A chat with the Seducers

They have been entertaining us for years. You cannot imagine Bollywood without their gyrations. In this nation where an average Indian struggles for a meal, they are like a shining beacon in cold nights giving equal respite to the underprivileged and the privileged. Why would I like to chat with them, you may ask? It is to know their secret formula, to know what makes them thrust, to know what inspires them to do jiggle their assets.

It was an honor to be connected to the Seven Sexy Seducers on WeChat and talk to them. Now won’t it be best if I share with you our chat history? That will give you enough fodder as to why I was jumping with joy when I got this opportunity.

Oh! But before that, let me introduce them to you.

Me : Hello Ladies. This is history in the making.

Mehbooba : History? Are you trying to insult me by telling me that I am old now?

Chikni Chameli : LOL

Me : No! I meant this is history in the making because all of you are here chatting together.

Mehbooba : Ah! And Chikni Chameli, show some respect. I have done more dance numbers than the number of clothes you are wearing.

Badmaash Babli : ROLF! Mehbooba, like seriously! Do you live in a cave? Chances are that Chikni Chameli is hardly wearing anything.

Ku Ku Ku : Mehboobaji, girls nowadays do not wear skin colored clothes like in your times. They aren’t hypocrites and of course they do not have any respect.

Me : Ladies! Really, this is a most interesting cat fight but can we just chat? Can all of you share your thoughts about what drove you to do all those dance numbers?

Mehbooba, Laila, Badnaam Munni, Halkat Jawani, Chikni Chameli, Badmaash Babli, Ku Ku Ku : The love of Art.

Me : Wow! 5 minutes into the chat and I have tears in my eyes. What else? You all know that the men in our country love you to bits. Movies make crores because of you. Your item numbers are the first ones to be aired to generate enough testosterone to make families come and watch the movie. So what else makes you gyrate in addition to love of art?

Laila : *blush blush*

Halkat Jawani : Why are you blushing? The last item number you did was in 1980.

Ku Ku Ku : RESPECT ladies!

Chikni Chameli : Is it because you are soon going to join their ranks? LOL!

*This was not going the way I wanted it to*

Me : Ladies, can we get back to the question?

Laila : I did it for fame too. There. I said it. We all do it for fame. We love it when men fall over each other to touch us and our bodyguards fling them in random directions. It is addictive.

Badmaash Babli : See, the basic fact is that a majority of the people are sexually starved and we capitalize on it. There is no harm in it. The whole world capitalizes on things that can be capitalized upon.

Mehbooba : I never thought about it that way. I loved dancing.

Badnaam Munni : I think the whole concept has evolved over the years. The dynamics and the stakes have changed. Heroines never did item numbers earlier. Now we do not need someone like Mehbooba. I think it started changing during the time of Laila.

Me : But the item number is not about dancing anymore, isn’t it?

Ku Ku Ku : No it is not. It is more about profits now. It is about gathering as much people as you can to recover your production costs. It is more about moving parts of your body in unimaginable ways to arouse men.

Me : And all of you know that?

Halkat Jawani : Of course we know that! Who do you think we are? Paris Hilton?

Me : Ok. Forget about all the statistics but is it exciting to know that lakhs of men lust after you? That given a chance, they will pounce on you?

Laila : Sweetheart, a man who has to pounce on you will pounce on you, irrespective of the item number. The world is abundant with pouncers. 

Me : But given the fact that an average Indian male is sexually oppressed and consider all women not related to him as objects, don’t you think that you are fanning the fires here?

Badmash Babli : Look, it is a simple demand and supply phenomenon. Stop watching movies with item numbers and Bollywood will stop making them. We are just riding on the tide.

Me : What about morality?

Halkat Jawani, Chikni Chameli : Fu*k morality.

Mehbooba : Jesus!

Badnaam Munni : LOL! Let who is without sin cast the first stone.

Chikni Chameli : Cigarettes cause cancer but we still manufacture them. Alcohol is injurious to health. Why do we manufacture guns and bombs? Why do prostitutes exist? Darling, you are talking about morality in a world that has buried it long ago.

Laila : Do you really think our society will turn Mother Teresa if item numbers are banned?

Me : I believe that they are a part of the problem. And I don’t believe morality is dead. There are people who still swear by it and are fighting for its existence. It is a matter of talking sides. It is a matter of convincing yourself that there are things more important than money. 

Chikli Chameli, Ku Ku Ku : Ha!

Me : All right ladies, lets not be so serious. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Mehbooba, tell us what you think about the new girls?

Mehbooba : Too bold for my taste. And I do not understand the concept of wiggling bosoms. I think it was Ku Ku Ku who started it and now everyone is giving the twins a roller-coaster ride.

Laila : Exactly. If we line all the ladies up against the Great Wall of China and let loose the tremors, the wall will have a gaping hole in minutes. Why is everyone doing that?

Chikni Chameli : Laila, now really! You have subjected people to enough horizontal wiggling in your songs.

Badnaam Munni : I guess people like it. And lets not talk about morality again.

Me : It is a two way road. I think a society where actresses fall over each other to do an item number says a lot about the society as well but there has to be a sense of responsibility in the industry too. Actresses are not machines on a production line that have to manufacture a product that they are designed for. It is not a simple demand and supply. We are humans with brains.

Misanthropically Yours

Image from – http://wall.alphacoders.com/big.php?i=177417

I am turning into a misanthrope. I don’t want to but when I see a five year old raped and tortured, when I hear news of a bottle and candles retrieved from her vagina, when I see a policeman offer Rs 2000 to the raped girl’s father to let go of the thought of an FIR, when I see a policeman telling the survivor’s family that they should be thankful that the girl is alive, when I see a policeman slapping a protesting girl, when I see politicization of the issue, I don’t see how I can stop myself from hating mankind.

