Hope for tomorrow

The birth of a child signifies the start of the something new. It is if you think really hard about it a symbol of hope, a promise, and a chance. Why? Because every human being is born as a blank slate – it is the people and the environment around them, who do the writing, at least in the early, most impressionable years. So ask yourself - why does a child who sees no wrong, go on to commit some of the most heinous crimes as an adult or teenager? It is not a blame game. It is not about absolving criminals, they need to be punished. It is a relevant question. It is an attempt to understand the cause, before we start looking for the right cure.

Below are what I think could be some of the biggest influences on this blank slate, and what each one of us can do in these roles that will help rewrite the future of the country, and the world.

Parents: Are we there for our children? Do we instill in them a sense of self-worth and confidence? Do we love them and cherish them? Do we teach them (without preaching) about being a good human being? Do we raise them so they can make the right choices on their own? Do we know when to intervene, and when to let our children be? Can we pick up on signals that our child maybe troubled? Mothers – do you teach your son to respect women, do you treat women with respect, what do you think about yourself as a woman? Fathers – sons look to you as their role model- but are you the right one?

Teachers: Do you undermine a child’s ability or do instill a sense of confidence in them? Do you understand them as people, and not just another seat in the classroom?

Friends: We have the freedom to choose who we are friends with. But again here as parents do we know who our child talks to everyday, who does he/she share their biggest secrets with? Friends are the biggest influence on your son/daughter aside from you, so make the effort to know and understand them too.

Education system: Are we talking to children at the right age about the right issues? Are we teaching them about human rights? Being a good citizen, not just a good student? Is quality education reaching all sections of society?

Media/Entertainment: As film makers are you making movies that portray women merely as objects? Is that piece of violence making your movie any better? Actors and actresses – are you all about the pay check or bringing back the art to cinema? Are you forgetting that movies are not just about entertainment, but a powerful tool to pass on relevant messages?

Nobody is born with an agenda. It’s a sum of what they see, hear, learn and experience every day. From the very second we are born, dependent on the people and environment around us, to the time we become individuals, capable of making our own decisions and choices, a lot happens, and in its own way, it shapes us. So if you think about it, every birth is an opportunity for us as parents and as society to create a good human being, and a responsible citizen. Let’s not bring a child into the world, which cannot be raised with the right amount of love and attention. It is nothing but the destruction of hope.

The idea of a woman

Last week couple of young college students from CRY come over asking for donations for the education of a girl child. They come to our home to discuss this. But of course they want to talk to the man of the household- the one who probably has the control over money, the maximum power to make decisions. So I sit there and listen as my husband tells them that he already donates to CRY regularly (which he does!), they look a bit disappointed, they want a cheque right away before the new year. All the while I am sitting right there! They haven’t looked at me once. I ask them if they would like a donation from me – I gave them a cheque for Rs 6000, that I hope will go to good use, helping the girl child, who will one day grow into a WOMAN, who is educated, and can in the future go on to change the definition of the word “woman”.


I am writing this because – this is the state of our society. It is this “idea” of who a woman is, what her role, her place in society is– that is the cause of the crimes against the woman. It is strange that we have all these NGO’s fighting for the rights of the girl child and yet it is not about the girl child. It is about human rights, why is she any different? The day we redefine what it means to be a woman will be the day we will finally be able to safely step out alone with whoever we choose, at any time in the day/night, wearing whatever we want. It’s not going to be easy, this fight against the “false” idea of the woman. We need to put our gloves back on.

Letting Go....

It’s the inevitable moment of truth for any parent. It gives you a sense of accomplishment, a sense of pride and strangely enough a sense of sadness. It’s what kids do, and it’s called growing up. From the time they enter your arms at the hospital, to the first words, the first step – they let go at so many points, and it seems they let go so quickly!

I know I’ve felt the most confusing things, the need to laugh, cry, smile, and scream at so many points in the last 5 years. But the emotion that unravels around you when you know they slowly but surely no longer need you, is overwhelming. I felt that a few days ago, fleetingly but deeply. She wanted to sleep in her room on her own. It seemed like a breakthrough initially! But for me the moment of happiness was short lived. There she lay in her room looking like she was asleep, hugging her doll for comfort, not me. Peaceful. Every minute, was a walk down the hall to check if she would wake up, and come running back. Was she feeling cold? Maybe the night light was too bright? Should we leave a light on in the hall way incase she got scared? What if she woke up and forgot where she was? 5 minutes nothing, turned into, 10 minutes not a noise, turned into 15 minutes and she stayed where she was.

