Being a Woman

Being a Woman

There is a lump
Stuck in my throat
It can’t be removed
Surgically
It just stays there
Just like the abyss
In my heart or perhaps brain
I keep sinking into
A free fall
With no rock bottom
With no voice
To scream for rescue
Not sure whether
There is a rescue team
As neither my internal abyss
Nor lump in my throat
Is visible or audible
That’s what it is
For most women
I am told
You learn to stay afloat
Put a brave front
And you scream internally
Without letting out a whimper
You accept praises and criticisms
Whatever comes your way
You assume you have a purpose
Or a role
Until you decide to step away
From the roleplays
To realise
You are invisible too
The world never sees you as a person
But rather as a wife or mother or sister
You step away
And you are reduced to a nobody
How liberating is that!!
They care only till you care
You like a fool kept caring
Letting them humiliate
The Law of reciprocity
Is always learnt a hard way
But apply it
Just like everyone does
In every other sphere
You will see
What you hold together
Collapses as a pack of cards
And then you realise
The cards were rigged
With misogyny
To remain as an object or
As a person with lump
In the throat
And Abyss in the heart
To sink without a sound

Step and snap out now
Out of the roleplay
To find your own voice
And your sense of balance
You will be visible
To those who want to see you
Rest do not matter
At least you will be visible
To your damned self

In that damn mirror!

Image courtesy: Anuran Kar Gupta, Physics researcher based in Paris

War – A Grim Reality Show

It almost unfolds live

On Social Media

On Television

Whipping emotions

As short lived

Till the next reel or news

There is a race

Turn it into an epic

Before the elections

Even before it ends

Scriptwriters have no clue

How will it end?

Or will it end at all?

Who has the controls?

Nations who are sparring?

Or nations who sell

Arms and weapons

To both sides fairly?

Is this an long over due upgrade?

Of war technology?

Old stocks need to be used or sold

For the new ones replace them

Weapons lead to wars

Or wars lead to weapons?

Damn the vicious cycle!

Everyone wants to stay in power

Even when they don’t have any

Wars and revolutions rarely go by the script

They often go rogue, off the script

Resilience and resolute is never factored in

Soldiers become immune to killing

And civilians learn to mourn the loss

They understand they are

Important but

Unacknowledged collaterals

Unbelievable!

What a techno-feat!

We witnessed and debated genocide

Inbetween binge watching shows

Even if war comes home

We will watch it on screen

Not realising the proximity

In denial glued to the screens

Life must go on after all

Everything is for greater good

Even the greater evils!!

The ‘Cancel’ Culture

It has been an interesting week. It began with my tryst with ‘cancel culture’ during Gandhi Jayanti. I guess across all sections there is a growing trend of cancelling Gandhi and of course Nehru. We all know how and when it started. But given the traction it has received we must introspect.

I don’t think it began in recent years, resentment towards these two leaders was always there among a certain cross section but now it has got amplified thanks to modern narratives and propaganda being spread through Whatsapp university and social media. Their own personal lives and lifestyle choices are casting a very dark shadow on their roles as powerful leaders who shaped India’s non-violent freedom movement and nurtured India’s new born democracy in its infancy.

It is ironic that as we gloat and compete for IITs, build new IITs, the leaders who steered India towards higher education and scholarship are being vilified and defamed casually. With their names too being removed from public spaces, I really don’t know whether their legacy and commitment towards non-violence, equality and high quality education for all will be remembered at all. Perhaps they will be known only for their personal life scandals just like film stars, writers, artists, or celebrities lives are often reduced to. I really don’t know where this ‘cancel’ culture will lead us unless there is another counter culture to balance it. I guess we are headed towards collective amnesia that Marquez and Galeano often talked about. We will not remember the past or how it shaped us because we are too busy cancelling it.

News from France has been interesting too. Bedbugs have entered our daily conversations too. Almost everyday I get to hear about bedbug related scares, jokes and their repercussions. Campus talks apparently are questioning kinds – why should French bedbugs be in the news at all when almost all big cities and countries have it? There are conspiracy theories afloat. France of course is not in denial and they are doing their best. My son’s room and entire residency underwent sanitization. It is evident from the recent focus of media stories on ‘islamophobia’ in France or this bed bugs saga that there is cancel culture propaganda and messaging. Like us, the French are apparently blaming their neighbours (who have fallen out over Brexit) for their woes and negative publicity.

Students of course have been kept busy with coursework and high level courses. After classes they huddle in discussion spaces available around the campus. Apparently, these spaces have reference books, tiny cafes and cluster desks for students to sit and discuss. Since classes are of 3 – 4 hours duration, they are allowed to walk out in between to get their cuppas. Teachers are highly impressive and they hold the attention of the class for 3 -4 hours at a stretch. From what I understand European universities have very rigorous undergraduate courses so students from elsewhere, even those who are doing double masters, are struggling a bit. They all are taking courses as a challenge so I guess they are happily engaged between classes and looking for groceries they need.

