Note for my Father

What would a father do if his grown up daughter calls him and starts crying/shouting/screaming? Say during the day or in the middle of the night. How many fathers would be able to put their own anxieties and curiosity to the back seat and say things would be fine, knowing well very that the world we live in is not exactly a wonderful place? Especially if the daughter in question has a proven track record of an uncanny ability to land in extremely messy situations? That too when the first insticnt is to enter the stage and do all you can do to protect your daughter. Or at least give the daughter a good long lecture on life? Well my father is a champion of tough situations!
No matter how grown up you are, for a father you are still his little girl. (Mine calls me so even now!) As I said the first insticnt of any father would be to try and get all the information and do everything possible to help his daughter out. It takes a whole lot of effort to understand a daughter's need for privacy and still give that all important support. It is not easy understanding the struggles of somebody living in a world that is so different from the one that you are comfortable with.
If I am to take a stock of all good things that have happened to me so far in my life, on top of the list would be the fact that I have wonderful parents. The kind of support that they have given me in times of both war and peace have been phenomenal.
I am thankful for the confidence that you have shown in me time and again. For all our quarrels, disagreements, and ego clashes, I love you, I love you, I love you.

On Playing Badminton

I'm not a games or athletics kind of person. My interest in sports is limited to live telecasts of cricket and tennis matches. (This can be cultivated as a hobby if you have the right company. I was lucky enough to get some nice people around wherever I go - Keerthi in Palakkad, Meera and Meenu at HCU) Well, I always read my newspaper backwards, that is starting from the sports page. The logic is in case I don't get time to read it completely I will miss only the political dramas and not the interesting stuff. 

The only game that I have shown any kind of interest outside television is badminton. During school days, when our school championship dates are drawn, we used to clean the vacant lot in our colony. There used to be this small plot that was just enough for a badminton court. A net was tied, the court was marked, and the matches began. The carnival begins as soon as the classes are over and continues till its too dark to make out the shuttlecock. At a set of sweating stinking school kids get back home, tired but happy. Once the championship at school ends, the net is pulled down, the court forgotten and the kids pulled down into an endless chain of class tests, quizzes, midterm tests, and term exams.

After school, I have been roaming around - college hostels, PGs, apartments - I've always been on the move. I haven't had the kind of friends, time, or space for any kind of games. 

Last week one day I was in my hostel room, reading something, when a girl from the next room came asked me if I would like to play badminton with her. Now we are not close or anything. When we happen to meet we do chat casually, asking the kind of stupid questions that we know are stupid, but ask anyway.  So that's the kind of friendship that I share with her. Anyway I decide to play and go down with her. We start playing.

It felt good; the feel of a playing, running around. I generally find it difficult to run or engage in any kind of activity that puts strain on me due to my asthma. But playing badminton did not make feel any kind of breathing trouble. In spite of the fact that I was sweating and taking a bit of strain, I felt fine, perfectly healthy. I was happy too.

Then we started talking – about classes, courses that we have signed up, families, home town, food in the mess and a lot of other things. During that half an hour we bonded like we haven’t done in last two months!

“Do you have a boy friend?”

“Yes. You?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t find anyone nice.”

“You will find someone soon.”

We wouldn’t have had such a personal conversation though we live in adjacent rooms if weren’t playing together that day. It was definitely the beginning of a new friendship.

 Half an hour of badminton left me tired, sweaty, happy and feeling much better about life in general. It also gave me a new friend. All you need to make life seem better are simple things like this.

Thoughts on a Roosting Crow

One day during my post dinner walk through the campus, I saw a solitary crow roosting on a rather low branch. There was no other crow on that tree or any of the trees nearby. I checked the tree once more to make sure. Yes, there it was – a single crow probably fast asleep in a world of crowish dreams. I found that rather strange for I thought crows generally gather together for night roosts, mostly on the same tree night after night. 

I was reminded of my days in Mercy campus. A small campus comfortably settled little outside the hustle and bustle of Palakkad town. Those of you who have had an opportunity to live in that campus would remember the crows. By around five in the evening they’ll start coming on ones and twos and by six the whole place is drowned in the cacophony. There is a lot of noise, so much of moving around –  fighting for a favourite place, may be for a seat next to a particular lady, sharing notes on how good or bad the day had been, settling family quarrels, the list goes on. By the time the party finally settles down, it’s dark. Then it is all quiet, time to sleep. Come early morning, the crows are up much before any of us in the hostels. Without much ado these early birds depart to different places to catch the proverbial worm. Nobody lingers in the hostel premises. May be experience taught them too that mess food is not really worth it. By evening they are back! Those huge trees in our campus have been favourite roosting sites for generations of crows.