I lay in bed thinking, almost crying. It’s that sickening feeling, I know I’ll probably feel many times in the coming years. They are moments of incredible happiness that proves there’s no greater and more challenging job on the planet than bringing up a kid. It’s the time they can eat on their own, take a bath on their own, sleep on their own, read on their own, ride the cycle on their own, and go to school on their own, cross the road on their own. It's what they'll do later like drive on their own, live on their own, make decisions and mistakes on their own. Eventually you realize that each one of these is a sign of them growing up and that you may soon be out of a job. It’s a sign that as much as you‘re not in a hurry for them to grow up, that they are. It’s the fight within you, to make them independent, successful, and confident, but still want them to come back to you. And I just realized that they probably will. Because, as a parent, a dad, a mom you really don’t have the option to retire.

20 minutes later she was standing outside our door. Somewhere inside, I felt happy, and then incredibly stupid for feeling happy. But then I didn’t want her to go back. So we slept through the night, her chubby little hands wrapped around me. Even if it was for a few more days, it felt like having my little baby girl back. So I held tight.

I will let her go eventually, when we’re both ready.

The Incredible Game

I only write when something inspires me to write. Something incredibly inspirational happened on 2nd April 2011. India lifted the world cup after 28 years. Wow what a game. I was just 3 years old and when India under Kapil Dev won the world cup and am positive I did not understand what the fuss was all about. Fair enough to say that I do a little now though. Disclaimer before any one starts reading: Indian fans are the best, they bring more energy to the game than any other country!.This is just my opinion, on how I think we should be watching the game. My rambling here is also inspired by photos of the Sri Lankan team being greeted back home with cheers after the World Cup Finals. No taking away Jayawardane's super performace. This is what got me thinking about cricket and how we view it here in India. I have never really been an avid cricket watcher, I learnt about it from my dad, watched my first real world cup in 1996. Since then I watch a few matches now and then, hate the IPL (traditionalist at heart, am still for a full 50 over match sans the cheerleaders – what happened to cricket being a gentleman’s game?). Still a fan of the Chennai Super Kings though and am slowly warming up to the concept. I think I am also one of the few Indians for whom cricket was and is just a sport, it’s about good teams giving their best, and has very little to do with emotions and more to do with enjoying the game. Isn’t that what sport is about? Or have we Indians made cricket a religion? Sachin Tendulkar is God? I have never quite understood this equation. To me religion is nothing but faith, faith and belief in some sort of higher power that gives us more confidence makes us go through the day just a little bit easier. When we go through tough times, we fall back on this religion, do we lose faith? Do we give it up? Then I have just one question to ask - why do we give up on the Indian Team? I am asking this question because I know a lot of people didn’t believe India would win against Australia, thought at some point Pakistan had the upper hand in the semi finals, and a LOT of them were second guessing our chances against Sri Lanka. How many of us got a little uncomfortable when Sri Lanka made 274? How many of us thought India would not be able to chase this so called mammoth target? How many of us actually thought Malinga and Murali were enough to bull doze the Indian batting line up? How many of us at 31-2 thought the curtains had closed? We lost our God? These are thoughts that come into every Indian fan’s mind. And it’s not wrong, but terribly unfair to the team. What if India had lost? What about the credit to them for having reached the finals? Would we have greeted them with a garland of shoes, thrown stones into their houses? Or greeted them like winners should be greeted? We cheer them during their success and then look for heads to roll if something goes wrong. We place them on pedestals and are the first ones to pull them down if they fail. Lucky for the Indian team this time, they didn’t. And no it is not because we prayed; it’s only because they played fantastically as a team. It’s time they got the credit. I am a huge fan of the Indian Team, and was overjoyed when they won. More importantly I enjoyed every minute of the game. Because that’s what it is at the end of the day.

Of Glass Ceilings and Placards.....

Equality and freedom is something modern women have come to take for granted. It is a gift which requires no thanks or gratitude. It is ours for the taking. I am one of them. Like other women of my generation, I have been handed an easy life. We have never been denied the right to go to school, to work, to walk the streets alone, to laugh, talk, wear colorful clothes or make up. Showing our ankle is not a crime. This is the world I live in. Should we be thankful for these things? I don’t know – after all aren’t some of these basic human rights? Or do we need to call them women’s rights?

Let’s take a journey to Afghanistan – the beautiful country with beautiful people, a troubled past and an uncertain future. Here amidst the many mountainous valleys you will find the answer to my question. Here human rights are not women’s rights. Where Taliban or no Taliban, women are mistreated beyond belief. I was transported to this hell on heaven through a moving and revealing book called “A Thousand Splendid Suns” by Khalid Hosseini. It made me curious to learn more about Afghanistan and its women. A country so close in geographical proximity to mine but far removed with regards to the ways of life, and the treatment of women. Here a life of dignified freedom is still a distant dream for most women and yet they carry on bravely, some risking their lives by participating in politics or exposing the crimes of the Taliban. To me it is another Holocaust – where physical atrocities aside, the human spirit is minced to a pulp without remorse or guilt. And all I can do is read. The frustration of being powerless starts to creep in. I am an educated, working woman, juggling work and family, free to do as I please, one among the men, I am empowered. Or am I?