My generation has not seen the World Wars but I have read enough books, seen enough movies, seen enough documentaries to understand what happened. I know how a culture was obliterated, how it was turned into gaseous fumes coming out of a chimney of a camp. I know how millions of carcasses were shoved into pits using trenchers, I know how two entire cities where vapourised in the name of peace. The images are entrenched in my mind. I can never forget the image of a four year old naked Jew boy running towards a barbed fence of a concentration camp as a German shepherd chased him. I felt lucky that I haven’t lived in those times but the ironical bit about history is that it doesn’t matter. It is an embarrassment everyone wants to forget and then commit again. And no, you are never lucky enough. The end of barbarism can never be a done deal.

Has the world turned into a better place to live? Is this a meaningless question? Can our society function without brutality or will it crumble to pieces in its absence?

I do not understand this race anymore. I do not understand why I have to live in a constant fear of losing my loved ones. I do not understand the brutal images of what could happen to my family that spring in my mind every other day. I do not understand the utter abjection with which we treat each other.

I sometimes feel that my mind will explode into a million tiny pieces. I sometimes want to howl with pain, scream so loud that the sound exterminates every human from the face of Earth. I want to give this planet another chance, something that is not possible till humans infect it.

They tell me that I should be grateful for the good life God has given me. I have a loving family and a happy life. Is that good enough reason to be satisfied, to count my lucky stars? How can I be happy when I look around and see misery? How can I be happy when I read about men exploding themselves in marketplaces to serve their God? How can I be happy when I belong to a country where the fragile culture is all about encouraging rapes and molestation? How can I be happy when I see a doctor telling the parents that they can wrap the dead female fetus in a newspaper and throw it in the dustbin on their way out? How can I be happy when I see the subjugation of the weak at every nook and corner? I don’t know how people cocoon themselves and live a detached life. I feel violated.

They tell me that there is good in the world. I would like to believe that but how is good a part of the solution? Is it growing? Is it reducing the coldness? How many more sacrifices before it takes over?

No. Telling me that there is good in the world is not good enough. Tell me how the world is getting better because that is what I want to know. And don’t call me a pessimist. I am only numb with horror. I see things getting worse all around me.

I am scared to bring a child in this world. I am scared that I will spend the rest of my life worrying for the safety of my kid. Apathy has no boundaries. It is a limitless ocean, it is a black hole that has sucked everything that was good in this world. I don’t want my child to live in its shadow and I don’t want to put a cage around my child. I don’t want to live the rest of my life pretending that I live in a war zone.

I wish to meet that 5 year old girl. I wish to hold her in my arms and tell her that it will be all right. I wish she looks at me and smile. I wish to live in a world where this heavy burden of fear does not exist on my chest. I wonder how it feels to live without it. Just thinking about its absence makes me feel rejuvenated, makes me feel like a freed slave. I wish to live in a world where power is not brutal, where humans are not derailed psychopaths, where life is treated as an invaluable gift, where happiness is not insulated and confined to a selected few, where God has no face.

The night sky fills me with awe. The stars and planets are nature’s way of telling us about our insignificance, about our diminutive presence in the universe. And we still have the intrepidity of hurting each other, of clawing at each other’s soul, of raping a 5 year old.

Isn’t that enough reason to be a misanthrope?

Time to bury chivalry?

I was sitting on a ladies seat in a DTC bus. Now before you take out your knives, let me clarify that I was very tired and there wasn’t a single lady around who was glaring at me. A girl boarded the bus a few minutes later and courteous and chivalrous as I was, I got up to offer her the seat. I guessed that like me, she too was studying in Delhi University as both of us were wearing that unmistakable, funky college kinda stuff. She declined to take the seat and asked me to keep sitting. There was a near contempt in her voice, as if I had insulted her in some way. Confused and bewildered, I sat at the ladies seat while she towered over me for a while and then got down at Mall Road. Finally, my confusion gave way to respect.

This happened almost 15 years back but the incident plays on a loop in my mind whenever I see demarcations etched out all around me for the opposite sex. In our quest to solve a problem we have created a bigger one. Quick fix I call it but they never solve the real issue, do they?

The era in which we live will leave any man confused. The age old concept of chivalry somehow does not fit in. We cannot talk about equality and special privileges in the same breathe. Ever since that incident, I hesitate to open the door for a lady, I hesitate to pull a chair for her at a restaurant, I hesitate to get up to offer a seat. What if she turns around and glares at me? What if she tells me in very definitive terms that she is capable of taking care of herself? That she does not require any help that is provided considering her gender, considering her weak.

All the women I know are capable of handling things on their own. They are independent and self-sufficient. But you see, that is where the confusion begins. Sometimes, I have been asked to help. When I have refused, citing the fact that the woman in question is completely capable of handling the situation herself, I have been called unchivalrous.

So how much is too much and how less is too less?

What is the point at which I go from being helpful and courteous to being completely irritating and sexist?

Giving an example from my personal life, Geet has been a very independent and headstrong woman all her life but sometimes something gets into her and she behaves all dependent-ish. A few days back, she called me up at the office and asked me to call up her bank for an enquiry.

“Why don’t you call them yourself?” I said.

“Because I don’t feel like doing it. Please can you do this for me?” she said.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you can do this on your own.”

Stony Silence.

This went on for a while before she understood that I was not going to do it. She finally told me that I was useless and I asked her whether she would like to replace me as I was still under warranty. She called the bank on her own and got the information she wanted. This wasn’t the first incident as I have done similar routines a number of times with Geet and my sister because I don’t want them to depend on me for things they can handle on their own. In the end, once the task is accomplished, I am greeted with a look-we-don’t-need-you snort. And that is exactly what I am looking for.

But then, am I being a bad husband and a bad brother? Am I been unchivalrous to my wife and my sister? It is not as if both of them don’t know the first time around that they can do it on their own but as much as I am able to understand, women sometimes ‘like’ to depend on men. They like it when we do things for them. It is, for reasons unfathomable to me, taken as a sign of love, affection and respect.

