Purposefully Peripatetic

 

I have spent the last month deleting unpublished drafts of posts which did not pass. I even accepted for a short time that all of this is over. Writing, blogging, reading blogs and being a part of all the writers' platforms available online. 

But writing was getting difficult due to my self imposed filters. I had decided that I am not going to go down the "mommy" road. It is very tempting to write about what's constantly on your mind. And for a while, after the commencement of motherhood, your baby is the only person you want to talk about. It suddenly becomes obvious why there's an imaginary line between parents and non-parents. No matter how "cool" you try to be, you can never go back to your pre-parent days. 

I could've blogged about a million baby related things. But now that I look back, some of them were just momentarily overwhelming. 

Something that hasn't become easier with time however is, getting back in shape! I don't really subscribe to the "getting your body back" school of thought. Because I don't believe motherhood has in anyway taken away my body! It's still very much here and is perhaps more obvious now than before!

But during my experiments with different work outs, I made a really good choice. I bought an activity band. And it has changed my life. An activity band something you wear on your wrist, which syncs with your phone and diet apps such as myfitnesspal. You can put in your diet diary and your workouts and know how much over or under you are for your goal. The ideal activity goal is taking 10000 steps every single day. To put it in perspective, if I don't exercise, even after running behind my crawling son four hours a day, I manage to take only 4000 steps. So 60 % of my target activity has to come out of purpose and intention. 100 % of my food intake has to come with purpose and intention! 

I use the Jawbone UP (move) tracker. It has a computer generated Smartcoach, which keeps egging you on, without nagging you. The effectiveness of this way of losing weight or staying fit is the statistical analysis that goes on everyday about your habits. It has three sections, sleep, food and activity. It monitors all three parameters and draws charts to show you where you need improvement and where you're doing great. 

If you're meeting all your goals, there's a software generated "pat on the back". If you're slowing down, there's a friendly concern, or just an observation posted on your home screen. It's far better than actual humans trying to give you advice on how to lose weight. 

So now, if I have to walk across the street to get something, I don't just rejoice in the thought of upping my step score, I also take the stairs! I look forward to beating myself at my own game and I take weekends as an opportunity to eat extra healthy and build a bigger step score. It has given my exhaustingly busy life an amazing new purpose (yes! Even beyond all the greatness and satisfaction of motherhood). 

And on that note, let me also confess that motherhood is anything but that delicate Johnson & Johnson advertisement you see on TV. This Friday, after spending a entire day agonising over whether to take along my son to a party, I got stuck with him in traffic on my way home just before the party. And by the time I had gone through the usual drill of changing and feeding him dinner, he just decided to fall fast asleep with no care in the world for any party. So I decided to go by myself leaving him in the care of my mother. I called a taxi after a really long time. And the feeling of being in a quiet transit, with old Hindi songs playing in the taxi, wind in my freshly washed hair -- best 30 minutes of my recent life! :) 

And I still managed to miss my son all the while I was at the party! 

Feminism in 8 minutes

http://youtu.be/WlYxmO8jVC8

There's much talk going on about Barkha Dutt's rebuttal, when she was trying to defend India at an international conference. 

Is India safe for women? 

Yes. It is. If we go into the statistics of reported rapes, India fares much better than some developed countries. But is safety the only thing we aspire for? We must be safe. It shouldn't even be a point for statistical analysis. But more than safety, it is the perception of a woman's role in the society that desperately needs a change.

The link above is from a Marathi movie released in 1937. In the 8 minutes above, one gets a lesson in how domestic violence against women works in India. It's not just a man Vs woman fight. Sadly, women also encourage violence against other women. In the clip, the aunt in law instigates her nephew to beat his wife, convincing him that it is okay because she got beaten up by her husband too. And when he hesitates, he is considered "weak". 

The movie tells a story of Nira, a young orphaned woman who is married off by her relatives to an old man. She rebels against it in ways which would be considered too radical even today. But it is a fight on principle. She wants people to be terrified of marrying old men to young girls lest they all turn out to be like her. 

The song following the scene is one of my all time favourite songs. So glad it has subtitles. 

First of all, women have to stop playing a part in holding other women back. I think when older women try to push men to control their wives, it stems out of envy. Sometimes it hides under the mask of religion or traditions. At others, it is just a psychological power struggle. 

