Confused Scared Dirty Angry

image from here

What can a guy possibly know about sexual abuse? After all, he can only have a second hand experience of what the female population of this country goes through on a daily basis. That is why I have to tell you my story.

I was a very shy kid in school. I never bullied anyone or picked up a fight. All I did was study diligently and top my class every single year. When not studying, I was neck deep into Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy and Arthur Conan Doyle. My sports teacher were perplexed to come across a boy who did not like throwing and hitting balls. I had great difficulty in striking a conversation with strangers and was terrified at the prospect of leaving the warm embrace of known faces in my school and join a college. To my utter discomfort, that is exactly what life had in store for me.

I got admission in a good college in Delhi University. The college was a one hour bus ride from my home. In those Metro-less days, The DTC buses as a mode of transport were as good as Manmohan Singh as our Prime Minister. So, the only way to get to the college was to board the notorious killer machines called Blueline buses. Sometimes, the buses were so crowded that you won’t find space to expand your chest to breathe. All I could see was a mass of hands holding the metal rods and pressing the windowpanes for support. The crowd was like a giant, single animal with multiple hands protruding from all sides.

The year was 1997. It was a time when we still talked about a lot of topics in hushed voices. Topics like rape, sexual abuse, child molestation, sexual orientation were not openly discussed. And yes, Rape and Sexual abuse happened only to women. Add to it my complete disconnection to the real world because of my nature and you would realise that I was shockingly naive.

So one fine day, I left the college in a hurry to get away from the awful place full of strangers and boarded a Blueline bus chock-a-block with more strangers. I squeezed in somehow and stood completely surrounded by unidentified torsos. A few moments later I felt a hand on my crotch. At first I ignored it, considering the number of people in the bus but then I felt that the hand was not there by mistake. It was slowly rubbing my crotch. I looked down and traced the hand back to the human attached to it. The person who was doing this was an elderly uncle in his late 50s. He looked straight into my eyes and kept rubbing. 

The first emotion that hit me was complete confusion. Why would a person who is of the age of my grandfather rub my crotch? I knew he was somehow getting aroused by this but I failed to understand how. I went red in the face and moved away from him. To my surprise, he came after me. He again stood near me and tried to rub my crotch. By this time, I was completely agitated and it showed on my face. I had no idea what to do in such a situation. I was this scared, timid boy who did not have the courage to push him back. When I look back, I understand that courage and anger are the last of your thoughts, especially when it is happening for the first time. Confused and scared – that is what I felt at the moment. Why was this even happening? I again moved away from him and this time he sensed trouble and did not follow.

When I reached home, I felt anger erupting inside me. I still could not make sense of an old man touching me like this. I felt dirty and disgusted. I did not discuss this with anyone but my parents did notice that I was a bit sad. I encountered the man two more times in the bus back home. He recognized me and tried to come near me but I was not going to let him get away with it, so I always moved near to the driver where I was not completely surrounded by people. He gave up after that.

It took me a long time to get over the incident. 

I told my wife about this incident a few days back. She asked me that how would such an incident play on my psyche if it happened again and again. I told her that I would be devastated till the point that I will require medical help to come out of it. She told me about numerous incidents that happened to her while traveling in buses. She told me how she was groped many times and how she sometimes received help. The women not only survive such abusers but they have to then survive the fingers pointing at them. I cannot imagine someone coming to me and telling me that what that uncle did was my fault. I would spit in the person’s face. 

So you see, I know a bit about sexual abuse. It is a tiny blip in comparison to what happens to women in India but I understand what they go through. I understand how it plays with your mind, how it makes you jittery in the presence of strangers, how it makes you wonder about a life in a parallel universe where you are respected, where people will not touch you without your permission, where they will not treat you as objects. 

I still feel angry that he got away with it. I feel angry that so many people get away with it in our country, in this world. Yes, the world around me has changed in the last 16 years. We are more vocal, more angry. But the abuses haven’t subsided. 

