"Feminism has fought no wars. It has killed no opponents. It has set up no concentration camps, starved no enemies, practiced no cruelties. Its battles have been for education, for the vote, for better working conditions.. for safety on the streets... for child care, for social welfare...for rape crisis centers, women's refuges, reforms in the law." (If someone says) 'Oh, I'm not a feminist,' (I ask) 'Why? What's your problem?'"
- Dale Spender, author of For the Record: The Making & Meaning of Feminist Knowledge, 1985
Monday, December 15, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
That Volatile Thing Called Life
Do you have a choice? Really a choice, when you realize that your life has literally tumbled down. No you don’t. But only left with a choice to wonder why it took such a long time for the realization to seep in. Why is that you have been cheating yourself that life is good, when in reality the tumbling down of your life had happened long time back. Probably, at the time when you really discovered yourself. Your preferences. Your choices. Your desires. Your wishes. Your favorites. Your anger. Your love. Your passions. Life had tumbled down actually at those moments when you realized all these inane yet defining things of life. It takes quite a long time to understand that life is in tatters, almost!
Do you have a choice? No. you don’t. Except to move on and embrace those same things that make you fall apart. How ironical! You actually hold yourself together by those same things that try to break you down into pieces. That volatile life!
Do you have a choice? No. you don’t. Except to move on and embrace those same things that make you fall apart. How ironical! You actually hold yourself together by those same things that try to break you down into pieces. That volatile life!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
I am Listening...
Few days back, when I came across the thought that women have the ability to capture multi-focused ideas in their writing better than men, I took it to be yet another stereotype that is just an outcome of generalised notions about women and men. But, to my surprise, when I came across the book Listening Now… by Anjana Appachana, I least expected that I would in a way agree with this idea.
Anjana Appachana clearly has the ability to draw interesting stories from the uniteresting corners of everyday life. And for millions of ordinary women, everyday life is indeed uninteresting for just being glued on to the mundanities of performing their womanly and household duties. So, you wonder what interesting stories that Anjana could probably tell about everyday life of women, to keep her audience hooked.
Well, then! As you move on gradually gripped by the flow of the narration and swallowed by the enormity of everyday life, you realise that Anajana has not contemplated stories but has tried to take a peek into women’s minds to read their thoughts and desires. Those unmet needs that lay entrapped in the crevices of mind, thickly insulated from the outside world, and in the process giving shapes to those suppressed voices through her beautifully picked words.
Although the story is a simple love story, it proves to be rich and complex and is told in perspectives of six different women. And these women narrate their own stories along with it and let out their suppressed desires, wishes, disappointment and their distant dreams that are totally unrelated to their lives in reality.
The narrative style is unique and piquant. Anajana has interwoven the essence of poignance with the stories of six women through out the story. This is a story that shuts the man’s world entirely out from women’s world. In her six complex stories, the men are generally viewed as insesntive people towards women’s pains and lives. Although it might sound like an “yet-another-generalisation-of-a-typical-feminist-woman” to many chauvinist and non-chauvinist men and also to many conventional women, in reality, it is not very far from the truth. The sensitivity with which Anajana handles the story is commendable and definitely leaves an impact.
Another important flavour of the story is the bonding of three women. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the book is richly textured and multilayered with too many stories that exude different flavours and intricacies of women’s lives. Be it the poignant friendship between the three women: Padma, Madhu and Anu or be it the ability of women to relate to each other like how Shantacca instantly finds out when she was narrating Padma’s story to Madhu and Anu, that those women were not crying for Padma, but in a way for their own stories. Or be it the hypocrisy of Indian fathers who hide behind the mothers to enforce conventional rules on their daughters making mothers as villains in the end. These rich stories also unveil the balatant truths about male chauvinism among fathers, husbands and brothers and how they affect and alter the lives of women. And then you realise, deep within you, that a major share of women’s tragedies and miseries in their lives are brought upon only by the men.
And in an effort to bring out the insenstive roles of men in women’s lives, Anajana, never tries to patronise and generalise women as “good and naïve”. Women in her stories are complex and varied as well. They come in different shapes and colours. They are strong, weak, caring, loving, conventional, liberative, villainous, catankerous and contemplating.
And each and every woman in the book leaves a mark on the reader as you come to the end of stories. Prabha, the rebellious daughter of Anu; or Sita, the woman who carries bitter secrets that she had known about her family since her childhood; or Prema, the naïve wife who lives through her suffering in silence and goes in search of the truth knocking at Rukmini’s door, each woman in the book is familiar and the book is filled with these women’s stories. Their tears, laughters, joy, silence, secret desires and their understanding of the male dominated world.