Last week, one of our neighbours in the adjacent complex heard a woman wailing out of pain. It sounded like someone was hitting her with sticks. My mother was called immediately as she is the secretary of the complex. The person who called her left when the wife beater opened the door, leaving my mother alone. Inside, she found a man and his mother, next to a crib with a two month old baby. When she asked what was going on, they said nothing. She asked them to call the mother of the baby into the living room. When she came out, she was shaking. She looked like she had been crying all day. When asked why she was crying, the husband replied that they had got into a fight because her parents did not pay for the delivery of the baby. When asked if she had been beaten, she started sobbing helplessly. Then the husband took her inside and when she returned she said, sobbing all along, that she was very happy being a part of the family and she had no complaints whatsoever. My mother left them with a warning that next time they hear a similar noise, the society would call the cops. 

The bride's parents are supposed to cover all the costs of all the ceremonies from the wedding leading up to the birth of the first child. If they fail (or refuse) to follow any of the expected duties, they are met with an unexplained grumpiness (at best) to serious domestic violence (at worst). Even if the bride isn't financially dependent on the groom's family, her family is supposed to follow the "traditions" designed in an era where women did not have a separate existence from their husbands. 

The circle of suppression continues almost as a revenge. The mother in law relives the position of power that her mother in law enjoyed when she was a young bride. When a daughter in law quits her job after the birth of her child, it is also partly due to psychological pressure to follow in the footsteps of her mother in law, who never ventured out of the house. 

Why can't the revenge happen at the right time with the right people? Why should you seek it against the same gender in the next generation? Why can't to stand up for yourself like Nira? If you do that, you would never let that happen to your daughter in law. And this is exactly why victims should try to get out of their victimhood. 

And the first step to not being a victim of domestic violence or marital disrespect is to be financially self sufficient. You don't have to earn a fat pay cheque every month. But women who step out of the house to earn a livelihood are not just doing that -- they are also earning respect. And it is much better to rebel against idiots when you have your own money in the bank account. 

Another reason why women put up with this is the fear of being a divorced woman in a society full of big noses. But like our neighbor who left as soon as the wife beater opened the door, the society seldom does anything to stop your suffering. And when you start looking after yourself, you just need a few trusted friends to start over again. 

XX or XY?

I have been reading Rujuta Divekar's "Women & The Weightloss Tamasha". I expected this book to enlighten me about a well balanced diet to get back in shape after pregnancy. But it turns out, that it enlightens you more about the being a woman in the Indian society. For the record, only the crème de la crème of the Indian society are in a position to afford a nutrition consultant such as Rujuta or "RD" -- as she's lovingly referred to by her following. So I was expecting her clientele to include all the non-famous Sonam Kapoors or Kareena Kapoors of the nation. I was surprised when I read about the kind of lifestyles all these rich women lead. Feeling guilty about preparing a food item specially for oneself, taking all the "cow" jokes cracked by their husbands in a lighter vein but feeling utterly defeated inside, giving up work to be a stay at home mom and then feeling worthless because of the choice, being okay with the male members of the family not contributing anything to the housework, and numerous other similar last century habits. It was saddening to find out that this still is pretty much the norm in India, even in the rich classes where women can easily afford professional domestic help. And it was a relief to realise that I am miles away from any of these impositions. 

Being pregnant also brought forth insights into the society into which I was going to let my unborn baby mingle. The news itself was received by praising my choice of "not delaying it too much", implying that we are a society that looks down on women who delay motherhood or do not want it. Then, as months progressed, everyone including strangers in the supermarket queue took a shot at predicting the gender of the baby. Some well meaning aunties advised me to eat certain foods to "get a boy". It didn't matter that I was already in my fifth month then, and the gender of the baby was decided! 

Every time I would lie down for a sonography, I would stare into a mandatory legal declaration in the consultant's office. It screamed in a bold font that sex determination is a punishable crime. The offenders could get up to three years in jail along with a Rs. 50,000 fine. It was always a comforting sight. I had even saved the toll free number given alongside so that I could report people who were surreptitiously trying to do it. 

Every time I touched an old lady's feet out of respect they would bless me and say out loud that I may produce a son. I always retorted, "Take that back! I want a daughter". I am the only daughter of an only daughter. I wanted to continue that desperately. I guess it was partly because I wanted to relive my own childhood and partly because I am a crazy feminist. I absolutely, from the core of my being hate being treated second to men. And I hate men who condone this kind of behaviour. And more than anything else in the world I have a big problem with women who consider producing sons their boarding pass to the flight to heaven. It is a sad fact that women are just as guilty of perpetrating this crime as men are. If men treat women as second class family members, women treat other women, especially the women married to their sons, as second class family members as well. 

