The Phoenix Must Rise

As a brave young girl succumbs and her spirited soul loses the battle, the most overwhelming emotion to grip me is profound anguish, unfathomable outrage and a terrible shame – for the very values we take pride in, for the hypocrisy of our people and for a society plagued by prejudice.

It’s all well to play the blame game, pass the buck from the police to the government. There is indeed little doubt that effective security measures need to be implemented all over the country to prevent crimes against women, and that as demanded by the protestors, rapists must be meted out with the harshest punishment to deter others from committing such a heinous act. But would that resolve the core issue? Does the role of the protestors and media end there? Should we be satisfied by these measures, content that we have avenged “Braveheart's” brutal assault?

The bestiality of the crime has shaken the conscience of the nation, and every Indian without exception is unanimous in condemning the incident. But how many really want to delve into the deeper, more sensitive issue of gender discrimination and are willing to admit that they too are guilty of the gender bias that is so deep rooted in our collective sub-conscious?

What can gender bias have to do with rape? It all begins with belittling the dignity of the woman right from the time of her conception. It all begins with glorifying the man just because he happens to be male. It all begins with elders bestowing their ardent wishes on a newly wedded couple that they be blessed with a son to carry ahead the family name. It all begins with families praying for the birth of a boy as soon as the “good news” is confirmed. It all begins with the flawed assumption that no family can be complete without a male child.

Why are people acting so self righteous while condemning the crime, when we as a collective entity are responsible for fueling the utter disrespect that our society shows towards the feminine gender?  How can we expect any change till our women continue to lack self belief, until they continue to resign themselves to play a subservient role, until they too pray fervently to be mothers of sons?

Our country needs a revolution of sorts to get rid of outdated norms and rusty ideas that have no place in a civilised, progressive society. If we really want to ensure greater security for women we need to restore their rightful position as equal, respectable and dignified citizens. This can only happen when we rid ourselves of this age old bias that favours the male and unquestioningly believes in his superiority. The revolution must begin within families - with parents instilling in their sons an intrinsic respect for women instead of giving in to stereotypes that condition boys into thinking that they are naturally superior to girls, stronger than them in every way. It is this erroneous belief that later transforms into either a patronising attitude towards womankind or the desire to dominate and overpower them. In its crudest form it turns into a violent, bestial urge, a means to quell their lust by violating their dignity in the worst possible manner.

Yes security measures need to be in place, more police vigilance and camera surveillance would indeed help bring down crimes against women. But what about the filthy attitudes and the uncouth minds from which acts of such unimaginable brutality are born? What measures are we taking to change those? What are we doing to change the way men think of women, to combat the attitudes that conveniently find fault with her attire or her character, or the assumption that it’s the woman to blame for venturing out after dark?

Bringing the rapists to justice is just the first step to avenging Braveheart’s untimely end. But may she continue to live in our hearts as the spark that spurs our conscience, as a hope that refuses to die. We owe her a social revolution – a promise that will give birth to a new generation of women who can live with their head held high - safe, proud and free. 

A birthday poem for my fourteen year old daughter

You're our cherished dream come true
Everything we wished for and more,
From a happy toddler to the bubbly teen
It's been a pleasure watching you grow.
Bright and friendly, filled with enthusiasm galore;
A tad impulsive, but sensitive to the core.

Safe in your cocoon, a fledgling till only yesterday
The time will come when you fly out of the nest one day
to carve your future, chase your aspirations,
Ready to face the challenges, overcome all the hurdles
With your discerning mind and keen sense of fair play,
In you we have the confidence, we know you'll head the right way

Looking at you today fills us with so much pride
You are our joy, our strength, our ray of sunshine.
When we count our blessings, we count you a zillion times
There couldn't be a better occasion to tell you what you mean to us.
So on this big day, we wish you success, good luck and joyful climes;
May all your dreams come true, may your life with happiness chime.

A Birthday Poem for my nine year old daughter - Anubha

The sweetest little sweetheart, a gift from the heavens above

You've filled our world with warmth, laughter and so much love.

With twinkling eyes, a naughty smile and a heart of gold

A mind brimming with innocence and goodness added a million fold

Your unending chatter we just can’t do without

A cute little imp that's what you're all about

Keep smiling, keep shining, always be the loving girl you are

Your twinkling eyes and golden heart all set to take you ahead by far

May your every wish be granted, may you learn to fly,

Spread your wings, reach out for the stars in the sky.

Be kind and good, true to yourself and you'll stand proud and tall

But for us you'll always be our pretty moonbeam, our little doll.

Here's wishing you a fun filled birthday and happy times ahead

May God bless you forever and joy and cheer follow wherever you tread!


Written on 1 Dec' 2012

As life chugs along

Image courtesy: stock-clip.com

                            
It’s my favourite part of the day—my “me” time when all I do is watch the world go by. There’s nothing quite like sitting by the window, in that bliss of solitude, feeling the wind on my face and letting my mind wander into its deepest recesses as the train meanders its way on the tracks. While my eyes behold the usual sights and notice the stations flash past, my mind travels back and forth, exploring through a maze of thoughts, recollecting events of the times past—both recent and distant, observing the myriad hues of daily life—humdrum yet fascinating, predictable yet surprising. This paradox never ceases to amaze me; maybe this is why I find myself looking forward to this daily ritual which fuels my thoughts, gives me glimpses of life at its most real and most of all, which lets me be me.

Among the first observations about my fellow commuters to have struck me was the fact that no sooner did young girls (as I travel in the ladies compartment) board the train than they put on earphones, plugged the wire into their mobiles and spent the entire commute listening to music. At first, I thought it would be a great way to pass the time and decided to try it out too. But then I realised that it interfered with the free flow of thoughts that I so enjoyed and diverted me from the wealth of experiences that I had got so accustomed to absorbing and hence abandoned the idea. It's probably a consequence of our hectic, modern lifestyles that young people have gotten so used to keeping occupied all the time that they cannot imagine sitting idle with only themselves for company.