I am a different person from how I was in 1997. I have lived alone, managed my affairs and have shed most of my phobias. And if it is any consolation, if that incident happens now, I would grab that uncle by his balls and toss him out of the moving bus. It would save many more youngsters the trauma they would have gone through by his hands.

Daddy Diaries : Mind Un-pooped

Dear Diary,

There are some things more scarier than L.K. Advani becoming the Prime Minister of India and him dozing off in his swearing-in ceremony. More scarier than him suddenly waking up and saying – Now I can die peacefully – and then doing exactly that. I wonder how our President will react to that. Wait! Who is our President nowadays?

Sorry Dear Diary, I went a bit off track. I was talking about scary things. Right.

Ever since I have seen parents handling their kids, the one thing that has scared me the most is the act of cleansing the child off undesirable and discarded belongings. I have always found the act repulsive and the mere mention of a diaper would give me cold sweat. I really could not understand eager parents who would open the diapers at the drop of a hat to examine the insides, the same way they would examine their child’s report card years later. There are some who do not take the pain and simply sniff the diaper as if they are strolling in the annual flower show in the Mughal Gardens. Then there are some who put their hand underneath the diaper and weigh it to guesstimate its approximate weight and act accordingly. There are times when I have seen parents indulge in incredibly horrifying and nauseating multitasking like eating Rajma Rice with one hand and handling the diaper with another.

I must admit Dear Diary that I have turned my face away with aversion whenever I have seen the act. But as they say – You can run, you can hide but you can’t escape God’s sadism.

When I discussed it with Geet, we hugged and cried with relief because she felt exactly the same but was always afraid to discuss it with me. She told me of one lone incident when she tried to change her nephew’s diaper and then could not eat anything for the rest of the day. There was a soothing calmness in knowing the fact that we were equally hopeless. Dear Diary, you cannot believe the burden it took away from our shoulders.

The fear returned when Anika was born. Geet was too weak to do anything for the first few days and it fell upon me to do the inevitable act that I have dreaded all my life. The moment of truth had arrived. I waited with bated breath for the sound of release. I had no idea how it would sound like or whether there would be a sound at all. And then I heard it. It sounded like a dormant volcano that has come alive. My heart was in my mouth as I opened the diaper with trembling hands. Beads of perspiration were glistening on my forehead. Geet looked at me with an expression that smelled of pity, helplessness and amusement.

Dear Diary, what happened next was so unexpected that I still find it hard to believe. My mind was un-pooped. There was no feeling of revulsion or disgust. I did not choke. In fact I smiled as if I have discovered diamonds in the diaper. I cleaned her, changed her diaper and then closed Geet’s hanging jaw.

I don’t know how it works. How does your mind behave in an entirely different way when it is your own child. I have been fighting this phobia for such a long time but when the time came and things actually happened, my mind behaved as if it was the most natural things to clean butts smeared with refuse with a straight face. I guess, there are a few switches that are turned on after you become a parent.

This, Dear Diary, has been the most fortunate turn of events. And it wasn’t just me. Geet too did not feel a thing. In fact, there are times when we examine everything closely and discuss various factors like colour, graininess and flow before using the wipes. There have been times when Anika has done a ‘Balam Pichkari’ on my clothes and I have laughed at that too.

I have done it 230 times till now. Yes, I have been counting. It is an achievement dammit. I have also realized the fact that diapers are so expensive. I keep telling Anika to use them judiciously and she has been a nice girl.

Dear Diary,

Time is flying. She is a month old now. Geet and I are already discussing investments for her. Oh wait! There she goes again. Oh! That sound is so amazing. Etna has erupted.

Time to go.

[image from here]

How to survive a pregnant wife

A wise man once said that pregnancy brings out the animal in a woman. I don’t exactly remember who said that but I think it was me. It is also said that pregnancy is the most wonderful period for a woman but whoever said that must have been Justin Bieber. You can mildly compare a pregnant woman with a werewolf. Bring out that full moon of empathy/sympathy/apathy and you might be mauled in unimaginable ways. Those nine months are a litmus tests of patience for not only a lady but her husband as well.  Especially the husband. His situation is similar to a walk on burning coals. But let me not put the whole nine months in a single bracket because there are blissful times as well, like seeing your wife turn into Pamela Anderson.

