Thoughts on Feminism

Simone de Beauvoir, writes in her book “The Second Sex” (http://www.amazon.com/Second-Sex-Simone-Beauvoir/dp/0679724516) that women have in general been compelled to assume a secondary position in relation to men, and although they constitute nearly half of the human race numerically, their secondary standing is only comparable to that of racial minorities. Moreover, this secondary position has arisen from social and educational forces in the environment.
Whilst, some may see the above excerpt, inspired from Mlle Beauvoir’s book as a cause for discomfort and dissent, I feel that even though with the progression of time, things are changing, much work still remains.

Motivation
Perhaps, what sparked this issue in my mind and caused much furore mentally, the product of which are these words, is a song I heard, typically known as an “Item number” back home. These songs are typical in the India Cinema, where a suitably voluptuous woman is seen gyrating to some pulsating beats, talking about her sublime levels of beauty and allure. Whilst, this aides entertainment value for the movie, it casts a woman right back into the role of a “sex object”, being objectified it seems, is not a problem for women. Could this explain the secondary stance of women then? I am not criticising the cinema or even the dancing diva, but for a country like India where our masses are uneducated with unbridled poverty, and existing oppression of one’s sexuality, would this abovementioned description of a semi-naked woman, extolling her youth and contours not create a latent unrest? What I am perhaps trying to get at, is that without social reforms, overt projections of women’s sexuality via media are only going to lead to disastrous results (Read: http://ibnlive.in.com/news/will-delhi-ever-lose-the-rape-capital-tag/136324-3.html).

Where does feminism fit in all this?
In India, Liberal feminist movements have been popular, seeking political and legal equality of men and women without actually altering the structure of the society. Currently the women get 33% of reservation in the village assembly and the women’s reservation bill plans to extend this reservation to the parliament and legislative assemblies. Other examples could be the 30% reservation for women in law schools. But liberal feminism without the support of socialist feminism is not going to achieve any plangent results.
Socialist Feminism which seeks to end the oppression and exploitation of women, was at its peak during the freedom movement in India. Raja Ram Mohan Roy’s efforts led to the ban of the Sati Pratha (Practice). Sati was a religious practice wherein widows were required to immolate themselves on their husband’s pyre. Even Gandhi encouraged women to participate in the civil disobedience movement against the British. Socialist feminism in India today demands not only radical activism to end similar new age oppressions such as sexual harassment, but also needs a conscious realisation of all Indian women, particularly among the educated strata of the society. We are at a threshold of a new era, where women are acquiring more higher education than before, working longer hours in corporations, but we are still thinking in the same way. The problem is not getting accepted into the mainstream, the problem is accepting ourselves to be equal and at par with men and using same value judgments and norms that apply to men. Why is a woman, smoking and drinking with as much abandon as a man does, frowned upon? If the reason is, that this indulgence is injurious to health, then why is the same value judgment not inflicted upon men? This is the dichotomy I am referring to. This is the reason it is essential that Indian Women, not only get an academic education but a spirit of questioning that catalyzes how others think.
India being a patriarchal society, the man is still expected to be the primary breadwinner, the woman is expected to follow her parent’s directions before marriage and then follow her husband after. And of course, a womans most defining moment in her entire life is her marriage or childbirth. Perhaps Mlle Beauvoir was right when she said that a woman have been thought of as a womb. Perhaps this was true and necessary for the purpose of evolution a couple of thousand years ago, when reproduction was necessary for sustaining the human race, but just as we progressed from the stone ages, perhaps the other mental progression is also essential.
Moreover, it is the women who need to realise that they can be independent- economically, physically and socially. They need to move above the need to objectify themselves. We don’t need activism, we don’t need another reservation or a bill. We need a thought revolution.

Questions anyone?

Our life is based on assumptions, assumptions some of which are realistic and some that have been dictated by the environment we live in. It’s difficult to see beyond these assumptions when we are living in the environment that dictates these assumptions. We have thus, two solutions to change the status quo. Getting out of that environment; as the anthropologists say- moving away from our cultural environment and entering a new one is the best way to understand our environment OR engender a more prolific questioning system. Whilst, physically moving to a new cultural vantage point might not always be possible, the spirit of questioning can afford all the liberties that seem to be curtailed in the first solution. Questioning things, one might say might be governed by the cultural context. Some cultures tend to not perceive too much choice, and accept the status quo in a humble manner, some cultures on the other hand, are more vocal in expressing this spirit of enquiry. But then again, this is an oversimplification.
There might be this voice which asks, why the need to question anything at all? Well, that’s, the first step in questioning itself. Answer that and let the enquiry begin.

The Average Indian

1. Does not speak English
2. Does not have a phone
3. Is not an IT engineer
4. Has never travelled outside his/her village
5. Does not have a facebook account
6. Can not read this
7. Is not you and me.