Listnening Now is a perfect treat for people who possess an insatiable hunger for stories. The stories that have never been told before, and the thoughts that have never been articulated! You find these poingnant stories part of many women you see in your lives. Yet you chose not to lend you ears. You never bothered to care.
But this book takes you through an ordinary world that has never before been explored with such finesse and intricacy. You don’t have a choice but to listen. Listen now… Your perspectives about life will never be the same again.
Anjana Appachana clearly has the ability to draw interesting stories from the uniteresting corners of everyday life. And for millions of ordinary women, everyday life is indeed uninteresting for just being glued on to the mundanities of performing their womanly and household duties. So, you wonder what interesting stories that Anjana could probably tell about everyday life of women, to keep her audience hooked.
Well, then! As you move on gradually gripped by the flow of the narration and swallowed by the enormity of everyday life, you realise that Anajana has not contemplated stories but has tried to take a peek into women’s minds to read their thoughts and desires. Those unmet needs that lay entrapped in the crevices of mind, thickly insulated from the outside world, and in the process giving shapes to those suppressed voices through her beautifully picked words.
Although the story is a simple love story, it proves to be rich and complex and is told in perspectives of six different women. And these women narrate their own stories along with it and let out their suppressed desires, wishes, disappointment and their distant dreams that are totally unrelated to their lives in reality.
The narrative style is unique and piquant. Anajana has interwoven the essence of poignance with the stories of six women through out the story. This is a story that shuts the man’s world entirely out from women’s world. In her six complex stories, the men are generally viewed as insesntive people towards women’s pains and lives. Although it might sound like an “yet-another-generalisation-of-a-typical-feminist-woman” to many chauvinist and non-chauvinist men and also to many conventional women, in reality, it is not very far from the truth. The sensitivity with which Anajana handles the story is commendable and definitely leaves an impact.
Another important flavour of the story is the bonding of three women. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the book is richly textured and multilayered with too many stories that exude different flavours and intricacies of women’s lives. Be it the poignant friendship between the three women: Padma, Madhu and Anu or be it the ability of women to relate to each other like how Shantacca instantly finds out when she was narrating Padma’s story to Madhu and Anu, that those women were not crying for Padma, but in a way for their own stories. Or be it the hypocrisy of Indian fathers who hide behind the mothers to enforce conventional rules on their daughters making mothers as villains in the end. These rich stories also unveil the balatant truths about male chauvinism among fathers, husbands and brothers and how they affect and alter the lives of women. And then you realise, deep within you, that a major share of women’s tragedies and miseries in their lives are brought upon only by the men.
And in an effort to bring out the insenstive roles of men in women’s lives, Anajana, never tries to patronise and generalise women as “good and naïve”. Women in her stories are complex and varied as well. They come in different shapes and colours. They are strong, weak, caring, loving, conventional, liberative, villainous, catankerous and contemplating.
And each and every woman in the book leaves a mark on the reader as you come to the end of stories. Prabha, the rebellious daughter of Anu; or Sita, the woman who carries bitter secrets that she had known about her family since her childhood; or Prema, the naïve wife who lives through her suffering in silence and goes in search of the truth knocking at Rukmini’s door, each woman in the book is familiar and the book is filled with these women’s stories. Their tears, laughters, joy, silence, secret desires and their understanding of the male dominated world.
Listnening Now is a perfect treat for people who possess an insatiable hunger for stories. The stories that have never been told before, and the thoughts that have never been articulated! You find these poingnant stories part of many women you see in your lives. Yet you chose not to lend you ears. You never bothered to care.
But this book takes you through an ordinary world that has never before been explored with such finesse and intricacy. You don’t have a choice but to listen. Listen now… Your perspectives about life will never be the same again.
Chennai Men in Pink
It is very easy to make heads turn in a city like Chennai. If you are a woman, all you have to do is just be so. Just walk around, and you will know what I mean. If you are a man, all you have to do to gather attention is to wear a pink shirt or tee. There you are, identified as someone unique and out-of-crowd. Thanks to Saif Ali Khan in Salaam Namaste, some of the Indian cities have changed its attitude towards pink-wearing-men. But, what can you expect out of a city that has bred and nurtured conservatism in its everyday rhythms of life. But to term certain things as just conservatism is ignoring the larger part of the issue. And this pink issue is definitely one of those. Apart from Chennai’s inability to catch up with the changing trends of lifestyle, this attitude of the city captures the very essence of Chennai. It’s fondness to preserve gender stereotypes is clearly evident in the lifestyle of Chennaites! Not that the other Indian cities have broken away from gender stereotypes, but atleast, efforts, voluntarily or involuntarily, taken by the people of those cities are evident.
