10 Things Which Women Should Stop Doing.**

1. Infantile, baby talk and cooing. I don’t see a baby. Don’t talk to me like one. (or to anyone for that matter)

2.  Damsel in Distress act – there is no knight in shining armor. If there was one, he would be running away from you.

3. The martyr – the sacrificing, queen of misery and regretful ranting. You are the master of your destiny. Not your husband or your parents.

4. Being mean to other women – really? Research has shown that women are more sensitive to social exclusion and thus when they feel threatened by a woman, and find themselves being potentially left out of something , they retaliate - by being mean. From an evolutionary perspective that makes sense. But hey, we overcame living in caves and eating uncooked meat, so we can overcome this too. Right?

5. Underselling themselves. Or being bad at negotiating.

Again, data shows that women start off on a worse salary than their male counterparts just because they don’t negotiate as hard.

Can you please, like, maybe, think a little, possibly about doing this little thing, if its is convenient, you know, sorry about that.

6. Living life adhering to roles: daughter, wife, mother, etc, It’s only a part of you. Not you.

7. Perpetuating sexist stereotypes: “ Boys will be boys “, “girls should not behave this way”, “nice girls don’t do that”.            

8. Run away from opportunities/change. * Run * - STOP. 

9. The mundane one – letting your life revolve around one person. Classic satellite issues.

10.  Following traditions that perpetuate sexist and male dominant values in society. I can think of several examples from India particularly in the Hindu faith that oblige a woman to adorn herself in a multitude of ways to indicate her betrothal. Are we chattel? * Rhetorical Question *

Some women however might like to do so, and that’s ok, as long as a question is asked as to the intention behind the action. ‘tis all.

Peace.

** Suggested Serving. 

Travel Roundup

I think after a certain number of long haul flights, bad airline food, and long waits at security, one needs to take stock of what makes them endure that in the first place.

Here is my collection of some of the most memorable things from the year that had me take 50 something flights to be somewhere.

1. Water sports. I don’t know why I hadn’t discovered them until now.

2. Sat in the longest cable car in the world.

3. Hiked to one of the prettiest natural beaches in Spain.

4. Celebrated my birthday at 3500 meters above sea level at Jungfraujoch.

 

5. Traveled from -1 degree Celsius to 30 degree Celsius – in 2.5 hours.

6. Ate the best key lime pie. EVER.

7. Went to Disney world. TWICE. There is still room for more.

8. Discovered the east side gallery at Berlin.

9. Had the best currywurst.

10. Drove along the Spanish coast listening to Florence and the Machine.

11. Lost money in Macau.

12. Understood the joys of using the pervasive Octopus Card in Hong Kong.

13. Had the best crème Brule in the world – not in France but in Hong Kong at the Intercontinental in Kowloon.

14. Enjoyed the Wiener Melange at the majestic Café Central which operates since 1876 in Vienna.

15. Experienced altitude sickness for the first time. 

16. Managed to rake up enough miles to upgrade to the next tier.

17. Visited London for the first time in my life! And keeping the momentum – Gibraltar.

18. Saw Africa from Europe.

19. Bid farewell to Guangzhou – my vacation home for the last 10 years.

 

20. Prayed at a Buddhist temple in Bangkok and Hong Kong. 

21.  Discovered that there are more nice people in the world than not-so-nice people.

No Rain

I waited for the rain,

I built a tent

And everything

I sat by the window each day,

All I saw was, an old tree,

Wilted, slightly in pain

I could almost smell the water,

As it would caress the dry land,

I could feel the drops of rain,

On my small stretched out hand

I could hear the rustle of the wind

In the wilted tree, even

I could hear my heart beat,

In anticipation

The thirst, that can’t be quenched,

The waiting that won’t cease

The rain that refuses to come down,

The rain that refuses to drench me.

10 things that suck about traveling

Disclaimer: Yes understand that I do run the risk of this becoming a meme for “First World Problems”

1. Public restrooms

2. Air-hostesses who literally throw food at you

3. Sitting in an aisle seat on a long haul and having people jumping across you to go to the restroom or sitting on a windows seat on a long haul and wondering how you can jump across the guy sleeping on the aisle seat so you can finally use the restroom

4. People queuing up to board a plane that has not taxied in or landed for that matter!

5.Irritated / bite-your-head-off security check people. Come one, we are trying here! Remove watches, earrings, necklaces, wristbands, belts, shoes, laptops, phones, tablets, liquids! Uffffff! It takes time!

