The Beach Portfolio of Poems

A Fable of Folly

“Long Long ago”, said Aesop in the court,
“there was a donkey led by his master,
across the slippery sands to the port.
The poor beast was made to go much faster
by the merciless merchant, finally
the donkey collapsed beside the seashore
and the salt bundles tumbled towards sea.
As it stood struggling, prepared for some more,
to its surprise, the few bundles weighed less,
not understanding that salt was gone.
The over-worked animal did feel blessed
by God, unlike the disgruntled and wronged
master. The crafty donkey looked forward
to the smell of the fresh salty sea air.
With precise timing, it sauntered toward
the water and slipped. There was less to bear
once again. Elated, and with elan,
it did it again. However, this time,
when the panting sweating merchant began
to reload the bundles, wiping all the grime
away from his face, the surprised donkey
collapsed for there were wet clothes now on its
back. It learned, along with us, that the key
is not to repeat tricks”, thus he proved his wits.

On Cloud Nine

In the morning where glistens the moist dew,
her effort made me awake. With no clue
about my new journey, I lay there hovering
uncertainly on the bed. Shivering
in the dawn, my mother gently took me
in her warm hands and walked towards the sea.
She held me firmly yet she set me free.
Afraid to stray far and with a silent plea,
I took some halfhearted steps with her hand.
Yet, she kept tugging, running on the sand,
encouraged me and reassured by
the pull, I relaxed and few to the sky.
As I embraced the wind and accepted
it, I soared higher, I was excepted
from accidents by the slight force that kept
me grounded and strong. I dreamed big and leapt
among the silver clouds and then looked down.
I drank the exquisite scene, from the brown
sands to the blue sea. As I saw the black
birds, I remembered the black paper back
at home that was brought alive by one whose
sublime joy was seen even amidst those
vast expanses of land, by this kite here.
Though on land, on cloud nine, was mother dear.

The Beach

I walk across the soft slippery sands,
then sit in front of the calm sea. My hands
caress the golden grains. I look ahead.

I see the waves rise gracefully, akin
ti the nice burgeoning hopes within
my heart. I see the crown of pearly foam.
I see those hopes blossom. My mind does roam
into pleasant places. Alas! The waves
bow their heads and crash. I wake up. This paves
the way to acknowledge my aching heart.
Slowly, the refreshing breeze does its part
to blow far away, my unhappiness.
The waves wash away, nevertheless,
and their rhythm further calms my sober
soul. With my anger stilled, I am better.
I raise my head and see the royal sun
dip beneath the horizon and summon
the queen of the night, the celestial moon
to grace the heavens. Bathed in its light soon,
I see the brightness in all times dark.

I see the infinite jewels of this queen,
the stars that bedeck the night sky. Its seen
to take me from my life to my special
place. Wiser. Stronger. Among the sea shells.

Fidèle Féministe

Bleary eyed in the wake of dawn, actually just the eve of noon, I see some frantic attempts to contact me on my cell phone. Half-asleep and a tooth-brush in one hand, I call up my best friend to ask what the matter was. He was half-amused at my sleepy tone and half-annoyed he had to call me so much. Then he told me that 5 members of the ACM team had to go to IIT-Madras tomorrow. It was an ACM-Women event and as there are exactly five girls in the ACM team, everyone was waiting for my confirmation. I was in a state of resistance simply at the fact that I was enjoying a nice day off and had to wake up early the next day.  When you have a job in hand and are in the final semester, the tendrils of complacency tend to sneak their way into you and I washed them off and said yes. I thought I had nothing better to do that particular day and might as well see what's in store. I wasn't very excited because it involved a lot of planning and I was even less excited at the though I may be chaperoning the juniors who were to accompany me.

How very wrong I was!*

IIT-Madras is basically built in the middle of a forest, you'll see stags crossing the road and what not. It's also very huge and easy to get lost. I had done some research on the event and my feminist soul already had a few misgivings at the thought of an exclusive ACM-W event. Nevertheless, I was prepared to go to the venue, IC and SR auditorium. The event began at 9 am. The five us settled in the cozy air-conditioned auditorium at the back. So I thought this is going to be a nice girls hangout, already I began chatting with them and everything was warm and fun.