Finally my son went to a tiny Indian neighborhood thanks to his Ecuadorian classmate who wants to try cooking Indian cuisine while my son is getting introduced to Latin American sauces and recipes.He finally found – green chillies too – he was missing their taste and flavour the most. They are having nice little cultural exchanges and celebrating diversity. He gave a hearty laugh saying there you are trying to plan a festival to celebrate diversity but here we are celebrating it every day – bonhomie is amazing and no one mocks others.

He tells me, most students are very critical about their own nations and their politics so they don’t insult or mock others. I guess most nations are failing their youths in some way or the other. From what I hear, it gives me hope.

I am worried about how ‘cancel’ culture will play out in our nation’s future. Good journalism almost got literally cancelled by those who are in power last week.

France has kept its education and universities standards very high which is very heartening and it was evident when Nobel prize for Physics was announced. French Nobel laureate took the call during the break and went back to her class to complete the lesson. It says volumes about their commitment to teaching and nurturing younger generations.

Incidentally, when ‘Attosecond’ Nobel was announced, my son was doing his first lab class which he said was a great fun and nothing like the set practicals students do here. Yesterday he also said, “wish there was a way to enrol in undergraduate mathematics course here all over again and then do masters”. I had tried to steer him towards mathematics but now in French University corridors he is developing a deeper liking for mathematics. Engaging deeper is hardly visible these days in our education sphere when the focus is just to pass the exams with top grades and get qualifying degree for good jobs or positions which are so few.

My ironing lady was earlier looking for teaching jobs for her daughter who has done B.Ed from Bihar and now she is seeking any household help job for her. On the contrary, I met a brilliant MTech qualified student who is pursuing B.Ed. So we are in absurd times – qualified teachers don’t have jobs but engineers are seeking teaching qualifications as they are out of jobs too.

As a nation and as people we will keep going in circles I guess while making radius smaller and cancelling everything beyond that radius. Good luck to us!

At the Edge of Life

She stood at the edge, constantly turning back. They should be here anytime soon, if they loved her. After all they had promised, they will look out for her and have her back at all times.

The train was late. She thought of walking a little ahead to get on the tracks in darkness to ensure the train didn’t miss her and nobody tried to save her. She kept glancing at the phone, hoping someone had deciphered her cryptic posts and reached out. Even one ‘like’ would be the last bit of straw that could save her.

Then she wondered what was the probability that anybody’s life would be affected if she stuck to her plan. She could imagine the indifference, smirk, shock, grief, regret and blame shifting that would follow. She could imagine a little conference, post her funeral, where everyone would say nice things about her, maybe words of regret too but they will absolve themselves for making her feel what she felt – a useless, harmful, attention seeking, selfish soul – which definitely she wasn’t. Or was she as they perceived her to be?

Just then a small toddler reached for her and grabbed her collar. She was wearing a red dress, it probably attracted the kid. She turned around and saw two curious eyes staring at her. She had always attracted young toddlers attention for some strange reason. The mother who was carrying the child was fatigued and bored. Obviously, since she didn’t pay attention when the child must have reached out to her. The toddler kept babbling as she stared at it with a blank expression.

Was this the sign or proverbial straw she was looking for? The mother looked at her and bluntly asked, “why are you staring? Can you hold her please till the train comes? I am dead tired, hungry and fed up. Why is she always hungry for food and attention? “

For a moment she wanted to refuse and walk away but the child by then was clinging to her. It was like life itself had embraced her and held her back.

She realised how flawed her logic was, that her toddler back home would eventually forget her. Probably there would be a nicer step-mother in his life. But what if that person thought motherhood and babbling of toddlers boring?

She looked at this young mother who was glancing at her phone least bothered that the child was clinging to a stranger. She looked up and said, “please help me. Hold her a bit, my arms are aching.” She had no choice but to hold the child. The young mother kept looking at the phone. The train was announced. She was in a new dilemma. But the child kept playing with her face and her hair. Instinctively, she too engaged playfully. They both giggled. The train was almost entering the station. She swiftly turned around and told the mother that she was not getting on to the train and handed the child back. The young lady stared back, “why are you even waiting on a crowded platform then? Are you here to receive someone?”

She didn’t know what to say. She just blurted that she didn’t have money for the train ticket and walked away – walked away from her suicidal thoughts. She was sweating, shaking with tears welled up in her eyes.

She walked back to her home. It was a long walk. Long enough to get control back on her emotions and her life. Long enough to realise that if a stranger could trust her, if she could show kindness to a stranger even at the breaking point then there is evidence that she wasn’t what everyone thought she was.

She also realised how flawed she was in thinking that anyone could replace her to be a mother to her kid back home. She needed to be strong to be someone’s support now. Back home, everything was as she had left including the smirk on her husband’s face, ” so you are back. I knew you lacked courage.” She went to her kid who was sleeping and touched it, only to realise the child had a high fever. She walked back and asked her husband why he hadn’t checked on the kid in the last couple of hours.

He again smirked and said something on the lines that he didn’t realise, couldn’t imagine, child didn’t cry, was doing very important work etc etc and since she had opted to be a housewife so it was primarily her job to check on him and not to wander off to kill herself.