6. How the Asian Vegetarian Meal is always devoid of the delicious mousse or pudding that the normal meal guys get.

7. Learning that the plane is an hour delayed AFTER you are nicely buckled in your seat.

8. Racial Profiling!

9. Walking out of an airport/station only to learn the phone has died, taking along with it google maps and the hotel address!

10.  The thing I hate most though is when all of this traveling and the traveling induced shit-storm ends. Now that is awful.            

The Truth Will Set You Free

July 2003: My first day of college at Delhi University. The first day I sat in a private bus. The first day I faced blatant molestation. The first day I encountered real fear.

I sat in the private bus going towards Badarpur border; several passengers boarded the bus, which was scheduled to start in a few minutes. A man sitting in front of me turned around in his seat, and continued to stare at me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and looked away. The man on the seat next to me stared at my ankles. I wore jeans that left my ankle exposed to such salacious scrutiny.

I looked back in the front, and the man continued to stare. He took out his tongue and licked his lips. I mustered all the courage I could in my 17-year-old self, and shouted “Bhaiyya, aage dekhiye.” Brother, look in the front. The man smirked, yet thankfully turned around. I bowed my head, praying to become invisible as the whole bus stared at me.

August 2008: I wake up from deep slumber on my window seat in a flight from Delhi to Guangzhou. I feel something near my back. As I move to figure out what it is, the man next to me jumps, and moves his hand. Turns out the foreign object I felt near my back, on the very small portion of skin that becomes exposed when you wear jeans and a tee-shirt and sit on a chair, yes that little sliver of skin, was the hand of this man who sat next to me. I was rendered speechless. I couldn’t believe that the man had touched me while I was sleeping. I didn’t confront him for I did not want to be in the same cylindrical airtight tube for five hours with a man who had felt comfortable enough to slip his hand on to my back, post an argument. I quietly retreated to the back of the empty plane, and wrote a furious article about how violated and angry I felt. The minute I got off the plane I called my friends back home and told them this sordid tale.

Why am I telling you this? For I have a feeling that you may not like what I am about to write next. And I need to establish my ability to empathize before I commence.

I am writing this because I think I owe it to everyone to put it out there. The recent CNN iReport by a University of Chicago student about her nightmarish stay in India became one of the most read iReports on CNN (it presently has 1,154,294 views). It highlighted once again how India continues to be the epitome of hell for women. Of course this struck a chord with many of us. Myself included. I am an Indian woman. I have been molested often number of times to know what it feels like to be violated.  I have had long passionate discussions with friends, and written scathing articles about the sexist, patriarchal, and repressed ways of the Indian society that promote this behavior of men, leaving women as a prey to their advances.

So no wonder when this undergraduate American girl wrote her story, the world was furious, India was furious, and yes, I was furious for the pain this girl had suffered. The fear that she had encountered could be felt by every Indian woman who might have ever ventured out on a dark street alone at night or driven home from work after dinner.  So appalled was I, that I wanted to read more about this woman who had suffered. I read whatever article I could find, saw whatever news item I could lay my hands on. Until I stumbled upon her YouTube channel.  She had many video logs about her stay in India, and of course intrigued as I was, I started to devour them one after another.

In one particular portion of her iReport on CNN she writes “Do I tell them about our first night in the city of Pune, when we danced in the Ganesha festival, and leave it at that? Or do I go on and tell them how the festival actually stopped when the American women started dancing, so that we looked around to see a circle of men filming our every move?”

So of course when I saw a video named  “First Day in Pune (or How to get kidnapped by a festival)” I thought it would shed more light about the horrifying nightmare she experienced. Now I wish I had written this earlier, because the said videos have been taken down, but in this specific video she talked about how she and her friends had danced in Pune on Ganesh Chathurthi and how everyone had stared at her and that had made her feel like a celebrity.

Nowhere in the video does she talk about feeling violated or uncomfortable at the stares or filming she alleged in her blog as unnerving. On the contrary she was excited, and smiling in the video. I am not sure that is how one expresses feelings of fear or anger. I know what it is like to be stared at, and as most women would agree with me, my reaction would be of anger or fear, not the ego boost that comes from feeling like a celebrity. These may sound like big words coming from someone who doesn’t have any evidence. Particularly since Michaela Cross’s YouTube channel doesn’t have these videos anymore (which makes me even more suspicious). But what possible reason could I have for bringing this out in the open but If not to tell the world what I did see, and what I did think after seeing the videos. I am not entirely sure or confident that I want to conjecture any duplicitous motivations on the part of RoseChasm, but yes I am very curious as to the discrepancy between the two accounts. One that was reported right after the alleged event (Ganesh Chathurthi) and one that came to us in the form of the CNN iReport almost a year later.