The class and caste conscious Chennai is unique in one of its cultural aspects. Unanimously, people from various classes agree to the city’s gender stereotypes, and anyone breaking away from these stereotypes will be laughed at. Everyday life is really exciting and challenging in Chennai, if you are a non-conformist, no matter which part of the social stratum you belong to! The only difference being the way you are being laughed at. The so called ‘elite’ class term pinkish man to be ‘gay’ish. They wonder, how could a macho man, with his six pack abs, wear something pink. People, who are not ‘elite’ know that you are not man enough but feminine.
The Chennai Men, who are reluctant to break away from the dull coloured t-shirts, and who are new to the culture of beauty parlour-visiting men will always find such a change in lifetsyle unique, difficult and unacceptable. Some men even find it below the normal standards of manliness for a man to wear a neckwear aroud his neck. And pink is simply unthinkable! And you talk to them about the metrosexual concept that is fast catching up in other metros in India, they laugh. Not because they find it funny, but because of their inability to comprehend the idea, as their minds are well attuned to the fashion of dull, colourless, faded t-shirts and worn out jeans.
In a misinformed and homophobic city like Chennai, most often metrosexual men are seen with contempt and branded gay, exhibiting city’s obnoxious attitude towards minority sexuality people and endangering people’s freedom of choice. In a time, where the metros and mini metros in India are leaping forward towards lesser stereotypical gender identities among people, Conservative Chennai simply refuses to catch up with the trend. The city, entrenched in its conventional attitudes towards women still continues to possess an eteranl belief in a strong distinction between masculinity and femininity.
Chennai’s understadnig of sexuality is simple. It doesn’t bother too much about the nuances of the complexity of a person’s choice of sexuality. Men with neckwear are considered feminine and so gay. Men who are pro-women rights are unmanly because they understand women better. So are they gay! The underlining contemptuous attitude of the city towards not just women but also towards unconventional men, and people with alternate choice of sexuality is clearly evident from these perspectives.
When all the other cities had a rally for LGBT rights, Pride March, Chennai remained silent. This proves that when all the other cities atleast take some efforts to break away from stereotypical notions, staunch Chennai simply refuses to budge in. As a result, Chennai has become a haven for narrow-minded people. Even people from other cities and countries who feel comfortable with the city are mostly those who resonate with city’s ideas on gender identities.
Even the most stylish men and women, who are elite and snobbish, reflect city’s conventional ideas on the distinction and inequality between men and women. Hence, they feel connected to the city. When other cities are taking a stride to move beyond gender stereotypes, Chennai will still be a silent spectator clinging on to its century-old ideas and continue to smother its denizens.
The class and caste conscious Chennai is unique in one of its cultural aspects. Unanimously, people from various classes agree to the city’s gender stereotypes, and anyone breaking away from these stereotypes will be laughed at. Everyday life is really exciting and challenging in Chennai, if you are a non-conformist, no matter which part of the social stratum you belong to! The only difference being the way you are being laughed at. The so called ‘elite’ class term pinkish man to be ‘gay’ish. They wonder, how could a macho man, with his six pack abs, wear something pink. People, who are not ‘elite’ know that you are not man enough but feminine.
The Chennai Men, who are reluctant to break away from the dull coloured t-shirts, and who are new to the culture of beauty parlour-visiting men will always find such a change in lifetsyle unique, difficult and unacceptable. Some men even find it below the normal standards of manliness for a man to wear a neckwear aroud his neck. And pink is simply unthinkable! And you talk to them about the metrosexual concept that is fast catching up in other metros in India, they laugh. Not because they find it funny, but because of their inability to comprehend the idea, as their minds are well attuned to the fashion of dull, colourless, faded t-shirts and worn out jeans.
In a misinformed and homophobic city like Chennai, most often metrosexual men are seen with contempt and branded gay, exhibiting city’s obnoxious attitude towards minority sexuality people and endangering people’s freedom of choice. In a time, where the metros and mini metros in India are leaping forward towards lesser stereotypical gender identities among people, Conservative Chennai simply refuses to catch up with the trend. The city, entrenched in its conventional attitudes towards women still continues to possess an eteranl belief in a strong distinction between masculinity and femininity.
Chennai’s understadnig of sexuality is simple. It doesn’t bother too much about the nuances of the complexity of a person’s choice of sexuality. Men with neckwear are considered feminine and so gay. Men who are pro-women rights are unmanly because they understand women better. So are they gay! The underlining contemptuous attitude of the city towards not just women but also towards unconventional men, and people with alternate choice of sexuality is clearly evident from these perspectives.
