The end and the beginning..

Another cycle of my life is completing itself...i only know at the end of this there will be a new beginning..

Being a Woman

Sometime back i was doing some research on Domestic Violence. Now, after i was "domesticated" or married in other words, i really haven't found the time to write about what i had felt at that time.But again, that had some good implications, at least for me.

Firstly, being married makes you even more sensitive towards different issues and emotions which one wouldn't relate to when unmarried. And , secondly, it also makes you realise that it's very easy to play the role of a counsellor and yet very very difficult to follow that part once you yourself are a part of the violence.

Let me go back to why i started that research itself. We have swadhar shelter home about which i have already written in my earlier writings and one of our best, intelligent, sensitive counselors got married during that time. We all wrote a diary for her.. i do not know if she has it, but i had made a copy of what everyone wrote for her.. I thought we would keep it as a part of our office legacy how we had brought in a fresher from college with dreams in her eyes and who , with her love, dedication and compassion had left everyone with tears the day she left. We all had wished her a life of love, care and laughter.

She was an only daughter.  In india that means your father will marry you with all the pomp and splendor even though that mean selling his entire life to loans and interest. And she was married off in one of the best hotels in town, and to an OAS Cadre engineer nonetheless. This guy showed his colours on the wedding day itself..couldn't even wait till his barat was back at his home.Well, to cut the long story short, he wanted dowry and had expected a bigger car, better gifts and a blank cheque. Her abuse went on, mostly emotionally with tirades of insults and innuendos. That he got her pregnant during that time is just besides the point. 

Now , whenever i read that notebook, i feel like a culprit of why our society has place for so much violence and why a lovely girl like her, loved by all, had to go through such a painful period in her life and that we, the social activists couldn't even save our own little kid from this. She went back to her maternal home, within one month of marriage and her son was born just eight and a half months later.  Last heard, the guy was looking for a suitable match and his matrimonial id read something like "innocent divorcee seeks fair, beautiful bride preferably from upper or upper middle class." They still haven't been formally divorced, but the guy's eligible bachelor yet again. Will the woman ever be eligible again?

The other story is of a girl we rescued from her in laws. She had already attempted suicide a few times because the guy she married accused her of being an infidel. To clear the things, she had slept with the guy before her marriage. Does it strike you that only the girl was guilty and Character-"less". I am sure it did.The girl could not go back to her home as her family did not even want to see her face.

The last story i want to tell you is about this cousin of mine. He is an alcoholic ,sleeps around and then comes back home and beats up my Bhabi in his rage.He denies her everything, including money, her freedom and even sex. He wakes up the next morning and cajoles her with his sweet nothings to keep quiet. And this woman, my bhabi , does. I have tried to file cases against my cousin for a long time but she never allows me to, saying she loves her husband, and one day she'll be able to change him. Hopefully it is sooner because it's already 8 years.

Another thing that rankles me is that even my brothers and closest male friends talk to their wives, girlfriends as if all feelings are only in their hearts and a woman is a heartless monster.And the high pitches and abusive language, mostly sugar coated, puts me off totally.

I am sure you all have heard of the The Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act-2005. So i will not get into those details. Just this that abuse is not only when it's physical  but also emotional and denial of basic rights and respect of a woman. And that it does not have to happen over a period of time, even one instance of such abuse is enough. The NFHS-3 data says: "Overall, one-third of women age 15-49 have experienced physical violence and about 1 in 10 have experienced sexual violence. In total, 35 percent have experienced physical or sexual violence". And leading the states is Bihar. These statistics are wrong as usual. Keeping in mind the definition of abuse itself, every woman has faced it in her life. Let's face it. how many women actually take the courage to say that they have been abused and how many would  we let  share that they have been? I remember the time before my wedding. My mother was very specific about a few things, to try and adjust with my husband and his family, not fight and never come back home and shame my parents. You see, i come with a record of being a firebrand and my mother was scared that i would come back and not be tolerant. Haven't done it yet, but don't know about the future, The reason i am writing this here is that even an activist is a woman and a woman, once married, has no rights, and if she has, they are all secondary to her husband's.

