Caution

Acid attacks in India have become a major concern of late. As per ASFI (Acid Survivors and Women Welfare Foundation) there were 80 reported cases of acid attack in 2010 that in 2016 rose to 307, nearly a fourfold rise. 

This sketch is dedicated to all brave acid attack survivors.

Medium- Pitt pens and color pencils

Dignity

Tough as a diamond and fragile as a delicate piece of chinaware, a woman’s dignity is a queer thing. Still, it needs to be protected from scratches and dirt and is to be carried like a child everywhere. This is indeed the biggest responsibility. This is a woman’s strength that her dignity is alive and kicking and it is also the most perilous thing for her to live like this in a world where everything, from rules to laws and from religion to mindsets have been designed to smash it like it were a poisonous weed, that could claim tall snooty trees, standing upright, looking down upon little sprouts feeling insecure over their growth.

Happy Women's Day 2017

Bits & Pieces 3

Great Expectations

The seven years old child of an acquaintance bears the brunt of his over-ambitious mother’s unending aspirations. He already attends three or four classes including swimming, music, self-defense and craft apart from school and tuitions. The lady proudly flaunts his abilities in front of every other guest esp. relatives and often forces him to sing-that-song or show-that-stroke, making a museum of sorts out of the weary child. Moreover, she chides him when he isn’t in the top three or four in academics. I think this is a bit too much. Also, the most important thing she has failed to notice (unlike all others) is that, her child never smiles and always keeps a poker-face. To me, he seems more like a tired, confused and sleep-deprived scientist, lost in his own thoughts and equations. To make the matters worse, she is not on very amiable terms with her ever-busy husband. Hence, the entire time and energy is unfortunately directed towards her only child, along with the load of her great expectations. 

(Image: www.illustrationsof.com)

Sanitary Shift

I have been noticing a trend of late. Remember those sanitary napkin ads where burly mothers would come and murmur to the audience how this or that brand saved them from embarrassment. Now, for last five years or so, preteen and teen girls have replaced those middle aged aunties. The protagonist is always a perky school or college going girl who uses the brand, mostly because she likes it and goes for that movie date wearing stark white trousers, smiling cheerfully with her boyfriend. Moreover, these ads have become very graphic too with capacity displayed by literally pouring the blue liquids into the product. Although this accentuates a research that girls are hitting the puberty fast but sometimes I think that some of these ads could have been a bit more subtle and classy. Too much showing of sanitary products (and their details) gives a yucky feeling, especially if you happen to watch them during meals and/or with elders.  

Blame Game

Someone told me about an incident that happened in her neighborhood. A young mother was indecently handled by the hot-bloodied son of an affluent builder, in the community park. The lady, coming from no less a background complained about this to the boy’s father who, instead, blamed her for inciting his son’s youthful feelings. He accused her of spending all her spare time in the park on the pretext of her toddler and attracting boys by giving them ‘wrong signals’. A verbal spat followed and for a few days, the lady stopped coming to that colony park but the father-son duo remained as shameless as ever. Now, this requires attention. No amount of wealth, class and education are enough to change certain deep rooted perceptions. In our society, if a girl is manhandled, she is looked down upon for titillating the ‘young hearts’ and calling for all the trouble. This attitudinal shift is the most important thing and such teachings come primarily from the family itself. Unfortunately, it seems this shift will take forever to arrive. 

(Image: www.shutterstock.com/video)

A True 'Mardaani' !

This is written as a part of I am Mardaani activity exclusively at BlogAdda.com for Indian Bloggers.

The moment I read about this movie and this contest, the first name that crossed my mind was that of one of my grandmother’s relative who was, in all the ways, a true Mardaani. I would love to share her story here and extend my gratitude to this contest by Blogadda, for otherwise this story would have remained forever under folds of old memories.

She is Kumud, my granny’s first cousin and an octogenarian. Born into a reputed Brahmin family, she was married when she was around 17 or 18 years of age. Her new home in a city in Rajasthan was perfect! Unfortunately, good times did not last long and within a few days, the beautiful facade disappeared and a very painful truth emerged out. Her husband, a well to do business man, moved to another city where he had a shop and she followed him like a dedicated Indian wife. However, as soon as she reached the new city, a shock awaited her- that man was already married to a half-British-half-Sindhi woman and they even had three children together. Since the stingy memsahib hated any sort of household work and also that his family too wanted to get rid of her, he shamelessly married my granny’s cousin under that pressure. 

Unfortunately in India, marriage is perceived to be a panacea for everything that goes wrong- from setting delinquent, alcoholic and abusive sons to complex relationships and even bad karma straight. The environment there was as negative as it could be. It was a huge house and she was literally confined to a single dingy room in a corner and was made to do all the household work like cooking, cleaning and laundry of the entire family. The memsahib would go hopping the markets and parties every day leaving her to take care of her three children. Whenever she tried to raise her voice, she was beaten and threatened. My granny also revealed that he also made her write happy letters to her father so as to avoid his trips to that place. 

