Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts

Friday, 5 December 2014

Hey Girl

Hey Girl
What seems the case with your eyes
Is that black, a color of your unwiped kohl
Or a hangover from the last night

It could be a color of your pain
Or that of your skin
So undefined it seems to me
So blind

Hey Girl
Did he hit you again?
Or his lingering thoughts
Of the past
Didnt leave your mind

It could be a color of the night sky
Trapped in ur sleepless eyes
Or the color of sleeplessness itself
Of the overworked kind

Hey Girl
Are you crying again these times?
Or you didnt stop at all from that day
Memories of the past
Ghosts of the future undefined

It could be the pain that numbed you
Or the emptyness that defines you at times
Hollow do you feel
Or does it burst ur mind

Hey Girl
I look at you
And look at my mind
For we all are one
In a million similar stories of women personified

It could be that i am making it all up
Or reading it beyond the visible lines
Of expression,
Of those snubbed truths around
This careless world living beside

Hey Girl
What seems the case with your eyes
Is that black color a depth of the universe
Or that black hole of the ache
Of the you, the me, combined.

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

Sunday, 30 March 2014

Breaking the Culture of Silence in India

“I was a girl, now I am a woman, I came alone, I die alone.
People cried when I was born, when I die none will mourn.”
_________

Antim, 13 years old had not eaten properly since years. After all, she was a girl.  When she was born, the whole community had cried. Not tears of joy but of pain. After the torturous nine months that her mother had gone through, all everyone was expecting was to see the baby that would carry the family name ahead, bring joy to the community where having a baby girl was a sin. And when she came in, not only did the family-friends cried, the mother who had borne her in her uterus cried, from both her heart and her body. She was that’s why named Antim, which meant, the last one.

Her mother conceived almost as soon as she could again. And when her brother was born, that was the end of any happiness she could have seen in this world where patriarchy was the only rule that prevailed. While the whole crowd around her danced in joy, the pain she will have to go through was right in front of her, waiting to grab her like a demon. As she grew, she remained aloof of the basic joys of life: freedom, food and family. At 13, when she started menstruating for the first time, as confused as she was of the changes that were happening to her, she was unaware of the fact that now, the burden of being a woman had grabbed her, a burden she would have to deal with a smile on her face. No proper nutrition, thousand rules to abide by, and unaware of what she could have been, she was being trained to become a woman, a woman who her mother was, her grandmother was and may be her baby girl will be later.

Menstruation is a phenomenon that changes everything for a girl. As she dwindles with the body and emotional changes that happen to her, she is forced to take it as a curse instead of a blessing. On one hand where she can see her body change, on the other she sees how her curious mind is shut forever. Neither does her mother tell her what to do, nor does anybody else. Hygiene, nutrition, puberty, sex education are topics that are dusted under the carpet. As she grows, she realizes that she must have done sins to be born a woman.
______________

Suman, 23 years old sits beside me as we discuss the issues women face in the community. A look at her is enough to understand that though she smiles, she is empty inside. A mother to three girls, she has recently gone through her third abortion. In her six years of marriage, she has been pregnant almost always. With an expressionless face, she explains that somewhere women are born to live a life this way. The purpose of a woman coming on this earth is only to reproduce and so what she was going through seemed to her like a duty. Desires somewhere had died long ago, or maybe never existed at all.

She was married when she was 17 years old. A case of child marriage as she was, she had never seen her husband’s face, and so marriage was just another duty. In a small yet rich town of the most prosperous state of India, she came to her in-laws knowing the duties she was entitled to do. One of which was satisfying her husband in bed, another one being giving the family the heir, male heir. On one hand while she dwindled with expectations of the family growing every day for her to produce a baby boy, she was being cursed every day for failing to deliver. And so, one abortion after another she was loosing faith in her being able to fulfill her duty, failing to be the ideal woman she was defined to be since childhood. Droopy eyes with dark circles around, she was pregnant this time too and scared because soon she had to go through an ultrasound examination to know the sex of the baby. Little she know, its not she who defined the sex of the baby, biologically.  Suman as she was proudly named, which means a flower, had no meaning in her life because she wasn’t aware what blooming was all about.