And you don't have to go to the extreme of sex determination to see this attitude. Little gestures go a long way in showing you that you are not equal to your husband, even if he himself honestly thinks you're more than equal! If you come home from work and start cooking, it's no big deal; but God forbid if you sit down with your computer and the husband cooks, all hell breaks loose! You're expected to stay home way past the time you take for nursing because "the baby needs mom". But nobody has ever even thought of leaving that job to dad. I think a child would equally benefit from having a relaxed dad at home who would indulge him/her when the crazy disciplining mom is out to work. Bedtime stories would be so much sweeter in baba's voice than they are in aai's voice! And wouldn't it be a great Facebook cover photo where the mom is seen cooking and the son and father are helping her chop vegetables? Or better still the mom is seen working on her laptop as her babies bring her coffee? 

I was never very sentimental about these milestones. But somewhere I expected that motherhood would make me at least a little bit of those gooey-emotional-mommy types. But the only emotion I felt strongly all through my pregnancy was an urge to win this battle by having a girl! But I lost. And how! Even in my spinal anaesthetic high in the OT, I heard someone say that it is better to have a boy first. Then you can decide calmly if you want another child. If I wasn't so numb, happy and high at that point, I would have given that man a black eye. 

I can't not like my little guy just because I wanted a girl. Ultimately, girl or boy, mommy always loves them to bits. But now I realise that life has given me a tougher challenge than just raising a girl without this social bias. It has given me the challenge of raising a guy who would treat the women in his life with utmost love, respect and fairness. To teach him that no matter what old ladies say to your mom about having you, life would have been just as easy and happy had you been born as a girl. You would still get that extra piece of cake, and you'd still be dragged into bed at 9, whether you wanted it or not! 

Just like marriage, motherhood is also a personal choice. And yes, it is a choice. You are free to choose not to have a child. And I think our society also needs to learn how to respect that choice. However magical and fulfilling it is for you, it is still a universal phenomenon. Of all the sons born with "the blessing of the almighty" very few really turn out to be as ideal as Lord Ram -- the epitome of an ideal son. But we still see a lot of Seetas finding solace by giving up into the arms of Mother Earth, because they are not trusted by this world! 

Lessons in Courage

The announcement of this year's Nobel Peace prize brought two thoughts into my mind.

The first thought, came after a feeling of deep shame. I knew Malala and her story very well. But I actually had to Google the Indian citizen she shared her Nobel Peace Prize with. Malala, as we know her, was born because of social media; and today, social media is a bigger reality than everything else. There is very little human interaction these days, even in protests and social revolutions. Just add a hashtag and you're done. You are a part of the protest just by hashtagging words on your Twitter account. We have seen many such movements. Whether it is #bringbackourgirls, or back home, the intense #iamanna movement which quickly degenerated into a political party without roots. The over exposure to social media and hashtag activism has led us all to kind of 'swallow the proverbial red pill'. Our minds have a separate existence in our online worlds. But how much of that turns into action is a million dollar question. This brings me back to my original thought. Although both Malala and Satyarthi are symbols of fearlessness and courage, I think Kailash Satyarthi's low profile activism, which went on for over three decades, with the help of organized teams, deserves a bigger applause. In his interviews, he mentions how he and many of his staff got beaten up on several occasions trying to rescue children trapped in bonded labor. Over the years, Satyarthi and his team have not just taken a moral stand, but also built systems to keep it sustainable in a real life scenario. 

The second thought, was about courage. Satyarthi's Nobel acceptance speech included a fable. The story of a little sparrow who is flying back into a raging forest fire. A lion, trying to escape the fire asks her how on earth can she do anything about it. She replies that she is just doing 'her bit'. This is a wonderful story. But it never comes to life the way it does in stories. Kailash Satyarthi gave up his job as a lecturer to start the Bachpan Bachao Andolan, much to his mother's disappointment. I think, this step required a lot more courage than any subsequent thrashings he may have received at the hands of greedy factory owners engaging in child slavery. The choice to give up a life of certainty/comfort/material pleasures for a life which may or may not lead to security and prosperity requires tremendous courage. This is the point where all of us fail. All of us -- especially the youth raised with an Indian middle class upbringing -- are constantly guided (lectured, forced, threatened, manipulated) into believing that our end goal in life is to stay out of trouble. And by trouble we mean conflict of any kind. We will be encouraged to do our best, grab the best schools around the world, get the most lucrative jobs we can lay our hands on, marry and have kids at the "right time". But we would never get lessons in courage. When it comes to standing up against injustice at home, in a workplace, in our social lives, we are always advised to stay out of trouble.