Please don’t take me wrong. I like being helpful. But if I hold a door for someone to pass through, I will do that irrespective of that person’s gender.

I have been running this thought again and again in my mind and I have reached a conclusion that I do not like the idea of a woman asking me for help for a task she can perform on her own. I do not like the idea of extending courtesy to a woman because she is a woman. I do not like the idea of providing special privileges to woman to save them from acts of crimes instead of taking measures to prevent those crimes. Can you sweep a really independent woman off her feet by an act of chivalry? Today, when women have been fighting for equal rights and the power to make their own choices, does it really make sense to mistake dependence with a sign of warmth?

I believe chivalry and equality cannot co-exist. Is it time to bury chivalry?

A woman’s perspective - The Awww-topsy

[image from 1,2]

10 Disadvantages of being a Male

It is not easy being a man. Today when India is hit by a tsunami of Feminism, the men stand at crossroads. Should we jump in too and let go the flood of tears we have been holding since decades? We too have problems with the way the world and nature treats us. It is just that we bear our burdens in silence.

Here are the 10 biggest disadvantages of being a male.

No homemaking

There are times when we don’t feel like slogging. There are times when we are tired of wiping our boss’s spit from our face when he has finished shouting. We have to carry on the mundane task of being a cash machine. We are not even allowed to think about the alternative of letting our wives take that responsibility. How we wish to puff those pillows, dust those expensive showpiece, make dinner, raise our kids and be a perfect homemaker, but all those are distant dreams.

The Tennis Ball

Do you realize the kind of pressure we undergo when Momma and Mate pull us from both the ends? We are not allowed to sit and watch the tennis match between the two ladies because we are that ball. That ball, which is smacked violently and repeatedly in this never-ending match. We are supposed to take sides. Our eardrums hurt.

Road runner

There is always a war on the roads in India. A woman driver is given space and respect because everyone in her vicinity thinks that they will die otherwise. Men on the other hand have to jostle for each and every inch of a road amidst roaring honks and glaring swearwords. We are all Gladiators ready to beat the daylights out of each other.

Probably a rapist/child molester

We are at the end of our tethers trying to duck every woman and child out of our way. A slight brush of our hand on a woman’s skirt and we might be under a hailstorm of sandals. We might talk to a child with a smile and we might end up being pasted to the road by the his father’s SUV. Do you know how straining living like this is? We are a human bomb walking on needles. Of course there is the other end of the spectrum too, but they are more animals than men.

Shares. Stocks. Bonds. Budget.

Men are supposed to act smart. Even if we believe that shares are sung in a Mushaira and Bonds is the name given to all the girls who bonded with James Bond, we are supposed to act like Harshad Mehta. We should follow the rise and fall of the stock market like a Bollywood actress’s bosoms in a dance number. The latest budget should be on our tips if we want some respect.

Under a lens. Always.

Ever since we open our eyes, we are under constant scrutiny. Our parents burden us with all their unfulfilled dreams as if we are a cargo ship. Then we spend the rest of our lives dodging our wives as they suspiciously go through our shirts for a whiff of an affair, our bosses as they take a smelly dump on our career and our children who start treating us as losers the moment they develop sex organs. When we are old, the nurse treats us as an unwanted cockroach that she is too scared to crush under her feet. Ditto for our children.

Sports Journal

Even though the only sport we are good at is the in-the-night-no-control types, we are supposed to have passionate knowledge about a sport, preferably cricket. God forbid if we confess that we are not interested in it or do not remember the color of the underwear Sachin wore in an unforgettable 1993 series, we will be immediately shunned like a woman carrying an illegitimate child. Knowing about Soccer, Baseball and Rugby is an added advantage. It is not easy to be a walking encyclopedia on sports when all you really like is burgers and breasts.

The rise and fall of Junior

The problem with junior is that it is like an alien entity attached between our legs. Like the Ring of the dark Lord, it has a will of its own. It sometimes rises with the Sun and refuses to subside. It refuses to rise and shine when it is actually required to because of performance issues. It rises at the most inappropriate of places and thus has to be covered up with whatever props we can muster – a book, a lost puppy, a bowl snatched from a beggar. Compare this to women – they might be aroused even in a funeral and not a single soul will know. They could be walking on the street, sitting in a bus or sleeping in a room full of guests and no one will ever point at a hill between their legs and laugh. Oh! The pleasure of that freedom!

Facade

Since childhood we are brainwashed into being a real man who don’t cry, who does not take but give emotional support and who can break a jaw at the drop of a hat. Basically we should be robotic providers who do not go beyond a Hmmm when our children run towards us screaming that they have been selected in IIT. It is taxing. We feel desperately like crying at times, we sometimes wish we could treat our children as friends, sit with our wives and pour our heart out but we can’t. We feel unmanly with the mere thought of it. Instead we get drunk and scream swearwords at strangers on roads.

Dispensable. Always.

Yes! She could have saved him!

What boils our blood is that whenever a tragedy strikes or there is a war, we are the ones who are left to die. Women and children are the first ones to be saved. If time and situation permits, men are given a thought. Remember when the Titanic sank? Men were left on that sinking shit while women and children sat on lifeboats and saw the show. Rose had a whole goddamn wooden plank! Why are we always so dispensable? Just because we are in excess and selectively chosen over girls to live does not mean we don’t have a life and can be treated like a street dog.

So you see, it isn’t all that rosy for us men too. The world has been subjugating us in its own way. Nature have had it’s revenge too as we can’t even have pleasure at our own convenience. We are living in unbreakable molds like a Mummy and there is no escape.

[image from 1,2,3]

Sensitization begins at home

We are contrary creatures, us humans, but that isn’t something we need to be afraid of, or even much troubled by. And if you make a list of those people who worship consistency, you’ll find they are one and all tyrants or would-be tyrants. Ruling over thousands, or over a husband or a wife, or some covering child. Never fear contradiction. It is the very heart of diversity.