I did see other videos by her as well. Some of them have her talking about the sari she is wearing, and how she intends to use it as a tablecloth, the abysmal Internet service in India, and other jovial, rhetorical encounters of her stay in India. None of those videos present a picture of a woman living in fear, a woman who is being sexually assaulted or harassed on a daily basis

I am not ordained to justify that a persons experience is less or more painful than what it should be. For how can we ever compare pain experienced by two different people? Neither am I insinuating that India is a safe haven for women, and sexual harassment is not rampant. However, when there are some inconsistencies between what you see and infer and what is told to you, my integrity shouts at me to reconcile that information. So this is my attempt at reconciliation. All I want to know is, are we getting ahead of ourselves in this hoopla of declarations, chastising Indias abysmal safety record (which is valid) based on an account that to me at this moment, seems shaky at best?

Perhaps she did not want to share this trauma at the time, perhaps the videos don’t broach this issue for another reason altogether. Before we jump to any conclusions or make allegations, I want to know why those videos were removed.

This is a question you might not want to hear, but this is an answer I need.

Here is the link to the Youtube video which I had posted on my Facebook Timeline on August 25, which has now for reasons unbeknownst to me, been removed: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPu2GmF4Y44

The Word Everyone is Afraid Of.

Feminist. Yes I said it. We live in an era where referring to yourself, as a Feminist is no longer fashionable or even worthy of admiration.

In fact it’s quite passé or so I have inferred. When people think of a feminist, they picture a woman with a crew cut, in kitsch clothes, thick glasses, and a gay partner in tow. Now, I don’t think there has been any causal link established on this front, yet this stereotype precedes any effort or work that a said feminist may do. Now, I may myself have a short crop and thick glasses, but believe me when I say, the way I look doesn’t influence my ideology or the other way around. It doesn’t matter to me, and it shouldn’t matter to you.

But anyway, enough about aesthetics and appearances.

Feminism is not about establishing supremacy, it isn’t about proving anything. It is a belief that women ought to be respected, be treated at par with men, and be subjected to the same economic, societal, and professional norms and expectations that are applicable to men.  It seems like an obvious stand doesn’t it? But it doesn’t come naturally in India, for reasons entrenched in it’s society and it’s bastions of patriarchy.

The gender imbalance is everywhere – from a sex ratio of 917 girls to 1000 boys (2011 census) to every time a mother buys dowry for her daughters wedding. From the 500,000 girls being lost annually through sex-selective abortions (Lancet Journal) to qualified women quitting their jobs to marry and living in bitter resentment.

India is at the threshold of modernity and tradition. As these worlds collide, Indias world crumbles, its women struggle to maintain their identity - that of strong, professional, independent women, with the traditional garb of expectations wrapped around them. A woman in India knows this well, this veil of fear, of looking over her shoulder. Some of it is real, some is paranoia. How can it not be? When all the news channels are running amok talking about rape cases by the dozen everyday. At this time, we need to brace ourselves; we need feminist ideals and feminists. We need to talk about standing up for ourselves and rejoicing in our strength, our ability to outshine boys in high school exams (Indian Express: CBSE Class XII board exam results out, girls again outshine boys) and essentially realize our-self worth.

I think the atmosphere in the country is ripe for this collective feminine conscience to come together. We need to pledge to stand up for ourselves, our wants and desires, our education, nobody else will come fight this battle for us. We need to pledge to stand up for one another, to not let an innocent woman be undermined, her identity stripped, and molded into a life of fulfilling others dreams. We need to stand up against the insane behavior of cretins against women, and put them to shame. We are 50% of the population after all. If we are together, and fortify each other, no amount of misguided social lubricant can make us slip.
Let us finally, stop hiding behind the veil of fear.

Brown and Furious

Even though invisible weights on my eyes propel them to close, I write this, in my jet lagged state, having traveled 23 hours straight, 10,000 kms back home, in a very pensive state.

Why you may ask, this urgency?

Perhaps the need to bring closure to the anger and questions I was accosted with. Perhaps to present to the world how stereotypes and perceptions afflict so many of us.