Issues of Family Planning go way beyond the number of babies. It encompasses the awareness of contraception, rights to make that choice on using one, it entails the issues of Maternal and childcare, it entails patriarchy and control over bodies, involves issues of infection, HIV and Violence Against Women. It’s much more than contraception and incentives to get vasectomy or birth control.  The fact that even today women simply fail to say NO to their husbands and family pressures go beyond any government scheme or incentives given. The issue remains, of dialogue to move beyond ego issues of males related to condoms, of asking instead of forcing to have sex and reproduce.
_____________

Banwari, 55 years sat next to her granddaughter telling her how to cook as her mother went on the farm. She is greeted by the Nurse from the nearby Local health Clinic set up by the government asking her about the injection schedule for the baby boy just born. During the few minutes of conversation, she is tempted to ask her about the changes that she has been undergoing. She had been trying to ask her since months and so, after a lot of courage she shares her troubles. She goes on and describes a series of symptoms that she has been going through. Her knees have started to pain, she is having uneven periods.. the nurse tells her about Menopause but tries to explain to her how she should get herself tested for once. She shuns the idea, takes it as normal and shows her the door.

After two more months of pain and trouble, she wonders if she should have got those tests done. The local ayurveda doctor medicines didn’t work, neither did the priests prayers. The local community radio channel playing on the radio beside her grandson who lies there playing on the cot has the reporter discussing a similar problem. She is hesitant to discuss the issue with anyone, but after a lot of thinking she finally gathers the courage to call the doctor on the call-in show, happy that she isn’t sitting face to face with him. Being retold to get herself examined, she wonders if it was time to see a doctor.. silently, she gets back to her work. She looks at her grand daughter, maybe she sees in her a reflection of her own past. Named after Lord Krishna himself, she must show courage to handle all her pains.

While Menopause is a natural phenomenon, cervical cancers have been on a rise in the country of India. The fact that a woman would think a hundred times before she sees a doctor for a ‘personal’ problem that should not be spoken about to anyone, makes it evident that screening is slower even after awareness. Even today, when it comes to issues related to Maternal Health, Personal hygiene and Feminine care, women in rural India are just not ready to voice out their concerns, their fears. The will live in pain, as they have been trained to but never speak out, thereby remain voiceless.

_____________

These Three stories connect to the Culture of silence in India. Keep aside men. Keep aside social rituals. The fact that even a woman cannot easily talk to a woman about her troubles and get empathy in return makes it evident that even after 65 years of independence, women are crippled by social customs and age-old traditions to a level where they wont speak their desires out. Though systems of support outside family exist, the fact that the first connection should happen at home leaves them helpless. The culture of silence on issues of Menstruation, Maternal Health and Menopause have been there since ever, especially in Northern part of India. These three make women feel burdened of living and while she had faced the same in her childhood, she doesn’t easily take a step to fight for her daughter or daughter-in-law.

Privacy is good. But sometimes issues like these that are of common good, women good, need to be spoken out loud. “We tell ourselves stories in order to live” was a strong statement that Joan Didion had given long time ago. Such stories of pain and sorrow need to be spoken out loud in order to motivate women not to face troubles with a smile, but to voice out the issues they face, the pains they go through, the fears they live with.

What is the starting point?

“Starting a dialogue, maybe”

