Sunday, July 15, 2018

Moms and Mollycoddled Sons.



Men do have it easy, and even more so in India. Enabled with the warm embraces of their mothers entitled worldview, Indian men (disclaimer: for the most part) have been mollycoddled into being incompetent in ways of domestic life, and are unapologetic about it.

The drudgery of housework wreaks its havoc on all functioning adults, or rather should, sparing no gender. However how the housework has come to be a largely gendered activity is a lesson in sociology and worthy of a doctoral dissertation.

Having said that, there are definitely some recurring themes that prompt us in the direction of the role of mothers and how they raise their sons.
Boys  are often encouraged to play outside, and often for girls playtime is centred around household chores: pretend tea parties, “ghar-ghar”,and “let her knead the flour, cos she will enjoy it” narratives. Some naysayers may argue, that girls gravitate to these tasks naturally.  Err, perhaps. But mainly because they have seen their grandmothers and their mothers fussing over food and the dust bunnies in the house, while the men talk politics and debate over the new tax regulations. The segregation we face in India – and many other parts of the world – the gender-normal silos of male and female, boys and girls, ladke and ladkiyan, they become etched in us from an early age.  And by virtue of this knowledge we learn to emulate the family members similar to our gender – boys mirror their fathers, and girls their mothers.
However, it does not end there. Boys are often revered in India – the valiant son, the protector, the provider, the propagator of the family name. So much so, their very existence is considered a blessing. And no, don’t get me wrong, it does not happen consciously, our society structures have been built in a way which enables a boy and his family to be endowed with confidence : physical prowess, financial prowess, and entitlement that accompanies it. Shit loads of it.

By virtue of not having to shoulder domestic responsibilities while growing up–because they have been handed off to the sister or dotingly performed by the mother­­–men are rendered useless in the face of being responsible for running a house. 

There is a corollary to this as well - which is women are socialised to think that a clean and a beautiful house is a verdict on their competence and value as a woman. But that discussion is for another day.  





Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Padmaavat: Fictional account of a Fiction




Disclaimer: This is a review of the Movie Padmaavat, which is a work of fiction, which is based on Jayasi’s Padmavat, which is also a work of fiction (or so they say).
Disclaimer: This review does not intend to glorify the practice of movie reviews.
Disclaimer: No sentiments were hurt while writing this, however, some may be hurt on reading this review.