Scenario 1: 3 days ago in a very popular hotel chain in Macau, I was buying a gift for my mother. I picked up a Chanel lipstick at one of the giant stores in the hotel, and moved along browsing other items of interest. Soon enough a sales lady came up to me on the pretext of “helping” me out with selecting the right shade of nail paint. As I browsed, she picked up the Chanel lipstick I had selected and kept on top of the nail paint counter, looked at it, and then called her colleague. Her colleague approached us and asked me with a serious face “Did you pay for this?” I was shocked! She was indirectly accusing me of shoplifting! I was inside the store with the products in plain sight (not shoved in anywhere), and yet here she thought I didn’t deserve to buy Chanel. Was it because I chose to dress a certain way or because of the colour of my skin I will never know. When I told her, I intended to pay for all the products together, she quickly corrected her stand, and said “Oh I was just checking the color”. I was rendered speechless.

Takeway: If you look like I do (Indian/Brown) and don’t dress like you stepped out of  Vogue you can’t possibly afford Chanel. If you do pick it up by mistake, you either don’t know the price of this product or are shoplifting.

Scenario 2: I was traveling Economy on Emirates, and not being well that day, wanted to enquire the price of an upgrade so I could pass the journey with some comfort considering it had to be undertaken. As I approached the check in counter and asked the guy if I could purchase an upgrade his exact words were “ You want to pay 10,000 HK Dollars to upgrade?” He said this without looking at the ticket prices. I told him, that I was unable to purchase the upgrade online and hence was compelled to ask him, so if he could just check and let me know the price. His words “ Well ofcourse you couldn’t, you are traveling Economy”. With that the matter was closed, and he didn’t volunteer any information. I did approach the ticketing office later and managed to purchase an upgrade. The amount was cheaper than what the guy had told me earlier. I did get what I wanted, but I was left feeling mortified at this agents crude, snappy judgment. Not only was it bad customer service (a separate issue on service failure/ bad word of mouth) but the social implications were more resounding than ever. Maybe I didn’t look the part of a quintessential business/first class traveler, again maybe my brown skin brought in some stereotypes about Indians, I will never know, but yes it was a humbling experience.

Takeway: If you are not carrying a Louis Vuitton Bag, you have no right to purchase an upgrade to Business class.

Scenario 3: Dubai International Airport. I approach the boarding gate from the business/first class aisle which is empty. The Emirates agent, a lady, who stands guard to check the passport and boarding pass looks at me, irritated, and snaps “ This is for Business Class”. I  hand her my First Class Boarding Pass. Her face contorts into a surprised “Oh” and she lets me through.

I think: Did that just happen?

Takeway: Same as the takeway below scenario 2.

Reality Check: Stereotypes do exist and they do stifle us.

Racism is a serious reality, one which we can not shy away from and racial profiling during travels is one of the most ubiquitous form of racism. It might not seem bad, but it does cast a patina of dirt on this world we are trying to ostensibly make a better place for everyone. The fact that this form of distinction and discrimination exists, even though it may be so tepid in comparison to some forms of racial discriminations people have faced in the last decade, proves that we still have some distance to cover.

I do admit however, that much of the race issue in India is inherently a reflection of its own society and the ills that afflict it, interacting with a sense of inferiority – a legacy of the colonial rule, and a sense of a reverence for all things white. But at this juncture, I only wish to comment on the nature of my recent experience, and not dissect the causes, for delving into that would require another PhD thesis, and the one that I am working at the moment has me quite occupied.

I conclude with the words of Martin Luther King, Jr

“I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character”

Here’s Hoping.

Why The Nation Should Mourn Today

1. The prime accused in the brutal Delhi gang rape gets only a three* year sentence in a juvenile home. Sure the law states that as the toughest punishment for a minor, but is our law so rigid that it cannot see right from wrong? How can a person violate another someone so brutally and yet get away with it without having serious reverberating repercussions? Do people actually believe that he did not know what he was doing? Did he not hear the girls plea to stop or had he knocked her out cold? Was he still a child when he did all that?

I hope our country can wake up to these answers some day. Until then, I pray that some form of justice take form. If not at a legal level, then perhaps at the level which humans can’t comprehend the cosmos.

*Might I add, it’s actually 3 years less 8 months he has already spent in custody during the inquiry. Really, are there any more loopholes we can find?

2. When a major politician asked the men of the country to own up today, and declared that they must ensure safety of women in the country – instead of being lauded, a prominent media channel, declared him as “patriarchal”. How very unfortunate.

When the country is full of politicians asking women to stay at home at night, and not wearing “provocative” clothes, or doing pretty much anything that can be deemed suggestive by men (exist even?), when someone comes along chastising the wrongdoer, that should be appreciated, not called patriarchal.

Shame on us. 

3. Today when the rupee has slid to apocalyptic lows against the dollar/euro and as inflation on all counts bites all around, the public morale is down. This economic downturn, when the rest of the world picks up pace post recession, interspersed with repeated social disgrace – a prominent man of God sexually assaulting a teenager (allegedly), rapes in Mumbai and Noida,  has left the nation down on its knees. It is now we need a leader who can bring our diverse interests together, and channel this anger and frustration for the better. Motivate, Inspire, lead. Alas, we are yet to see a charisma. The void on this front, makes the unity of our nation, our resolve, shake with trepidation every time a crisis comes to fray.

4. This last one I add just because it’s a reason to mourn everyday and not just today.

How many times have you seen a fellow Indian while traveling outside the country and skirted your eyes away? How many times has that been done to you?

What about fairness creams? Indians are so hung up on being “white” that they forget what they were intended to look like? Could this be termed as a colonial hangover? Maybe. Could this be a symptom of an inferiority complex? Certainly.

I am not sure I can say that many of us are proud to be Indians. How could we be? If brain drain was a signal, we like to flee at the earliest opportunity. College if we are lucky or if we work hard enough - on a project to America! And woe is upon him, he who considers returning to the land mired in bureaucracy, social politics and strife.

For a country so rich in diversity – from food to languages, music and dance to topography, religions to rituals, don’t we have enough to be proud of? Yet, we of the castes, and states, and religions and political affiliations, we shun the “other” in lieu of the one who “belongs”. Examples through time resonate well with this theme – the divide between the cultures of North and South India, you’d think that they were two disparate nations being something I have experienced personally. Caste segregation also adds to this potpourri of nonsense, but you all know what I am talking about. Look no further than the classified pages of the matrimonial section so neatly divided by castes/religion. Yes, we let all of this flourish, us the educated, IIT schooled, IIM-ed, MNC working, Five-star dining, air conditioned living, smart phone wielding, alcohol consuming, western ethos embracing individuals.

When do we grow up and learn, that we need to be proud of our country? Not the pride that spills into arrogance. But the pride that comes from bridging the crippling divides between the rich and the not, the Brahmins and the Shudras, the Punjabis and the Tamils, the Hindus and the Muslims. Until we do. We must mourn. For we let down our heritage every day.

@mudra_m

10 Things I Love About Madrid

1. You can play loud music at midnight with windows open and the neighbors never complain, since they are themselves celebrating loudly, drinking Mahou.

2. The stark difference between Salamanca and Malasaña. From fur coats and stylish coiffures to crop tops and pink hair, the city embraces everything.

3. How happy everyone is in the summer. You can feel it in the air.

4. How a cloud of laziness pervades the city come July, and not much is done or expected.

5. The acceptable length of shorts (or the lack of it thereof).

6. The continuous protests that disrupt the city, and the passion behind the motivation. You never know when you’d turn into a street and be joining screaming protestors.

7. The madness over football.

8. How blue the sky is. Even in winters.

9. The ability of the city to seem safe even at 2 am at night.

10.  The restaurants offering three course “menu del dia” for lunch.            

Wanderers, Survivors.

We are fighters and survivors. Wanderers. We have always been this way.

North Indians are believed to be descendants of the Indo-Aryans. The gene pool of North Indians carries Central Asian genetic lineage as well, thereby conclusively providing evidence of Indo-European linkages. Having settled in the Indo-Gangetic plain, life wasn’t easy yet. Constant invasions by Mongols in the 13^th century AD lead to the Mughal empire which was predominantly Islamic.

I have always wondered how the Hindus must have practiced their faith in turbulent times when their ruler followed another faith. Perhaps Akbars tolerance towards Hindus is revered world over, but it must have taken some resolute faith in their Gods for Hindus to unwaveringly continue on their path of religious enlightenment. The story of grit and perseverance doesn’t end here.

"Memory" by Satish Gujral

The British rule in India for most of 19^th century and the middle of 20^th century tore the nation along lines of religion. As a gift of independence, India was given borders. Borders that divided a Hindu India, and an Islamic Pakistan.

Millions moved across the border without food, water or any material possessions to get to their rightful land. Millions perished at the hands of hatred.

Out of this medley of movement, Delhi as it exists today was born. A city of refugees, wanderers, fighters, and survivors.

Over the years India, and it’s people has seen much strife – invasions, wars, battles, migrations, abandoned homes. But this has made us strong.            

It’s time we awaken our dormant self again, and rise up for what is right. A nation that deserves our attention, our voices and our dedication.

Wanderers, Wander Right.

