Survival

Some weeks ago, I decided to take a boat from Mora Village to Mazgoan docks. This is the shortest route to come to South Mumbai, which would otherwise take more than two hours, While I waited for the boat to arrive, I was watching the fisher-women at the docks and was amazed with the hard work that they put in. Mumbai, being a coastal region, fishermen go to the seas for fishing (sometimes for days) while women help in selling the fish. The work is shared equally by them and they are quite cheerful and happy to help each other.

My friend, who was with me, was attracted by the freshness of the fish (some of fishes were still wriggling in her basket) and prawns. She wanted to buy the fresh prawns but the women quoted very high rates (Rs300 for half kg of king size prawns). She refused to bring down her prices claiming that if she went back the next day to south Mumbai, she would get good price. While she sorted her catch, her man went and brought large chunk of ice, broke it into smaller pieces and helped her pack the fish so that it would remain fresh the next day. She told us that she would wake up early morning at 5am and make her journey towards town to sell her fish.

Some of them go to the market to sell the fish while others go from door to door. Women who come from far off suburbs use local train (luggage compartment) for commuting. Some of them have formed their own society and rent a transport (a tempo or a truck) to reach their market.

It was evening time and the man looked quite tired but he continued to help her.

“Your man works quite hard, I must say” I said, impressed by the efficiency of his work.

“He is not my man” she said, “We work as a community, we normally live as mixed groups where there is team work involved. The work is divided equally but it is never reversed. We don’t go for fishing at the seas nor do the men look after the house and babies”.

Although fisherwomen traditionally do not go out to sea, ancillary activities as critical as fishing itself - fish processing, vending, marketing, net-making, and so on - are primarily in women's hands.

“Don’t you think that your prawns are overpriced? Why are you selling it so expensive?” I asked her

She was quite annoyed with my queries and complained that there were no more fishes in the sea.

I did not believe when she said that there were no more fishes in the sea. How could that be?

But on googling I understood what she meant.

The current market-friendly reforms aimed at opening up India's coasts to large-scale commercial exploitation have posed a grave danger to the survival of these communities.

The fall in fish stocks as a result of indiscriminate mechanized trawling is the single-most worrying factor for the fishing community, and its impact on women is direct and brutal. The government has opened the coast to foreign trawlers that harvest all the fish. Private companies have taken over their traditional occupations, like net-making and fish processing. As a result they are sometimes left without fish and without work. Fisherwomen - who earlier sold the catch that the community's men brought in from the sea - are now forced to buy fish from large contractors.

With fish disappearing from the seas, fishermen face a loss of productive activity. In frustration, they turn to alcoholism. They borrow money for gambling. Their bitterness is an additional burden for fisherwomen, who struggle to hold their families together and cope with increased wife-beating and desertion.

So, what does the woman do? She was here now, almost 7pm in the evening, packing her basket for the next day. She would go home, cook dinner for her family, clean her house, put her family to sleep and would wake up 4am in the morning to go to town to sell to fish and bring some cash.

And here I was cribbing about the price of prawns not understanding the problems of a common fisherwoman, who though not educated, knew how to survive, balancing the home life and her working hours and wanting to handle the likes of me with grace.

Here we were, my friend and I, haggling about the price when we would buy the same without any fuss at the market place.

Devotion

Hindu festivals often see large number of devotees throng towards religious places and there are many such place in India.

picture source

But have you ever seen three million women celebrating a festival together with a small plane hovering above the crowd showering flowers over them?? This is the Kerala Festival for women

picture source

I am thinking whether the God attending to their prayers is male or female?

Tolerance

When a woman stretches to straighten her spine, to break off the chains from her body and mind, she is no longer an admirable bride.

The need to be accepted by the society is so strong, that she sells off her self respect and her genuine smile in the market of false pretentions.

And this is true in some influential families too. Dhristi was one such woman.

Dhristi laughed heartily at every joke that her husband made, showing her pleasure, or rather faking it. She catered to his every need. Her world revolved around him. She was a good wife. She was timid, patient and ever-ready to his demands.

“He is a dog” she once told me “a lusty dog, he has sucked the life out of me, if you have a choice don’t ever enter into a loveless marriage. I hate him.”

