Open letter to my maid

image from here

image from here

My dear Maid, 

I know guys don’t write letters to maids and they definitely don’t call them ‘dear’ and I hope you do not take offence in me addressing you as someone who is dear to me. So help me God. I have seen women write incessantly about the love-hate relationship they share with their maids but guys usually shy away from it. I blame our system for it, much like Rahul Gandhi. We are not supposed to feel affectionate towards our maids. I am breaking the barriers here and that is why it is so important for me to call you ‘dear’. It is not a word, it is a hammer and I am using it to break the wall and show my gratitude to all the lovely ladies who have worked in my house over the years. 

Let me begin by saying that I was brought up with a sense of being higher up in the pyramid of society. My grandma used to keep a separate plate and glass for you to eat breakfast and drink the tea she provided with a sense of charity. We were not supposed to touch those utensils and it was blasphemy to eat in your plate or drink water in your glass. You were supposed to be a lower class nobody who could never be satisfied with what has been given to her and your whole community was supposed to be like you. Well, let me tell you dear, that the phoniness of this unabashed display of superiority pissed me off as a kid and I gleefully indulged in numerous acts of blasphemy when I ate in your plate and drank water from your glass, much to the utter shock of my grandma.

Dear maid,

I remember so many unintentional hilarious and sad incidents involving you that I have lost count. So, thank you for the doses of laughter and the pauses of pondering I have collected over the years. I remember, when grandma in her rare moods of philanthropy, started teaching you the Hindi alphabets. I was surprised to know that you could not read or write. I was young. And then, grandma and you reached the alphabet ‘sh’. She would say ‘Sh se Shatkon’ and you would say ‘Sa se Satkon’ and it went for such a long time that I thought that only a calamity like grandma grinding all her teeth to dust or an astroid hitting the Earth could possibly stop the loop. And your name was Geeta which is one of the many ironies of life. Then you transformed into Bhagwanti. You were usually beaten blue and black by your husband when you came to work. You were 2D thin. I always wondered how much endurance you had for doing such physically challanging work when half of your body was swelling with pain. You made me laugh by the way you cleaned the utensils with all your might as your sari danced like waves with your movements. Then you turned into Sheila, who used to steal spoons for reasons I could not understand. It was hilarious because once mom caught you while you were trying to hide a spoon in your salwar. You said that you were itching terribly and merely rubbing the spoon over your skin. Then you turned into wide-eyed Sampa who would, in excited shrieks, tell her sisters over the phone that you went to the mall with us and saw a movie in the theatre and had chow mein in the food court. 

Dear Maid,

I know sometimes people are ruthless and you end up doing more than you could endure. You are constantly pestered at times, even when you are doing fine. Sometimes, you rebel and then you are told that you belong to a category of society that can never be thankful for what is being given to them. Have you noticed the crazy flip-flop of hatred and harmony you experience with a family? At one hand, you are sitting with them and having tea in your designated cup, telling them the story of your life and how miserable everything is, expecting some gift on Diwali and New Year and on the other hand you are blamed for being lazy and not doing things properly. How do you handle such relationships when you are at the receiving end? Of course, you grin and bear it, just like all of us who take shit from people above us in the pyramid, conveniently forget it and do exactly the same to the people below us.

Dear Maid,

I would like to thank you. Thank you for cleaning my room, my wash-room, my clothes, my utensils. Thank you for dusting my house, for making the food, for folding my clothes, for making tea for me, for being there. I know it would be impossible to survive without you. I know everyone knows that, no matter how high in the air their nose is, no matter how much difficult they find it to give you a raise which is equal to the price of a plate of chicken tikka kabab in a mall. 

And in the end, a small note for my present dear Maid –

It has been a month since your mother-in-law died. I know you have no love for her (and I am quoting my mom here), but you have already extended your 15 days break to 30 days. Yes, unbelievable as it may sound, my household has been operating sans you for a month now. It is a miracle and we are enduring one day at a time but a day does not pass when we don’t remember you. What you have done is unprofessional but it is OK. As always, mom will forgive you after giving you a nice piece of her mind. And then everything will be as it always was. It has nothing to do with the pyramid, believe me. So, you should return now. We are somehow, barely holding the fort but we need reinforcements. We have never told you how important you or your successor (who might be a reality soon) are to us and that is what this letter intends to tell you in addition to the fact that we are dying without you.

Thank you,

A humble dependant.

p.s. I will be a bit erratic for a while on my blog and all the amazing blogs I regularly read because I am working on my second book. Please forgive me.