- The Bonehunters (Malazan Book of the Fallen)

A few days back, I overheard a conversation between two Software Engineers. Both of them were discussing rape cases and laughingly agreed with each other that 95% of the rape cases are consensual. I am sure that they kept a window of 5% open in case a female member of their own family gets raped. Such females can then be conveniently boxed in the category of 5% women who are tamed and belong to well-to-do families but who are victims of the evil. Mind you, these are extremely well-educated men working in an MNC and earning a handsome salary, who like going to a pub and like getting drunk, who despite being married will stare at a woman’s buttock as she passes by, who snigger at a woman driving a car. This well-educated category of urban Indian male also believe that any woman who does not belong to their family are objects and possible prostitutes and leave no stone unturned in blaming the victim. They forget the fact that a stranger might be having similar thoughts about a female member of their own family.

The bad news is that education has nothing to do with changing mindsets. Education cannot teach the idea of respecting a fellow human. But then what can? Baring a minuscule population of India, a large unbelievable chunk is deeply entrenched in the swamp of patriarchy. The rot is so deep that we will not be able to see a change in our lifetime. Patriarchy glorifies the act of controlling another human’s life. The acts of crime against women that we witness in modern India are illegitimate offspring of patriarchy. Respect has to be treated as gender neutral and so should be freedom to make choices. 

Can we make a beginning somewhere?

It is extremely difficult to change the mindset of an adult. Two adults can react differently to the same situation. For example, consider a man who has seen his father as an authoritative figure all his life. It is possible that such a man carries his father’s legacy and treats his own wife as a subordinate. It might also be possible that he reacts to the suffering of his mother and when the time comes, treats his own wife with all the dignity and equality she deserves. But where does the distinction comes from? What are the factors that decide the path a man would finally take?

In the end it all boils down to how much contradiction can you swallow as a human. How much is the magnitude of your fear for a thought or an act that contradicts your beliefs? Are you willing to let go and ready to open the cage that was meticulously built around you? Ironically, a majority of us do not acknowledge the presence of a cage. It has melted so deeply into our psyche that we fail to feel its presence. It is embedded in us. A monster that lurks silently.

Sometimes I wonder that if gender inequality is such a pressing issue, why can’t our government work towards bringing up a more gender sensitive next generation? Why can’t we set up mandatory sensitization sessions for all the newly wed couples? Why don’t we put a huge fine if the couple fail to attend these sessions? Why can’t we arrange similar sessions for all the parents with children in the age group of 0-10 years? I don’t believe reactive measures are the correct way to approach the issue. What we need are preventive measures in place so that the next generation don’t end up like those two software engineers.

I see that as our only hope. Unless the present lot of parents understand the idea of bringing up their daughters and sons at an equal footing, no amount of punishments or laws are going to work. We have to make sure that our next generation is not as messed up as the present one. Otherwise this is a vicious cycle and there is more never-ending, unimaginable traumas coming our way for years. 

A majority of women in this nation do not know what real freedom is. The irony of mankind is that we have used the very act of creating life to abuse women and then blame them for it. It is similar to cutting a tree that sustains life and then blaming it for being in the middle of the road. 

We have to bend this devious road or there won’t be any trees left.

[This is an entry to Indiblogger's iDiya Contest]

http://www.isb.edu/idiya/

image from here

Delhi is NOT India. Sexual crimes happen all over India.

When crime against women are committed in Delhi, the government suddenly springs to action IF there is a protest. An exception to this was the Guwahati molestation case because the video went viral. It was heartening that Delhi took to streets yesterday and forced the government to take notice (however bland it was) but the actions promised are a bit worrisome. There was no talk of taking up the issue at a national level. Our rulers (yeah, that is what they are. Rulers) should understand that applying quick fixes in Delhi will not solve the problem on a national scale.

According to the National Crime  Records Bureau (NCRB) data (1991-2011), Madhya Pradesh has led the nation in the number of rapes committed. Only last year, it recorded 3,406 cases of rape, which means nine women were raped here every 24 hours. Overall, the State accounted for 14 per cent of the rapes committed across the country in 2011. Among cities, the State capital, Bhopal, with 100 rapes, was second only to the metropolises Delhi (453) and Mumbai (221), while the State’s industrial capital, Indore, stood fifth, registering 91 rapes.

Not surprisingly, the top five States in terms of the number of rapes — Madhya Pradesh (3,406), West Bengal (2,363), Uttar Pradesh (2,042), Rajasthan (1,800) and Maharashtra (1,701) — also have dismal sex ratios. While Madhya Pradesh (930), Rajasthan (926) and Uttar Pradesh (908) have sex ratios below the national average of 940, West Bengal (947) and Maharashtra (946) are just on the threshold.

- from The Hindu

In February this year, a woman in Indore was gang-raped by eight people including a cop while her husband was kept in captivity. However the cops took their own sweet time to file an FIR. After the Delhi gang rape case, an abducted school girl was found raped and murdered in Chennai. She was 12. Let us not forget what happened to Sonali Mujherjee in Jharkhand when her face was splashed with acid and her father rubbed his nose in front of authorities for 10 years to get her treated as the criminals who did this to her were out on bail. And lets not forget that 19 rapes happened in a month in Haryana and no one raised an eyebrow.

And of course, Delhi goes on as usual when a 3 year old was raped by the husband of a play school owner. This happened after the Delhi gang rape incident. Clearly, the deterrents are not working. Clearly it is not an issue prevalent just in Delhi.

We are all aware of the various factors in play here which range from treating girl child as a liability to attitude within the government (where ministers blame women and mock them) and the police force to dismal conviction rates. All these problems will not vanish by hanging the gang rape accused of the Delhi case. And I am afraid that is where we are heading.

Punishing the accused is only one end of the spectrum. It happens after the crime has been committed. But what about preventive measures? I found a link to an article at Smitha’s blog which talked in this direction. Do read it here.