“If it is so bad then why don’t you just walk out?” I said

“I cannot. I won’t bring shame to my family”.

And she stuck on. There would be bruises on her body. Sometimes she would lift her dress to show me the dark brown circles on her thighs, on her tummy, on her back and sometimes on her breast

“These are not love bites, mind you, when he is drunk and I resist, he punishes me” she said “it hurts too much, especially when it bleeds.”

“Maybe, things will change after you have a child” I said, consoling her

“I wish I could, but my hubby hates kids.” She said

Thus, lonely she was, caged in the glittering world.

If she wasn’t a close friend I would never have known her sadness and her pain. But help, I could not. How do you preach freedom to a person who is deaf to the reasons?

She wore a mask.

At every party, women admired her jewels, her branded clothes and her impeccable etiquettes. They wished they could trade places with her, until the day, when I saw the shocked expressions on their face. I heard one of them call her ‘ungrateful’

‘Ungrateful’ for what?

At last, the peace envelops her as she lies in her coffin, dressed as a bride.

Perhaps, the world will never know.

Justice

Where is the justice for 'Thangjam Manorama'?

Six years ago, on July 15,2004 Manorama mothers surprised and shocked the world.
Sapan Aruna writes:

In the morning at around 10:15 am, Twelve women out of nowhere, stormed at the western gate of the 17th Assam Rifles Kangla and in an unprecedented act, of protest shed their clothes and challenged the security forces to rape them. Facing the AR gate with their bare bodies, they shouted to the Assam Rifles, “If you really have the craze to rape, come rape us’

They raised banners where was written in bold letters, “INDIAN ARMY RAPE US,’ INDIAN ARMY TAKE OUR FLESH.”

Photo: UB PHOTO

More than 50 women from different women’s organizations of Manipur came from G.M.Hall and among them, 12 naked bodies marched on to the Kangla gate and cried against the killing of Manorama , “You dogs of AR! Come rape us like you raped meitei chanu (women) Manorama”.

They wailed. They shouted, “We are all mothers of Manorama. We stand for our daughter Manorama. Come fulfill your lust. Play on our body. Eat our flesh. Come Indian Army. They continued their complaint against AFSPA with slogans, GO BACK INDIAN ARMY. Withdraw the Armed Forces Special Power Act 1958 from Manipur!

Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) has been imposed in Manipur and most of the Northeast since 1980. The Act allows the army to use force, arrest or shoot anyone on the mere suspicion that someone has committed or was about to commit a cognisable offence. The Act further prohibits any legal or judicial proceedings against army personnel without the sanction of the Central Government

The protest of the women continued for about 45 minutes. Due to excessive emotion, more than half of them fell unconscious. Being surprised, some AR personnel watched the scene dumbfounded. They stood spell-bound. The scene broke the heart of the passers by. People even shed tears and closed their eyes.

There was no policeman when the women protesters sprang from no-where and staged their tear-provoking scene. Some minutes later, police officials along with Imphal west SP scolded the police officers for there were no women police. Disregarding the polices effort to carry the fainted women, the protesters used private vehicles to take them to hospitals. The women then tried to launch the same protest in front of the Chief Minister Bangaloo. Police arrested some of the protesters and dropped them at the gate of the office of the All Manipur Women Social Reformation and Development Samaj (AMWSRDS) situated at the palace gate.

As precautionary measures to control the possible drastic situations, the Manipur Government imposed indefinite curfew from 11am of the same day in Imphal East and West district. The D.C. Imphal West also issued orders under section 19 of The Cable Television Network Regulation Act, 1995, prohibiting the transmission of any particular program including news items.

That was an unexpected consequence of the custodial murder of Thangjam Manorama after rape."

But justice is likely to wait forever.

Freedom

There are days when I just want to scream, a real hard scream, something strong and loud that would awaken my whole neighborhood and bring them running to my door to release me and take me to a safe place where life would be much easier and bearable for me.

I wish to be free.

I don’t like sitting all day in front of this baby, clothing him, changing his nappies, warming milk ever hour. My back hurts on the days when he is in pain. I have to carry him and take walks, singing Gayatri Mantra, hoping that he will understand and find meaning in the verse and find some peace. Sometimes I hope this one-year child will feel sorry for me and let me rest. How do I tell him that there are other chores to be completed as well and that I cannot be pampering him all day.