Open letter to Karnataka state Women’s Commission chief Manjula

Photos of Molesters/Moral Policemen arrested after Mangalore’s molestation case 2012. The arrested are subhash padil (the mastermind, top left), ganesh kannur, taranath kannur, sharath padavingangadi, sandeep shetty, venugopal, tharanath alva, rajesh shaktinagar, chetan naguri, shailesh jelligudde, harish alava, sunil thokkottu, varun poojari, puneeth kudupu, and kiran poojari. Almost all of these attackers are from lower backgrounds, with either blinded minds or misled political ambitions.

Dear Manjula,

Let me congratulate you on your report which you submitted recently on the Mangalore molestation case.

Your report was a landmark report in many ways. Let me tell you how.

Your report reconfirmed the absolute lack of faith of a common citizen in our system. It reconfirmed the fact that till there are people like you in position of power, our country will rapidly adopt the ideologies of the Taliban and celebrate it too. It reconfirmed the fact that you are a mere puppet dancing to appease your political masters.

The fact that you report did an unbelievable magic trick by making the molesters from HJV vanish from the scene of crime and put the blame squarely on the boys in the party does not come as a surprise. We were expecting nothing more than a moral preaching and cultural preservation bullshit but you took the episode to a shockingly low level. The best solution you could come up with consisted of two steps :

  • Consider the whole population of India to be dumb.
  • Turn the boys in the party into drug addicts and someone who run prostitute rackets.

Job done!

Well, but there is a small problem sweetheart.

We saw the video.

Tell us Manjula,

Why didn’t your report probe the fact that a group of 50 shitheads forced their way into a house without the permission of people inside it?

Why didn’t it probe the fact that those 50 shitheads beat up adult men and women for enjoying a birthday party? Last time we checked, our constitution allows people to cut cakes on birthdays.

Why didn’t it probe the fact that those shitheads were hired deranged goons who stole things amounting to 2 lakh rupees from the location?

Instead, your report does not even mention those shitheads from Hindu Janajagarana Vedike (HJV). This Reminds me of that Vanishing Cabinet in Harry Potter. You are that Vanishing Cabinet.

Manjula,

Let us for a second believe your twisted logic that everyone was having sex with everyone in that party. Let us assume to please you that they were having an orgy. So what is wrong if young adults have sex? Why can’t your Neanderthal cultural sensibilities snap out of it? Why do you, the goons whom you are trying to save and their masters have to label it as prostitution? A lot of adults have sex with multiple partners before marriage. Our constitution does not give a right to anybody to go and punch them for having consensual sex.

Now coming back to not believing your twisted logic. If it was just a birthday party, then how can you turn into that vanishing cabinet? You have already given the hired goons a clean chit.

Instead, according to you, the boys attending the party were under the influence of drugs which the police was somehow not able to find. Did you dream about this possibility?

Instead, you have even blamed the mother of one of the boys for running a prostitution racket and suggested transfer of a police official who is the father of a girl who was there at the party.

Do you even realize what you have done?

Manjula,

Our regressive culture has done more harm to our nation than helping it. And people like you, who are in the position of power, who have the ability to change what is wrong, have been a huge disappointment.

You and your ilk has spread regressiveness in the name of saving our culture. Since when have our culture included beating up adults who don’t think like us?

You have given courage to every rapist and molester out there, especially those who are disguised as moral policemen. You have given courage to the throw-acid-on-her-because-she-wears-jeans brigade.

You have hammered another nail in our society’s mindset that there is no concept of justice in our nation. A middle class girl in a pub can be branded a prostitute just because she went there to have some fun. Her life is spoiled and the goon who slapped her is free to slap more young men and women who fall under his definition of cultural subjugation.

You have glorified the concept of controlling women. It is an irony because you are a woman yourself.

Just to tell you Manjula, the boys who were beaten up in that party and whom you have blamed for prostitution, have come forward. And, you know what, we are all proud of them because they are going to each and every college and telling students what happened to them. They are calling press conferences and telling the media about the truth. They are much more supportive to the girls who were molested than you.

Manjula,

We believe that it is not the moral police or molesters or rapists whom we have to fear. The people whom we should fear are people like you who nurture such monsters. You are the ones who let them loose on citizens of this nation.

And till there are people like you in positions of power these goons will spread like termites.

We know that you know that these goons have no idea about our culture, otherwise they would not have done what they did. They are just a bunch of losers with meaningless lives. The only culture they understand is that of Money and Power. And that is exactly what you are feeding them.

