Hope-lessing

I am writing after a long time. The last year has been spent "being a mother". I would be unfair to say that I never found time to pursue what I wanted. Yes, I did but then, didn't because....blah blah blah blah! Then, something prompted me to get back. More specifically two things. One, the supposed end of the world, which did not happen and second, the rape of the 23 year old student in Delhi.

End of the world - I almost thought we will not make past 21 December. Why? Popular fiction, movies and more specifically the huge death count in the last 1 year had me a bit unnerved (Read: had me thinking of death and consequently the impending doom, ALL THE TIME). Yamraj, the God of Death seemed particularly interested in the who's who of Bollywood, while his chief officers took away lots of other people, some close friends, some mere acquaintances and still some unknown.Accidents and cancer, besides other causes - are having a gala time devouring people like an army of ants. 

All this when this has been a year when I have lived each second and still wanted more, thanks to Aadi (my son). Life seemed beautiful from his cute lil eyes, poetic from those chubby lil' hands and very very liveable with me drunk absolutely on the selfless and uncontained love of a baby. For the very first time, I was scared to die, even in theory. Not just because Aadi needs his mumma (in case he survived the end of the earth) but also because mumma needs Aadi. She just cannot have enough of fun with him.

But we made it. Yipee!! I drew a relieved breath when the clock struck midnight, the beginning of 22 December. And yet something did not feel right, seemed right. Why would all those super intelligent races predict and give just one date for the end of the world? Why? Not a co-incidence certainly. Somewhere within the answer came in the form of a question. 

Would you keep account books if you had just enough to survive for the next 2 days? No, of course not. You would just ensure that there are no "excess spendings", so that you might make it till the morning of the third day or max till the afternoon. Ditto here. The Mayans and all those other intelligent guys out there decided that they do not need to go any further with calculations and calander-keeping because the earth and human race are on a downward trajactory and probably nothing can save them now. Its not the end of the world, its the end of hope. Do I sound negative? Yes I do, because I feel negative, I see negative and I hear negative. No matter where I go, what I do, 9 out of 10 things that my brain manages to catch are negative. Random things -stock market, ozone, world conflict, resources, jobs, value of money, weather conditions, animal and plant species, places on earth that man has not set his foot on, every single thing is on a downhill ride. And oh yes, so are our manners, emotions and value of life.

That brings me to the second thing that prompted me to write. The rape of the 23 year old. She is pasted all over the TV channels, the social media, blogs and "over the cup of chai" discussions in the as-much-middle-class-as-you-can-imagine-families around the country. People are going berserk, naming ways to punish the 6 guys who are at the unfortunate receiving end. Yes, they do have my sympathy not because they raped and tortured the girl but because, in the world that they live, that is how it works. Girls are meant to be raped. They saw it happen all their lives, in their own homes and neighbourhood and yet, they are the only ones now standing at the dagger's end. A dagger that a whole nation is carrying. And some of those holding the dagger are their very friends and counterparts, from their world from the previous rapes and crimes. Bad timing? Huh?

Wondering what is wrong with me? Sympathy with rapists despite being a girl? Well, I am wondering what is wrong with you, with us, with ALL of us. Each one included. Just read those comments under any social media posts - what the aam aadmi has to say. The female gender takes its aim at the other one and their comments can roughly be translated to "all men are the same - all men are d***". The men folk, well to them, there are categories. The nice gentlemanly kinds say "Oh my God!! Poor girl" and then add further, to all the women "I say sorry on their (the 6 rapists) behalf". The over-reactive (I call them the RSS types) post pictures of how rapists are treated in other countries and give their own versions of punishments. The third and the last category is of men whose sympathies are neither with the rapists nor the girl, instead they post comments of “cause-effect” relationship. e.g. If a girl is dressed fashionably and is out for a movie in the late evening then she deserves what happened. Fullstop. No questions asked.

No judgements, only a question “Is this how a modern democratic society supposed to behave?" Are we a nation half filled with literate wolves who can write a whole thesis about what all can be done to punish the criminals? Or are we a nation full of nice people, who think sorry is an eraser for everything from broken toys to broken virginity? Or are we a nation of farzi-machos who view every girl who works or studies or goes out as "Chikni Chameli" or Munni or Shiela and every other less fortunate female as a mere object. To be used and thrown. Next please.

Forget the age old bhartiya-sanskriti which says "yatra naryastu pujyante, ramante tatra devata". Forget that I started to write this post because a young girl's life and emotions hang by a thread from a cliff. Where were we (or rather where are we, me included) when a girl child is aborted in one of those illegal clinics that have mushroomed round the country? When a neighbour beat his wife and then rapes her because he had a bad day at work? When a friend employs a child smuggled from the North-east at work? When a cousin stands on a balcony checking out the hot-chicks? When a prostitute is called in a bachelor's party? When a female colleague with equal qualifications is underpaid at work? When at a friend's marriage the men of the house send away the women to take care of the children so that they can discuss important things? When your own mom tells your wife that she needs to do the dishes because she is a woman?  We ignore these because such incidents are "none of our business" or "that's the way it has been always" or "that is innocent fun" or something equally bizarre.