There is food to be cooked. I have chopped the vegetables and even cooked the rice. I must keep the meals ready before mom arrives. When she is back from her work, she will make some chappatis and also help me with washing of dishes. It will be 5pm and I will be done with all the house chore and then I shall be able to stretch my feet for a moment of fresh air, just a tiny whiff of fresh air.

At 6pm I shall pack my bag and head towards night school. I need to study because I don’t wish to be a domestic maid like my mom. I need to do something more than that. I need to study. Sunita teacher told me there is future for me. The future is mine, she said and the time is now.

Nine years is the perfect age for me to dream. An age when it is possible to built the reality steps towards my lit-dream

If I wish to be free.

Living in this painful world.

Shobha shrieked with pain; the blows continued to shower. When she could not defend herself against her husband’s cruelty, she fainted. She found herself in the hospital ward as she opened her eyes. Eyes blood shot, body ached as she lay attached to thousand tubes “Do you have something to report ma’am?” asked the police officer. “No,” she replied simply supressing her pain.


Men subject more than 60 percent of women in the poor countries to domestic violence, according to the UN development program. It says: “Women may be half of the world’s population, but seven tenth of the poor people around the globe are women. Two third of the illiterate adults are women, and those who remain, if they are lucky enough to have the freedom to work, can only expect 75 percent of the salary as the man doing the same job. Everywhere women continue to be the victims of violence listed as significant cause of disability and death among women of reproductive age.

International Women’s Day is celebrated on March 8. The idea of celebrating this day is for recognizing the importance of women’s role in the society. It is an occasion to review how far they have come in their struggle for equality, peace and development. It is also an opportunity to unite, network and mobilize for meaningful change.

It dates to the year 1857, when one of the first organized actions by the workingwomen anywhere in the world took place. Hundreds of garment and textile women workers went sent on strike in the New York city protesting against low wages, long working hours and inhumane working conditions. The event ended in violent struggle with the police. Fifty-three years later, in August 1910, at a meeting in Copenhagen, the women’s Socialist International decided to commemorate the strike by observing an annual International Women’s Day.

Today, they still refuse justice to women in those countries, where women are treated as second-class citizens or the property of men. Women’s work is unrecognized everywhere in the world and there are still disputes over women’s rights, sometimes cultural, sometimes religious and sometimes social. There are some women, who feel that there is no point in having the international woman’s day every year if the woman is forgotten for the remaining 364 days of the year.

Man and woman, both are essential parts of the most basic human equation. While the circumstances of the cobbler and the judge may clearly differ, nobody would question the right of each human to equality as a citizen, or before the law. In the same way, man and woman can only reach the true equality through the recognition of their substantial differences. A truly civilized society would relish those differences rather than punish women for their sex. But still, nowhere in the world can a woman claim to have same right and opportunities as man. “The advancement of the woman and the achievement of equality between woman and man is the matter of human right and a condition for social justice and should not be seen in isolation as a woman’s issue.” According to the Platform for Action the final document of the conference held in Beijing in 1995. “They are the only way to build a sustainable just and developed society.”

Society neither helps a mother to work, nor makes her feel that she has right to do so. Regardless of the evidence of research, a deep almost subliminal idea is encouraged to needle away at her conscience that the child needs his mother all the time. The guilt can go with her everywhere, augmented by the notion, that only woman has the natural proclivity towards the mother. At work she feels the guilt of not being a good mother and not spending more time with her children. Since she has children, she also suffers the guilt of not working hard enough at her job. In both the quarters, working mothers feel compromise and inadequate.

International Women’s Day is the day we need in order to remind the women around the world to stop, take a deep breath, and think about where we are, what have we achieved, to re-energize ourselves, to mobilize ourselves and set new goals to where we want to reach. This is the day, which the UN has conferred for women because it also enables nationals to stop and think about what they want their women to achieve.

Addressing the problems faced by the women is at heart of a global agenda promoted by the United Nations. By adopting international laws and treaties, United Nations has established a common standard for society to achieve equality between man and the woman. The world now has a growing number of women as policy makers, with a recorded ten women as heads of the state or government.

