Of Being a Woman in Delhi

Today when I opened the newspapers warmed by my morning cup of tea, I was shocked to read the headlines that were gawking into my hapless eyes. Another rape in the city had happened and this time the baneful brutality is a chapter unheard in the history of mankind . Six men had stripped, raped and barbarized a young girl with an iron rod with such inhuman brutality that has managed to shock and dismay one and all who got to know if it. Her only mistake, she did not yield to the 8 pm law that a Gurgaon commissioner had once issued when a woman's modesty was outraged in that part of the NCR. And yes this time around, she was not alone on the streets of Delhi, she was with a man who could do nothing to save her and was not spared himself. 

I wish this is the last of the incidents we will ever get to hear, but no there is much more in the offing until we raise our voices and try to make the spaces safer for own selves. Rapes are a history that keep repeating itself over and over again in a state which has a woman CM, who is busy calculating the amount of money needed by an average Indian family to survive, six hundred as per her ignorant apathy.

The Bankster by Ravi Subramanian

Title - The Bankster
Author - Ravi Subramanian
Publisher - Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd.
Pages - 364
Price - 250 INR
ISBN - 978-81-291-2048-9

This seemed more like a nefarious nexus between the banking official and a gangster with lies, deceit and treachery making you flip through the pages without boredom haggling your senses.
It all begins in Angola, and keeps shuttling in space between Kerala, Venice and Mumbai, sometimes making you wonder if its three stories or just one and the introduction of the protagonist after about 160 pages was later than anticipated, even though it was heroic. Karan's character was feebly identified and involved with the story and until he solves the mystery, I really never knew that he was the protagonist. Rather than telling the story through tens of characters, Karan's tale could have been told in details and the story developed around his character. And the villain could not be loathed at, considering the confusing characterization he was given.

Perhaps, this can make for a wonderful Bollywood script for sure for sometimes I thought, that the next minute will read into a song and dance and I'll see the characters dancing around in the rain. The plot is engaging and fast paced with the too many characters making you confused often, only if you don't read the book with a hawk's eye. The characterization is not as vividly described as the places. Often I felt that I was reading a travelogue instead of a financial crime thriller. But not for long!

Of Weddings and not Marriages

It's that time of the year again, when the stars say a prayer for the sun and all of them stand to salute the marriages that might perhaps, have been made in heaven. Weddings in India are more of a social hogwash and less of a marriage, which has made it a Page 3 affair and a stage for Katrina to gyrate on. Of course if Shahrukh is available, after making up with the friends he turned to foes, it surely will be all over the Delhi Times Page 3 the next day. 

And before I talk of the fairy tale wedding I happened to attend a few days ago, let me tell you of something ridiculous that took place recently. A stranger I had barely spoken to, for a few times over the google talk messenger during my tryst as an editor, sent me her wedding invitation. I really didn't know how to take it? As a personalized invitation or as the ceremonious celebration of a phase in life, that after countless fake relationship statuses on facebook is finally becoming a reality! What was worrisome was the reply, which was obviously a no, for traveling to the southern tip of India for a stranger's wedding did not sound like a great idea! Often I had heard this about girls going to get wedded. A few days before their wedding they start flying high in air without wings. This just holds true for this lady! The stakes attached to getting wedded and being wedded are too high for Indian girls,which just blinds them to commit such brainless bloopers and sadly one can't blame them!

Before I got this bolt from the blue I happened to attend a  Baniya wedding, one that was a chapter straight from the fairy tales. The invitation in itself was a  seductive snare of ladoos, dry fruits and chocolates with an endless queues of cards choking inside a wooden box gilded in  gold, which had given me an inkling about how they would dress up both the brides. Oh yes it was the rarest of rare weddings, twins getting married to twins, so both the sets of sisters and brothers also became each other's in-laws after the event. What managed to arrest my attention was the farmhouse they had booked for the wedding.