This is not about "the rape" but about our general way of life. Like the saying goes, if we take care of the small things, the big ones will follow. And this is for everyone, each one of us. If you see someone in trouble, help, right away, don't wait and watch the show. If you see a family where "this is the norm" take some time out from the shopping trip to speak to the women protection cell. And it is of course your business(without being nosy) as much as it is your business to post those sadistic pics on Facebook about how criminals are dealt with elsewhere - because you are the society. Stop badmouthing or saying sorry for what you have not done. Stop being reactive. Be proactive.

And ladies, ladies as Ricky Behl (Who? The one who came in a stupid movie not so long ago)  says "Kya karun o ladies main hoon aadat say majboor". He has a point here, not just for himself but for our whole male dominated society, your brothers, fathers and husbands included. Change, especially for the better, does not happen overnight. Change does not happen with a protest rally once a year. It needs an agent, a catalyst that is constant. Till then, heed your grandmother and be safe. Do not step out at odd hours unless absolutely must. Even then keep someone who is responsible informed of your location. Ok ok you are the revolutionary "no-limits-for-me" modern girl; create your hype by educating a male child about an equal society not just by drinking the Patiala-peg at the Saturday night party. 

Ah, the end of the world - was it not where I started? Maybe we get some grace period and stay a bit longer if we manage to make ours a livable society. All is not lost and I am not the most pessimistic person on this planet. A "bit longer" in earth time is another billion years. Let's make it happen.

The Chair

As I sit on this chair I sense a strange relief surging through my not so weary bones. A homecoming of sorts.The fulfilment of a long sought after dream that I had seen as a child and grown up with. To own my own rocking chair. A lot of chairs came and went but the dream remained. A comfy rocker, a good book and a throw over the legs in the cold weather for the central character- an endless number of English classics mentions this scene and for a book worm what better than making reality out of those stories? Even in the smallest of the ways.

My eyes closed, I feel my back sinking even as the chair rocks me into myriad thoughts. A small prayer to God (for making this possible - lack of space/finance and a constant moving from one place to other had contributed to this being a dream till date). A big thanks to my hubby for turning dreams into reality (that what the actual life "Prince of dreams" is supposed to do instead of slaying demons and kissing damsels in distress). I open my eyes and try to focus on the book in the lap...but no the joy of having the chair is too much. I close my eyes again and travel through all those times when I had stood before a rocker admiring it, wishing so fervently that it should be mine......

Then suddenly...another chair comes in my thoughts. An ugly big wooden chair with armrests. Once upon a time when I must have been small or maybe just born it must have been a beauty....regal, almost fit for a king. It was sturdy and heavy but time had taken its toll. In the time line when it appears in my life and memory...it was no longer in active use...instead had been kept in one corner of the bedroom to be used rarely...when there were too many guests in the house all at one time, as a "ladder" when mummy needed something from the shelves high about the ground so on and so forth. I do not even remember when my love affair started with the chair. I do remember thinking that the chair was too big and ugly...3 people my size (when I was a kid - not now!!) could easily fit into it. Maybe someday when left with no other place to sit I sat on it and lost in the book...had put my feet on one of the arm rest, my back against the other armrest, my neck slightly bent on the backrest, sideways and viola that was it....It felt so comfortable and homely that it became my favourite place and position - to sit, to read, to sleep or to stare into space, to cry and to laugh. For an onlooker it must have seemed that the chair (or the huge ugly monster?) is carrying me (the princess) in its giant arms - some things are better experienced than seen.Till the time I left home....it became "my chair"...thereby reducing much of the other odd jobs that it served for. No one objected even as I painted the armrests with my ware colours or drew silly faces on to them, with my pencils. Maths calculations/rough work was often conducted there as well as was wood carving lessons in which I was the teacher and the student..both. The chair became my best friend, my closest companion bearing the brunt of all my moods without a single word. It held me sturdy...comforting me endlessly. Forever.

All good things come to an end. So did the stint with the chair. By this time it had grown really really old and was almost shaky. Even termites had started invading it. It was given away to someone who needed it much more (for sitting or for fire wood....I am not sure). I did not even get time to say goodbye to it...was away to hostel. Anger hit me when I found the chair gone on my next visit home but it seemed foolish to cry over a piece of furniture, when there were other places and chairs to sit......But then I always missed it and no home seemed complete without my big ugly chair.

Until today. I jolt back to the present and the rocker is still rocking me...a nice beautiful rocker that is going to complete this family. I smile at what the future holds....me on the rocker with popcorn watching TV, me and the yet-to-come-baby rocking to sleep as the wind howls outside, me reading aloud the same stories to my kids that once enchanted me....And then he comes and kisses me, lightly on the cheek, interrupting the sequence of the dreams. My prince o' dreams...asking me to wake up and eat the dinner before I sleep. I look at him and smile...for sometimes the reality and the present is far more beautiful than the past and the future. Oh and yes....our rabbit has already made himself at home underneath the leg rest of the rocker. Complete happiness!!