In his message marking the International Women’s Day in 1995, at Beijing, Boutros Boutros had said; “In the global efforts for peace and enduring progress, the promotion and protection of women’s rights are central. Success in the tasks means progress for everyone, young and old, men, women and children,”

And the success for the protection of women's rights is yet to come. We are still waiting......Alas!!

ps: I would like to request Sandhya, Pallavi and Annie to participate in this contest

Who is Coming over for Dinner?

When I can’t think what to cook or too lazy to cook, I opt for Chinese. Why? Because it is the most tastiest and nutritious food that I can think of and it takes me just fifteen minutes to prepare it. My fridge is always stocked with fresh and canned vegetables, lotsa sauces and some dried mushrooms too. Initially, during my trips abroad, I would pick up too much food stuff from the supermarkets, most of packet would rot, exceeding their expiry dates, and there were some soup and sauces packets, bought blindly, would lie unopened for years, but now I am glad that we get everything here in Mumbai and I can do just weekly shopping in small quantities.


There is a small store close by, which stocks all the exotic foods. This week I picked up firm tofu (there were other types too like silky tofu and soft tofu, but thats for later), some fresh mushrooms, and Japanese Soba noodles (On the packet of this soba noodles it says that it is a traditional style buckwheat and wheat flour noodles with a nutty taste, I was buying it for first time. One packet only, see, economical? yeah?))

Now this tofu is really very tricky. Tofu is actually the Chinese cousin/version of cottage cheese (Italian) or Paneer (Indian). The method of making it is also same except that it is made from soya milk. Get it? But it is rich cousin, mind you and little ‘light’ to eat, melts in the mouth, a great source of high-quality protein, rich in B-vitamins, iron and an excellent source of calcium. The best way to use the firm tofu is to wash it with water, squeeze it out and then marinate it before using. Tofu acts like a sponge and it sucks in the juices of marinated ingredients. Since I am going to use it in Chinese, I have marinated in garlic, ginger and vegetable stock cubes. Okay, I have stored in my fridge, so for next two days I must eat Chinese if I have to finish it in two days. Of course, I will add in soup once and another time I will make salad, can’t have same stuff every day. Isn’t it?

But just now, what I had was quite tasty. It looked dull because I didn’t add colorful veggies like reds and greens (my friends always adds red and green peppers, but its okay if I don’t add when I am making only for self) but it was tasty.

Its so simple to make. why do my friends make such a fuss while cooking? So much drama over nothing!!

In the oil, I added crushed garlic and then I just stir fried shallots, mushrooms, bean sprouts green chilly and corn. Then added these boiled Soba noodles and tofu. Next added Teriyaki sauce, soya sauce, sesame oil and chilly sauce.and Voila!

Wait, let me take one more spoonful. chomp! chomp! burp!

And yeah, I made dip too. I just added garlic, ginger, salt, wasabi, dried herbs into curd. Mixed it and hung it for three hours, squeezing out the water. Then added olive oil to give a glossy look.

Yummy. When you come to visit me, I shall make for you too.

Sita joins the FB ??

Okay, I admit it that this is not my story,(I can only comment and give my tipri) I would never have such a talent to reproduce a story so cleverly. but it arrived in my mail box through the forwards and it has amused me a lot

This first page on the FB gives the Live Feed that shows:

 
I am amused that Bharat is 'pissed' with his mother and starts a group called 'Parents sometimes go crazy' the youth of today would happily join this group because they have a mind of their own and are hardly listening to thier parents. but the question is 'how many would bother going through this swayamvar?' It happens only in TV reality shows and viewers are actually 'pissed' with these shows, although they are still watching it. but that is how far it goes....there are no marriages in the end (remember Rakhi Sawant?)


that brings me to the second page of this Live Feed that shows:

haahaha! Even in the remote jungle, they have access to internet and are recruiting friends, playing 'Mob Wars' and writing on FB walls and discussing the laxman rekha? Amusing, Isn't it? Ram seeking Hanuman's help on FB wall....Can we trust our friends (in our absence) to save our spouse from...cough! cough!! no comments on that!!!

and the page three shows the Live Feed as:

And when Ravana is dead only 132,457 people like it. hahahaahaa! there should have been bigger numbers. but since Ram and Sita did not live happily after, Sita's page should not expire.

So what would Sita's activities be, had she not opted for earth to swallow her???