Stop suppressing the young generation of this country. You are forcing us to leave this country because of the disgusting way people like you are running the show. There are a lot of people who have given up the idea of coming back after incidents like these. Please do not expect us to bring in the cash to run the country and bowing to such tyranny as well. We are not slaves. We are sorry if your generation had a subjugated upbringing but please do not make us pay for it in the name of saving our culture just because you are jealous of the freedom we experience.

Yours truly,

An young Indian Citizen.

Open letter to the Indian film industry

Dear Indian Film Industry (IFI),

I am writing this letter with a heavy heart. There was a time when I loved you like crazy. Now all I feel is apathy. There are times when you still overwhelm me, but such times are like those solar eclipses. Rare.

IFI,

Consider this scenario – The city is taken over by zombies. They are killing humans and terrifying them. The humans are on the run, stuffing themselves in whatever holes they could find. Over time, the humans create barricades making it more and more difficult for the zombies to find a prey. Then one fine day as the zombies are sitting and twiddling their fingers, a human zombie supporter (who thinks zombies are the messengers of God and sent to make humans pay for their sins) opens up a cinema hall for them. The tickets are sold in minutes. The zombies fill the theatre and guess which movie is playing there?

A Zombie movie!

The zombies watch the movie with enthusiasm and go back out with greater vigour to hunt as many humans as possible. The zombie supporter is happy.

Now replace the zombie with an average perverted Indian male who has a brain development of a two year old Neanderthal and who goes into a theatre to watch an Indian movie where women are either objectified to glory or where Indian culture begins at one end of a sari and ends at the other. The already deranged pervert is deranged further. His misplaced cultural values are further misplaced; his firm belief that women need to be tamed like an animal is further strengthened.

IFI,

What do you think about these scenarios and the impact they leave?

  • Rahul and Anjali are college chums. Anjali is tomboyish and so Rahul never loves her but finds another seductive girl. Years later when God plunks the seductive girl off the planet, Rahul and Anjali meet again. Anjali has transformed into a Bhartiya Nari (true blue pastel colours sari woman who loves children). In the end, it takes the flurry of a sari by the pagli pawan (crazy winds) and the accidental display of Anjali’s blouse concealing that part of her anatomy of which Rahul was always unaware of, which makes Rahul discover the Indian woman in her, the woman whom he could love and dance with in rain.
  • There have always been Item numbers ever since Helen was discovered with extra long feathers on her head and back but nowadays if you leave all the leading ladies of Bollywood in a room and tell them that one of them will get to perform an item number in Salman Khan’s next movie, you will find loads of organs to be donated in 30 minutes and a majority of them will be eyes. Item numbers are the best way to parade women as objects. The filmmaker makes money and perverts get the kick to go out and fondle a woman after seeing an ‘item’ hanging from a rope amongst a horde of men trying to catch her skirt on the screen.
  • Veronica is a bitch. She goes to pubs, have sex with random men but she is lonely and has no good friends. Our Hero flirts with her, beds her and they are cool with their fun relationship. Enters Meera, the perfect Indian woman, and our hero falls in love with her. Girls like Veronica are just there to have fun. When Hero’s Mom arrives, he had to display Meera like a trophy because that is what every Indian mother wants – a daughter-in-law dipped in our creamy culture, ready to be devoured. The Hero wants this too because our rich culture is rooted somewhere deep in his ankle.
  • Adding more to Veronica – she goes to pubs and leads her life on her terms. And she is shown in a negative light. The director throws her at the audience like we throw a bone towards a dog and we lap her up. She gives us the psychological nutrition to believe that our culture still shuns girls who ape the west. Remember, we live in a country where we justify molestation of a girl who goes to a pub. In 2012. Veronica had to wear a salwaar-kameez finally in the hope that Maa would accept her. And Oh! it’s all right for our hero to ape the west. He can womanize and drink as much as he wants.
  • The actress have to flutter her eyes, bite her lower lip, sway her body, bite her index finger between her teeth and pinch the index finger on her left hand with the thumb and index finger on her right hand when our Hero is around. I understand blushing but this induces nothing but the strongest urge to *face palm*.

I am not entirely blaming our film industry for the way women are treated in our society and for our medieval mindset. That will be like blaming Pranab Mukherjee for replacing Pratibha Patil as the brand ambassador of SOTC. But he did play a part, no matter how minuscule. Our society is heavily influenced by movies and the biggest movie industry in the world should try to find ways to change the mindset of the society, not to make profits out of it. Showing women as ‘items’ and portraying any deviation from an ideal Indian woman as black are subtle dangerous projections which helps in strengthening the way women are treated in India.