The first person to give their presentation was Ms. Reyyan Ayfer.

She came up on stage and she is obviously at ease and comfort and she squeals "Oh, I'm short!". As a person who values the 3 inches over the 5 feet mark, I could very well connect with her. She gave a talk about the ACM-W student chapter, how the first meeting was held on 12/12/12, how they wanted to bring awareness and create more ACM-W chapters to bring about a healthier gender diversity ratio for Computer Engineers. She said she knew what minority meant as she was in a family where her husband and her two grown sons were engineers and she was the only female. Gender-diversity at Chennai colleges are quite 50-50 but even then there is an unsettling feeling of minority that I had experienced from school.

Next on stage was Ms. Wendy Hall. 

She was so bubbly and fun!

Now she wanted to try something different, apart from just talking about ACM - W. She wanted to take us on a journey travelling back in time and experience her major milestones and hurdles in her path right from her first baby steps. Her parents had lived during the World War and she belonged to the "Baby Boomer" era where her parents strove to give the best in life. As an avid historian, my instant connect with someone who is culturally different but having read their history, it made me feel, "Oh, ya I know where she's coming from!". I won't know exactly how it feels but I had a fair idea. And she began.

And the rest is history.

To take that half century journey was mind-blowing. From math to computers, from Tim Berners Lee to hyertext, from multimedia to semantic web, the story was mesmerising. As she displayed the skewed gender ratio, I thought this representation problem is truly global. She mentioned lot of tales, the gender ratio in Qatar and so on. But what really piqued my interest was when she explained the process that took place when she became a member of the Royal Society of London, signing the same book which had been signed centuries ago by Newton! That's like... wow!!! She mentioned a lot of things, about how women got the right to something as fundamental as a vote only a century ago. The talk really did stir up those pangs of feminism that are always resident in the background somewhere.

There was question and answer session and I was itching to ask a question. Only problem is I have this stage fear, my heart starts pounding and my mouth goes dry even though I have spoken on countless occasions. A new audience is a new challenge and by the time I could muster the courage to ask a question, the time was up and we were asked to take a break for tea.

At tea, I asked my HOD to introduce us so that we can take a picture with them and I finally mustered the courage to ask Ms. Wendy Hall the question. I told her how I found it odd that the main ACM event has no women and all the women are here. Doesn't it give a subtle image that famous professionals are male? And she was surprised and agreed with me pronto and held my shoulders and said "Men just don't get it! Are you brave enough to ask that?". Now this was another mind-blowing experience. Not only did she echo my sentiments, but she really like the fact I asked it and encouraged me too. Again, the wonderful connect I felt even though culturally, geographically we were separated, at that moment we just two women who had experienced being a minority, who understood that women should not be selected simply by virtue of the fact they are women but simply that even the deserving women are not getting fair representation as the interest is not there to involve them, or that it is a new experience to invite women or because women are changing too fast for the scientific community to adapt.

So I walk in with more confidence. The next speaker was Ms. Sophie Vandebroek, chief technology officer of Xerox. She introduced us to the many many interesting technical problems that Xerox has addressed, variable pricing as an example, dispelling theories of the lone synonym for photocopy. Xerox is actually gearing itself to a paperless future and she gave a compelling talk about the principles, the innovation, the sheer quality of technical expertise they take, nurture, support and harness. Yet again, as fascinating as this was, what drew me was, of course, her life story, as a single mom with three kids. She said with a twinkle, managers let you get away with nursing your child at the meeting if your efficiency is indispensable. And by God, the way she walked,so confident and erect, like a woman who was running the show and more importantly a woman who knew she was running the show. It was charisma par anything I had seen. Then, she shows a family photo and am wondering, are they her cousins and she says those grown people are her children! Two sons and a daughter if I remember right. As I was in the very last row, I could not make out the few lines in her face but her agility and bearing gave me an impression of a far more energetic and young woman.