As the book raced through my mind on the drive back home – I feel a sense of anger. Why do the true power wielders from the other so-called developed nations, the Governments, the humanitarian organizations sit back and watch. Are they doing nothing? With this question in mind I stepped down from the car as I reached home – and what I saw left me speechless. All the thoughts on women’s rights, equality etc etc came crashing down. There on a huge glass placard stuck to the wall that contained apartment numbers and corresponding owners was the real answer. Eternia I N32 – Mr Kaushik Madhavan – I read silently. This was my home too I thought, I cough up half of that dreaded EMI, I live in it, why has my name been left out? Then a closer examination tells me I am not the only one at the receiving end of this planned omission – all the flat owners are coincidentally –Men.

That night I entered my home- feeling like a cast away. Like I was still paying rent. It struck me that, this is just a small example of how it still exists – the inequality, the injustice – tucked away here and there waiting to pounce on you like a ghost from the past. But it is sadly the present, from the killing of the girl child in villages to the discrimination at job interviews (Are you married? Do you have kids?).

Has the experience taught me to be more grateful as a woman in today’s modern society? Yes and No. Yes because I want to recognize the suffering of women in parts of my country and other countries who fight back with dignified patience, that I will never know...their spirits too strong to be broken by the injustice that is doled out to them. No, because like the women of modern society we have not been blessed with this quiet dignity. We must fight to have our way. And that is what I will do, to get my name etched against the apartment that I co-own. To others, it may seem, small , insignificant, almost trivial. But to me this is more than just about a glass placard.

Beautiful Chaos

Last Friday, I found myself in Mylapore to buy gifts as a part of the “Thamboolam” for guests who would visit my very first Navaratri Golu at our new home. Excited, I alighted from the auto - the heat and noise hit me in the face – cars, autos, the inevitable Scooties and Hero Honda’s , people and shops crammed the small street in Mylapore next to the famous Kapaleeshwar Koil. This is the essence of Chennai, Tamil Nadu – the land of filter coffee and temples. The dust, sand, heat mingled with the overpowering aroma of malli pu, smanthi pu and roja pu – the smell of faith, religion, hope whatever you like to call it. It greets you everywhere as you walk through the crowded street.

There are rows of shops - doorless and inviting - shops arranged with bangles, bindis, hair clips, handbags, mirrors, combs , ear rings and other little trinkets. Shopkeepers call out to you – almost as if they can read your mind. On the other side of the street; Lakshmis, Saraswatis, Durgas, Ganeshas, Vishnus smile at the crowd that surrounds them. These are the handpainted clay “Golu Bommais” that will grace most houses in South India for the nine days of Navaratri with their colorful presence. Bright pinks, blues, yellows and green, the colours of divinity, mix effortlessly with the sweat of the vendors pushing their carts filled with more dolls and idols. For those who like shopping indoors, there are stores (with doors) a rare sight on this stretch, that house Kuthu Velakkus or Brass and Silver pots for the Kalasam and other items useful for daily pujas.

Amidst this noise you can hear the hagglers, the ones whose sleep at night depends on the one or two rupees they are able to save. I joined in and stopped by one of the many shops. A packet of bindis encrusted with tiny colorful stones. How much? Rs 5. A pair of intricately decorated bangles? Rs 15. I decided that it was okay to sacrifice a night’s sleep and paid up. This is also not the place to window shop I realized (first because there are no windows) – pick something up, enquire about its price or how it is made? what is it made of? where it is made? and the shopkeeper will patiently answer your so called “questions” till you decide to move on. Then as you are about to leave, your steps slowly turning towards the next shop, you are greeted with a piercing look - the face of a person who has been betrayed by your feigned interest. If you have the stomach you move on, if you don’t – well you just pay up. Lesson learnt.

20 minutes later, I am done shopping, bags filled with kumkum, mirrors, combs, bangles and bindis. But I have the urge to still walk, to explore and consume the raw beauty of the surrounding s. The sweat, the dust, the pollution fades in the background, as you watch the eager faces of shopkeepers, the women weaving flowers with such ease and skill, the autos maneuvering like snakes through the crowd, the smell of mallipu and petrol, and the rows and rows of gods and goddesses that have descended from the heavens to participate in this chaos. Nowhere in the world I thought will you find this – it runs in our blood – and to be amidst it, chaos decked in all its finery is something I will treasure for a long time.