I seldom get to see the same faces again on a different day but the only people who remain constant are the ladies pacing the aisle displaying their wares, attracting attention to it by announcing in long, loud tones, always as enthusiastic and hopeful, day after day. I never fail to admire their spirit, the enduring hope and optimism that reflect in their energetic voices, with neither any trace of disappointment at being turned down nor impatience at being pushed aside as the train begins to get crowded. Some of them carry their little babies in sari bundles tied across their torso, moving as sprightly as ever, their mood cheerful and body language positive, never giving away signs of any weariness that may be the natural outcome of their tough existence. Is it the predictability of their routine that gives them the strength to take life with such equanimity? Or is it because, they are oblivious of any other way of living? Can we learn a lesson from their stoicism or should they let a bit of discontent seep into their minds that will make them want more from life for themselves, for their children? The answer continues to elude me.

There are a few more “regular” commuters that I see every other day. They get on and off at fixed stations—a fact that would seem normal and ordinary for most – except that these women seem mentally unstable. Some of them mumble to themselves, others carry on an animated conversation with an imaginary companion, often recounting painful stories of betrayal, abandonment, bereavement and profound sorrow. This is by far the most moving of experiences from my daily commute and something that has shaken my very soul.

Then of course there is the lighter side too—young students cracking jokes that make you want to laugh loudly too. Women gossiping away, making the most of this opportunity, the security of being anonymous in a crowd of strangers, allowing them to give vent to their frustrations openly about a few of their favourite adversaries—their bosses, their husbands and their mothers in law. You cannot but also help overhear snippets of conversations about someone’s deepest secrets, their worst fears and the bitterest of truths. This has a strangely comforting effect as it connects me inextricably with those women who are complete strangers, yet share the common bond of being fellow travellers in the journey of life. It makes me realise that no one escapes the vagaries of life, that we all have our moments of despair and our moments in the sun to deal with in the way we choose to.

It’s indeed an eventful uneventful journey,—one that saddens, amuses, uplifts, teaches, inspires and comforts,—a mirror of the paradox that is life. But most of all, it is a time of silent contemplation, of peaceful introspection, of order amidst chaos, a time to charge my batteries to face the day with equanimity, as I revel in this chance to be me.

The right to choose

The battle of the sexes continues unabated. Never has the need to prove herself been more acute for the urban woman than it is today. Driven by the fire to succeed, she has broken all stereotypes to emerge victorious in even the hitherto typically male bastions. While these stupendous achievements are playing a necessarily substantial role in the general uplifting of the position of women, it has led to a new kind of stereotypical thinking.

“Are you working?” This is perhaps one of the most frequently asked questions by women to women when they meet for the first time. On the face of it, it seems a most innocent question – pleasant small talk, perfect to break the ice. But the answer to that question often holds the key to how she will be assessed and summed up. If the reply happens to be ‘yes’, well then she would come across as smart, modern, capable – the ideal liberated woman. And heaven help her, if the answer is ‘no’ then the reaction is ‘oh okay’, but the eyes give away that she has been graded a few notches lower. Is this kind of a reaction befitting of a liberated mind?

While it is of utmost importance that every individual, irrespective of gender, has the capacity to be financially independent, and every woman has the freedom to pursue her dreams and ambitions, it is just as important for her to have the freedom to choose that she doesn’t want to work without being regressively labelled ‘housewife’. If a well qualified woman wishes to put career plans on hold and play full time mom to her kids for a few years, so be it. It neither means that she is ‘wasting’ her education (if that can ever be possible!!), nor that she has all of a sudden turned into a docile, homely creature, devoid of ambition.

It is precisely this kind of thinking that is posing as a hurdle to the empowerment and emancipation of women in the true sense of the word. It has created a mindset wherein women have been classified as ‘working’ and ‘non working’ with the latter somehow being perceived as weaker, completely ignoring and undermining all the other valuable roles she plays. Does that mean that the respect accorded to a woman and her intelligence depends on whether or not she is working? Is that the sole yardstick to measure her acumen, her capabilities and the major criterion to grant her a place among the lot of “liberated” women? Is having a job a pre requisite to be considered empowered? In her quest for emancipation, by abiding to these now conventional parameters of judging, a woman is actually undermining her own kind. At the height of her accomplishments, she must remain humble enough to never underestimate another woman who may have chosen a different path for herself; a path that may not have brought her material success, yet given her an immense sense of fulfilment. That would be real freedom – the prerogative to know her own mind, make her own decisions and choose her own path.

 
The reverse is true too. Motherhood is a natural progression in a woman's life and certainly should not put a full stop on her career aspirations. These decisions are very subjective and personal and should remain so. Should she choose to resume her career after becoming a mother, it certainly does not mean that she is going to neglect her commitments to her family and that her children will necessarily "stray".

The truly empowered woman is well educated, self respecting, self confident, proud of her womanhood, and pivotal to the well being of her family. She is well aware that through her springs the happiness and the shaping of the moral character of her children. She is, in every which way, her husband’s strength, and together they can complement each other to form such a harmonious whole that there need never be any battle of the sexes. What is of paramount importance for the welfare of any society is that the woman is content and lives a dignified life – irrespective of whether she decides to pursue a career or chooses to stay at home. It is only when the woman can learn to respect herself for what she is and free herself from all kinds of dogmas and meaningless prejudices that she would be well on the path of real equality.

Therein lies her liberation and her empowerment.