After that was a technical talk on classifications that may be used for applications such as biometrics by a professor in IIT, and an old student of the same. She emphasised the need for more girls to take up IIT. As a student who did not make it to those hallowed halls, it hardened my resolve to conduct a coaching class to give girls the confidence to tackle the IIT-JEE head on and  with self-belief.

Then, post lunch we had a panel discussion. As a feminist, this session, further post-lunch, was quite old talk, arguments about . I had heard all these stories before. Once again, it was not the issue but their life stories, struggles and triumphs that struck a chord. Indeed, they were inspiring people, Ms. Rashmi Mohan from Yahoo, the youngest, mother of two daughters, Anupama, one of the directors at IBM who had grown from a traditional roots to a bold outlook, Meenakshi, a hard-core academic, again juggling kids and work, Akila, a corporate representative who unfortunately  chaired the discussion and could not give much insight into her own life story, Gayatri, the senior most corporate member, adventurous and always travelling. Each person gave so many little anecdotes that I cannot honestly quote. Recurring themes were resilience, spirit, determination, motherhood and dedication.

https://sites.google.com/site/acmindiaevent2013/speakers

Please do visit this site to see their exhaustive achievements. For the mountain of achievements, they were all very down-to-earth. The question and answer session was back. However I couldn't see Ms. Wendy Hall who said she'd back me up. My friend was whispering proper ways of framing it and my throat was still rasping. I asked the question and they said all the wonderful women are here today and the organisers said we'll include women. I thought my question was dealt with rather quickly and was feeling miffed. I wanted to know what everyone felt about it. So that tea break, I went around talking. I met Anupama and she said we were losing out statistically because there were very few women in top corporate society. I was not personally convinced because quality will speak out but I guess the statistics is over-whelming. Then I met Rashmi and she said that was a fantabulous question and my spirits started to rise again. After that I met Ms. Sophie Vanderbroek and she was excited by the question too and I was pouring out my enthusiasm and admiration of her talk and promised her I will write good stuff about Xerox. I'm sure I've at least established the quality of people at Xerox. Last I met Ms. Reyyan Ayfer, who was very excited about the whole blogging scenario and then asked me so many questions about my culture that enthralled me.

The ACM-W event wrapped up by then and the lecture by the legendary Vint Cerf followed. As I let the events of the day seep, I realised that so many cultures, languages, lifestyles apart, so many women, all over the world feel the way I do. I call them loyal femisists, Fidèle Féministe, by virtue of their work and committment and their eagerness to reach out to like minded women.

The journey I have charted out for myself is no doubt going to be rigorous but there has been a re-kindling of hope in my soul. This event helped me find an inner strength and sense of logic that I had allowed to be dormant and I thank everyone from the organisers, my HOD, the speakers and my best friend for waking me up that Wednesday Morning on January 24 2013.

*taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Happy birthday blog :)

What started as a place strictly to hold poems on December 30, 2009 has blossomed today, four years down the line, it has blossomed o be the cusp of my thoughts, a wonderful platform to keep me in touch with  my one of my biggest loves, "Writing"

Happy 4th birthday :)

My first post is here :)

The Civil War

The title was just a subtle ploy to get more traffic to this site by some poor kids who probably are googling their homework tearing their hair in desperation. Well, they're not the only ones, I keep wondering why for the past few posts, I have had a depressing "no comments" status. Well, I've realised comments flood to the post when I write about

a) embarrassing stuff about me
b) think of some highly intellectual humour stuff
c) when am confused

So going by the first point, I have not been in any major embarrassing scrape, and my mind is mush considering all the exam preparation I've been at. So I'll have to settle for the third thing, confusion. Now, confusion is simply a decent term for controversy and nothing strikes Indian minds' fancy other than controversies and conspiracies. Nay, I'd say every one's mentality. Of course, this isn't a newspaper to sell, its about me for crying out loud, and am the least bit controversial person you'll find.