At this stage it would be pertinent to remember that the instances of perverts making lewd calls to women – which was a common phenomena in 1990s – dropped to virtually nil within a few years not because the Indian male underwent some sort of moral renaissance, but because phones started coming with caller IDs, and in a way disrupted the script.

- from the article

There are preventive measure which can be applied. More patrolling, better lightening of streets, gender sensitization, education, teaching your children about respecting other humans and gender equality, drilling messages through media. It will not happen immediately. It will take years. We cannot root out all the psychopaths that we have created over decades in one snap of a finger but we have to make a start. The government can play a vital role in this but everything will be defeated if this is not done on a national level.

In India, it takes a protest of the scale of what we saw yesterday to wake up the authorities. Even though the ruling party did call a press conference in the evening, everyone looked bored and completely unconcerned. They were behaving as if all of us were wasting their time. They were throwing technical jargon like rarest of rare rape cases and when asked what that means, they had no answer. When Barkha Dutt asked Sheila Dixit that why doesn’t she go and sit with the people and talk to them, she smiled and gave incoherent answers. Such attitude will not take us anywhere.

When the brutal killings of school children happened in USA a few days back, Obama was on television the next day addressing the nation. And the president was not ashamed of crying on national television. We do not expect something like this from our Prime Minister but he could have at least addressed the nation once? Why does the ruling class treat the very people who chose them as liabilities? Where is the connection, where is the concern?

I sincerely hope that the actions taken for sexual assaults are nationwide and not a quick fix which will crumble with the next rape. There is a limit to which we can tolerate this apathy.

[images from here]

It was not just the driver who raped her

It wasn’t just the driver and his accomplices. Such monsters are not raised in a day. It takes meticulous planning. The nation has chalked out plans for this incident for 60 years. The citizens have put intricate details in it which has led to this inevitable feat. We will keep planning. This is not the first time. This is not the end.

While they were raping her, India stood guard. We cheered them as we have cheered such psychopaths a hundred times before. We will cheer them in the future too. After all, we created them.  

Are you not finding it coherent? Let me indulge you.

Politicians

You are the real termites of this country. The fact that the country is completely hollow because of you does not deter you. You still prowl like a blood sucking vampire and won’t be satiated till you drink the last drop of blood of our motherland. You were given a task. You took an oath of nation building. You could have stopped what happened. Long time back. Had you looked away from your money mongering, your own chairs, you would have realised the pitiable state in which the women of this country live. You would have made laws to make their lives better. You would have enforced those laws. But then they were not your vote banks. They could not turn your chair over. And now you call a rape victim ‘Zinda Laash’ (alive corpse)? You are not helping here to make them feel normal and accepted. Stop using a raped woman to advance your political motives. Stop shedding crocodile tears. Sexual harassment law is lingering in the parliament since 2005. If there is an iota of shame in your soulless body, stop being a virus. You have done enough harm. Do we have to carry you like an albatross around our necks for the rest of our lives?

Law enforcers

Your job is not to scare citizens. Your job is not to harass a rape victim. Your job is not to pass comments on the morality of women when they come to you for help. You are no better than the politicians. The very people whom you should be protecting are scared to come to you. You think that the women who report rape eye monetary advancements out of it. You think they are of loose moral values. And sometimes you even rape an already raped woman who has come to you for help. It is because of law enforcers like you that we are in this state. It is because of you that these rapes happen unabated, because you lack the will to protect. Because you have no idea what your job entails. Because you treat your job as a money-making machine. That girl is fighting for her life in a hospital because of the shameful negligence with which you have carried out your responsibilities over the last 60 years.

Media

You have already pushed the news to page 4 after Narendra Modi’s win in Gujrat. It shows where your concern lie. A story is masala for a few days till a bigger one washes it away. You would have kept the candle burning. You would have encouraged the people to bring the outcry to a logical end. But like the law enforcers, you have sold yourself to the termites.

And Bollywood – Congratulations for providing the much-needed objectifying of a woman’s body through the media. Yes, that is exactly what this sexually oppressed nation wants for entertainment. With all your Chikni Chamelis and Halkat Jawanis, you have done the harm. So, do us a favour. Do not shed crocodile tears for that girl lying in the hospital because you are equally responsible for raising those monsters that night. You have been brainwashing this country since decades – propagating sexual harassment euphemistically as eve-teasing. You have so menacingly raised those street-side Romeos who then splash acid on a girl because they could not differentiate between reality and cinema. Knowing very well that this is a powerful media, you could have changed the course, taken up responsibility. But you too, like the rest, turned things to your advantage. You kicked an already regressive society into the pit of regression in the name of masala entertainment.

And stop portraying rape victims as unwanted and shunned by society. Grow up and snap out of that money-making brain of yours.

We, the Citizens

Yes, we are the worse offenders. The citizens of this nation. Every time we treat our mothers, sisters, daughters and wives as secondary, we contribute towards this choking patriarchal society which then acts as an umbilical chord that feed those monsters. Every time we tell our daughters that they are weaker than boys, we stomp their mind with self-doubts. Every time we stop the education of our daughters because our son has to study, we help those monsters grow manifold. Putting our daughter-in-laws in place, killing girls in the womb, putting restrictions on women, not allowing them to follow their dreams – all these acts have fuelled the events to culminate to the mess we are in right now. We even have the audacity to question the morals and circumstances of a victim since she is not related to us. We have turned into selfish creeps who stand and stare at acts of crime. We tsk tsk rape victims as if it was their fault.

We have been doing this from the last 60 years. Have we not raised these silent equivalent of terrorist camps in our own houses? We have been drawing a dividing line and now it is permanent, raising Frankensteins one after another. Why are we recoiling now? It was we who gave courage to that man to insert a rod in a woman’s vagina.

A society which comes to this does not deserve a second chance. How I wish the Mayans were right.

Mother India has been continuously raped since our independence – by politicians, by law enforcers, by media and by us. She is wounded with bruises filled with pus. And we are that pus. Feeding on her. Killing her slowly.  Her own children.