Friday, 14 February 2014

An Obituary Of The Nation: By Cropped Roots, Chopped Wings And Silenced Voices

Dear Fellow Countrymen,
As I write this down, I am in tears. It gives me a choking discomfort and terrible pain to pen down this obituary. This obituary does not speak of a woman dying a sad death after being raped or tortured, but about the sad demise of humanity amongst a nation of beings with whom live the hundreds of women who have no clue how they are being sucked into a black hole of predators just looking for them to fulfill sexual pleasures; of predators who look for the chance to assert their ‘manly’ power, of predators who smile inside when a female foetus is not allowed birth in this land.
This might be an obituary for many men around you, women too. And sadly, if you read this and look away, this might be an obituary to that little human heart of yours. Therefore, this might be the biggest obituary written in history (read: of the second most populated country in the world); of hoards of men and women, who might feel this is an obituary to them. Because even when you are breathing, you are dead inside. And while the Nation still claims to be highly populated with different categories of Indians, blood sucking Vampires in human form are the ones that make the biggest class, caste and community of this country.
This is your obituary, if one day you told your wife/daughter/daughter-in-law to get her womb tested for determining the Gender (not sex, because before her birth is decided her life) of the baby. This is also your obituary if you tortured a woman for dowry. This is your obituary because you died inside the day you lurked at a woman as a sex object, and yours too if no matter how much you loved your wife, you beat her up at home in order to showcase your masculinity, the strength of being a man – powerful.
This is your obituary too if you as a woman tortured another for not following the gender norms, social rules. This is the obituary of those innumerable men and women who at some point or another didn’t realize that it is their duty to stand up and fight for humanity, womanhood, even if they are not facing anything themselves; after all watching in silence is a crime too.
An obituary of the numerous politicians who fail to recognize what an important issue women’s safety is, who call a woman ‘dented and painted‘ if she makes a choice, who tell women who are sex workers that they are criminals, who think that all women’s issues are not of national importance. This is an obituary to those numerous women who are swimming deep in power, strong enough to shut out the voices in their head, voices of women who are in pain. This is an obituary to those youngsters who find happiness is all about material assets while they walk past that woman who is being tortured by her family, and those who bear the torture thrown upon them too. An obituary of those educated, cultured and so-called high-class people sitting in offices thinking of how to ignore these daily reports of gang rapes, rapes, dowry deaths and suicides of women, yes this is it.
The day you thought that feminism was all about women, you died. The day you thought that those women who fight for their rights can be silenced by being harassed, tortured, abused or raped, you died. The day you thought that a woman is not equal to a man in terms of human rights and freedom, you died. The day you made bread out of a career in this field, silently torturing women around you in your house, you died. The day patriarchy was logical to you, you died. The day you thought that your wife should only be born to feed, reproduce and take care of you, you died. The day you thought that women are the weaker sex, yes, you my friend died.
While Patriarchy crippled us, the National history of women’s movements and support haven’t been of any help either. This is an obituary of the past, the hard work done to create a global uproar by women in this land of hungry monsters, men and women both. This is an obituary of a failed national system of governance, of the law, of the policies, of the family culture and dynamics that fails to teach us as citizens, as humans, the difference between right and wrong, the difference between crime and punishment, the difference between human and evil.
As I write this, I am in a lot of pain. Writing on behalf of those hundreds of women who left this land of living hell to may be a better place far far away, for their voices went with them, for their unspoken pains will never be penned. And as I write, I feel another pain towards those many more who are living in hell here.  I am saddened, also a little disgusted at the sight of those laughing men and women who escape the heinous crimes they commit against women, and at the faces of victory of those who help them escape.
Those policemen who bring shame to women, yes, you are trusted upon the task to protect, and when you do inhuman deeds, I am ashamed. To those hundreds of lawyers, doctors, teachers, politicians, bureaucrats, parents, management gurus, celebrities, and yes media professionals, sadly this is an obituary of the educated, polished, looked-up-to (down by me) you.
Dharnas for issues as low as demanding a certain person to walk away from his job seem to be taking over the freedom movements of women. While the media can’t stop talking about the baby of a celebrity, the woman who was brutally raped by 12 men, and one who was killed seems to be an issue of less national importance. Today, this is an obituary of all those moments where the media and people have let us down. This is an obituary, of not one or two but those unaccounted men and women around who think women’s rights and issues concerned are not of immediate importance.
Sadly, this will remain just another piece of a voice among those many different voices that are being shouted from the corner of every village, town and state of India. When a woman is killed somewhere, or tortured, a little part of humanity dies every second. This is a sad reminder that India has become a land where economy takes over human rights, where people fight for a statement made by an opponent before they fight for a raped woman, where she is just another case dumped in the pile of files in a court, making her life worth nothing more than a few sessions of court room drama.
Do I rest my case or is my Case adjourned? This is my obituary to a dying, prosperous land which is economically growing but somewhere has become hollow inside. While you read this, yet another rape case, a case of suicide of a woman will be making headlines. I wonder how do you sleep?
May your soulless bodies Never Rest in Peace.
This post was originally published at Women's Web: http://www.womensweb.in/2014/01/violence-against-women-india/