Disclaimer (Rant Disguised as a Disclaimer): All those decrying Feminists view on this movie, please pause to think. Whose view would you rather take? Steve Bannon's?
When Malik Muhammed Jayasi wrote “Padmavat” in 1540, almost 200 years had elapsed since its central characters Allaudin Khilji and Ratnasimha (the character after which Rana Rawal Ratan Singh so stoically portrayed by Shahid Kapoor is based) lived and fought.
Padmaavat directed by Sanjay Leela Bhansali is based on the poem Padmavat written by Jayasi. Historians remain divided about the historical accuracy of this work, with mostly Rajasthani historians claiming that Rani Padmavati indeed existed, whereas many others argued that she was actually a work of fiction. However, the non-fictional or fictional nature of the characters is the topic of discussion for another day.
Sanjay Leela Bhansali's vision is larger than life indeed, and this is evident in the very first frame of the movie itself. The rich blue hues of the Singhal Kingdom where Padmavati played by Deepika Padukone hunts with such dexterity and grace and accidentally hurts Rawal Singh with her arrow (literally, and perhaps figuratively as well), sets the scene for the introduction of the characters. That this very brave, independent soul, will be on the path of self-immolation only three hours from now, is something, one can’t fathom.
As the pair falls in love, and Rana Rawal Ratan Singh manages to propose to our protagonist – and bring her to Chittor where she promptly transforms into a ghoonghat clad bride from a warrior princess.
Not to mention the little detail that our Rana is already married. But Rana Rawal Singh is God personified who can do no wrong – from the beatific smile on his face, to his Rajputana code of honour, to his luscious locks and the moustache on point.
His first wife, Rani Nagmati portrayed by Anupriya Goenka looks on with subdued anger as the procession makes its way into the fort. Of course, I would be pissed too, but that character arc is left essentially unexplored, apart from a few scenes where we see smidgens of anger and jealousy. I wish these strains had been explored a bit more, but then again that would detract from the main narrative.
The voyeuristic Raghav Chetan (the priest) played by Aayam Mehta, is the devil incarnate who when banished from Chittor, manages to ensnare our Khilji played devilishly by Ranveer Singh, with his poetic description of Rani Padmavati.
The rich tapestry of the cinematographer's vision – the rich red of the Ghoomar song or the sunburnt orange of the Rajasthani landscape, soon give away to the depiction of barbarism and debauchery in Khiljis Delhi – where he rapes his wife, kills his father-in-law and laughs maniacally, in no particular order.
Khilji soon attacks Chittor to catch a glimpse of this fabled Rani Padmavati, and what follows is a back and forth which seemed as pointless as the scene where Khilji douses a slave in itar and then rubs the slave all over him. We get it, Khilji = evil, and Rana Rawal Singh = God. Now, every movie needs a villain, and in this narrative that villain is Khilji, so everything is done to vilify him. With scenes alluding to his bisexuality – the slave Malik Kafur (delectably played by Jim Sarbh) singing a paean while Khilji cosies up to a lady in a camp outside Chittor to the large chunks of meat he devours with much anger, no doubt remains in the mind of the viewer as to the integrity of this character. To tell the truth, Ranveer Singh has managed to embody the director's vision for Khilji in a way only Ranveer can. He is believable, so believable, that you love his barbarism, his reality, and his madness. His presence engulfs the screen, amidst characters that seem lacklustre and unidimensional.
The movie trudges on in the second half, where one starts to wonder if Rana Rawal Singhs code of honour is possibly getting in the way of his intelligence. As Rana goes for the final battle, our Rani Padmavati seeks permission to perform Jauhar (self-immolation) in the event he does not make it back. As I said earlier, the transformation of this warrior princess to this subservient patriarchal minion seems incomplete and contrived.
The battle scene between Khilji and Rana is unimpressive, where Rana Rawal Ratan Singh is impaled by multiple arrows in his back. One would expect to feel sadness at the death of the main character such as his, but by this point, all one feels is relief, as the impending doom and the subsequent closure is around the corner. Finally, the end is nigh.
True to her promise, our Rani on learning of her beloveds death, goes on to give an impassioned speech to hundreds of women, that how even in victory Khilji will stand defeated since he will not be able to capture them and the sequitur that they will go to their deaths with honour.
Ceremonies are performed, a pyre is lit, and then in what entails a sordid scene that should not have lasted more than 1 minute, we are shown in slow motion the determination on Rani Padmavati's face as she inches towards the fire, her tresses billowing in the dry breeze.  No anger, no conflict, but a peaceful determination. Some may choose to call it brave, but really it is a glorification of an act that should remain relegated to the history books as a cautionary tale. Instead, we have Jauhar being depicted as a symbol of bravery, as we see Rani Padmavati and hundreds of women self-immolate themselves. And just before we see any flesh being burnt or witness the horror of humans burning alive, the screen goes dark, with an endnote and a voiceover that reminds us how women are revered for their bravery in committing Jauhar, to this day.
I’m not suggesting this be erased from our collective conscience, but rather that artists use platforms to tell better stories, and set better narratives. In a country like India, movies impact the masses and impact the social milieu. Projecting something grotesque as valour, when it stands for regressiveness in its purest form is not a creative expression that our society needs to extol. All art is political, so let us remember to make better art.

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Saturday, July 29, 2017

A Short Tale of Tresses

Naked.
That’s how I feel without my hair. No, it’s not all gone, but most of it is. I now have what people In India call a “boy cut”, people in the west “a pixie”, and what some right-wing individuals in the subcontinent refer to as “JNU-Feminist-Lesbian” type haircut. No, I am not making this up.
In an age where freedom of choice is so ubiquitous (for the most part), its surprising that chopping off one’s hair – only for females though – is synonymous with a statement – either a feminist, lesbian, or a power statement. 