The land was spread in  acres, with a giant gold stage and three more that looked like its babies. Along both sides, were these endless enclosures, again all set in gold laying down a food festival for the guests in attendance. I saw CCD, Dominos, Haldirams and almost every other food outlet I had ever eaten at, gripping the gastronomic gullibility of the guests. People could be seen enjoying the food fare while music was being played into the balmy brightness of the night, all set for an extravaganza. With all the gold glaring into my eyes, I was fearing visual impairment for even the dancers on the stage were all dressed in gold and painted in gold. I could neither see SRK, nor Katrina but for some reason this was one of the most exuberant of weddings I had seen in my lifetime. While the women in the vicinity could be seen getting crushed under the bulky Benarasi sarees and lehangas, and throttled by the yellow metal in various shapes and sizes, I was there dressed like a school girl in pink and black checks and blue denims, watching the visual vitality on display. The exchanging of garlands was another treat to watch, for the fear of falling down from the towering platform could be seen clearly etched on their faces stealing the joy of garlanding each other. So also, the hosts for the night had left very little imagination at our behest since their commentary reminded me of a confused plot between a Cinderella story and the famous Ram-Sita wedding. While watching the melodrama unfold a few things crossed my mind.

Why are the Indian weddings more of a social flimflam and less of a personalized plan aimed at celebrating the coming together of two souls? A thousand and more guests at such events have left me wondering as to what sort of an event are they rooting for? Flashing of flamboyance or calling for a ceremony that will be commemorated as memories in the family album. Rather than spending lakhs and lakhs of rupees on one ceremony, can't we call for simpler sophisticated weddings with the money we otherwise intend to waste going to a charity. The idea of feeding a thousand or more guests who can afford three or more square meals a day is stranger than a lie, for many lakhs are dying without food everyday. The thought of feeding a stomach that is already filled doesn't go well with me. 

Many parents of girl children in India do no have reasonable resources to organize a simple wedding ceremony for their daughters, can't all this money that is being burned in the name of traditions be given to them.   

The big fat Indian wedding is a national obsession which might in the years to come, even start attracting tourists during the wedding season as they famously call it, for such is its shameless splendor. Being less of a memory for those celebrating it, and more of a social hogwash.

Delhi's Poem

Your streets enamelled ebon

go red and green

when life begins,

a merry-go-round

of moored matins graying

for grace, they vandalised your belly

raising brick buildings

on your brown skin,

stealing your vermilion to paint

the lips of a keep,

fireballs were fanned in your alleys

when frost blinded the

eyes of a masquerade

appeals fight for an answer

being smothered in signatures

and stuffed into sacks.

Today after ten years

my skirt has grown longer

when my bruises

healed with the hooch of heresy

I've seen your fight with time

and thank myself for

having read from your books.

First published in Writing Disorder published here and the First Prize Winner of the Wordweaver contest 2012.

"He was just a Pawn"

With the passage of time, he realized his mistake and that is why before the execution these were his words
“Allah kasam, dobara aisi galti nahin karunga.”

Alas, he never got another chance to heal his broken arm. Ajmal AmirKasab the lone surviving terrorist of the 26/11 attacks was hanged in a secret mission called "Operation X" on November 21st at 7:30 am, five days before the fourth anniversary of the mishap.  When the news flashed on the idiot boxes it was a bolt from the blue for most Indians! While most Indians thought that justice was done, there were these very few who were trying to shun the celebratory voices and not make hay.
Kasab was the only terrorist caught alive all thanks to the brave sub-inspector and retired army man Tukarama Omble whose heroics brought to light Pakistan's state sponsored terrorist activities. Had Kasab not been caught alive, we would have always stayed in the dark about the whereabouts of the machines of mayhem, who descended on the face of Mumbai four years ago to kill and wound without a stutter.