And that is her curse.

No, it wasn’t just the driver and his accomplices who raped the girl that night. And they are not the only one who should be hanged.

Sari-nama

Ever since Dushasan pulled Draupadi’s sari like a magician pulls out linked handkerchiefs from a hat, the Indian male woke up to the sexiness of sari. There is so much that a sari can reveal that even though women tried their best to cover themselves up with T-shirts and jeans, men frothed at their mouth and gave cultural references to stop the extinction of the aphrodisiacal attire.

We all know that a sari reveals more than a western dress. Imagine Sridevi in Mr. India wearing a skirt instead of that blue sari when she flattened her lips on the lips of an invisible Mr. India and you will suck the oomph out of the song. Imagine Dimple wearing a Salwar Kameez in Saagar instead of a red sari as Rishi Kapoor does a Dushasan with her water soaked pallu and he would not have waited for her to say – Jaane Do na. Imagine Raveena in a mini skirt doing a tip-tip barsa paani with Akshay jungle Kumar and the authenticity would have been lost. It is surprising that even when a sari has been used as a sex toy in our movies, our cultural self-appointed hounds endorse it with the intensity with which Bhagyashree endorsed Himalaya.

Coming back to real life, a lot of women hate the wrapper. The primary reason is that it is completely unmanageable while you work in your office. Secondly, no one has the time to leisurely drape herself in the morning when your husband is screaming in your ear because he can’t find his towel and your child is pulling your hair because his bag is not ready. Wearing a sari is like making a dish for the MasterChef finale. You really can’t fast forward the process.

Who gave me the authority to talk on the subject? Well, I have seen women in my family grope with the endless piece of cloth. Their pain haunts me.

I have witnessed swarms of angry waves that swirl out of my mother’s eyes when she has to wear a sari. She likes Saris but only when they are hanging like slaughtered pigs in her almirah. She sometimes reluctantly wears them and ends up vowing never to touch them again. Geet and I bought her a really expensive sari recently for a cousins wedding who lives  in a hill-station. She did not wear it. ‘You want me to get entangled in bushes and fall off the cliff?’ she asked. The said sari sleeps in her almirah, maybe till the end of humanity.

Yeah! If it was that easy!

My sister wore a sari at my wedding. She was at the end of her tethers throughout and looked as if she would fall to pieces if anyone poked her. Before that, the only time I remember her wearing a sari was when she was in class 6th and turned into Indira Gandhi for a fancy dress competition. She went on stage, raised her finger and forgot her line. I still have her photograph somewhere wearing a white sari with a blue border, trying to remember her dialogue with a raised finger looking like a roll of cloth wrapped on a rod.

So when Geet entered the house with two large suitcases full of saris, I thought that the attire will now get some respect in our house. The saris are still lying in those suitcases, wrapped and untouched. A few of them came out occasionally for weddings but boy! what a tornado that was. Usually, helping Geet wear a sari leads to these situations :

• Deep discussions about which sari to wear for at least a week before the function. If she has to wear one to school for special occasions, then the duration is reduced to 2-3 days. This includes taking out the contender saris and answering questions like – Why do you think this is better? Why not the other one? Give logical explanation.
• Help with the accessories. There should be matching things to wear in the neck, arms and ears. Matching sandals. Matching lipstick. Matching nail-polish. And a matching husband. Well, there isn’t much of a choice there.
• Wake up 30 minutes before time on D-Day.
• On the D-Day, help her wear the sari. Squat in front of her and hold the pleats of the sari in the correct position while she tucks them in. This gets really frustrating at times because it is never done correctly the first time. Re-pleat and try again. If it fails three times in a row, yell for mom.
• If it a cotton sari, hide in the bathroom.

Needless to say, Geet was as affectionate towards a sari as the rest of the female pack in the house.

The fact that Indians managed to invent something so difficult to wear goes completely against their image in my mind. Aren’t we supposed to be utterly lazy? Going by that parameter, wouldn’t we invent attires which are less time consuming to wear? But we invented sari, dhoti and pagdi which are enough to entangle yourself in so many layers. I have never worn a dhoti but I am sure I will fall flat on my face after taking two steps. Men in cities have completely given up the historical attires but it hasn’t changed for women. It is strange that we attach Indian-ness to it. If I am an Indian male who wears jeans or a suit, then why a woman is not being Indian if she wears a skirt or jeans? It seems that in addition to what we wear to cover our skin, we also wear a halo of double standards.

Anyways, I am very sorry for all the saris lying neglected in my house. All I can tell them is that destiny must have something else stored for them. One of them was turned into a Jaipuri Razai sometime back. I am wondering if they can also me used to make pillow covers, handkerchiefs, table cloths, kitchen towels, mop clothes, car covers, men’s kurta etc etc. Has anyone tried making any of this with a sari?

[images from 1,2,3]

Starbucks Snivel – Ravan and Duryodhan

This is the concluding part of the series. Read the first two parts of the series here - 

Costa Chatter – Sita and Draupadi

Barista Banter – Ram and Yudhishthir

Duryodhan was transfixed by the iPad. He had never seen anything so fascinating before. He was also surprised to see Narad Muni managing the Apple store. When he prodded Narad, he was curtly told that ever since Surupnakha convinced Brahma to telecast Big Boss in heaven, everyone was talking about voting Narad out because of way he kept instigating Gods against each other.

‘Hence, I have taken an alternative job. Would you like to see the new iPhone 5?’ Narad inquired. Duryodhan was busy watching Shakira on the iPad and did not pay heed.

After making up his mind to buy the new iPad, Duryodhan left the Apple store and walked into Starbucks to have a taste of the much talked about Cold Coffee with extra cream. Karna had been pestering him to taste it.

As he walked in, he was shocked to find Ravan sitting at one of the corner tables, his moustache completely drenched in the extra cream of the cold coffee as he gulped the last drop of it from the glass. Duryodhan smiled on seeing the legend and touched his feet.