Picture Portrait

I have this huge picture of my spiritual Master, Maharaji Charan Singh, nailed up on the wall, in the foyer. It is very old picture of Maharaji in white kurta and white turban with the backdrop of blue and it has been there as far as I can remember. The picture has different expressions at different hours of the day and they change according to my moods. On the days when I am happy, I see the smile and on the days when I am angry, I see the grin. My friends, who don’t know him, ask me if this is the picture of my father and I always say ‘Yes’ cause he is the only father that I have known, having lost my biological father at the age of three. This picture gives me inner strength.

Maharaji was very photogenic and I think he used to love to pose. Whenever I had visited my paternal aunt (who was a very close friend of Maharaji), I used to see the beautiful poses in her house of her trips with Maharaji. There would be picture of his trips abroad; there would be party pictures and many more in my aunt’s personal album. There was one picture that I had liked which was actually a painting. It was a huge painting of Maharaji sitting on an easy chair,outdoors, cross legged, in churidhar-kurta and a shawl, looking out into the fields, his gaze fixed at hundreds of sevadhars doing manual labor of lifting/sifting sand, transporting it on their heads. I used to love that painting and I would always stop for one moment longer, whenever I passed by that painting.

My aunt is no more and so have Maharaji Charan Singh too, but what happened to those pictures and that painting, I have never asked.

But I am thinking what happens to those pictures when the person is not there no more? How long do the people preserve the photographs before they decide that they don’t need it anymore? And how do they dispose it?

With the digital camera, now we click too many pictures and then dispose off those which we don’t care, but in the days gone by, each picture had a story to tell. Whenever we visited our family, and if ran out of conversation, family albums were taken out to discuss the pictorial stories. Portrait pictures were clicked in the photo studio and blown up to life-size to decorate the foyers and the bedrooms and the halls.

I, for one, don’t buy pictures nor calendars of Gods or of any spiritual Masters because I worry about the storage. I would not like to insult the photograph and throw them away in the garbage when I don’t need them anymore. Why must we buy so many pictures and put them up in every room? We just need one picture to remember and admire the person. Some people like to keep it in their wallet, visible only to themselves, and to admire it secretly. But having too many pictures, all over the house, is quite scary to the non-believer.

When I inherited my family house, first thing that I did was to bring down all those life-size pictures that ruled every wall of my house. I have packed them up and stuffed them into the drawers, out of sight. There are too many albums sitting in the cupboard and I really do not know what to do about them. The photograph which don’t have me, don’t interest me and I am sure that even if they become antique, they will still not get me any copyrights.

Only this picture of Maharaji, which I had loved it even then, is still hanging up in my house, but that’s because it speaks to me.

I don’t store nor develop any more memories, I would never want the abuse of my pictures, even after I am here in this world, no more……..and I am certain that nobody else would want it too….

Muse over FB message 'Acceptance'

With twitter and facebook becoming a strong board for exchanging ideas and thoughts in this social media network, not all status messages are funny and light hearted, some are thought provoking too and force us to re-think on issues which could be just a passing phrase. One such message, that I copied on my page and then was pleased to see it on my friends’ page too was:

"My wish for 2010 is that people will understand that children with disabilities do not have a disease; children with disabilities are not looking for a cure but ACCEPTANCE........93% of people won't copy and paste this, WILL YOU be one of the 7% that does and make this your status for at least a hour?”

I saw this message on many of my friends’ pages and someone even argued saying that “Just by copying and pasting are people going to change the attitude? No offence to your friends who have already copied and pasted it, they may have done it because they are among those few people who understand that children with disabilities do not have a disease......”

My reply to that comment was: “yes! Attitudes do change with the wind. .specially by those who believe in the message and pass it on....and unfurl those soft pebbles off the hard rock...

But the page that really caught my attention was when someone commented:

“Wait a minute... I'm pretty sure that people with disabilities ARE looking for a cure... No one willingly accepts that they are disabled when there is a readily available cure out there that can make them "not disabled."

He found it difficult to accept the fact that handicap people can be accepted in this society as productive member of the society if they are allowed to perform the task to their best of their ability.