Well, so that is how I thought crows generally behave. Even if they forage alone or in small groups, roosting time was when they believed in strength in numbers. And there was this crow, all alone. Maybe he was a rebel, and did not believe in following the norm. Perhaps the crow believed in staying far from the madding crowd. :P It could have been an old crow that did not feel like it could make to the roosting site that may be far away. There is a possibility of the crow being a social outcast and hence unable to join the others. Did the crow feel lonely? Do crows also have the urge like humans, to be socially acceptable, to do things that are ‘cool’ so that they can stay in a group? Did this crow brave all such temptations and decided to make a statement by staying alone?

The next day when I went for my walk I looked for the crow, it was not there. It is more than a week since I saw my crow, all alone on a low branch. I do not know if it had gone back to its group or if it had chosen a roosting site, all for itself, far away from the prying eyes of nosey research scholars. But every day when I pass that tree, I look up, to check whether my lonely crow is there.

Father goes to work. Mother cooks food.

So now I am a research scholar. Don't ask me researching on what, I don't have much of an idea other than the broad area. All you need to do is attend a few mandatory courses, read up a little bit and then generally loaf around. One of the mandatory courses involved a session on communication. The session deals basically with how you speak, how you write, and how you present your information.

There is a male professor, a room full of students, three fourth of whom are students, AC lecture hall, projector, and a PPT to be projected. The class begins. This professor was teaching us how placing stress on different words in a sentence makes a difference to the meaning. Of all the sentences that he could use, the one the man could think of was: "A woman without her man is nothing."

1. A woman without her man is nothing.

2. A woman without her man is nothing.

3. A woman without her man is nothing.

4. A woman without her man is nothing.

5. A woman without her man is nothing.

I surprised me that a professor who has been teaching in a reputed institute, like an IIT, could not think of a better sentence. A sentence that was not demeaning or disturbing to at least 25 per cent of the class, a sentence that did not hurt. It was not a discussion on gender. There was no need to use a sentence like this. A simple "The sun rises in the east" or "Take the dog for a walk." would have served the purpose. But no; irrespective of what subject you are teaching, which kind of audience you are teaching, you need to make a point that women are nothing without the men. Are men this insecure?

All this while I thought it was the school text books which told us "Father goes to work." and "Mother cooks food." were the worst culprits. Your teacher then told you boys help father in the garden and girls help mother in the kitchen. I thought once you grow up and go to colleges, universities, IITs, things will change. I am wrong. In humanities departments we boast of being more aware, more sensitive to the issues of gender, caste etc. We consider ourselves to be liberal, progressive, sensitive and what not. And then we do things like this. It is one thing to preach equality and gender sensitivity and another thing to think of what you say and do in your classrooms.

I learnt my lesson. There is no point in growing up and leaving school and going to fancy institutes. They still give you the same crap. 

Platinum Days of Love

All these platinum day of love ads that come in magazines remind me of Sita; of her ring of love. She was colleague. Sita somehow did not seem to fit into the corporate office and the crowd that surrounded her. She came to office dressed in silk sarees and jewellery that reflected her ancient royal family. However, her sweet nature did not have even a small trace of either corporate stiffness or royal arrogance. She was sweet and friendly, often finding time to chat with everyone on the floor. She knew almost everyone in the office, their families and even their pets! At times, the more sophisticated ones around us made fun of her friendly nature.

She was quite friendly with me. One day she came to my cubicle for a casual chat. We were discussing that one topic of perennial interest to Malayali women - gold jewellery. She had a wonderful collection and always gave us tips on buying jewellery. For some reason, I noticed the chain that she was wearing and casually remarked that it did not resemble the traditional 'thali' or mangalsuthr. Then she told me, "I don't consider that important anymore and I don't wear one. I have reached a stage in life where I have to stop doing things to please people. I do not consider marriage the most important thing in my life right now. I have realised the futility of such symbolic stuff. After an early marriage and bringing up children and all that, I've had my share playing the home maker. Now, my career, my independence, and the work that I do are all as important to me as my family."