I have been so used to hiding behind my full hair, using it to hide a spot or a blemish, or just myself, tucking myself under it, for comfort, when the world gets rough or too much to handle. Not having this cover, this curtain of sorts, takes getting used to.
My fat cheeks have nowhere to go but face the world head on, my freckled nose, or my unkempt eyebrows, have no recourse.  They have to be there, all the time.  Then there’s my ears, which have lost their sheath of sorts, and stand at guard now, without the layer of hair.



I can’t hide my face when it confronts me in the mirror anymore. This is the reality, high time I lost the facade.

Sunday, January 1, 2017

The Demonetisation Denouement


I distinctly remember the night of 8th November, when a newsflash alerted me to the fact that Rs. 500 and Rs 1000 would cease to be legal tender from midnight. It was early evening as I sat sipping my tea after work, in my London apartment. I was watching the CNN coverage, eagerly awaiting the first results from the US and preparing for a Clinton victory (little did I know, but that’s a story for another day). I quickly changed channels and saw what was transpiring in India. Demonetisation, as it was termed, was indeed a radical step. Mamta Bannerjee called it a “Draconian” move even.  I felt a masochistic thrill – chaos is something I avoid, but when it does happen, I do feel that getting out of the imminent chaos is something worthy of getting excited over for the planning and subterfuge it would entail. But I digress. 
I rationalised, perhaps too quickly, about the repercussions, with digital transactions and credit cards, reliance on cash has decreased, so on a personal level I didn’t feel concerned. I did feel though that people hoarding tonnes of black money would be lost, and that made me feel great. After all weren’t these the people, with the BMWs and Mercedes with their big houses, dropping money everywhere they went, wreaking a trail of ostentatious havoc? They deserved to have their worldview shaken if not destroyed. A quick phone call home to Delhi, and I realised my mom was panicking since she did not have enough cash, which she thought was necessary since she is a caretaker for my aged grandparents. In emergencies for instance, having cash is a much needed source of comfort. She did manage to get a few hundred rupees from neighbours and friends to tide over the initial hiccups.
I soon turned my attention to the US election, as my Whatsapp kept buzzing every few minutes with several groups sending and sharing jokes and doomsday scenarios relating to demonetisation.

                                                                                 ……

Fast forward a couple of days, and the mercurial attitude of the government was made evident as far as the rules were concerned. As of December 20th, 54 rules were offered (in 42 days). Lines in ATMs ceased to abate, and the debates ensued.
People I spoke to – a few that did not have connections with bank officers and such, stood in queues for more than 21 hours over several days. They mentioned there was extreme anger towards the government, but somehow, this narrative got hidden in the charade of the schadenfreude – happiness at the anticipated misery of the black money hoarders.
The driver employed by my family in Delhi told me that he could only withdraw Rs. 10,000 from his Jan Dhan Yojana account in a month. He needed to withdraw atleast Rs. 2000 more to meet his monthly expenses. I asked him what he planned to do, he shrugged and said he would borrow the money and try open another “normal” account next month so he can deposit his salary given by cheque there and withdraw more than Rs. 10,000 at a time.
Meanwhile news of people dying, someone from a heart attack while waiting in an ATM queue, to an infant dying due to delayed treatment, crept up on me, slowly shaking my stance from that of ambivalence to disgust at the attitude the government, and us – the “plastic” elite, had taken at the suffering of others.

........