The Second Rate Citizen

For all the faults that I may find in the public, social, religious and legal way of things in India, it takes some moment to dawn upon me that I will only ever be a “first rate citizen” of India and no other land. This realization may be befuddling to some, but can also be empowering if looked upon correctly.

Brain drain from India has been something that the middle class has always lauded and encouraged. With sons and daughters either studying or working “abroad” or married to a Non Resident Indian (NRI), much prestige can be earned at the evening gossip sessions in the neighborhood parks. Of course said sons and daughters  (self included) also show a keen proclivity to churn out high GMAT/GRE scores and run away to US and UK to acquire the much sought after masters education, never to return, slowly getting absorbed into the vortex of American commercialism or afternoon tea-drinking acts of ostentatious propriety.

Slowly, as the realization dawns that chaotic, confusing, overpopulated India is a great melting pot for stirring cultural conversations, but when it comes to actually living there, the poverty, the corruption, the reckless driving, the heat and stench, remind us of all things that made us stay away in the first place. And then ever so slowly, the second rate citizen is born. I am one of those, I must admit with much shame.

Living away from Delhi has been liberating in many ways but in no way has it been more profound than in making me realize the respect women can earn while on their own. Yet, every time I try to revel in this breath of fresh air, I am reminded that I need to come to another country to deserve this form or independence and respect. This angers me of course, but not enough to do something about it. Clearly, “ being the change, you want to see in the world” is easier said than done.

Being an expat is however, not all about moments of enlightenment and unbridled travel and decadence. It is more about the realization of the colour of your skin: how very brown it is. How sometimes being the only brown person on a European flight can get you an extra special treatment and an extra vigilant passport check even when traveling in the Schengen area doesn’t warrant one.

But this is the choice we ought to live with. Being the blue fish with the other blue fish in a dirty pond, or being a blue fish with other red fish in a clean pond.

 Waiting for the said pond to clean up may be a tad optimistic on my part.  But no matter where I roam or where I live, there is only one place that is home: India. Everything else is transitory.

The Debt

Religion and rituals are often synonymous with each other. Nowhere is that more true than in India. However, as time goes by many rituals associated with religion lose their meaning. Not theoretically, only that people don’t know why they do what they do. They end up blindly following priests as they dictate what needs to be done. I wonder why I never questioned anyone before, and what made me do that today. As we sat down for the prayer, and priest commenced by tying a red thread around our wrists as is customary, I asked my grandmother the significance of the same. She didn’t know the answer but urged me to ask the priest. I turned to the priest, and hesitantly asked him the same question. The priest told me that the Indian caste system required each “Hindu” –Brahmin (priests), Kshatriya (warriors) andVaishyas (merchants) but not Shudras  (the untouchables) to wear three threads – Janeuon their body to remind them of the debt they owe to the Rishis – the knowledge creators, the Gurus- the teachers and their parents. I was surprised to know that all castes were required to wear the thread, particularly since I thought only the Brahmins were supposed to adorn themselves with the thread. The priest continued to explain that when the Mughal emperors came to India, they were intent on exterminating the Hindus, consequently, they would look for people wearing the thread – the symbol of a devout Hindu and cut their heads off. As a resultHindus in North India, where the terror was profound, stopped wearing this holy thread. However, whenever they would sit for a prayer ceremony they would tie three threads around their wrists to remind them of the “Debt”.

Listening to the story, I felt a new found sense of faith in my religion, for all my skepticism about meaningless rituals, I had found one which made so much sense – eternal gratitude for knowledge, teachers and the people that gave you life. I am not sure if this is true or not, but this belief makes me feel positive and so I will stick to this world-view.

Disclaimer: I do not vouch for the accuracy of this rendition, as apparently the internet has several other explanations for what this thread might represent.

10 Years Past. 10 Years Hence.

What is the appropriate amount of time, after which you are allowed to pause, look back on your life, and assess your life? We don’t have a “Satisfaction with Life Scale” * being administered to us every week you see, so must of us remain clueless until we choose to go back in time mentally to one day in the past and compare our situation then and now. Of course some people might do this by comparing lives with others and go down the rabbit hole of Social Comparison, but those of us who compare between ourselves across two points in time, it’s important to make the journey into our past.

10 years ago, fresh out of school, as I stood on the threshold of an adult life and an embittered relationship, I had felt wise beyond my years. The world was my oyster and the possibilities “out there” thrilled me. I could do anything, be anyone, go anywhere.

