Belated Happy New Year 2016

It is another new year. People all over the globe have celebrated absolutely nothing changing. It is not like the refugee crisis will  eradicate, or the giant chemical/automobile/oil corporations of the world will start investing more money in solving global warming. Last year it was Lahore,Paris, Baghdad, and this year it was Pathankot,Turkey, Kenya. The ISIS-s and the Boka Harems and the Pakistan militants. and the Maobadis they will all exist just like the head of nations and all of us, the normal regular people, be sacrificed as collateral damage.

A world where children are slaughtered in the name of religion, women are raped, mutilated, burned without any hesitation for sport, where men are killed because of what he eats, needs to change. There needs to be an upheaval. Every single one of us, the normal collateral expendables, need to stand against injustice and speak up, for each other and for ourselves. We cannot keep on hiding anymore behind fear, behind societal diktats. And when that change happens, when we can truly identify ourselves as decent human beings that is when we should celebrate.

The shorts Story

I have grown up in a bustling metropolitan city. My parents are moderately liberal. My dad never really cared much about clothes in general or what I wore in particular. Even as a kid when I would ask him for money to buy clothes his general response was always " Why do you need money for rags?". But if I said I needed money for books he would actually give me extra money. My mother on the other hand was and still is a little too opinionated about what I wear. She does not really mind what I wear when I am out with my friends. But when it comes to me visiting my relatives she always insists that I wear a salwar suit or saris (something grown up and traditional). She also tells me that traditional clothes suit my body type better ( what she means is I am fat and I should not wear western outfits). But even me, just me, if I am in Kolkata I would not out of my own wear something above my knee or something off-shoulders or something like a spaghetti even during the hot sweltering months. And if I am absolutely honest a lot of it has to do with how I will be ogled at on the streets but a lot of it also has to do with how I will be get looks filled with judgment and disapproval by mostly other women on the road. I think, this is the reason that prompts my mother also. What other people would think if I bare too much skin.

The first incident happened in 2011 when I burned my leg. I remember I could not wear, leggings or jeans for obvious reasons. I tried wearing skirts a little below my knee but they would brush against my burn and that used to hurt mind-numbingly much. So I used to wear long skirts and saris when outside. Around the house, I used to wear shorts and nightshirts. The thought of wearing a short short outside, even when I was hurting because the fabric would brush against the burnt skin, did not ever cross my mind


The second incident is fresh. 2015 and my ACL repair. Dr M who is super efficient and has been very accommodating to my needs(which I appreciate so much that I actually want to voluntarily hug him at times) does not really mince his words. The first time I went to see him I was wearing knee length shorts which would be considered quite scandalous among  society at home. The conversation went something like this.

Dr M : Why are you not wearing shorts ?
Me : But I am.
Dr M : No something shorter. Much above your knee.
Me : How much shorter?
Dr M (pointing to my lower thigh) : This is where your final stitch is going to be. So something above that.
Me : I do not wear such shorts.
Dr M : Why?
Me (I did not know how to explain all these complex social rules I have grown up with and instead said what I believed was what everybody was thinking) : Because my legs are not nice.
Dr M : Aesthetically I have no comments. But if you want your legs to be nice from a functional point of view you will wear shorts. I cannot have anything touching my stitches."
At that point I was thinking the stitches are mine they will be on my leg. But the option was clear. I would risk showing ugly leg rather than have an infected leg.

I bought three pair of shorts. I figured it would tide me over 6 weeks of recovery. I have been moving around in them. At first I was a liitle uncomfortable. Not only am I wearing shorts for the first time after puberty, I was not allowed to take a bath for two weeks. Now, although I am allowed to take a bath, I am still not allowed to scrub my leg let alone shave it. So I have been to a hospitals, across state lines, beaches and a bank in shorts with unshaven leg. Guess what ? Nobody cared. Nobody gave a second glance. Well actually they did to ask me if my leg was okay because of the braces. Nobody asked why my legs are not shaved or why I am wearing shorts. People usually made way for me and helped me

Till today morning that is. I went to the bank today in NJ and there was a lady in a salwar suit with her husband. I was there with VP. The looks that she gave me. I had forgotten that look. One full of disapproval and viciousness. She moved a little closer to her husband and then she saw I was with VP and gave VP a look too. A look of  "How can you let your woman wear what she is wearing."