Three days after being caught, he confessed to his crime with Pakistan disowning him and refusing to recognize him as their citizen, of course later things took a turn. As per the Indian laws, an individual caught in an act of crime is innocent until not proven guilty by the courts of law, with the right to fight the case. 
His trail began with 312 counts which were dropped to 86, all of which he denied. Later in June 2009, he pleaded guilty to all the charges framed against him. When the Supreme court of the country refused to grant him mercy, he knocked at the doors of the President. He was disheartened with the verdict that the President had to give.  In a secret operation which even the Prime minister and leader of Congress weren't aware of, except of course the President who turned down the clemency petition and the Home minister and a few officials of the state and law, he was put to death.  A major calculation was needed to avoid an IC 814 like situation and maybe that is why everything was carried out secretively. A group of soldiers hand picked from the Indo-Tibetan Border police force escorted him from Mumbai's Arthur Road jail to Yerwada at 1.30 am on November 20th, after which the secret "Operation X.X" would have been executed. I also heard in the news reports that the mobile phones of the officials employed for the act were confiscated and were returned only after hanging and burial were successfully carried out. 
Had the operation not been kept under wraps, maybe it could have incited violence at the borders and in many sensitive areas and only if Kasab's bosses wanted to rescue him, something like IC 814 could have been anticipated. I applaud the clandestine closeness with which the authorities handled it and so also their sensibility to have informed Pakistan who sheepishly accepted the news without sparking any controversies about it in the news rooms. We prevented another mishap rather than trying to cure it by not making it public. But yes please do not for the Almighty's sake compare his hanging with that of Bhagat Singh and Rajguru. Do not try to be the blind leading the blind by drawing parallels between the two, for many Congress and Gandhi lovers were heard saying so.

Facebook and twitter went mad expressing joy and relief, to introspection and cursing  after his hanging.

A few tweets that went online after his hanging read like this

"Dear #Kasab, those aren't virgins. And you're not in heaven. Sincerely, etc," tweeted Sonia Faleiro, an author from Mumbai.

"Millions of Kasabs will be born if we do not stop brainwashing our innocent children with religion," tweeted Bangaldeshi writer Taslima Nasreen.

"One day supply of unlimited free Kingfisher beer to all Indians on account of #kasab's death," tweeted liquor baron Vijay Mallya.

"Of all the reports/opinions on Kasab's hanging I came across on the Internet, this one seemed the most apt - Ajmal Kasab's hanging: death of an ignorant foot soldier," Yashodeep Sengupta, a journalist from Kolkata, wrote on Facebook.

"Ajmal Kasab hanged on Nov 21st. Winter session of parliament begins on Nov 22nd," Praful Bhat, a media professional from Mumbai, wrote on Facebook.

"Ponty, Thackeray and Kasab. This month make sure you avoid drunken driving, or riding without helmet or even walking on the pavement. You sure want to avoid this list!" wrote Bilal Zaidi, a journalist from New Delhi, on Facebook.

"Never hated someone so much in my life..ROT IN HELL KASAB!" wrote Mumbai's Pankaj Gupta on his Facebook wall.

In another post, he wrote: "Pranab Da...dil khush kar diya aapne!"

"No RIP Kasab. I hope the bastard rots in hell," tweeted Tunku Varadrajan, Newsweek magazine's India editor.

Sharath Shetty from Mumbai wrote on his Facebook: "The expensive Terrorist Kasab is Hanged Today !!!!! at last."

"Believes that the death penalty is justified in the 'rarest of rare' cases, as in the case of Kasab. While as a society we can be satisfied at Kasab finally got his comeuppance, this is but a small step, in the big battle ahead.

Let alone the challenge of bringing the perpetrators, handlers and masterminds to book in Pakistan, can we say that we are safer or more secure today from these acts than we were 4 years ago ? Are our seas safer ? .....And as a civilised society, it isn't right to celebrate anyone's death. Even if an execution is justified," wrote Rukmani Vishwanath of Delhi on Facebook.




He was a brain washed pawn who  was introduced to Let by his own father as confessed by him, on news clippings, for the money he got from joining the Jihad wars would have rid them off their abject poverty . He was one of the many thousands of Kasabs waiting to cross the border or lurking around in our neighbourhood to play the tunes of death. He was called Qaidi number C-7096 and was the first foreigner to be hanged.




On second thoughts Rinzu says,

I was four years younger then,  and much more sheepish when I saw the terrorists dance of death on the television. For the next four days I was unable to sleep, clutching on to the other pillow on my bed and sometimes even burying my face inside it,  I wondered why did it have to happen? 
Four years later, on 21st November 2012, when Kasab's hanging was declared as the "Breaking news" there was a spring in my step. I felt the devil got his due and for most part of the day like many Indians who had even burst crackers to celebrate his execution, I was feeling exuberant. 
But in some part of Pakistan, a mother would be mourning the death of her young son. A sibling will always pray for their brother's soul to rest and a father might be feeling sorrowful at the price his son had to pay for their poverty.
When I googled his name what sent a chilling shock down my spine was his age which was almost as my brother's. As mom said, a cute looking boy almost,  of my brother's age did not deserve such an end. 
For once even he thought that he'll never commit the mistake again. But that next time never came. Let's not mourn his death but let's not party either. 