First Trimester (first 3 months) – The vomit generator

After the initial euphoria of witnessing two red lines on the pregnancy test kit dies, the arduous journey begins. Your wife will turn into a recycling machine. Anything that goes inside her will come out in mashed form. Sometimes food and medicine will come out in exactly the same form as they went inside. So don’t be surprised if you see a crisp samosa lying in your wash basin one fine morning.

Husbands should try to avoid making any remarks in this duration if they do not want to be karate chopped. Here are a few sample conversations you should never make while your wife is producing hot dimsums.

Husband – I know what you are going through.

Wife – Do you now?!? *Dimsum 1* Believe me you have no *Dimsum 2* bloody idea so stop pretending *Dimsum 3*. Go away before I *Dimsum 4* kill you.

Husband – *does the mistake of patting her wife’s back while she is hovering over the washbasin*

Wife – Don’t touch me, you sex maniac. This is all your fault. You have had your fun. Now sit back and enjoy the next nine months.

Husband – This will be soon over. Every pregnant woman goes through this. You will be Ok.

*Big fuc*ing mistake*

The guy ends up with a broken neck.

The best approach during the first three months will be to hug her cautiously when you think she will not split you into two. Such occasions will be rare but they will be there.

Second Trimester (months 4-6) – Pamela Anderson

Your wife will start looking like those clandestine celebrities in this duration. The tummy will start showing in the 5^th or 6^th month but it will not be prominent in comparison to her other *ahem*. If you are one of those few unlucky souls, she will carry her first trimester problems in this trimester also. Most women don’t. You should be prepared for some extra shopping as it will appear that the last time your wife shopped was when she was in kindergarten. Nothing will fit her. Her bra size will horrify her. She will buy extra large everything with immense sadness.

During this trimester, the husband should be credit card ready. One tiny sound of rebellion and he might be flying out of Pantaloons. He will be reminded that this photoshop-ish distortion of the wife’s anatomy is all his mistake and now he has to ‘pay’ for it. It will not matter when the husband tries to reason that he is delirious with joy at the photoshop-ish enlargements.

Third Trimester (months 7-9) – The planet

By the ninth month, your wife would have turned into a planet. She would eat as if an asteroid is going to hit Earth tomorrow and vaporize all the ice-cream shops. Do not be alarmed because there is a baby inside her who needs all that nutrition.

The wife might find it uncomfortable to sleep. There will be instances when she will complain that the baby kicks all the times.

Do not try this at home –  

Husband – It will be soon over darling.

Wife – Yeah? What do you know? Have you ever tried pushing a baby out of you? OH GOD! I AM GOING TO DIE! 

Husband – Oh! Come on! It is not as if you are the first woman to….. *Was not able to complete the sentence because of a kick in the balls*

It will be during this trimester that there will be times when the husband and wife will be freaked out by the fact that another human being is growing inside the wife. It might sound like those alien movies but watching the baby play football as your wife’s tummy heaves like a turbulent ocean will not help. This might sound absurd but try talking to the baby. Make a paper boat and keep it on your wife’s tummy while making ridiculous storm sounds.

The D-Day

It gets worse once the labour pain starts. It is like a full moon night and the husband is under immense danger of being flung out of the window of the hospital building. Husbands should be prepared for all the groaning curses flung at them and take them sportingly. Sentences like –

–          This is all your fault you pathetic bastard. God will never forgive you.

–         Wait till this thing gets out of me! I will put you in the washing machine.

–         Don’t ever think that you will make me go through this again. I will snap your neck at the mere mention.

A husband might be alarmed that his wife has been possessed and needs an exorcist more than a mid-wife but that is not the case. Try to dab away the sweat from your wife’s brow when you think she will not dig her nails in your hand. Be quick about it.

Once the baby is delivered your wife will be back to normal except that now she has turned into Mother Dairy and will be dripping milk all over the house. The husband might feel isolated at this point of time as the Dairy will be open 24X7 for the baby. Try not to sulk. 