So what does confused me do? I attempt to make you laugh on a subject we've all heard, I attempt to make you see both sides of an issue that if you have not heard as an Indian, you've probably just immigrated here. And don't worry, if I fail, you have a beautiful rendition to enjoy by Mr. Krish Ashok, my Ekalavya Guru to blogging here.

Ms.V and Ms. N.V. sit at a table in one of those few restaurants that serve both vegetarian and non-vegetarian buffets where the following conversation ensues, enter waiter stage left.

Part 1: The Argument

Waiter: What would you like to order madams?
N.V   : One hot and sour chicken soup please.
V       : (slight narrowing of eyes) Cream of tomato with masala papad.
(Waiter leaves)
          : So you're non-vegetarian?
N.V   : No! I mean, yes. You said it so accusingly, I just had to say no.
V       : Well yes, you're a good friend of mine, I never dreamed you'd keep this from me.
N.V   : Oh we should have a dietary status - vegetarian, non-vegetarian, eggitarian, vegan on facebook ;) Come on, I didn't think it was important.
V       : But just now you told me you hate cruelty to animals?
N.V   : Why yes I do! I don't like animals being cooped up in tiny cages or bred in inhumane, sorry, inanimate, sorry um... bad conditions.
V       : You don't realise the obvious cruelty to animals here?
(Waiter arrives with food)
N.V   : (Ladling a spoon), no I don't. If I do, I wouldn't eat would I?
V      : But your causing pain, destruction. You yourself, a feminist, have told time and again the system comes from an individual and if you do not change, how will the system?
N.V  : Look let's eat and then talk about this. (making a mental note to never take V to a non-vegetarian restaurant that serves great hot and sour soup ever again).
V     : You know what? Let's leave, you never know these kitchens, mixing veg and non-veg things up.
N.V : Oh let me just finish this soup. That's a tad too much I feel, come on eat up. I could say the same thing you know. Be affronted am at a place that serves both.
V     : What? Its quite alright, I've lost my appetite.
N.V : Oh come on, I can't see you like this, let's go wherever you want.

(They go travelling round the city).

Part 2: Convincing N.V

V      : Are you afraid of death?
N.V  : Sometimes, when am alone at night.
V      : Then, how can you justify this killing spree?
N.V  : I don't know, I was brought up that way.
V      : Don't you feel murderous?
N.V : Not really, no.
V     : Look at that, look at all those meat shops, the smell, the blood, look at all those poor things.
N.V : Stop, I get it. Look, I don't know about this.
V     : Would you eat a human?
N.V : Eeew! Of course not!
V     : Why does not that translate all into lower beings? Why are you so insensitive?
N.V : Being sensitive means caring about every animal's feeling? Well you don't seem very sensitive to my feelings.
V     : Come on, I want to help you.
N.V : Oh no! Am actually being convinced. I am sensitive. I do care, I can't imagine am snuffing out some character's life like Eragon realised.
V     : I knew you would be.
N.V : And it doesn't help I got the same advice from my best friend too.
V     : It's good for you, it's good for your planet and it doesn't pollute your soul or your environment.
N.V : Ok, what's the harm? I'll try.

Part 3: The Conflict

V     : So how's it going?
N.V : Been vegetarian for a month.
V     : Don't you feel better already?
N.V : Not really, I ate like twice a week and an egg every day, its not like a big difference.
V     : You must feel a heavy weight off your soul.
N.V : Well, it seems to make my friends happy.
V     : See, you soul is pure, the environment is pure.
N.V  : Look, you're right, I don't like hurting animals. So this is better. But I don't think it purifies the soul and all. Then, Mother Teresa would have to be impure. And the environment? Sure, I feel we have to have more environment-friendly meat centers, doesn't imply that meat is bad.
V      :  Meat is bad. It has fat that's bad for you.
N.V. : You get more protein too.
V     : So? Eat a lot more pulses. When you have veg choices, why go for non-veg?
N.V : Look, am veg now.. free.

Part 4: The Conclusion

Here Ms.V's best friend comes.