There are hundreds and thousands of Kasabs being made everyday, all because they could not answer the calls of poverty! Let's invest our energies in winning the war over poverty and illiteracy and not cussing and celebrating the death of a pawn of terrorism.

Alienate (Sequel to I, the Mailbox)

A wooden casing

with a wrecked window

wails in front of the house

Two one one,

is the number

in intricate inscription

with black paint

the sun may have shone on its forehead

last summer when the daughter's

stipend application

gave birth to an answer,

its womb weaned in willow

since then, waits for

her blue inked letter

or a congratulatory message

to an invitation accepted,

she ached for alienation

just like the old mail box

whose name no one remembers

since the e-mail fluttered to fame.

First published in the Best of Poetry 2012 by C.E Lukather.

Pro-life or pro-choice?

Savita Halanappavar’s words before dying were "I am neither catholic nor Irish". With these words, her heartbeat stopped. 

And why did it happen?  Her seventeen week foetus had suffered a miscarriage, but then none of the doctors who examined her were willing to terminate the pregnancy, because she was in a catholic country and as per the catholic church's rules on abortion, a foetus cannot be terminated until the heart beat doesn't stop. Savita was neither catholic nor Irish and nor could the foetus be saved. Then why did the doctors show poor judgement and behave like coy cats fearful of the abortion laws of the Catholic church? 

For in 1992, the Supreme Court of Ireland had ruled in the favour of terminating a pregnancy if it was a threat to the mother's life. The ruling was not implemented by the subsequent governments in the Irish republic due to which the hands of the medical personnel were tied. And none supposedly wanted to go against the law and end the pregnancy to lose their jobs. She writhed in pain for four days, but by the time the foetal heart beat stopped and its remains were surgically removed septicemia had poisoned her blood and rendered her organs useless.

She breathed her last on October 28th, triggering a debate between pro-life and pro-choice.

While in another world, Todd Akin and the Republicans left no stone unturned to define the different kinds of rape and get slapped by a loss that most women had foreseen in the United States. While the first lady,  assured the women during the Democratic National convention that her husband trusted women and the choices they had to make for their bodies.

These are two instances from the recent past, that made the lives of women a matter of political proposition. The state in both these cases was toying around with the reproductive rights of women.

Pregnancy affects the life of the mother and not the father, in-laws or the state. Then why does the state try to have say in the personal decisions of a couple or the mother? Personal pleasures can never be deemed as a political manifesto and the state must make all efforts to make its stand clear on laws affecting human lives. In the case of Savita, the doctors were forgetting the Hippocratic oath to hide behind religious laws that were never reviewed by the state in an act of inhuman carelessness.

The debate on pro-life and pro-choice is separated by a thin line. While the church is trying to kill many birds with one stone, taking a stand on contraception, abortion, career oriented women, divorce and same sex marriages, it also not giving the devil its due. The priests embroiled in child abuse cases are still walking free, so also the nuns in many parts of the world coming out strongly against it. A wave of feminism has taken over the nuns with many openly coming in support of the misuse of the "pro life" theory that the church is thrusting on its women and also trying to pin the dirty linen of the priests for public display.

In this tug of war many women like Savita are becoming scapegoats of a law that was passed to keep a check on sexual promiscuity that the modern woman is following as a thumb rule to be free of obligations and family. While in the west and in modern India, many women are retorting to abortion to kill an unborn foetus that was an outcome of their misadventures, and more of the women who do not want to have a family are getting their fetuses terminated.  There is another universe, where a Savita becomes a victim of the cruelty of fate, only because pro-life and pro-choice are misunderstood matters largely governed by governments waiting to amass votes. Why should uterus be a point of political debate when pregnancy is the decision of the mother and not the state?

In this case, the child was dead whether or not the abortion had taken place, and if not for the mindless law makers, reviewing their policies on the health of women in their states the mother's life could have been saved had the abortion been done sooner than it was. The ban on abortion, therefore took a life, had the doctors not been victims of misjudgment. Two lives were lost when one was surely for keeps. How does that make the ban pro-life?