‘So you too are smitten by this cold coffee?’ He asked as he sat on the chair.

‘Try it,’ Ravan said and ordered a coffee for Duryodhan and another one for himself.

‘I thought you had ten heads,’ Duryodhan said.

‘I didn’t. Logically, you cannot balance ten heads on a demon body. I don’t know where the bloody idea came from,’ Ravan said.

‘You are right. By the way, I am a really big fan,’ Duryodhan said.

‘Your actions speak. It was very distasteful – ordering your brother to disrobe a woman.’

‘So was kidnapping one.’

‘Hmmm. Do you know that they will burn my effigy every year in the future but spare you?’

‘Will they? I am heartbroken that there is no festival attached to my death,’ Duryodhan said as the coffee arrived. He took his first sip and looked amazed.

‘Go on. There are no words,’ Ravan said as he laughed loudly. One of the windows of the shop cracked.

‘It seems you have seen the future?’ Duryodhan asked after his breathing became normal as the cold coffee slid down his throat.

‘No I haven’t. Brahma filled me in after he returned from one of his trips. It is not a coincidence that both of us are sitting here instead of hell. He was shocked after he came back from the future one day and went to Indra’s palace straightaway. He convinced him to move me to heaven as he thinks that I am a saint in comparison to humans living in Kalyug,’ Ravan explained in a serious tone.  

‘Really? I do not understand,’ Duryodhan said licking the extra cream.

‘Duryodhan, in our times, women are always scantily dressed but we never blamed them for our deeds. You never blamed Draupadi for wearing a single piece of cloth that day when Dushasan disrobed her. In Kalyug, men would put the entire blame on women – what they wear, where they go, what they think. They will blame phones and clothes for rapes, even chowmein. Pretty convenient, eh?’ Ravan said with a chuckle.

‘Strange how the wheel of time turns. We, at least, were open about our treachery.’

‘Yes, and proud of it! The humans in Kalyug will be shrewd. Talk about taking lessons from our stories!’

Ravan and Duryodhan were peacefully drinking their coffee, when they were suddenly taken aback as Sita and Draupadi entered Starbucks to buy a muffin. The ladies did not notice them as they quickly hid behind the ‘Heavens Now’ paper magazine lying on their table. The headlines screamed – ‘Will Menka and Rambha kiss and make up? Indra says No comments!’

‘It will be an ordeal to live in Heaven trying to avoid confrontations like this!’ Duryodhan said.

‘You will get used to it. Turn into a crow or something the next time something like this happens,’ Ravan said.

As the ladies moved out after buying two muffins, Ram and Yudhishthir entered Starbucks a few minutes later to buy brownies for their wives to pacify them.

‘Jesus! This is getting on my nerves!’ Duryodhan said hiding behind the newspaper again.

Ram and Yudhishthir bought two bags full of brownies and ran after Sita and Draupadi.

‘What the bloody heavens is this? A college campus?’ Ravan said with disgust.

As the villains finally settled down to enjoy the rest of their coffee, Surupnakha entered the shop searching for Ravan.

‘BRO ji!’ she shouted from the entrance and made Duryodhan choke on his coffee, ‘Please do not send me to Ram in the future. If you have to instigate him with your jokes, send a pigeon. He tried to insult me in front of that Yudhishthir. Hain Ji! I gave him a big piece of my mind.’

Then her eyes went to Duryodhan.

‘Hey sexy! When did you arrive? Hello, Myself Dolly,’ she chirruped with a wide grin. Duryodhan had a sudden bout of cough.     

***********                                                           

Krishna was sad from the past few days. With the permission of Indra, he finally gathered everyone from Ramayana and Mahabharata in the amphitheatre containing the giant screen. The Pandavas and the whole clan of Lord Ram sat together towards his left while the Demons and Kaurava clan sat towards his right.

‘You were born for a purpose and all of you have fulfilled it. Do not bring your animosity to this floating city. Do not forget that you all are just souls and avatars. You are all dead. Forgive each other. Do not bring the problems of your time on Earth to the heavens,’ he said in a voice that boomed in the sky. He went on for an hour with his gyan and stopped suddenly when he heard Ravan snore loudly. He then cleared his throat and left.

As everyone dispersed from the meeting, Sita walked towards the edge of the floating city and sat on a cloud watching Earth below. It was the night of Diwali. The Earth was filled with lamps and looked like an upturned sky shimmering with stars. People were celebrating the day of Lord Ram’s return to Ayodhya with Sita after their exile ended. Those were happy days, she remembered and sighed.

‘Sita, can I sit with you?’ she heard a voice behind her.

‘Yes Ram.’

Ram came and sat besides her and looked at the Earth below.

‘Sita, I am sorry for everything. I was a bad husband,’ Ram said.

Sita looked at him.

‘You were good Ram but then you abandoned me at a point when happiness had just returned in our lives. You made an example of me. Twice. And that too when I was not at fault. My exile did not end with yours Ram. It ended with my life. I had a right to a happy life, didn’t I Ram?’

‘I am sorry sweetheart. I wish I could change everything back to how it was,’ Ram said. There were tears in his eyes.

Sita sighed. Thoughts churned in her head. She has to move on. Krishna was right.

‘Happy Diwali Ram,’ she said and kept her hand on Ram’s.

‘Happy Diwali Sita. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?’ Ram said.

‘Costa,’ Sita said and smiled. Both of them stood up and held hands as they walked towards the floating city centre.

‘Where is Yudhisthir?’ she asked Ram as they walked.

‘The Pandavas are with Draupadi asking for her forgiveness. I bought brownies for you,’ Ram said.

From a high tower of a nearby building, Surupnakha watched as the couple walked away from the edge. She was smiling.

‘Hai! Cute couple! I wish I had someone to love. Mere Tote kab udenge (when will my parrots fly)?,’ she said. Then her eyes sparkled and she took a lift down the building in search of Duryodhan.