Surviving a newborn will be covered in another post.

p.s. Pregnancy is a beautiful time. A couple goes through myriad emotions during those nine months. They forget all the pain when they notice the child moving in the tummy, when they try to figure out the head and the arms in the ultrasound report, when they do shopping for the baby before the grand arrival. If the post has given you any negative concerns, then that is purely your pessimistic imagination.

[image from here]

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.

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]

Respect the Commode!

To maintain decorum of this blog, the word ‘Politicians’ will be used in place of certain unwanted solids and liquids that leave a human body at regular intervals.

I am not a cleanliness freak. It takes meticulous, vigilant planning spanning months for me to get up and wipe dust off my laptop screen which looks as if it has been hit by a desert storm and I might unearth a camel’s carcass while cleaning it. So, I am fine with a bit of inherent laziness that seeps into my countrymen which vanishes with a sudden urge to jump on an empty seat in a bus as if it is a dead deer amidst gluttonous tigers. But I do not understand men who enter a washroom and let loose politicians anywhere other than the precise location they are supposed to go. And, no, I am not talking about men using the roadside facilities which resemble a concentration camp but men using sparkling clean washrooms in swanky high-rise offices.

While I was in Manchester for two years, I had to take precautions that no one noticed me going in and coming out of the washroom. I was not scared but ashamed. As my office was filled with fellow countrymen from various companies, the washrooms were filled with embarrassing notices like this –

“Please leave the toilet in a condition suitable for use by the next person”

The darned notice appeared on every door inside the washroom and stared at me every time I visited the best invention in the history of humans – The Loo.

Being in India, I was used to the indifference with which the wall loving Indian men treat the sophisticated commode. Yes, I have flushed the poor thing before he could cry his heart out on seeing his savior in me. Yes, I have picked up tissue and cleaned its rim, relieving it of the political remains of the sinner who has made unholy this greatest creation of mankind. If it was left to me, I would have worshipped a commode, shuddering with fear thinking of a life bereft of its company. Unfortunately, my fellow countrymen do not share my sentiments and molest the commode at every possible opportunity.

What really shocked the Bejesus out of me was that my countrymen carried their passions to foreign lands. They gave the British a taste of how alarmingly misguided their aims could be and the sparkling commodes of the developed nation could not believe their bad luck. Some of them went into a deep uncontrollable coma and refused to flush the politicians out, which lead to the icy notice on the doors. If commodes had legs, we would have witness thousands of them running and jumping off the island.

Mind you, these passionate countrymen were software engineers who would have shamed Gagan Narang in hitting the targets in their own homes in the fear of Ma breaking their necks. They were not rickshaw pullers, who have never seen a commode and might take it for a mini well. Still, they could not treat the foreign commodes with respect just because they were not a part of their families. Leaving aside the abused ones in India, the men left an irreplaceable scar on the minds of the commodes at onsite. Alas! There was no hope to reverse the damage. No psychiatrist deals with depressed commodes.  

Why this apathy?

Why this indifference towards picking up a tissue and cleaning the results of your own aiming misadventures?

Why this coldness towards flushing, checking and flushing again?

Why this deep-rooted mindset that someone will do it for you?

Yes, we could be filthy and education has nothing to do with it, the same way education has nothing to do with female feticide and dowry deaths, the same way education has nothing to do with spitting on roads and jumping signals.

So, while I clean another commode, wiping its tears and promising it better times, I think about the men that would use it in the future without concern and sympathy and wonder when men would begin to acknowledge its importance and marvel at our best creation. There aren’t many things in life that are so pure and selfless, who can smile all the way while taking our shit. Where would we be if all the commodes muster a revolt? Do we have the stamina to dig the soil to bury politicians like the medieval armies did during wars? And what if you work on the 10th floor?

When would we understand that there cannot be a better friend?

When would we hug a commode for being there for us when the need of relieving the politicians was colossal?

When would we truly and genuinely come to love and respect the commode?

[image from here]

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]