He argued that “You can’t accept someone who is disabled as a productive member of society when you still have to watch over them and make sure that they don’t fall and/or jump in whatever they need assistance. If that’s the case then there is no full acceptance, only fake acceptance that will make these disabled people feel a false sense of security of their place in society. And to be honest, if I was disabled and wanted people to treat me with respect, the same respect they treat everyone person, and you were patronizing me in this way and treating me as if I was less of a person then I would hate it. Your saying that disabled people want to be treated like everyone else.. well you can’t treat them only half way, because they still aren’t equal, and never will be. It’s all or none. I’m afraid.”

Actually I would hate it too....but that is where my point was, I meant to say that either the people are patronizing the disabled too much or ignoring them completely and both ways it hurts the differently-abled person.

Society just cannot see the talent beyond the handicap at a first glance, a differently-abled person has to prove their capability from time to time, they have to prove that they are capable of performing as perfectly as any normal person , and there is no need to sweat over them if they are able to deliver....independently....every disabled person can also be the productive member of the society, if he is allowed to follow the profession in which he excels and in which he has faith in, but the society never allows him to forget his handicap.

Every individual should be able to decide when they need to be over-protective and patronizing and when they should just accept them and let them perform to their fullest ability and in every case, acceptance in important because they are not freaks.

And he was confused as to where does one draw the line?

What gives anyone the right to tell one person that they fully capable of working on their own and another that they cannot be trusted to be on their own and must be supervised? He argued that when people say that "We wish that society would accept disabled people as being productive members of society, there isn't a special clause that states: " this only applies to people who are able to function independently, with out supervision, everyone else isn't fully accepted as fully functional and must be watched and cared for."

And he wondered as to what happens to those who don’t meet those specific criteria? Are never to be accepted as part of society and considered the useless ones who have no place in the society?

“ I know it seems harsh,’ he continued, “ but if they cannot be accepted as productive members of society then what are they? Or do we reevaluate what that criterion is so they can be accepted? But what about the people left over from that? Who are not accepted after that second evaluation of who is productive and who isn’t?

It’s an endless cycle that will never end.” he concluded

And I am left wondering whether the society will ever wear the cap of acceptance…ever……

Bus Ride in Mumbai City

India is shining. Or rather, I should say that the things are improving a lot, specially my regular four hours journey (back and forth) to my school which I take every alternate Wednesdays.

The bus ride has become a pleasure for me since the introduction of AC bus no 105 from Bandra to CBD.

No more do I have to sit on the hard seat, reserved specially for the ladies, by the window, because I am afraid to sit on any other seat where I might have a male stranger dozing on my shoulder. No more do I have to worry about over-crowded bus where I would feel guilty when I saw more than thirty standees, all jostling for a seat. No more am I exposed to dirt and pollution, and the bad stench during my bus ride that passes through the route of Dharavi and Chembur.

Many a times, I was subjected to the stench and shit that I would see on the road if I wished to peep out of window. I would see the open toilets on the road, the main doors broken, exposing the people in the act. Reading was impossible because there were too many jerks, and I would have difficulty in focusing my attention on vibrating words. I used to prefer to plug the music to my ears and slept most of the journey, not that I could sleep, but shutting my eyes to the realities of the world, I could snooze off to my own imaginary world.

The only time I was awakened from my slumber was when the tempers ruled the bus and people got aggressive over a slight dispute. That was the time, when I too would be curious to differentiate the victim and the culprit during the commotion. I would then secretly take sides, team up and wish for my team to win an argument. Sometimes the argument would get worse and there would be exchange of blows and slaps and the bus would be abandoned in the middle of the road and we would wait till the cops arrive. Sometimes the cops would take too much time to arrive and all the strangers in the bus would become friends and together they would suggest an alternate punishment and pass the verdict.

Yes, travelling by bus exposed me to the difficulties and problems of a common people. It was the closest I could get to them.

Now, I have graduated to AC 105. The seats are comfortable and the bus fare is three-fold. Most of the seats in the bus are empty. There is music playing at the dash board, which is either radio or CD of old Bollywood songs. There is an electric-socket for people who wish to connect their laptop. Most of the people are busy on their mobile, chit-chatting. Recently, they have introduced in-vehicle retailing service managed by the ticket-conductor and soft drinks are up for sale.

During the smooth bus ride, I look out of window, no more, because now, I see the life-styles of a common man only in my books.