This is also the culture behind the practice of  aborting female fetuses in middle class and upper middle class families. They have the money and the power of  hushing up everything. I am sure if every middle class daughter made up her mind about walking out of a marriage that demands sex selective abortions, this problem would be weakened. But divorce is trouble. It involves being "answerable" the society, which never comes back to check on you again once you are off the shelf! This is also the culture behind institutional corruption. We are always ready to take candle-lit marches to Jantar Mantar against corruption. But when it happens right under our nose in the work place, we never act as the whistle blower. Because standing up against powerful people is considered getting into trouble. We will never have the courage to be an Edward Snowden. At best, we would get inspired by the actions of people like Snowden and Satyarthi, dilute it about a thousand times and end up feeling good about ourselves for doing all that thinking. 

So there is very little hope for 'doing our bit'. For every million scared middle class human beings like us, there will be one Satyarthi. And I think that is somehow enough to make this world a better place. Unless we are taught growing up, that it is completely okay to fail, that we are not in a perpetual competition with everyone around us, that we need to build milestones inwards as well as outwards as we go through life, that taking a leap may lead to something far better than we imagine, that new roads are discovered by people who are willing to risk something, that there is immense happiness in satisfying your inner voice, until that time, we will just be a group of robots living replicate lives. 

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

I came across the 1969 autobiography of Maya Angelou. 'I know why the caged bird sings' brings out a peculiar trait -- Maya Angelou's ability to see her own life events with a mix of  deep honesty and humor. This book is about injustice & abuse, but it is presented through the eyes of a little girl who is unable to pinpoint the negativity in her circumstances. Although this acceptance of injustice and abuse is infuriating to the reader, I think the appeal  lies in the fact that the author could preserve that feeling through adulthood, just for the sake of expression.

Perhaps the most refreshing element of this book is that it takes you to Stamps, Arkansas. Somewhat reminiscent of  'To Kill a Mocking Bird', it takes you through the beauty of the southern life. The slow pace of life, color segregation, religiosity and food. Some incidents are hilarious and they really make you want to time travel back into those days. Angelou's elaborate descriptions of  their Sunday meals definitely made me hungry. Also refreshing is their collective imagination of  'what happens in California'. This is a recurring theme in a lot of American books. There is California on one hand and then there's everything else. Maya and her brother's travels to the West also bring the same sense of adventure and anticipation expressed by so many other American authors.

The most moving and poetic part of this book is the time when little Marguerite (Maya) is subjected to sexual abuse and rape by her mother's boyfriend. Here, she writes as an eight year old, who is shocked by the act but irrationally attracted to the perpetrator. Her feelings of shame and self-hate are compounded by the religious upbringing she received in Arkansas. And it is difficult to detach yourself from the helplessness which her character feels during that time. It is also easy to understand how sometimes the victims of such crimes blame themselves for what happened to them.

Although not explicitly written, this book also shows Maya's struggles to come to terms with 'beauty' and attractiveness, which later became her strength and the strength of so many women who follow her poetry. As with many other women who have been celebrated for being "unconventionally" beautiful, Maya too goes through the repetitive questioning of her own worth. I think that this is one of the most important parts of becoming a woman of strength. The kind of confidence that slowly emerges from self doubt seems to become independent of the questions that gave birth to it. Perhaps that is how great writers are born. Angelou is definitely one of them. This book is a testimony to that.

Pagdandi

Every new place I have ever moved to has always thrown the same challenge at me - being without friends. But I found it quite strange that I had a feeling of mild panic when I was actually moving back to my own country for good. It was not so much the fear of starting over again, as it was of getting trapped in the old set up all over again.

It is very difficult to be alone in India. You move into a new apartment and ten minutes later your neighbor knocks on your door. Then, in your attempt to find all the essential luxuries of a modern Indian home (maids, milkmen, newspaper delivery, the laundry guy), you end up making friends with your entire complex!
Then there are weddings. About a dozen a month (specially in summers and winters). In the monsoons, when the weddings ease up, there are religious festivals. Plus, most of the weddings also result in naming ceremonies peppered all around the year. So you are actually left with very little time to "make new friends".