[images from 1,2,3,4,5, 6]

Barista Banter – Ram and Yudhishthir

Read part one of the series here - Costa Chatter – Sita and Draupadi

As Draupadi and Sita chatted in Costa sipping hot Cappuccinos, Yudhishthir finally reached heaven after scaling the mighty Himalayas. He was aghast to see Duryodhan in heaven and fought with Indra over the decision. Indra pacified him stating that Duryodhan had spent a designated time in hell but he was too great a scholar and a king to be kept there forever.

A sulking Yudhishthir ambled into Barista and stood transfixed as he came face to face with Lord Ram. His initial shock gave way to immense joy as he touched Ram’s feet who was completely immersed in ‘The Times of Heaven’ with a hot chocolate drink in his hand and a spinach and corn sandwich in his mouth.

‘Webbcobe Yubhibhtbir. I bbas bxpecbing yo,’ Lord Ram said chewing his sandwich.

‘It is an honor my lord to finally meet you.’

‘The pleasure is mine. Come sit. Where are the rest of your brothers and Draupadi?’ Lord Ram asked after gulping some hot chocolate.

‘I am not sure about Draupadi. She must be nearby. My brothers are at the Walmart store. It is almost as big as our palace on Earth. When will I have the honor to meet Sita ji?’ Yudhishthir asked as he sat next to Lord Ram.

A pained look passed over Ram’s face.

‘I don’t know where she is. She is in one of her depressing moods today. Not a single day passes when I am not reminded…’

‘Oye Ram! Here you are! I have broken my feet searching for you. This market is by God too much for my poor feet,’ Surupnakha said as she entered Barista.

Yudhishthir was flabbergasted. This demon sister of Ravan was supposed to be in hell. Why were Rakshas allowed to roam in heaven? Surupnakha glanced at Yudhishthir and her eyes went wild.

‘Oye you too are here? When did you come? Hello ji, myself Dolly,’ Surupnakha said extending her nails towards Yudhishthir’s eyes.

‘You are not Dolly, Surupnakha,’ Ram said, sighing loudly and rubbing his forehead.

‘Dolly?’ Yudhishthir’s head was spinning.

‘Aho! Dolly!’ Surupnakha said smiling and showed her long teeth.

‘I have requested Brahma numerous times not to go into the future but he doesn’t listen and creates a new wave of craziness in heaven every time he returns. Surupnakha, apparently, will be reborn as Dolly Bindra* in the future. Brahma went bonkers evading her for months as she pestered him to show Big Boss 4 on the giant screen here on which we saw Mahabharata. Ever since Big Boss was telecasted, she has changed her name to Dolly,’ Ram told Yudhishthir moving his head in exasperation. Dolly beamed. Yudhishthir could not make head or tail out of what the Lord said.

‘Why were you searching for me?’ Lord Ram asked Surupnakha.

‘Ravan asked me to give this Yo-China menu pamphlet to you. He says you should try the Chowmein. It is aphrodisiacal.’

‘Go away Surupnakha before I get angry. I have had enough of your brothers and you on Earth. I will not take this mockery anymore. Why am I even asked to share heaven with demons like you?’ Lord Ram said as his face turned red with anger.

‘Wah Wah Ram ji! You are fine sitting with this Yudhishthir? Hain ji? This guy sat like a newly wed bride waiting for her husband when Dushasan was pulling the sari off his wife making her go round and round like a spinning wheel. And you, what did you do yourself? Made your wife walk on fire! Abandoned your pregnant wife in the jungle! Hain ji? And hesitated to take her back when you met her years later when you sons had grown up? Hesitated! Hain ji? Baat karte hain!’ Surupnakha said as she banged the Yo-China menu on the table.

‘Dolly ji,’ Yudhishthir tried to intervene.

‘Oye quiet! All of us have demons inside us Ram. Demons of anger and insults, demons of guilt, demons of irresponsibility and demons of shame. I can change my appearance and look beautiful but that will not change my heart and my actions,’ Surupnakha said looking at both the men.

She then walked towards the door. Yudhishthir though he was going to faint. He gasped when Dolly suddenly turned around at the door.

‘And one more thing. Sita is sitting with Draupadi in Costa. Wait and watch. Both of you are going to get it. {Snapping fingers} Tote Ud jaenge (Your parrots will fly),’ Dolly said as she banged the door.

Ram and Yudhishthir sat dumbfound for a while. Then they gave each other an amusing smile.

‘I hope the humans turn out as intelligent as Surupnakha,’ Lord Ram said.

‘Yes, that was the whole idea. But will they be able to extract the right morals from our stories? You have seen the future. Did they learn anything from our mistakes?’ Yudhishthir asked. Ram gave him a sad look.

‘Extracting and implementing right morals are two ends of a river. You have to make a bridge across it. Unfortunately, humans are only imperfectly capable of it. The bridge keeps falling. So no, it didn’t work. But let me buy you a Latte. That always works,’ Ram said as he ordered a Latte for Yudhishthir.

As Yudhishthir sipped his Latte with relish, he saw Sita and Draupadi pass Barista, chatting like long lost sisters. He wanted Draupadi to come and meet Lord Ram but then he let go of the idea for the time being. He did not want his Latte to turn bitterer than it already was.

‘Did she win Big Boss 4?’ Yudhishthir thoughtfully asked Lord Ram.

‘God No! For all the melodrama she created to screen the programme in heaven, Brahma made sure that she didn’t.’

*Dolly Bindra is an actress who has done numerous supporting roles in Bollywood movies and television soaps. Her shot to fame was when she appeared as a wild card entry in Big Boss 4. The TRP shot through the roof after her entry as it was marked with shouting and fighting in the house on a gigantic proportion. See samples here and here.

Last part of the series  - Starbucks Snivel – Ravan and Duryodhan

[images from 1,2,3,4]