I am supposed to land in Kolkata in 10 days. I wonder what happens if I land up in my city wearing shorts ? I will be judged won't I ? In my own city ? Does this really mean I am somehow disrespecting my culture??

Kolkata : Is it my city anymore?

There is not a second passed in this village that I do not think of Kolkata. To me Kolkata is a living, breathing, growing entity. A part of me. Kolkata is mine. It makes me feel at home. But is this city really mine anymore ?

Sitting at a late night diner on Sunday night I read two very upsetting news.

1. BBC took an interview of the Nirbhaya rapists. And they, without any sign of remorse states that it obviously always is the victims fault. I do not think I was surprised. The fact that I was not surprised was what bothered me. A lot of people's reaction I gauged was that of outrage as to why BBC even interviewed these creatures ( I do not find it in me to call these humans. ) To me the interview was necessary. It proves that monsters do not repent. And right now there are a million of men who are thinking the exact same thing. That it is infact the girls fault. Our country does not know how to protect their women. And it is true.

2.The second was much closer home. My cousin was harassed in the middle of Rashbehari Avenue at 10:30 on Sunday night. I am putting her exact words here.

" Ei sahar take nijer sahar bole bhabte khub lajja lagche ajke...Time raat 10:30 Rashbehari Avenue .... Saharer byasto tomo rasta gulir modhye ekta...
Metro theke neme wait korchi behalar gari pawar jonyo... Onyodiner tulanay janbahon kom seta hoy robibar bole noyto biyebarir season bole... Ekti Otyonto obhodro lok... Pichone theke eshe nongra katha o akar ingit korte laglo.... Bolai bahulya j tini prokitistho chilen naa..ei nongrami chollo pray 5 minute....chitkar kore protibaad korate ashe pasher kichu lok moja dekhlen thik e kintu ekjon o egiye elen na sahajya korte... Thik jani na era ki nitantoi ekta bicchinno ghatana... Naki etai ajkal swabhabik byapar...
Jaihok amar bhagya sahay j ami loktike tariye okkhoto obosthay bari firechi... Kintu sabar bhagya eto ta sahay na o hote pare...
Tomader sabbaike ghatanate jananor uddwesho .... Sabai sabdhan... Kolkata kintu khub unsafe hoye geche..."


After knowing about this my first reaction was anger. How dare the man ?

But then I remembered something an NRI Bengali man I met randomly at a movie theatre, of about 40 told me when I was whining about how much I miss my city and how much I want to go back.

He asked me with a smile. " Are you sure the city is yours ? A city where a female Chief Minister punishes by transferring a female Police Officer because the Police Officer went out of her way to catch the rapists of a shameful rape in the middle of the city is pretty much sending out a clear signal to the women of the city that they are not needed."

I could give him no good answer. Because no matter how much I try to defend my city the city has done nothing to protect her women. And right then, sitting at a diner seven seas away in a small sleepy town at 11:30 pm at night, I was feeling completely safe. Yes I had my friend with me. But the truth is even if i did not have my friend with me in there, I would have felt safe. I knew I could call a cab and that would pretty much ensure that I reach home safe. The cabs are constantly monitored by police radios. And there are police cars at the darkest nooks and alleyways patrolling. And at the same time even if my friend was there with me sitting at Hobby Centre in Park Street at 11:30 at night and I had to go back home in a cab, I would feel unsafe and nervous in my own city. Or maybe the city truly is not mine anymore.

Chutzpah

I have met women in my life, some of them are in my family who choose to be the victim. They choose to be beaten, abused, ill-treated, and walked all over and they glorify their lives because they had to  go through or are still going through all this. They turn themselves into some sort of sacrificing martyr. These women scare me.