When all the other cities had a rally for LGBT rights, Pride March, Chennai remained silent. This proves that when all the other cities atleast take some efforts to break away from stereotypical notions, staunch Chennai simply refuses to budge in. As a result, Chennai has become a haven for narrow-minded people. Even people from other cities and countries who feel comfortable with the city are mostly those who resonate with city’s ideas on gender identities.
Even the most stylish men and women, who are elite and snobbish, reflect city’s conventional ideas on the distinction and inequality between men and women. Hence, they feel connected to the city. When other cities are taking a stride to move beyond gender stereotypes, Chennai will still be a silent spectator clinging on to its century-old ideas and continue to smother its denizens.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
That Blissful Noise
I fell in love with trains. Train journeys to be precise! My everyday journey to office. A journey that will never last more than twenty minutes. But how did I begin to like this travel? Not because I like trains. I started liking the travel for the rhythmic sound that is typical of any train journey. The thadak-thadak rhythm. This rhythmic sound belongs to Rupagam class of raga from classical carnatic music. Later, I learnt it from The Silent Raga, a poignant story of a rebellious woman and her sister. Thanks to Ameen Merchant!
In a fast moving train, leaning against the window, facing the wind that brsuhes my face lifting the curls of my drooping hair way above my forehead, I found peace. Peace that engulfs me when I drown my confusions and frustration into the energising rhythm of the suburban train. The thadak-thadak sound of the train that shuts out those issues which constantly linger on my mind. The problems that never leave my mind, constantly demanding me to find solution with an immediate urgency. The rhtyhm, speed, and wind take me to a completely different world. Then I asked this question to myself many times. Is this how a white noise would sound like? Feel like? I know it is stupid. Hailing from a reputed engineering institute, I am making a fool of myself by this question that invades my mind everytime I stop, and listen to the rhythm of a moving train to get a relief from my constant worries. Like an energiser. To energise myself to pore over my worries again afresh with renewed strength. I went ahead and asked couple of my friends. They laughed at me! What else did I expect? But I know what white noise is! I came to know of it, few years back, from an interview by a debutant diector on her new film titled by the same name. White Noise. When the frequencies of all the noise match! A layman’s understanding. I want to move myself away from science. As far away as possible. Particularly if it is physics. I chose to understand just this way.
And then yet another question in my mind. Is white noise blissful? If the noise I am fond of even remotely resembles (I know I sound like a fool!) then white noise should be blissful. Even otherwise, these rhythmic patterns blanks me out from the confusions, frustrations and fears. So, definitely this noise is blissful! I am tired of constantly being at crossroads.Too tired. This twenty minutes energiser keeps me in control. Many times and many days. And when the train reaches Guindy, I get down and take my way to the road and wave my hands at an auto. And here, exactly here, my battle and frustrations for the day would begin.
In a fast moving train, leaning against the window, facing the wind that brsuhes my face lifting the curls of my drooping hair way above my forehead, I found peace. Peace that engulfs me when I drown my confusions and frustration into the energising rhythm of the suburban train. The thadak-thadak sound of the train that shuts out those issues which constantly linger on my mind. The problems that never leave my mind, constantly demanding me to find solution with an immediate urgency. The rhtyhm, speed, and wind take me to a completely different world. Then I asked this question to myself many times. Is this how a white noise would sound like? Feel like? I know it is stupid. Hailing from a reputed engineering institute, I am making a fool of myself by this question that invades my mind everytime I stop, and listen to the rhythm of a moving train to get a relief from my constant worries. Like an energiser. To energise myself to pore over my worries again afresh with renewed strength. I went ahead and asked couple of my friends. They laughed at me! What else did I expect? But I know what white noise is! I came to know of it, few years back, from an interview by a debutant diector on her new film titled by the same name. White Noise. When the frequencies of all the noise match! A layman’s understanding. I want to move myself away from science. As far away as possible. Particularly if it is physics. I chose to understand just this way.
And then yet another question in my mind. Is white noise blissful? If the noise I am fond of even remotely resembles (I know I sound like a fool!) then white noise should be blissful. Even otherwise, these rhythmic patterns blanks me out from the confusions, frustrations and fears. So, definitely this noise is blissful! I am tired of constantly being at crossroads.Too tired. This twenty minutes energiser keeps me in control. Many times and many days. And when the train reaches Guindy, I get down and take my way to the road and wave my hands at an auto. And here, exactly here, my battle and frustrations for the day would begin.
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