When I reached India in mid-december, I saw serpentine queues everywhere- ATMs, Banks. The ATMs that had no queues, had usually no money.
Meanwhile, people who had the right “connections” – had been able to acquire the new currency in abundance. I met people who had several new currency notes, an obscene amount really, they boasted of their connections in banks and how they had to just make a call to get these monies. I met someone who had managed to get rid of all of their cash in the old currency, without making any loss. I met people who said their business was down because of demonetisation. I met people who had queued for half a day to withdraw Rs.2000, foregoing half a days salary.
Meanwhile, I also read, read about business which were suffering or had to let go of employees (read here and here). I found out about the negative impact demonetisation had on the fish markets, the flower farmers, the silk industry in Odisha, the textile bazaar in Delhi, textile market in Malegaon, tourism in general, employment, consumer spending (For an exhaustive list see appendix).
Though funnily enough, when I spoke to a real estate broker, he mentioned that several property deals had been done with the older currency (at a commission) implying that the people with black money had managed to get rid of the cash by undertaking transactions which had in effect made their money “white”.  One may lament that these are anecdotal instances at best, but let’s get serious, data about such loopholes and deviances would be impossible to collect and such claims cannot be validated empirically.

                                                                               ........                                                                                

Apart from the news that was coming in, and the reality on the ground, there are other themes that warrant discussion. Firstly, the narrative of the intent of demonetisation has changed from tackling black money, to crippling terrorism, to making India Digital. These can definitely co-exist as far reasons for said move go, but the focus on digital towards the latter half of November, does make one feel that the focus was changed once the realisation sunk in, that this move had done little to deter black money generation or curb terrorist funding.
Moreover, I also feel that considering the number of illiterate in India -287 mn (the largest population of illiterate people in the world), and the fact that only 220 mn people in India have smartphones, the discourse on going “digital” is slightly naïve and premature.
I asked a worker in the city who can read and write in Hindi but not in English, if he would like to use Paytm – he did have a smartphone incidentally, he said he does not want to download it, - he was wary of the encumbering process and that he would have to file taxes. I told him he was below the taxable income threshold – but that did not assuage his nervousness. Again, I admit, this is anecdotal evidence, but such resistance to technology among people who are not “digital natives” will be something that needs to be addressed before sweeping declarations of going digital can come to fruition.

Second, many, like me were tempted in supporting the move, since any stand to the contrary meant either you supported black money or you had it. A classic case of cognitive dissonance. The government had effectively made this about the good guy vs the bad guy and that had worked wonders in garnering public support for the move. I mean who in their right frame of mind would oppose a purge of black money and all the people who evade taxes? This moral high ground perhaps prevented many from logically comprehending the severe limitations of the policy in its very genesis and implementation.


Third, a lot of people have been bolstered by the fact that the people who have evaded taxes will finally be punished. The deadline has come and passed, and now we expect that swift action will be taken against those who have deposited untaxed incomes into their accounts, and the IT department would deliver justice, and all the waiting for the “greater good” would finally be worth it. Considering the number of accounts each individual with a certain “income” may have  - how difficult would it be to deposit amounts less than Rs 2,00,000, several times over, in different accounts within the family even? Would the IT Department ever be able to track this chain down?
I hope for the sake of all those who stood in queues waiting to get their share of Rs 2500, thinking that some good will come off this entire exercise,  that the answer is yes. If not (which seems to be the likely outcome considering the way things go and of course the lovely duo of jugaad and corruption), then I wonder who will have the courage break it to all the good samaritans that all their waiting and sacrifice was just a play in the game of political grandstanding?
In the words of Nobel laureate, Bob Dylan - 

"Yes, and how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head

And pretend that he just doesn't see?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind"



........




* Below is a list of articles that I have collected in the last month or so related to demonetisation. To maintain fairness, I have included articles which highlight the negatives as well as the positives, although the negatives far outweigh the positives. I would be foolish to claim the credit for all of this research and thus must mention the effort of a certain Mr. Oberoi (Tweet @varun_oberoi) in development of these archives! 



Appendix








Bank Loans: http://m.firstpost.com/business/demonetisation-for-banks-lending-has-virtually-stopped-credit-growth-may-hit-54-year-low-3162840.html










Mob/anger :






Brunt borne by Bankers:




Micro finance:

Tourism:









Varanasi: http://www.abplive.in/videos/no-work-no-wages-labourers-in-pm-modi-s-constituency-varanasi-adversely-hit-by-note-ban-472290







Micro finance:

Wifi in Haryana village: