ either community.

What the Hindu mobs did before, after, and on 6 Dec 1992 are unpardonable crimes against humanity, democracy, and the notion of state. They have to be brought to the book at any cost and not let off to contest and win elections and create a fascist state. If a verdict that will bring the hooligans to the book will result in riots, what are anticipatory arrests for? Or, what are the armed forces for, if they can’t crush these hooligans. Well, it’s another story that they are busy killing teenagers in Kashmir and the Northeast.

Just some parting words for those who want to talk about the ‘original’ temple at the ‘disputed’ site. Firstly, there’s no conclusive archaeological evidence to prove that claim and secondly, if this argument must be accepted, the ‘originality’ of all brahminical temples across the country will have to be revisited. And, possibly, open the debate of brahminization of subaltern and tribal worship structures, which are as ancient as humanity itself!

If 'peace' is finally 'manufactured'(of course at the cost of justice), it would only be akin to marrying off a rape victim to the rapist in name of a peaceful future/justice, which incidentally is not exactly unheard of in this biggest democracy of the world!

Monday, August 23, 2010

Peepli Live: Nero’s Feast


Yesterday, I watched the latest hindi flick, Peepli Live. The basic premise of the movie is on the ‘oh-so-serious issue,’ Farmers’ suicide! The story is set in a small village called Peepli, where a farmer on the brink of losing his small piece land thinks of taking away his life. How his family, the government, and the media react to this forms the rest of this story. Most of the reaction is comical, plain stupid, and irresponsible. The government officials fight over the ‘right’ scheme to fit this case under, the politicians look for political mileage, the family grieves and even throws its hands in despair, and the media just wring the issue completely to up their TRP ratings. And, all of this is captured in various ways; for example, the politicians make it out into a caste-based, election issue, the local government official spurs into action and brings a hand pump, the media frenzy outside the poor farmer’s house creates a carnival-like situation, etc. And, finally, the inevitable happens, and everything simply quietens down. It’s basically back to business, with no money or livelihood in sight for the farmer's family, except that the area now is filled with trash, thanks to media-generated carnival.

As I walked out of the movie hall, several questions kept whizzing past. Now, why is a movie made? Or, why do people go to movies? And, what is actually funny? Apparently, the movie is written and directed by some Anusha Rizvi, who’s a debuntante director. I wonder if the director even for a moment paid any attention to what this farmer’s suicides are all about! Clearly, in some ways, the director did know what she was talking about. The first few shots dealt rather well about the grim reality of farmers in this country. But, one was just not prepared to see the goriness of the director’s imagination/gall to poke fun at this! It’s a different thing when you capture the ethos of the village life and see an occasional laughter even amidst grinding poverty, but what Peepli Live did to the village/the issue was much beyond any limits of human insensitivity!

For example, would you laugh at someone’s death? Would you laugh at someone who runs to defecate, because you have taken over his land and even his subsistence? Isn’t it bad enough that such luxuries of multiplex viewing, 100% foreign direct investment of MNCs, branded jeans, footwear, and jewellery, etc are possible because the villages in India have been rid of their wealth and the villagers have been kicked out of their homes and livelihood to come and serve the city-dwellers as construction workers and house servants? Should even their sorrow and distress be made into things that can be laughed at? Can’t we leave alone at least their sorrow to themselves? In the name of bringing the issue into the imagination of this great Indian middle class, should you (Aamir Khan) dilute and distort the issue to some sort of a comical performance? Only this came to mind as I heard all these people sitting in a multiplex in Chennai and laughing their hearts out as the poor farmer and his family tried to negotiate the loss of their sole piece of land and actually discuss a suicide:
Nero, the ‘great’ king once decided to treat his guests in his garden in the evening. But, there was a problem with the lighting. After some thought, the issue was settled. And the party happened with much fun fare and laughter and much light from the burning slaves, who were burned so that the laughter and party could continue. (Source: Globalizing Inequality by P. Sainath)

In this lecture, P. Sainath wonders, “What sort of sensibility did it require to pop another fig into your mouth as one more human being went up in flames nearby to serve as 'a nightly illumination?” I have just this one thing to tell him, the sensibility that had all the women, men, and children (yesterday at the movie theater in Chennai) cracking up as a human being and his family was completely stripped of their agency/dignity to decide, think, or even to live. 


Yesterday, as I walked out of the movie hall, it was with Nero’s guests I walked out. It was quite a weird and a holocausty feeling to be amidst them and to have seen a film made by one of them; the Nero’s guests!

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Helpless Guilt

Sequined underneath over
Flowery wreaths and beads
Of sweat and tears
Rivers of congealed blood
Freeze frame
Lost moments of tranquillity
Of hurt pride
Of bottomless pits
Of anger
and soulless, wordless
tamed, grieving
impotent love


Strong, dark palms balled
As if fists in fury
Safe keeping away memories
Of chipped nails and fresh coffee
Mornings between smoke
And broken bridges
As drops of pain
Ball around and within
Breaking the rib cage of
Silent, loud broken promises

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Amaltas


Brightly bright shining atop
In the dawn, between
Wakefulness and sleep
Deep inside they meander
Little droplets of color
Of joy, of hope, of love

Spiritedly springing in the air
On the yellow canopy
Covering the darkness
Of anger and misery
Tiny packets of laughter
Of memories, of whispers, of smiles

Ps: This was written for the bright amaltas tree that stands right opposite my bedroom window. Amaltas was one thing I thought I would miss in Chennai, but, well...life is mysteriously beautiful in some ways. The tree is now in full bloom...:)

I've moved to Medium

If you came here looking for me, thank you. I am humbled and delighted. 😚 I now blog in Medium.  You are welcome to read my stories there ....