So, the next time we shimmy towards generalizations let us stop and think for a second.
This is not an attempt to extol our relative achievements or the privilege that might have ostensibly been bestowed upon us. It is but a mere reflection of our ignorance, and the great responsibility that rests in our hand to acknowledge it and do something about it.

According to a 2005 World Bank estimate, 42% of India falls below the international poverty line of US$ 1.25 a day (PPP, in nominal terms 21.6 a day in urban areas and 14.3 in rural areas).
2007 report by the state-run National Commission for Enterprises in the Unorganised Sector (NCEUS) found that 77% of Indians lived on less than 20 rupees (approximately US$0.50 nominal; US$2 PPP) per day.
As per the 2001 census, 35.5% of Indian households availed of banking services, 35.1% owned a radio or transistor, 31.6% a television, 9.1% a phone, 43.7% a bicycle, 11.7% a scooter, motorcycle or a moped, and 2.5% a car, jeep or van; 34.5% of the households had none of these assets.
(Source: Wikipedia. i.e- not that far away from our reach)

Madrid on my Mind

There are some cities that can overwhelm your heart. Madrid is definitely one of those cities. There are sights to be seen and wonders to be encountered here at every step. These wonders aren’t the usual run-of-the-mill grand events, but small little things that one may come across whilst walking or even while waiting for the metro. It could be the notes of a roadside musician or the careless abandon with which lovers look into each others eyes, but they inspire just as well as Vangelis’ theme from Chariots of Fire or bring out emotions similar to reading a poem by Frost.
But this is just me, and my overzealous impressions. Let it not sway your sanity

Memorable Madrid Metro Stations

Alonso Martinez-Gregorio Marañon

Gregorio-my home metro station and Alonso-the one after. I frequent them more than other stations I believe. Alonso Martinez has been recently discovered by me as the station that opens up avenues for food-courtesy the many restaurants close by. Also the beautiful Plaza Santa Barbara just off Alonso Martinez is a great place to just sit on a warm summer night, or any night right after the end of the Jazz at El Junco. Ofcourse, there was the night I encountered humans dressed as aliens in the metro headed towards Gregorio Marañon. These upbeat creatures sang and danced and pranced around the escalators, with more alacrity than the usual humans.

Nuñez De Balboa

The green line at Nunez de Balboa goes everywhere. Everywhere that you need to be. Everywhere that you should be.

Atocha

Ah Atocha! The port of embarkation for the travel to Toledo, and the port of much search for car rentals for the trip to San Sebastian. It is most associated with promise of travels to exotic places.

Tribunal

I remember discussing with D once that the metro at tribunal must be built really close to the abyss of hell, considering the number of escalators we need to climb up to get out. But of course, Tribunal is associated with the Bongo Player more than anything else. His music provides a nice soundtrack for the mundane journey up the escalators. He even has guest artistes that perform with him time to time. His enthusiasm is unbridled and his tuneful beats make the journey to the depths of hell worth reminiscing about.

Chueca

Ah, Chueca. The Metro station where my wallet was stolen, so it has a special place in my heart. But Checua’s appeal lies in its numerous little bars and shops. It’s vibrant vista is definitely something that warrants a visit, a cana and a stroll.

Freedom from Social Isomorphism

We fight for freedom. Wars are waged, rebellion is staged. But Is our freedom ever free? Will we ever by free from the need for social convergence?

Let us Be Taught

I have always been one of those students who had this reverence for teachers. Perhaps it has something to with half my family being involved in that profession, or maybe I am just afraid. Let’s say at this point in time I don’t want to find out. My decision to explore and devote the rest of my life to academia perhaps didn’t come as quite a shock to me, which is more than I can say for my friends at the more ambitious business school fraternity. From within this newly forayed into domain of academia, I however feel this incredulous and disdainful array of questions directed from the outside- “ the real world” as it may be called. Of course, once the Pandora’s box of scepticism has been opened, it is difficult to let the spate of questions pass by without rationalising to some extent. So began the quest to express sentiment over the issue which validates all things real and marginalises activities associated with teaching as something for those avoiding reality.

My argument is constructed firstly on an attempt to clarify the role of teaching in a society that is undergoing cataclysmic change with the advent of the Internet, allowing easy access to knowledge. As I dwell back on the first memories of interacting with teachers, I am reminded of the countless hours we spent with out first grade teacher trying to learn alphabets that construct a coherent word in our myriad languages, the endless series of numbers written to put a value to this abstract world of ours, to the stories we heard which made us realise that stealing Tara’s lunch is wrong. But then, don’t we already know this? Pardon my temerity, but I believe we tend to forget these invaluable lessons that were indeed taught to us. It is perhaps easy for those of us being empowered with education to underrate the role of teachers in our lives. The very fact that many of us are able to comprehend what is being written here, is very testament to the fact that we were taught how to read at some point in our distant or not so distant past ( as the case may be). Maybe the value of a teacher is more to those who are never forced to learn and never pushed down the path of learning. There are countless children in the world who never go to schools, have never had a teacher, who will probably never be taught how to write their own names. Secondly, on a more abstract level, I question the construct of reality. Our unabashed claims marginalising teaching as a form of escapism from the real world, are based on our own interpretation of reality. Moreover, since many of us have created this collective sense of “reality” anything that does not adhere to it tends to lie outside this construct.