It got me thinking about some very basic premises..1. The abuser does not become so overnight. 2, The abuser very rarely sees himself as one. 3. He thinks he's doing the woman good, by being a man..that is shouting, screaming and then finally beating.  4. Most of the time they come from violent families and have not learnt to respect women , 5. The abusers to not belong to any specific class, region, religion or creed .6. Such violence cannot  and will not happen if there are supportive and understanding families on both the sides. and 7. It takes a long long time for the abused to accept that she is a victim and when she does, she's left with a bruises on her body and scars in her heart

How does this chain beak? How do we stop this abuse? I am looking for answers and as usual i think, the police, the acts, they are not the answer if they're just post violence. If those Acts, the police, help desks, etc function as 'prevention of crime' centres, in helping build strong and secure environment, only then we can say we have achieved our goal.

It also means bringing up children in a house, a family, a society that teaches her/him respect for women and relationships and understanding that denying the existence of patriarchy as an evil will not give equality to women and least of all make the problem go away. Because , even today, the most modern, suave, intelligent of men carry with them the pride that they are men, and that they know everything and better than anyone,  let alone the traditionalists and conservatives . It also means teaching your daughter to understand when the thin line has been crossed of small love-fights to abuse and when she has started the life of fear, hatred and blackmail, and then say no to it. It also means letting her know the family is with her and not burden her with the never-ending "reputation" and a "woman's fate and duty" stories. Which reminds me of the Rahul-Dimpy story and the Shiney Ahuja Case. Even though it's plain as day to see, what happened was really really wrong,  people are happy telling "i-told-you-so"  and passing crude comments and judgment, when the wives in question have gone to the hell again.

The City of Dreams

This is my home...

This is my home and not again mine..i live on borrowed land..but who really cares..this the city of dreams..my city..and in my dreams the world is mine..

But you do not yet know me..i was born a few days back..or maybe months..or years..dog years...i go once in a while to our public meetings..of our clan..you would have heard us sometime..i am sure you have..we create real nuisance with our howls , our demonstrations, meetings, and sometimes have had to be dispersed with pelting of stones..i am sure you have heard us..in those meetings we hear our folklore, about our past and our future..

once our ancestors told us about a time when man did not have to keep time..there was no time to be kept by a watch..no days of the week..no month..no year..and man just lived..the very thing they have forgotten today.but that is not my story.

today, i don't do much that gives me happiness..and i'm still very young to take up any profession professionally..i have been abandoned by my parents..so did not get much education..not even the basic life skills..but where life is the teacher you learn all your skills, probably, better than the most. i know i will be the best in whatever i do, i just am still undecided what..

i wasn't born here. i was born in a very remote village and was brought here, hidden in a bag, away from all prying eyes, with promises of a better world. i believed him, the man who brought me here. As if i had a choice or gave him one. But then again, i was the dreamer. My mother always scolded me when i would have a rhetoric for every situation, a dream for every dream. needless to say, i was looking for a new world. i was bored in that village. sometimes suffocated, because i was the unquestioned leader and i hated it. i was bored of leading and even though they said i was the best they  had, i wanted to give it all up.The man was only an excuse, i had already stepped out of my past world a zillion times in my dreams , in my future.

My dreams are all broken now. Yes, this city of dreams has loads of lights. It weaves many dreams in millions of eyes. I am not a leader here. I don't want to be. I feel happy being no one, being a face in the herd, following the senseless rules, living up to impossible unending expectations,. I chase the babies and school children in the rain, run after the bais who have come and settled in the city of dreams from their different worlds and come to work in my building,loaded in buses and trains..loaded with their dreams of a better house that does not leak in mumbai monsoons, a daughter who's married well, a husband who doesn't come back drunk, a face without beating and bruises..i bark at the well dressed men and women rushing off in the mornings with a noose on their necks and come back late, the noose tightening little by little  every night.. i imitate the watchmen who smoke beedis and share their stories from far away lands.. I eat exotic dishes, chinese, continental, indian, you name it, i have had it.i.. roam in the streets at night. i get into street brawls while imported cars and bikes zoom past in amazing speeds , killing men, women and children , smiling in their dreams,  on the pavement. We look at the mangled bodies, the brawl momentarily forgotten and then we start again. The lives are not that valuable here you know.

but the mirror is breaking...

it was a bane she had of reading thoughts of the animals. She shook her head clear of the thoughts  of the black ugly  dog,  that lay shivering alone, cold and wet in the mumbai rains amongst the false palms of their society garden..and looked away from its eyes that had kept her locked across the distance of fourteen floors. Staring at the blank wall, her blank life, she realised hers was the dog's life.