V 2.0 : Hi! Ms. V says your a new vegetarian.
N.V   : No I've gone back. You've gotta explain to her I've been going crazy for the past few months.
V 2.0 : It isn't such a big deal if you ask me.
N.V   :  Why yes, you see I've started feeling sorry for everything now.
V 2.0 : Yes I know, mechanised milking of cows?
N.V   : You read my mind, even plants, am a avid gardener, I can feel plants dying you know?
V 2.0 : Especially those they rip off the roots I suppose (with a sly grin)
N.V   : Obviously relieved am not freaking out anymore.
V 2.0 : Its law of nature, you need some form of life to survive. Its a personal choice.
N.V   : Wow I've never seen a vegetarian so cool about this!
V 2.0 : Its a personal choice like I said, depends on how you've been brought up.
N.V  : Exactly! I can't eat beef or squid or any other new animal 'cause am not used to it.
V 2.0: I'll tell V, you relax. Now how about some hot and sour soup? One veg and one non-veg?

So as of now, am non-vegetarian. I may change in future, I may not. And I don't eat in front of vegetarians. It's a choice. I don't think I ended up making anyone laugh, just gave some food for thought :)

The Cellular Chronicles

On this dark and stormy night, as the rain lashes my window stirring troublesome thoughts, sweet memories and sour endings, I decide to drum my fingers on my beautiful black desktop keyboard, a relic I've neglected in the wake of my smart phone and laptop.

Memories surface. I go back in time, to a time when the digits of my age reverse. I climb the stairs, wearing my chocolate brown uniform. At 5" 3', am towering middle school, little anticipating that that joy is fleeting. I have the usual pre-exam jitters, I enter the exam hall. There is bright sunlight, I sit down in my allotted seat, brushing my long plaits off the desk. I lower my eyes and the time starts.

Possessed by a manic obsession, my pencil zooms across, I see patterns, numbers, questions, theories, solutions, interpolations and magic squares. I hope I have given my best and am the last person to walk out. I put it out of my mind and go back to my class VII B. The results come out. From VII, I am selected. The toppers of VI, VII and VIII will form the junior quiz team of the state-level Jantar Mantar Science Quiz.

There is the puny fair guy from VI and tall dark guy from VIII, I make uneasy conversation. I certainly feel out of place. I look down upon the junior and look up to the senior. I feel somewhere between. Even the uniforms change for us when the student comes to VIII. So the VI belong to a lower order in my head, the VIII the oldest in middle school, are a complete mystery. Here I am, awkward in my overlarge pinafore, a precaution against further gain in height, a futile exercise had I known the outcome.We talk, we make it through the written round with ease. I am advised to read "The Hindu speaks on Scientific Facts".

We compete in the district level competition. Our hitherto unrecognised school name was on a white sheet amidst the best of the best. Names I had read in newspapers. I never say my school name in newspaper. Not that I read much news anyway. This is my first oral quiz. My heart beats. I have become quite good friends with my team mates. The younger one is lively and the older one is serious. The questions are bizarre. None of them were factual. We have to think so much. I answer very few. The senior is just living it. One question was to estimate the area of Madras. He gives us lots of clues which predicably takes us far away from the answer. But we are fast. By the third round we were leading in points. Before I can even smile, my senior says don't, we may go down anytime. We win with 50 points. It's a totally thrilling experience.

Here's the catch. The zonal levels are in Vizhupuram. Darling me who hasn't seen Chennai beyond the roads that lead from school to house and the occassional shopping, cannot be trusted to go in a school van with two guys and a lab assisstant and the school driver and van. So my mother decides to accompany us. A hugely relieved staff force is seen as none of the teachers could be spared to escort us on that day. But the only person who is still not convinced with the plan, the only person who has the power to disrupt it, is not a person I'd like to keep unhappy. My father. He does not like it at all. He can't put leave and he does not want his wife and daugher to travel so far from home. As his nail-biting increases, so does mine. When I was younger, I used to fight, I used to be stubborn. But am wiser now, I know that keeping my mouth shut and a saintly face, sprinkled with smooth obedience and a general tendency to not mess/clean up the mess at home. There is one day to go. My mother has bought enough food for winter, turns out to be what am taking tomorrow. Then the brainwave hits my father. Leaving me and my sister in the care of my grandparents, they take our brand-new Miami Gold car and go to a store. Meanwhile I have no idea what to study. I get a call from school telling me to be there at 5:30 in the morning. Then, it is unveiled.