And then ever so rarely you come across stories of extraordinary deed by ordinary women such as Shabnam Ramasamy. These people in Shabnam'w word hold life by its collar, push it to the wall and say ‘you live according to me and not me according to you!’

 SALUTE !!

Look at me.

Kalki Kochlin, I am honestly a fan. And no this has nothing to do with her acting. Here is a person who thinks like me and so many of us in today's India and not afraid to voice it out loud. She goes above and beyond just advertising about washing machines and lipsticks. And I wish they show this little piece throughout all television channels instead of some one telling me I am worth a packet of hair color product.


I salute you Kalki. Standing Ovation from me.

http://www.storypick.com/unbelievable-performance-kalki-koechlin-feels-like-woman/

Social Experiment 3 on the Ferry

Hey that rhymes !!

Me and KB boarded the normal ferry from BabuGhat which goes to Shibpur last Friday. We wanted to enjoy the Ganga, and this very unique ride.

We climbed up on the deck and there were mostly men on the deck and one other Muslim woman in a borkha.

Suddenly the helper on the boat tell us that ladies must go down and points to this hell hole underneath which is dark and dinghy and gets no air or sunshine. We first said no nicely and then I added that if I go inside I will definitely get motion sickness. Then most of the other guys joined him and kept on telling us that we have to go inside. First their logic was that we will  fall off board. Since we have XX chromosomes instead of XY we will obviously somehow manage to hurl ourselves over the railing accidentally. Then when we refused to move and also steadfastly was not paying them any attention the driver started honking the horn. As per him we were blocking his view. There were atleast 50 other men on that deck and we were the only two blocking the view. I guess it could be because we have breasts and that can be distracting. Then a random guy who was not even on the boat told us that we must go inside. We refused again and asked him to give us one good reason. He said if he has to give us one reason then it would go on forever. This was the rule. I then told him to show me the rule book. At that the men finally realizing that we were not going to give in said if we were so confident then we should stand at the lower deck, which did not even have any railing. At this point ofcourse no one was concerned about the fact that we might fall over. Infact it felt like they wanted us to slip and fall over. Just then a really old lady with her granddaughter came on board and she had to face the same harassment from everyone.They wanted even the old lady to climb down the steep stairs. I am so proud that she silently refused and continued to sit on the lower deck.

When the boat landed KB was one of the first people to jump off. I was about to follow when I realized that the men were trampling over the old lady. She was protesting feebly saying " Why everyone was pushing her." The men actually replied that she deserved it since she chose to sit up on the deck. I gave her my hand to hold onto and heard one of the men say to me "Why can't you get off the boat now if you are so confident ?" None of the men came to help the old woman down. At this point I shouted for KB and asked her to come help the old woman. Some other men who were not on the boat suddenly realized that a girl is summoning another girl for help. Their chivalry suddenly being awaken, they helped the old lady down.

This particular incident felt a bit like a social class thing but more that we belong to the female species thing. I guess the fact that we were of the female species, and perhaps a little higher up in the class ladder than them and refused to travel like livestock was reason enough to incite a boat full of men.

Since we are women it is again our fault ! How dare we challenge their male chauvinistic rule and refuse to travel in a dark airless hole ? How dare could we even want to enjoy the river and the breeze ? How dare we choose to stand their amidst the studly group of men? How dare we help another women ? And worse how dare we did not end up falling into the river ?

Sometimes I wonder what would they say if one day our Hon' Chief Minister decides to take the ferry. She happens to be the most powerful person in our State. But then our Hon' Chief Minister is a SHE. Will they demand that even she travels in that hole ? Because that happens to be the unsaid unwritten made up  rule ?

And just a reminder, the river happens to be a SHE herself. And she did help me from not wanting to punch the faces of all those people on board.

Social Experiment 2 with Me

Disclaimer : Contains strong language and worse, strong opinions by a woman !