It will not be correct to say that the Indian film industry hasn’t changed over the years. There has been a radical change in how we portray women in our movies by giving them positively bold roles instead of asking them to scream as the hero beats the villain to a pulp, all thanks to the new breed of responsible directors. But there is a darker end of the spectrum as well. In a bid to make money, the mainstream cinema has severely started objectifying women with an equal ferocity. The number of item numbers served every year is now more than the number of train accidents that happen in India.

IFI,

In a nation which is as tasteless without its sexually oppressing Patriarchal society as Maggi noodles is without its special masala, is it so hard to understand the repercussions of an actress picking up her sari, doing pelvic thrusts and heaving her breasts simultaneously in front of perverts who then go out and look at every woman in the same light? Who then take every girl who goes to a pub as ‘available’ and someone who will enjoy the touch of any Changu Mangu? Who then go out and search for an ideal virgin Indian woman acceptable to his family, no matter that he lost his own virginity years ago? Is it so difficult to understand that an alarmingly huge population of India is not mentally capable of enjoying such a form of cinematic entertainment without obvious consequences?

No, it is not difficult. You just have to look beyond money.

Crestfallenly yours,

Once a fan.

Open letter to all the molesters and rapists

The Guwahati Molesters

Dear Wannabe/Seasoned Molester and Rapist,

I will address you as pig in this post. I know that the pigs will be angry but I will personally say sorry to them.

Dear Pig,
I was very young when I saw my mother braving you in a bus. You were middle-aged and were leaning on her, rubbing your crotch on her shoulder. She was sitting on the ladies seat and politely asked you to step back. When you ignored her numerous times, she lost it and shouted at you – ‘Step back or I will slap you.’ Everyone in the bus looked at you. You stepped back.
I was a boy aged 7-8 years but I remember looking at you with hatred in my eyes. I still remember your face.

Then my sister told me about another one of your ilk. She was returning from a wedding with mom. A car was following them. When they reached home, the car stopped and the window rolled down. You were sitting there smiling at her. You took out a 500 Rs note and waved it at her. No, you did not molest her physically but the action was more than that.
She was brave a few years later when during a family holiday in Amritsar, you brushed passed her and tried to touch her. She dug her nails in your arm and twisted it. She did not leave your arm and dug deeper. You had to shove her nails away. You must have bled. She had long nails. I saw it happen but I was too far away to react and you mingled in the crowd quickly, rubbing your arm.

I sometimes wonder how many such acts of molestation my mother, sister and wife have gone through about which I am completely unaware. I am afraid to ask them. I know I will crumble to pieces, my mind will explode.

Pig,
I know you are an offspring of lawlessness. You exist because the public servants who behave as our rulers think it is not a big deal if a woman gets molested in India. They think it’s a way of life. That is why you are capable of having the audacity to molest a woman on camera, because you know that there are no laws in this country. It is not difficult to rape someone and go scot-free in India. Thousands of pigs have achieved the fete and are proud of it. You exist because of this sexually oppressed nation in which you are born. You exist because we draw lines and apply rules for women; give separate seats to them in buses and trains, thus turning them into desirable objects which have to be attained. You exist because women are taught to be vulnerable since they are born. You exist because the crowd has not picked up a stone yet.

But tell me Pig, what will happen if someone threw a stone at you while you molest a girl in public? What will happen if someone kidnaps you and castrate you? What if someone brings an axe and cut off your hand? And believe me this will happen, because you have crossed your limits. All the people who are suffering by your hands will one day realise that no help will come and they have to help themselves, take things in their hands. And that is when they will pick up the knife. That is when they will dig their nails in your face.

Pig,
I have seen the fear on your face. Once when you tried to molest a girl in the Metro, the guy with her slapped you so many times that you stumbled to the other end of the coach. You ran out when the doors opened and ran very fast. I would have loved to see the guy holding you by the neck and ask the girl to slap you, but you got your lesson. This is what will happen eventually. This is what is in store for you.

Pig,
I know you frequently visit Vaishno Devi. I know your religious head bows down in front of a lot of female deities. I know you follow religions which teach to respect women. I know you would boil in anger if someone molest a female from your family. So, what is this all about treating women not related to you as objects? How is your mother different from a woman whom you dare to strip in full public view for your fun? How is the woman whom you ogle at in a bus different from your sister? I wonder what kind of family upbringing you had. From where did this desperation for flesh came? Is it because you are a born loser and could not achieve anything in your life and you know that no decent woman will come near you? Is this your way of telling your feeble ego that you are still in control of your puke-worthy life?