My first cellular phone.

It's a gadget that all girlkind will describe as a necessary evil. Bought at an EMI of Rs.500, it is the assurance of continuous contact. My father is finally satisfied and he truly and happily wishes me all the best.

The next day the landline keeps ringing. My vice-principal is livid am not there and is 5:15. Thinking that it is not the best time to tell her that my house is ten minutes from school, I listen. Me in my uniform and my mother in a very cute, stately pink saree leave for school amidst fond good-byes fom my family. So the four of us get into the van and the it starts and we have no idea what happens for two hours because we sleep as though we have never slept before. Except my mother who got bored and bothered and woke up a completely non-plussed me pointing to a supposedly-exceptionally-famous temple that I have absolutely no interest learning about. As a last ditch effort, she tries to tell me what if they ask this in the quiz. I sleep before I completely roll my eyes.

My senior is a Christian. The school is a convent and he is simply describing the difference between cathedrals and churches. The only cathedral I knew is what came as "Wonder" in Age of Empires. We wait in a huge auditorium. The junior is coming up with a novel idea to write a big book of bad words so that if we need to swear, we needn't actually say it and throw the book at them instead. Not exactly the pre-quiz atmosphere I had envisioned. I am having a fun time, completely relaxed. I see people poring over books. We just don't play that way. There is a GIGANTIC speech be chief guest. Finally, the quiz is conucted in a tiny classroom. My mother was first looking from the window. When she saw other school teachers trying to help from the window, she didn't want to associate herself with them. I hear the first question. Its on light. Finally, my eyes light up. Light is right up my alley. This is it. Am so totally in my zone. And I get the first question wrong. My mother already teetering indecisively whether to leave or not, leaves. Still, I answer so many questions. Every question, every pass question, am jumping, am full of adrenaline. Math puzzles, light, electricity, astronomy, I leave the quiz master astounded. Actually quiz mistress. And we come first. My disbelieving mother cannot understand any of my incessant high pitched excited squeaks. We are extremely happy.

I make my first call, I call my father and tell him the great news.

That tiny insignificant phone is priceless to me. I bought it on Nov,1, a key to unleash my memories. My parents are happy that all the efforts paid. My teachers are happy. The state-level finals are conducted at Kalpakkam and we are the best team. I carry my phone with my teacher this time. I choose the table named 'Lily' simply because it's Harry Potter's mom's name. I am the only girl. For the first time, I notice that. I notice a serious emptiness in the scientific community, an uncomfortable moment. But then, the uiz begins. It is fast paced. The junior actually stood up and answered, I like to discuss things and I was irritated with him. Anyway, he got the answers right. All three of us are answering equally. Then, the most dreadful round. Each of us are given a packet of pulses and asked to identify. My team-mates were supremely confident they can nail it 'cause they have a girl. And subsequently they are disillusioned when they see am incapable of recognising dal. Zero points. We win with 60 points to 45. I call again.

Its a wondeful moment. To come onto the stage in school and clapped so hard till you blush furiously.

That cell phone took me back, into distant thoughts, VII was a period of change. I changed from a highly feminine frock wearing cute girl into a complete tomboy with a weakness for long hair. My friends said finally because whoever heard of a middle school girl wearing frocks. For many quizzes to come I was the only girl, a situation I gradually came to peace with. I realised I amazed guys who always think condescendingly girls are good for only academic studies. I was taken a bit aback at how many plot to be sweet to a girl so that she'll choose them for projects and they needn't do all he work. They accept me as one of their own, not noticing am actually annoyed with them. My fledgling feminism blooms. There were somethings that never changed. Listening to others and telling stories and thinking. My opinions change but my right to have them never did. My interest in science deepens along with my love for math. Its very rare to like both subjects with equal elan. I think its a perfect marriage, math and physics.

