For those carefree days..

what wouldnt I give!

The Voice In My Head

Sometimes, just sometimes, inspite of the way I feel, a tiny voice in my head whispers that I'm doing the right thing, and I cling on to that little voice for dear life and pray that it is right. I have much to loose but much to gain too.

My guardian angel watches over me.

Missing a visitation

I should be at a 'Wine and Cheese' party, but I wont. I should be touring on the 'Molly Trolleys', but I wont. I should have hors d'oeuvres and a drink in the park, but I wont. I shouldnt be missing all this... but I will :(

Suruchi Dinshaw - Part 3

When she awoke the next morning, the boys were already up. It was their last day home and they didn’t want to spend any more time whiling in bed. There were friends to be met, notes to be exchanged and coffee to be had at ‘Mariappa’s chai kada’. Yes, coffee, not tea, for Mariappa served the best coffee in the entire city!

Suruchi sat up on the bed and rubbed her forehead hard. What happened last night? Was it just an awful nightmare? There is NO WAY it could have been real. In fact at this moment she wasn’t even sure of what had transpired the night before. “Hey kiddo! You awake finally eh? “, smiled Kartik as he strolled into the room. He had already showered and changed into a pair of cargo shorts and a trendy t-shirt that stated ‘I was an atheist till I realized I was GOD’, obviously borrowed from Rohit.

Suruchi stared at him with zombie eyes as though trying to read beneath the smile. Memories of the cold snake suddenly flashed before her eyes and she began to feel her head swim. “You alright kiddo?” Kartik’s face wore a look of concern as he came towards her. Suruchi jumped out of bed muttering something about feeling sleepy and dashed into the bathroom.

While her brothers were out most of the day, Suruchi went about the house with a glazed look prompting her mom to wonder if the kid had indeed fallen ill. “After all” she said, “this changing weather is most dangerous”. Suruchi meanwhile replayed the events of the night over and over in her head, until she though she would go crazy. She kept telling herself that it was a nightmare and nothing more, but a tiny voice in her head told her that she hadn’t imagined anything. She hated that voice.

She avoided Kartik surreptitiously all day and didn’t remember much of the evening when the boys bid goodbye and left. Mrs. Dinshaw was in tears and didn’t notice anything unnatural about her while Mr. Dinshaw, as he usually did at partings, kept a straight face and slipped into his ‘reading room’ to deal with his emotions privately. Suruchi slept with the lights on that night.

The next few days Suruchi was as quiet a mouse, so unlike her usual self, that her parents, who initially attributed it to ‘sudden loneliness’, started getting a wee bit anxious. Mrs Dinshaw’s remedy was to feed her daughter more. She had taken the adage “A healthy kid is a happy one” straight to heart. Suruchi’s BMI (Body Mass Index, for the uninformed) was pretty good at 21, but Mrs. Dinshaw hadn’t browsed to http://nhlbisupport.com/bmi/bmicalc.htm yet.

Even Suruchi’s colleagues at Lintas noted a change of mood and wondered about it. Her boss, Priya, a keen cookie could smell a rat from afar but decided to give it a couple of days before asking her anything. Priya was the ‘jaan’ of the office. Half Bengali, half malayalee and a 35 year old divorcee, she was a hot-blooded tigress, but a sweet loving one at that. When asked by a pesky colleague if she was married, Priya replied “Yes I was” and then shrugging nonchalantly, “but I decided that I didn’t like it.” A gourmet cook, the dishes that emerged from her kitchen were the likes of what you would find on a seven-star menu card. Priya loved entertaining and her friends pigged out on her creations with more gusto than a pack of racing bulls! Young, vivacious and yet matronly – she made sure everyone did ‘susu’ before they left for a concert – Priya was a darling.

Priya watched Suruchi keenly every day for signs of improvement and when she could finally wait no longer, confronted her, head on. “What IS it that’s eating you alive?” she demanded. Suruchi feigned ignorance, although she knew it was impossible to deceive her friend. Finally, when pushed into a corner, she made a feeble excuse of missing her brothers and having the ‘post-reunion’ hangover. “Don’t give me crap girl! You’re insulting my intelligence!”, thundered Priya. Suruchi fled before another word could be uttered.

At home, she anguished over if she should confide in Priya or not. How could she suggest such atrocious things about her brother? What would Priya think? What would anyone think?! Wouldn’t they think she was demented? Did such things ever happen in ‘decent’ families? Of course she had read stuff here and there, now and then, but she always thought they must be made-up. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh”, Suruchi screamed into her pillow, pulling her hair so hard that a few clumps came off in her hands. ‘Would the nightmare never end?’

...to be continued

A Bewildered Mind

And then sometimes a signal comes along. Like a flash of lightning in the sky. Musnt I act on it? Musnt I be thankful for the answer that I had been waiting so long for? Why am I still confused? Why am I still unsure? Is it cause the signal isnt clear enough?! My questions will always persist! What I really need is a miracle!! And then I saw this picture...

Blank Noise Project Blog-a-thon

Reading all the incidents blogged by women across India and the rest of the world was cathartic and yet painful. They brought forth deep hidden-from-prying-eyes fears, shame, outrage and smouldering anger. Murky 'incidents' from the past came flashing back like a horror movie rewinding before my eyes. Does exposing/expressing the 'horror' and 'nightmare' really help in supressing the incidence of these experiences? Does it really cause the 'perverts' to pause and ponder over how 'sick' they really are? I honestly dont think so. While I truly applaud the efforts by the team behind the Blank Noise Project, I wonder about its impact on making lives safer and less creepy for women in this world. I do agree though that it will help people 'arm' themselves better to confront ugly situations.

I was only 4 when my 'uncle' decided that I had come of age to see his 'manhood'. There is nothing else that I remember of my life at that tender age except that time when he jutted out that 'scary thing' at me. I remember vividly too the room I was in when it happened, the lazy afternoon sunbeams streaming in through the window and the ding-dong of the grandfather clock, marking "the hour" for ever. Even now I break out in cold sweat when I think of how he violated my innocence. I never have and probably never will confront him with that incident. I love his kids way too much.

While a graduate student at Kollam, Kerala, our hostel was only a few hundred yards away from the all-women-college. A new transplant into the town from a world and a lifestyle aeons away I had no clue of the things I would have to get used to. The wall that ran the length of the walk to college was liberally sprinkled with boys whose sole aim in life was to eve-tease. During the initial months I did not understand most of the slurs and lewd remarks and walked by blissfully unaware of comments on various parts of my anatomy. Then one day as my best friend S and I walked briskly, a fat guy jumped off the wall and made his way upto us. Sensing trouble, we doubled our pace and prayed he would leave us alone. Inspite of his size, he was as slippery as an eel and I didnt even see what he did before he turned around to a whooping yell from his fellow crooks. Since he hadnt touched me, I quickly turned to S whose tears were pouring down her face as she walked ahead not slowing down. He had grabbed her breasts and moved on before she could even react. This on a busy road full of people watching the 'tamasha' and a cheering squad on the wall. I ws filled with rage so deep that I could barely breathe. Yet I didnt dare go back to confront the guy, so terrified was I then of what he might do to me. Today when I look back, I cringe with shame at my 'cowardness', though I know a good number of people who will tell me that I did the right thing by letting it 'pass'.

Another time, on the same road, a guy 'flashed' at me. This time (as advised by my experienced aunt) I hooted at him! Yes, I shamed him so much that he ran away red-faced dragging his badly tied 'mundu' behind him! Shame them, make them the victims of their own dirty games and see how they slink away. HAH!

My friend P was very excited at her first job. She had been job-hunting for a long time and had finally gotten a break at a product marketing firm. She was raring to prove herself! She slogged so hard that just a month after her joining the boss 'promoted' her by offering to let her come along on an out-of-town 'business meeting'. P, naive to the ways of the world was thrilled to bits untill she overheard him asking his secretary to book them into a double room. She quit that very minute.

A few weeks back as I was walking 'Casper' on a late Sunday evening, my thoughts were happy after a relaxing weekend and the slight chill in the air invigorating. I vaguely heard the sound of a bike behind me. What happened next took just 3 seconds, but for me lasted forever. The guy on the bike slowed down and pawed me before speeding away under the cover of darkness. For a few seconds I couldnt comprehend what had just happened but by the time I recovered, he was too far away and all I could do was hurl some abuses at him. The security guard in the adjacent building looked as though he was watching a movie and did not even move a finger to help. Why should he? Choking with nausea and burning with shame I made my way home. The shame will never die down and I will never again venture out at that time. Even if I am forced to, my pepper spray will always be clenched in my tense hands. I wished I had reacted by throwing him a punch at least. I wished I had been more alert. I wished I hadnt been enjoying the evening breeze as much.

'They" are there everywhere. You dont have to have a third eye behind your head to see their dirty looks boring into you. You could feel it blindfolded. On the roads, in the trains and buses, in places of worship (oh yes!), in busy and not so busy markets, at the workplace, in schools, on the beach, in movie halls...and even in your homes. "They" are our nemesis and I really dont know when and how "they" will ever cease to exist. Oh, if only for one day, it could all turn tospy turvy and if all of "them" could become women and be at the receiving end. Maybe then they would be shocked into changing, maybe then the world would become a safer place for us.

DUH

Decisions..decisions..decisions *sigh* Why must the most important ones always be the most difficult too? I see two paths in front of me. 'A' - is what I ached for, fought so much, and gave up so much for. 'B' - is what dreams are made of, mine too, glistening with the promise of 'liberation' and 'achievement'. And I stand torn at the crossroads not daring to put one step ahead in either path. Why..'o why must choices be so difficult?!

I wait for a signal.. to show me the path that will be the 'ONE'.