I wouldn’t have been a true teenager if monsters of conformity and social pressures hadn’t haunted me. Battling them of course, is no easy task as many would tell you. Amidst this, as my family decided to relocate to Guangzhou from Delhi, and China become may second home. I also developed two identities akin to this twin-home dilemma.  One part of me wanted to belong- be a part of a group- where as another craved independence, wanderlust fairy dust and carefree abandon. Being from a collectivist culture that dominates India’s social fabric, the latter ostensibly misplaced desire for independence and going solo, can get you many critics, yourself included. But one knows, that when your heart desires what the others’ don’t approve of, remaining true to yourself, maintaining integrity can be the hardest task of all. Right up there with eating a skinned lizard, alive. Whole.

Ofcourse it helped my case that I had people all around me, proving how following their dreams and letting of the collective well can be liberating, literally and figuratively. As my parents set up their new home in China, it became an annual summer retreat to visit the historic city of Canton, and be reminded, that having your paradigms challenged constantly, makes you even more resolute. “You’re Indian but you live in China?” being one example of such endeavors by others to whom the inconsistencies seemed baffling. Why would anyone leave India to stay in a country where they eat locusts and speak a language that is such degrees of difficult that mastering it may require a whole new life for a non-native speaker. But to me, these were glaring examples of how one must do what he deems fit, to pursue his/her dream, even when it doesn’t make any sense to others. As long as it makes sense to you , it’s your dream after all.

Convincing people about your dream, may be another futile endeavor, which I learnt the hard way. Endorsements are nice, but if they have to be explained to be earned, then perhaps you need to steer clear of such people in the first place.

Perhaps, as I sit here looking to the eastward sky alive with the symphony of colors all pink and purple and orange and yellow, I am reminded of how the last 10 years have been full of adventures, and challenged paradigms. Now that I will no longer get to visit my summer home, it makes me feel a tad nostalgic, but also fills my heart up for that 18 year old fledgling, who knew nothing, but decided to embark on a journey that continues since the last 10 years.

I can’t wait for the next 10.

* Satisfaction with Life Scale developed by Diener et al, 1985. 

When the Moral Police Comes Knocking

Indian society has not evolved much in terms of how women are perceived. They still remain ostensibly the chalices of chastity, must congregate with men only once betrothed, dress as a lady would and must not consume alcohol. If a woman adheres to all these tenets, perhaps she will be excused moral scrutiny. However if this “moral code” is broken, which it often is, all hell breaks lose.

The shocking episode of a young girl being repeatedly slapped by a policeman in Ghaziabad police station for drinking in a car with her “male friend” speaks to this very issue.

The contention is not that anyone should be pardoned for doing something wrong, but the double standards prevalent in the Indian society.

Why must men who drink alcohol and women who drink alcohol be perceived differently? Why is it that only the woman is the one who is subjected to moral scrutiny after having been found in a “compromising position” with her friend? For ages, the flag of virtue has been handed to women to uphold, anytime a transgression is made which is deemed unacceptable by the society, women are lambasted by the police and anyone in the general milieu ranging from heads of women commissions to politically incorrect politicians.

In the end, it boils down to the clothes a girl/woman is wearing (revealing), the company she keeps (mostly men), the substances she consumes (cigarettes and alcohol) and the attitude she displays (brazen). These signals are enough for the police and even the society at large to deem a woman a whore, unsuitable for marriage, and comparable to male offenders who probably murdered someone.

As more women enter the workforce in urban areas, and go on to exert their independence, will the society come to terms with the fact that there is no moral script a woman must adhere to more than a man should? I fear that this day is not yet here.  Mostly because the people who are here to protect us: namely the police, cannot offer protection to women that they need from the perversions our society have created.

If a woman is accosted by a man who molests her, and let’s say in the odd chance she does report it to the unwelcoming police that man the police stations, she has to go through a harrowing experience by answering questions and being second guessed if it really was a case of molestation or perhaps the gentleman’s hand grazed her bosom by “accident”. Of course, if the woman is dressed in what the police deem as provocative (can be anything from jeans to shorts), then it could possibly be something she invited upon herself. How can then, deterrents knowing the reaction of police, to their leering advances, ever be stopped? Of course this is only the preventive side of the conundrum.

On a remedial side, however, much can be done, but remains hanging by a thread. Changing gender stereotypes would be a good place to start. Allowing daughters the same freedom as sons, encouraging boys to respect women, and encouraging portrayal of women in cinemas that goes beyond the sexy item number (how many male actors do item numbers?) and indeed some more gumption on the side of all women, self included, to question the disparity that screams in our faces all day, all night (particularly at night).