The rain ceases and I wake up.

Freedom at?

Midnight, 1947, August, we awoke while the world slept. We were born in tough times and our history is intricately sewn into the fabric of our nation, our diverse yet united nation, as the cliche goes. We have our flaws and our strengths. We are all different, and that's how we're the same.

What is freedom? Freedom, to me, is a golden trove of coins guarded by the dragons of toil and  strength. Freedom means responsibiltiy. Freedom means doing what is right even when no one is watching. Freedom is taking control and responsibility for your actions, for better or worse.

I am a feminist, as any acquaintance of mine can quickly gather. What does being a feminist mean today? Coming from a bustling metropolis, the image of an equal female Homo Sapiens is as common as the potholes on the road. What more could a woman want today, you ask? Has she not got all the freedom she could never have dreamed off in centuries?

You are right, my honourable reader, she has got more freedom today than her grandmother. She has far more respect in this country than in others. In every industry, her presence is accepted, whether grudgingly or not is another matter. What more can she want?

As you read this, if you feel that, yes feminism is unnecessary today, let me put a little perspective. As you read the preceding lines, did you feel, yes she has enough freedom? Enough respect? There is a problem there am afraid, you cannot actually decide how much freedom, it's really an all-or-none principle.

This post is purely personal, a reflection of my thoughts, some of these opinions are even against those of my close kith and kin, but am fortunate enough to experience that much freedom of expression in this blogosphere. Also, I am talking about my experience alone, I am not talking about the various issues of female foeticide or something I have not seen first hand, these are merely the shackles that bind me.

I have always had questions since I was small. Why? Why? Why? My parents were always patient with all my questions and never said they were too busy. If they found some question awkward or inappropriate, they would divert my attention (which was pretty easy!) , one of the most striking question-answer session surfaces to my mind. My father was expressing contempt at some young girl for coming home alone and late. I asked him, doesn't he always do that? You can imagine how the conversation went, perplexing my eight-year old mind, asking what was the problem if a woman wore no jewellery to attract theives or something?

I am a little more than a decade older and I have a new confusion on the topic. How can a soceity that has such a complex evolution from one of the oldest civilisations, right from Indus Valley, be so corrupt, selfish and unsafe for women? Why are we honed as rubies to be kept away from contempating eyes, locked away from the world, presented at appropriate occassions? Why do we need protection? Why does my father get tensed when I take public transport? Why is our clothing scrutinied by a pseudo-criminal eye before we step over the Lakshman Rekha of our homes? Why are single scientists and entrepreneurs looked down upon with more scorn than their male counterparts?

Why am I always dependent on some other?

I cannot tell someone I will be here at this point in time, It involves a complicated beauracratic process that will do a job-scheduling algortihm with resources, time and priority in question. This dependence irks me. When I went to attend tuition in high school, if it became late, it was the responsibility of my best friend to protect me. A girl's image is to be protected, for society loves whip-lashing its tongue over what it perceives a girl has done wrong, and what's worse blame her parents for it. She shoulders a lot of responsibility and respect but minimal freedom of expression, atmost she can expect a few consoling words from those close to her.

Broad daylight is too narrow.

And I need not even get started on the online arena, online security is the norm. Many girls, even today, shy away from Facebook and other social networking sites altogether. Photos are dangerous. If you have a profile picture and God help you if your photo has 100 likes, you will get friend requests from Pune to Madurai. On an aside, why would I accept a friend request from Naan Kettavan?

What should I do? Should I hide in the deepest dungeons of Snape, attain a society-approven pale colour when I do not allow even light to enter my life? Should I look ugly (more than I am anyway ;-) ? Should I wear clothes that will drive people as far as they would go if they met Pumbaa in the morning?

I want to be the one to walk in the sun. I do not want umbrellas, I do not want bodyguards, I do not want guardian angels. I present myself in a way that commands respect but still hints of an air of approachability. I acknowledge this is a personal line I draw for what I deem presentable may seem modern to others, its an issue that can be debated for hours, clothes. 