As I write this, I am reminded of a quote that I have heard often, particularly right after I have declared my intent as to the Ph.D I am undertaking- “Those who can – do, Those who can’t- teach”. A perfunctory attempt online to dwell to the source of this quote, surprised me. This quote was used by a famous author in a completely different context, however it is cited today to a great extent to the point of having degraded itself to a cliché. However noble the intent of the quote might have been at the time, at present it just fuels the determination of those who still question the profession of teaching.
Can you imagine a world where there weren’t any teachers? I sure can’t. Perhaps, I like to be told once in a while what is required, perhaps I am just a sucker for authority. But that’s just me. While learning by doing is perhaps the best way of acquiring valuable life lessons, rest assured, we do not want to explore the answer to 587683 divided by 365 using a trial and error approach.

On second thought too much control and authority makes us rebel, and makes us sing along to Pink Floyd “ Teachers leave those kids alone”. But then teachers aren’t here to take the blame for the way we think, and what we don’t make of our lives. We need to look at the profession for what it is intended, not more not less.
My parting words on this theme would have to be these:
“Those who can - do,
Those who can’t – teach”
And those who aren’t taught,
Shall soon beseech

An ode to the dried up Lense

Dried up lense,look at you rot
you'd be with me forever, so id thought
I poured solution on u day after day
But in your final moments, no goodbye i could even say
Dried up lense all shrivelled up and grey
You were supposed to adorn me today

The Mighty Common Indian Man

The transition presented in the Indian media from one sensational issue to another is phenomenal in itself. Is it the medias’ mercurial nature, like a child with Attention Deficit Disorder or is it that our country is producing scintillating news every day I am not sure I can answer that with conviction. From the level of preparedness for the Common Wealth Games ( or lack of it thereof) to the Ayodhya verdict, the masses in our country have found a common cause for unity be it the criticism of the Organizing Committee at the Commonwealth Games being hosted in Delhi in the next few days or the myriad reasoning for the possession of the disputed land in Ayodhya.

Freedom of the press is a basic human right and you would all agree with me on that. For censorship would most certainly breed evil, malice and other synonyms associated with all things wrong. So we whole heartedly embrace freedom, adorn out opinions with critique which seems to be the mainstream and then have heated discussions of all that is wrong in our country. Ah, such joy is accompanied with this liberating experience of being able to psychoanalyse all the ills of our society. So the media has managed to unite the masses after all- by making us critics, the elite of the society who sit in coffee shops and munch on cookies and discuss contemporary political issues with panache. But what happens once these conversations are over? Is there any purpose to this critique apart from a meagre ego boost resulting from our splendid abilities to synthesise arguments of what is wrong and how it needs to be rectified? Unfortunately, I think this is where the story ends. The process of sensationalism-igniting passion-criticism ends there. But it does leave some vestiges of positivity- the power of unity, the power of united passion. If we can come together to vehemently discuss all that is wrong, perhaps all is not lost just yet. Perhaps there is a way to make mends. We don’t need a change of the government, or any institutional change. We must remember the nature of the democracy; we must understand the power that lies with the common man. The you and the me of the society.

The media might be doing what it does best, but the incidental bi-products of this radical sensationalism is the generation of passion among the masse. Only when we- not as a nation, not as a state or a city or a school or a university, but as you and me, just individual units, decide to channelize this passion into a tangible action, can the country as a whole accelerate on its path to evolve into a nation that is developed in the true sense.

Abstract, as it may be, the concept of change is actually very fundamental. We can start now, by not littering our cities, by not jumping the stop light, and by generally being more happy. It’s time to take ownership, for India is a democracy. We have created it and we have the power to change it.

We are all misfits
no one is cast in a mold,
with dreams unique
and secrets untold.
None of us know,
but each is told,
the webs grow,
dreams go cold.
We are all misfits,
stacked up in a row,
we need disarray,
ah atleast now we know.

What is that you said?
I didn’t hear you,
Encore, my friend.
The loud voices,
The din of the room,
The girl rejoices,
What is that you said?
I want to hear you,
But I can’t, not a word
It doesn’t make sense,
The voice is blurred.
What is that you said?
I heard you, yes I did,
But I desist to comprehend,
I leave the room,
I can’t pretend.
What is that you said?
Ah, it’s all right
I choose not to hear,
My ears are blind.