Dreams and Traditions

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Having recently read “Lean In” by Shreyl Sandberg, COO of Facebook, all the talk of women not being proactive enough at work, and denying themselves the ambition is fresh in my mind. As I see it, women do assume that their place is following their spouse after marriage, to wherever in the world he ends up. In doing so they sacrifice their career, friends and family. Now I understand love makes people do crazy things, but when did you last hear that a man quit his job to relocate to the city his wife works at?

I have never been made to think that I could not achieve or do certain things by virtue of my gender. I guess, I owe almost all of that to my parents, who always encouraged me to move beyond gender stereotypes. Coming from India, which Hofstede calls a “Masculine” country by virtue of its values of aggression and competition, and the general dominance of men in all areas of work from bartending to taxi driving, as well as a skewed sex ratio, the men outnumbering the women, I never felt impeded by my gender professionally. Ofcourse this was the naïve age of innocence, when I was in college and a graduate student in Delhi.

As I started my PhD, soon I realized, through chance conversations with old friends and acquaintances, about how being on the path to being “more educated than the average Indian man, may make other men in my life feel intimidated.”  While I was rendered speechless by the explicit nature of this query, I felt foolish for never having thought this might actually be the case. Needless to say I spent many days and nights wondering, if men thought that I was intimidating because of my education credentials, then I might never actually find a guy who would like me! It seemed pretty far-fetched so I dropped the idea eventually. This was a pre-mature decision in hindsight, since many conversations hence, have led me to the conclusion that a woman’s ambitious streak is regarded with as much contempt and judgment as a man carrying a ladies handbag to work. 

From an evolutionary perspective men have been the hunter-gatherers, thus being responsible for providing food and shelter for their kin. Woman always took the role of nurturing the young offspring. Of course I am talking thousands of years ago when we spoke cryptic languages, and made ornaments from clay. This argument obviously falls flat now, considering that both men and women contribute or atleast are capable of contributing equally to the families incomes.

Woman do have a physiological and biological selection to be the bearer of a offspring, courtesy the womb, yet the task of the primary caregiver also falls upon the woman, even if she is working, until many months after the child has been weaned off. There are exceptions to this rule of course, however, but the point is not to bring home the few cases, but to elaborate what happens at large.

Having been recently married, I did not perceive any change in my professional or academic life, and to be honest there isn’t. But the many women in my life, make sure to remind me that I must fulfill my “wifely” duties and live with my husband who works in another city. I feel saddened that these voices belong to many educated and professional women, who perhaps should encourage each other to pursue their dreams, rather than advocate me to charter along a path of archaic sexist traditions

Moving on to the role of a teacher in a class comprising mostly boys, it is also often difficult to get your point across, being funny and meaning business at the same time. A man could do it with great ease, but for a woman, it’s often the dichotomous variable: Mean and strict or friendly and easy going. So when I go out in the class and try to lighten the mood with a joke, and then later come around with a strict face to get everyone to shut their laptops, the transition isn’t easy. The students don’t expect this mercurial nature, and of course the routine takes time to get used to. I am still shaky, but I am sure it is possible to perfect. The stereotypical mean woman teacher who wreaks death upon all wayward students, or the timid new lady teacher wanting to appease the class, these images have to be destroyed, and fast. Studies show that women who are aggressive at work place are judged to be mean and “bitchy”, where as a man exhibiting the same behavior is judged as “competitive and achievement oriented”. In a teaching environment too, the same stereotypes would hold.

Finally, breaking into the “boys club” at any organization isn’t easy. Boys club are synonymous with talks of snooker, poker, American football, and related activities, accompanied by a feeling that it is their turf and theirs alone to traverse. By default, the women aren’t invited, since it is assumed that they are ignorant or uninterested or both for that matter! This makes entrenchment increasingly difficult for women. But of course, taking up initiatives of your own, and not waiting for the men at the work place to make an activity event, would of course enable a level proactiveness, that can be rewarded by like minded participation.

I guess I am writing this because I wanted people to know, that women are not there to follow men. Be it as wives, following husbands to their place of work, or as girlfriends sacrificing their promising careers for love. Yes, some would say they’d do it happily so to be with their loved one. But love to me, is what transcends borders, boundaries, and archaic traditions.

I don’t know when I would actually end up living together with my husband, maybe this year maybe next. Maybe something will present itself to me, and everything will fall into place. Untill then, I am moving on with my dreams, and ambitions, as some call it. Trudging on into the darkness to find out who I am.

Love doesn’t need a reason, it just needs faith. Whether its love for another person, love for yourself or love for your dreams.