When there are no men to attack and no men to protect and no men to tell you what they decide is the norm for society - women as fair as snow, working as teachers, that day will be my independence day.

Ok, I've been pretty serious all this while and I really doubt many people would have come so far, but if you have, I want to firstly thank you. I am practical, I do not expect this Utopian state in my lifetime. What can I do now to be independent? I hold my head up high. I love pink and Dragon Ball Z. I like Anchor stitch kits and Age of Empires. I like all sorts of things that do not stereotype me a feminist/tomboy/girly-girl. I want to get my license to drive first, I want to stop depending to an extent possible, I want to do so many things. On the bright side, ever since I've joined college, the birthplace of my first brush with freedom, I've been enjoying a different kind of freedom and responsibility which escalated to a new level on this blog. I really think and believe that online is where the next feminist movement will be, and for a change, not by men like Raja Rammohun Roy, but by ordinary average yet relatively empowered girls, my freedom fighters.

The Casual Vacancy - Review

The newest J.K. Rowling book released on my birthday and some of my most awesome friends gifted it to meand I couldn't keep my nose out of it until the last page.

First things first, this book is big. It will take time. I started reading Harry Potter when I was 10 and a decade later, legally an adult, I personally cringed in horror in the beginning few pages. It was like a jolt, a Universe that decided to flip 180 degrees, I simply could not bring myself to believe that the same hand that wrought unspeakable volumes of child-like innocence could wield these words.

I ought to have been prepared for it obviously. So I decided I will wipe away my fond memories of Harry, who I think is the best example of a person, for the duration of "The Casual Vacancy". I forced myself to see this in a new light.

What I liked about the book was the brutal face of honesty. It explored complex issues from the eyes of the victim. Racism, child abuse, work stress, secrets, problems, politics, teenage abuse, online abuse, dyslexia, sibling rivalry, urban-rural divide, arranged marriage vs. love marriage, religious tolerance, the list is endless. It was a mini-UK in one. The complexities of the human mind and characters were poignantly drawn out. For the first time, the reader got a glimpse of the story through many characters as compared to simply following Harry.

Barry, a politician of note in a small town called Pagford, dies unexpectedly leaving the casual vacancy. The story revolves around the election and the people behind it. The racing narrative slowly unveils Pagford, scenic, yet steeped in mystery. Children play a significant role behind the scenes. Suddenly, this quaint town, which boasts of few mobile users, is attacked by SQL injections and the website is inundated with posts from "The Ghost of Barry" which reveal truths that Pagford society has swept under the carpet. Parminder Jawanda, the much-hyped Indian character has an underachieving child, Sukhvinder. The story of the mother's campaign is strongly interwined by Sukhvinder's desire to be loved openly by her mother and her inability to confide about the cyber-bullying she is subjected to. Krystal Weedon, a sixteen year old, is also an important child, brought up in questionable parentage, socially outcast, Barry gives her something to strive for, by putting her on the rowing crew. Krystal and Sukhvinder become fast friends on the crew. The other two children, Fats and Arf, I'll let the reader discover who they are.

One character I liked a lot was Kay. Kay is a new comer to Pagford who works against child abuse. She is in charge of the Weedons for a while, unsatisfied with how Terri Weedon is taking care of her son, Robbie, she threatens to take the child away. Krystal intervenes and a special bond is built. Kay is brought to Pagford by Gavin, who both refuses to commit or leave her, which he eventually does later on. In the end when he does try to come back, we see a stronger Kay, saying goodbye.

The end revolves around who wins, who is the ghost, what happens to Sukhvinder's dreams, to many other people I haven't mentioned simply because the plot is too complicated and I don't want to overwhelm this post.

When I read this book, I feel J K Rowling's signature style, that magic of words. I think her work at Amnesty International helped her to flesh out Kay. She makes us stare at the jarring face of reality head on. But the bottom-line is, as complex and myriad the narration was, as connected and cohesive the plot was, there was a casual vacancy in my heart, at the sadness in the story, an overdose of reality, the snatching away of a promise that all's well that ends well. It does end well, not that well, and that is how I felt.