And then she showed me something wonderful. A ring - a heart set in gold. "Look at this. I made this ring few years back. I melted down two separate rings - one gifted by my grandmother and other by my mother. I melted those down and made this one. I wear this all the time, in memory of the two most remarkable women who have made me what I am today. Wearing this gives me strength. As a woman, this means a lot to me. They have helped me grow. They have helped me to think, to dream, and to be independent. Wearing this means a lot to me."

To say I was moved by her words would be an understatement. I thought it was beautiful. It is a wonderful thing, this sense of a whole line of women, who have borne you, fed you, brought you up, and empowered you. 

Justice

The queen sat on the high throne
The court was ready for the day's proceedings
There was a vacant look in the victim's eyes
As she stood there, pleading for justice.

The queen used her most benevolent voice
Rape, we think is a serious crime
We encourage women who come and report this.
Here, 500 gold coins for your courage.

And then, they promised her gold coins
For all the lewd questions she has to answer
For each horrid detail that she will describe
A coin for each scar on her body.
And a few more if you are a minor.

The jingle-jangle of gold coins,
To wash away the pain, the hurt,
To sooth the battered soul.
And thus they go on,
Fixing an amount to each of your sufferings.

In this land of indifferent rulers,
and ultra rich gods,
Gleaming gold coins account for everything,
Dignity, self-respect and even lives,
of very much dispensable human beings-
The common man, aam aadmi, the mango people.

അങ്ങനെ ഒരു ദിവസം....

ഇടവ മാസത്തിലെ രേവതി നാള്‍. ഈ ഭൂമിയില്‍ അവതിരിച്ച സു(?)ദിനം... അതിരാവിലെ 8 മണിക്ക് എണീറ്റപ്പോള്‍ ഇന്നലെ ചെറുതായിട്ട് ഉണ്ടായിരുന്ന പനി കുറച് കൂടിയിട്ടുണ്ട്. കൂടെ നല്ല ചുമ. മൊബൈല്‍ എടുത്തു നോക്കിയപ്പോ അച്ഛന്റെ മിസ്സ്‌ കാള്‍. വിളിച്ചപ്പോ പിറന്നാള്‍ ആശംസകള്‍. അച്ഛന്‍ രാവിലെ എണീറ്റ്‌ കുളിച് അമ്ബലത്തില്‍ പോയി മകള്‍ക്ക് നല്ല ബുദ്ധി ഒക്കെ തോന്നാന്‍ പ്രാര്‍ത്ഥിച് വന്നിട്ടുണ്ട്. ഉച്ച ആയിട്ടും പനിക്ക് വല്ല്യ കുറവൊന്നും ഇല്ല. പിറന്നാള്‍ പ്രമാണിച് നല്ല ഫുഡ്‌ വല്ലോം കഴിക്കാന്‍ പുറത്തു പൊയ്കളയാം എന്ന പ്രതീക്ഷയും അതോടെ തീര്‍ന്നു. ഒരു ഉറക്കം കൂടെ കഴിഞ്ഞു ബോര്‍ അടിച്ചു ഇരിക്കുമ്പോ വല്ലതും വായിക്കാം എന്ന് കരുതി അടുത്തിരുന്ന പുസ്തകം എടുത്തു തുറന്നു "ഡല്‍ഹി എ നോവല്‍ ബൈ ഖുശ്വന്ത്‌ സിംഗ്" നല്ല ഐശ്വര്യം ആയിട്ട് വായിക്കാന്‍ പറ്റിയ പുസ്തകം! പിന്നെ കുറെ ഫ്രണ്ട്സ് ഒക്കെ വിളിച്ചു. അങ്ങനെ അങ്ങനെ ഒരു ദിവസം. അങ്ങനെ അതി ഗംഭിരമായ പിറന്നാള്‍ ആഘോഷങ്ങല്ടെ അവസാനം നടത്തിയ എസ്എംഎസ് അവലോകനം "വാട്ട്‌ എവെര്‍ യു ഡു, അറ്റ്‌ ദി ഏന്‍ഡ് ഓഫ് ദി ഡേ ഇറ്റ്‌സ്് ലൈക്‌ ലൈഫ് സക്സ് ബിഗ്‌ ടൈം!"
ഇത്രേം നല്ല പിറന്നാളുകള്‍ ജീവിതത്തില്‍ ഇടക്കിടക്ക് ഉണ്ടാവണേ ഈശ്വരാ .........