Believe me, with people like you around, we really miss all those medieval forms of torture as punishments where they peeled off the skin of culprits and threw them in drums of chillies.

I fear for my family, Pig. I fear that one day my wife will go for her job and never return. I fear that one day I might find my sister in a condition which will haunt me for the rest of my life. You have no idea how it feels to live in such a constant fear. You have no idea how it plays with your mind, looping again and again till it becomes a part of you. You have no idea how it feels to live like this in your own country.

You cannot begin to imagine what the women in this country go through everyday. You are taking away their freedom Pig, you are terrorizing them into staying indoors, you are isolating them and no one is going to take that chin down. After all, you are just a pig.

My last piece of advice for you Pig – Please go and jump off a building. The world will be very beautiful after that. You are just like the dirt stuck in a shoe – not required and to be washed away.

Yours truly,

A person with a stone in his hand.

Related posts –

Terrorism against a whole community called women

In a land of Maha-abuse

Yet Again

Open letter to all Phuddu married men

Dear Phuddu Married Man,

If you are wondering what Phuddu means, let me enlighten you. It means a coward, spineless douche bag.

Sometimes I wonder what grave necessity threw you into the act of marriage. Was it your parents? Was it some sort of inferiority complex because people around you were getting married? Or was it just a robotic impulse imbibed inside you since you were born? Or you just needed a woman to fu*k?

You do not deserve this woman you have married. Remember the day when you came back from a holiday in Singapore with your wife and your mother opened all your suitcases as soon as you entered the house, to dig in all the things you might have bought without her knowledge? How dare you allow her to do that? Yes, you whimpered like a scared puppy, vomited out something inaudible but when your mother explained that this is how things have been in this house, you went to a corner and sulked. Yes, that was the best you could come up with in front of the woman whom you have married. Could you have got any more phuddu-er?

The overnight flight from Singapore had left your wife very tired. She went to the office the next day and by the time she came back in the evening; she could hardly stand due to exhaustion. Your mother asked her to prepare dinner for 12 guests in three hours. Your wife made the dinner while you stood like a complete loser and let that happen. And then your mother had the nerve to come in your room at midnight and lectured you on respecting the elders! Of course, you listened respectfully, while your wife cried.

Dear Phuddu,

You are a software engineer, well-educated, born and brought up in a city. Do you even understand what the institution of marriage stands for? Do you understand that when a woman leaves her house after marriage, she blindly relies on her husband to sail her through. She is scared. The only person who could share her anxiety and who could support her is you. And what did you do Phuddu? You let your parents dictate whether you need a maid in your house or not, even though they live in a separate house? And to prove to your wife that she could not have found a phuddu-er life partner, you agree with your mother that your wife should do all the household chores in addition to her job.

Phuddu,

You are an adult. You do not wear diapers anymore. You don’t have to take permission from your parents every time you go to toilet. You do not have to piss in your pants every time your mother raises an eyebrow. Which part of this are you not able to understand? You are married for fuc* sake! Have you ever bothered what your wife is thinking about you when you pout and brood instead of setting things straight, when you are too afraid to speak in front of your parents, when you are unable to make simple decisions?

And, what kind of person takes money from his wife’s parents? Do you know what a big loser you project yourself while indulging in this act? You are not even capable of taking care of your finances, beg for money from your in-laws as if it’s your birth right and then have the nerve to mistreat your wife. Really! You take Phuddu-ism to an entirely new level.

You don’t like a girl as your child, do you Phuddu? Reality check – You married a girl assho*e! You would have ended up as a nondescript, pathetic loner if not for this girl who did the biggest mistake of her life by marrying you. And your mother was a girl once too. Now come to think of it, imagine a scenario where your mother was killed in her mother’s womb; the world would have been a happier place without a phuddu like you born years later.

I know you have indulged in taking dowry, raping your wife, beating her mercilessly and burning her alive and Phuddu is a very small word for such a man. I know the law is very lenient on you. Thousands of you roam the streets. The only punishment worthy of you is to cut off your pen*s and hang it on a chord around your neck in a bottle of preservative. And then tattoo “Phuddu” on your forehead and let the world see what you really are. Yes, that is what you deserve.

Phuddu,

You are a disgrace to married men. We are ashamed that you are a part of our community. Given a chance, we would love to throw you off in the Gobi desert with a  Gobhi shoved up your ass.

Really, grow some balls and a brain while you are at it.

Yours truly,

A Sensible Married Man.

p.s. The incidents narrated in the post are true.