Around six or eight months passed this way. One day, on the pretext of buying some groceries, she traveled straight to his father’s place all alone (with some saved and stolen money). The father, a benevolent man, was quite ashamed of what his son had done but being frail and helpless, could not do much to stop him. However, he did one wonderful thing. He not only treated her as his own daughter but also gave her all of the jewelry of his late wife and cash that he had, much to the chagrin of his other son. She filed a police complaint and contacted her father with the help of her father-in-law. The families met and after a lot of hullabaloo and dirty fighting, she legally separated from that wretched man, who was to be later disowned by his own family too. By the standards of that time, she was quite educated and using the money, began her graduation course. She stayed with her father-in-law because of some reason may be attachment or that her college was in that city. After completing her BSc, she went ahead for MSc in Botany. She used to tutor students at home and support herself in every way that she could. One more thing that this incident teaches us is that education is finally the thing that liberates us as it did her in this case.

My granny told me that after the old man died, she shifted to a women’s hostel as the other son and his wife forced her to do all the household chores and stopped her from continuing her master’s degree. She still had enough gold and cash but was quite prudent in spending it and managed a good portion of her expenses in her tuition income. Later, she enrolled into a PhD course, a rare sight in that era when most women did not go beyond primary school. She got a job in a Government college in another city and there, our mardaani, started her life afresh and went ahead to marry a colleague from a different community- a proper love marriage! She retired as the principal of that very college and now, in her eighties, she lives in a huge bungalow they built with their own income!

I salute not only that lady but also her father who got her educated till school in those times and of course, her father in law, who supported her unconditionally!

On Her Own Way

Silent stream gently braced the cold ashes

As dull moonlight spread on a sooty passage

Zephyr too seemed to hum a poignant note

And dull horizon warned of a tempest above

She walked quietly carrying her infant son

Still in past, somewhat numb to reason

A swarm of people awaited her there

Relatives, elders and many a neighbor

Their eyes, piercing and arrow like

As if mocking the tragedy of her life

“With him gone, you hapless woman!

Mould your life as per the canon

Implore God to wash your sins

Hide from men and lusty urchins

Cut those dark curls & drape white

Avoid rich cuisines, even their sight”

Compelled an old sunken lady

Having passed the diktat already

A frame so frail but voice so rife

As if an authority on banal life

She too saw all this early in age

A fox she was but dressed a sage

Peering eyes and rapacious looks, she saw it all

And then stood up, with spine so erect and tall

Staring back to each nasty eye, started off-

“I lost my beloved but that’s ‘his’ end

He did his own part and went away

Now, I will walk my own way

I too have a life; rather a long one

A son to raise and duties to dispense

Joys shall fill my voids with smile

Brick by brick will intact what’s left behind

I will pick pieces and wear his shoes

Tackle the unkind world, as it goes

Colors will smile again and so will Thee

Those are my plans and rest to destiny”

Calmly she said , clutching her son

Assuring that she expects from none

“You shameless nymph!” cried an old man

“Cover your head and think of God

Respect tradition and now be sad

At least for the sake, shed a tear

But stay away, do not come near

If all the widows will think like her

Society will surely go to the gutter

Dare not have the traditions shatter

Don’t be a blot on our rich culture”

His blood red eyes each like flaming ember

Others joined too-“yes! She must surrender”

“Of course!” shirked an old lady

“Unchaste”, one had certified already

“I will decide which path to follow

For I am neither a wimp, nor hollow

My son will admire a strong mother

Not a loser running from bad weather”

She took up her child and walked on

Towards a new future and a new dawn

The Gods saw this and clapped in bliss

A girl’s aura can a million suns eclipse

Look! There she goes, in search of a new day!

But when every girl would say-

“I respect my esteem, dignity and honor”

“I won’t let myself be pushed to a corner”

“I have a spine and I refuse to be sorry”

Gods will show that lady, her very way to glory!

Being forced to wear white all life, a mourning that never ends, being ostracized from all the family functions and a hundred other mindless restrictions –that’s what any woman’s nightmares are made of. Unfortunately, this is the very life many women lead in some parts of India. Widowhood not only unleashes cruelty and ruthlessness of the society on an already distressed being but our malicious traditions too, suck all her dignity and push her to oblivion.

Sadly, it is not easy to change die-hard perceptions, rotten preconceived notions and redundant customs. In metros and cities where many women are educated, working and self dependent, severity may be less but presence still haunts though in minor shades.

So, kicking hard that putrid double faced society that knows only to force traditions and enjoy cruelty, women should come out of their pigeon-holes and face the world with confidence expecting nothing from this hypocrite world. 

Images from: 

-http://sandanamullai.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/1664762-4-silhouette-mom-and-baby.jpg

-http://freethoughtblogs.com/taslima/2012/06/03/the-living-dead-2/