It was New Year's Eve. I went to Kurry Klub with KB and SB for an early dinner.

This is what I was wearing
1. A red sweater.
2. A black and red skirt.
3. Black Stockings.
4. Red Wedges.
5. Kajal on my eyes and no makeup.

We were done by 9 p.m. and then we stopped at the Shop opposite HDFC ATM on Sarat Bose Road. We wanted to buy chocolates, water and Diet Coke. KB and SB were discussing something in rapt attention. As I was buying the things, a group of respectable looking boys/men came behind me. Initially I paid them no attention, but then my sixth sense told me that they were too close for comfort.

Suddenly, I was greeted with the compliment "Wah kya boobies hai !" followed by "Nice Ass."  At this point I tried to catch the attention of my friends but they were a little away and probably could not hear me. I told the shop keeper to hurry up. This seemed to somehow instigate the group. They continued " What's the hurry ? Some one's waiting for you ?" Then a second guy added. "Give her 500. She will wait for you then." Obviously this was the greatest joke of 2013 because it cracked all the boys up. To add to the jocular mood the first guy added "She might need a 1000. Can't you see her skirt is expensive ?"

What can I say  except  "It's my fault !" It was New Year's eve and how dare I thought that I could enjoy a nice dinner with my friends? How could I even dare to think it was alright for me to want to look pretty and wear a skirt? I should have known men have eyes. And, since men also have mouths and no control, it was only natural that they would compliment me !

Remember that scene from Rowdy Rathore where Akshay Kumar pinches Sonakshi Sinha's waist? When Sonakshi Sinha asks him why he did that, he explains saying that he did try to control but his hand had a mind of its own , therefore he was not to blame . Just his hands. It was Sonakshi Sinha in a sari and her waist that forced him to do it. And ofcourse Sonakshi Sinha enjoys being harassed since he is the hero of the movie. So how can we blame the men of this country for saying things or grazing past a girl's breast or pinching their butt or raping and brutally murdering them? They don't want to do it. It is just their impulse.

And as Kalki Kochlin says it, at the end of it all, " It is my fault ! " Because I am a woman.

Social Experiment1 with PB1

As part of this Social Experiment, I also decided to incorporate another social experiment. The general behaviour of the XY chromosomes towards the XX chromosomes in this city. Maybe I should have given the heading as Sub Social Experiment. Hmm !!

Anyways my friend PB1 (the rocking sport that she is) agreed to be my accomplice on this one or rather the main instrument to get this experiment rolling.

This is her and this was her attire for the day.
1. A pair of washed dark blue denims.
2. A grey tank top.
3. An orange hoodie.
4. Brown Wedges.
5. Pink dewy lipstick and eyeliner.

She is smart, sassy, gorgeous, independent and she can walk that walk where it feels that the busy crowded roads of Kolkata are infact her private runway podium. 

So she walked ahead and me and SB walked behind her. (Thank you SB for saying the things that you did say on that walk to all those men !)

We walked from Spanish Cafe, Sudder Street to Park Hotel. We crossed 63 men ranging from the age of 12 to 62, covering all social strata and out of them only 12 did not stare at her breasts. Nowhere else. Just at her breasts. Like deers in front of headlights. A few of them stared rather disapprovingly as to why a woman is wearing clothes of her choice and showing more than expected chest area. As to why she has not used a stole or or a muffler to suffocate herself but in the process sticking to good-old tradition by preventing these men from having to acknowledge the fact that women have breasts. Most of them stared like they have never seen anything like it before with open lust in their eyes. Some of them actually did double takes. One guy while holding his very cute girlfriend's hand did a double take. They were not looks of appreciation. All of them were staring as if she is a piece of meat that they need to taste(Pardon the language !).

P.S. -  I want to give a disclaimer here. This incident just happened. It was not planned really. After noticing the pattern with men and the general direction they were looking I brought it to PB1 and SB's attention. That is when I decided to write this in the blog and asked for PB1's permission. She ofcourse readily agreed.