There is another face to the "I need more friends" feeling. It comes mostly from the anxiety of being far away from your comfort zone. When I moved to the US, I was in an all round terrible state of mind. I landed in East Lansing on a very hot summer day in July. I saw my apartment for the first time, I had no furniture, no car and no friends. Bit by bit all of that changed. And as it always happens, I was equally sad when I left the place. I used to do hot Yoga at a small studio back then. And because I was so lonely, I was extremely regular at Yoga. I used to take the bus from the lab, my Yoga mat slung across my back, and return home exhausted at 8:30 at night. I never missed the class, even during snow storms I was there, at the bus stop, in my snow boots (and I was dumb enough to lug them back as a souvenir from my time in the US). I didn't make any long lasting friendships at the yoga lessons. But I did make a lot of friends at work who were curious to know more about the "sword" that I carried on my back!

I found myself reminiscing a lot recently about all these efforts I used to take to stay happy with myself. And it hurt to realize that I had the foolishness to assume that I did not need all those efforts now, just because I am back home and married. And just as the topic of "Me time" was being laid out on the discussion table, I found Paghdandi. :)

It is a coffee shop/book store/ library on Baner - Pashan link road. The monthly fee in a mere Rs. 100 and you can also donate a limited number of old books to get a monthly fee waiver. They serve very nice coffee and home made cakes and pastries. They organize workshops and meet ups for writers and artists. I happened to accidentally walk into a writers meet today and it left me so refreshed, I couldn't stop smiling the whole day.

There were about 20 people in the shop today. The youngest was about fifteen years old and the oldest must have been in his seventies. There were IT engineers, economists, stay-at-home moms, published writers, film makers, students and advertising professionals. All of us bound together by one thing - a passion for writing! It was certainly uplifting to realise that there are places right out of your imagination, in your own neighbourhood. All you have to do is open your eyes and walk into them!

So, if you are in Pune and want to spend an hour of your Sunday morning meeting writers, please walk into Paghdandi at 10:30 AM! You'll definitely see me there!

Sometimes, you look at something and wonder how clever nature really is. If she wasn't, why would she create such a beautiful fall in the North Americas? The places that are preparing themselves for almost six months of frigid cold could do with a picturesque mental image of the fall. Then there's the summer Gulmohars in hot, tropical countries. It would be an understatement to say that sighting a bright Gulmohar tree in bloom speaks to my soul. I started driving recently, after a long break. I never liked driving but now that I am getting better at it, I don't mind driving. One of the most distracting things on the road these days are these bright orange trees, drooping with blossoms, making themselves so unabashedly attractive when they are surrounded by so many ugly things (such as, college kids with headphones, on a motorbike!!). Some are spread out like an orange canopy, some, like happy couples holding hands high up for all of us to pass through a colorful tunnel. Some are single, standing upright, looking successful.

 The Australian Jacarandas used to remind me of Gulmohars in India, especially near Kolhapur. Now, the Indian trees remind me of Australia. Getting out of the city bus, trying to fight the monsters in my head on my way home, the purple trees would have an amazingly relaxing effect on me. It is a mixture of nostalgia and your incense-burning-hippie-yoga-genes perhaps. But more than that, I think it is wonder. As a kid I used to wonder if I could tie a swing to that tree. As an adult I wonder how, even though I have so many other fascinating technological distractions, these trees still manage to captivate my mind. I think my wonder has grown up too, but I am so glad that I can still feel it.

There are places in your mind where no one can really go. When I was alone for  long periods of time, I used to stay in those places all the time. But as you get surrounded by people, escaping into those places gets a bit challenging. Looking at these trees, instantly takes me back to those happy places of solitude. There is some sort of deep rooted comfort in observing how nature operates the Universe. How, she has accommodated human avarice and wastefulness. She does her best to maintain harmony and balance, even when her problem child is out to destroy her treasures. Then there is also comfort in knowing that everything, at some point, is going to die. It will be recycled as carbon, phosphorous and calcium, but there is a certain peacefulness in knowing that we won't come back in the same form, ever again. So all this running around, getting breathless over things out of your control, hoarding stuff, all of this, can stop. The purpose of life is to have a good time, with the people who choose to be with you in this moment. Who knows what happens tomorrow?