She stared back in disbelief. She knew exactly whom to save her son from – pathological intellectuals and skeptics, insensitive folks so full of themselves – who will endlessly analyse, blame, shame and do everything except take responsibility and show love.

PS: A piece of fiction inspired by a spooky nightmare that woke me up.

Shame

Shame

Perhaps it is easy
To violate
A woman’s body
And soul
And then walk with
Head held high
It is all done
To teach a lesson
To create fear

Perhaps it is easy
To plunder the earth
To dig out all
That is worth
And then walk with
Head held high
It is all done
For a profit
To create wealth

Will Earth save itself?
What about women?
Bilkis Bano is silent
Our silence is more deafening

We will rage
For Earth, for Bilkis
Yet they will
Walk free
Reign free

That is how it is
Dont ask why?
It’s reign of the
Shameless and inhuman
Emperor after all parades
In full nakedness and glory

How does one teach shame
To shameless tyrants?

#BilkisBano

Heaven and Hell

Your idea of heaven
Is my idea of hell!
How will we ever reconcile?

You talk of supremacy
I walk with the oppressed
How do we find a middle ground?

You use brute loud force
I sing my songs of protest
Do you ever hear me?

You think might is right
I believe meek too has a right
How do I protect my child?

You are drunk on power
I root for my freedom
How do we avoid the fight?

Dice is definitely loaded
You will win this fight
But still you will lose

You will remember me
At the door of heaven
Your sins
Will be my testimony
Your lies
My truth

The fire you lit to hide your crimes
Will burn down the heaven
Your supremacy is a sham
You have power that is not yours

One day humanity will rise
One day humanity has to rise!





Storm and Me

The storm has abated

Did what it can
Shattered my existence
Where do I begin?
How do I pick these pieces?
There is no ground
Under the feet
It’s all water
The roof over my head
Has blown off
Whatever I held close
Simply floated away
Some with water
Other with the wind
How do I get my life back?
How do I prove I am me?
How do I show?
Where my mud house stood?

It’s all gone
Either with water
Or with the wind
Did you hear howling winds?
Did you see the waves rise?
Those uprooted trees?
My uprooted life?
No, you wouldn’t notice
You were all locked in
Blind and deaf
Till they cleared it all
There is no sign left
Of howling winds
Of broken homes
Of my lost past
I too ask
Am I me?

amphan #cycloneamphan

Lost Humanity

Scavenging under the rubbles
She looked for humanity
It was yet another day of
Strategic bombing

They tried to flee in vain
From guns and grenades
And bombs
And landmines
And beastly men

Death was everywhere
In every form
It caught up with all
Even those who escaped these
Troubled shores

She kept scavenging for humanity
Under the rubbles
Of the wasteland
Many died
For the sake of few
Who wanted to live

It was a lost battle
Under the rubbles
She scavenged
For dead humanity

The Blue Door

There is a blue door at end of the road. People say it’s the door to the happiness.  One can hear laughter and songs, but no one is ever seen crossing the threshold. Neighborhood believes that all the peace and happiness has got locked behind the blue door. No one knows who has locked all the joy away but the sadness and anger that is left behind is quite palpable.

As one walks down the road, one can hear screams of the locked lunatic sibling coming from an attic of one house. They say he lost his mind over a girl who was forced to marry someone from her clan. From another house one can hear heart rending lament of a mother whose only child has gone missing. A misogynist cop rants and screams in the other one, ordering his wife and children who tremble with fear. A young girl screams hysterically in the next one whenever she hears a footstep, “They are coming for me. Save me.”

The town has a church, a temple, synagogue and a mosque where prayers are held daily. Everyone prays for peace and prosperity that they think is locked elsewhere behind the Blue door. They all hold each other’s faith in doubt. They all live in constant fear and pride of their gods. They fight and attack each other relentlessly. It feels as though they are compelling their gods to compete in a race to gain the highest glory and power of the land (just like they wanted the children to compete once upon a time). Sadly, they have managed to drive both gods and children away.

After prayers everyone returns to the little hell they have managed to create. The Blue door remains shut forever. In their fight, hatred and bigotry, the town has forgotten that the gods have left key to the door with them – the key that opens only when there is love and kinship.

Jump

Unable to find answers

Unable to bear the questions

Acutely aware

Of all closed doors

And humiliations

And all silences

She decided to jump

As she walked along the edge

Too many thoughts

Crowded her mind

She wanted to cut loose

From the past

From the present

The questions

The helplessness

The despair

Her luckless and

Loveless life

When no one pays heed

When life is cruel

What’s the point?

What’s the point?

On and on

The thoughts fogged her mind

Tears blinded her vision

Suddenly a stranger stopped her

“Please take one bunch please.

I haven’t eaten whole day”

A blur of bunch of yellow roses

Were staring at her face

Prodding her was

Another voice of despair

Carrying a bunch of bloom

What an irony!!

She paid the boy

And watched the train go by

She brought home

The yellow flowers.

She wondered…

There is a point maybe…

There are people maybe…

There are doors maybe…

There are paths maybe…

There is a future maybe…

That day she didn’t jump

But took a leap of faith instead!