Under The Umbrella

As the sky turns grey and the air is filled with the smell of dampened earth, love smitten couples flock the streets, fingers intertwined under a single umbrella that no more seems to serve its purpose of shielding them from the rain! Looking at these blissfully happy couples, it gets me wondering whether these so called romantics actually find the weather romantic or is it the mere idea of romance attached to the weather that draws them out? I know, right now there would be people out there reading this article, thinking that this female has gone crazy, what does she mean by the ‘idea of romance’?

Well this may come as a surprise to many, but the whole ‘under the umbrella’ romance has made a little dwelling into many a peoples’ mind not because they themselves think it to be romantic, but because it has been publicised as being so in our larger than life Bollywood movies, be it Shree 420 featuring Raj Kapoor and Nargis in the all time romantic rain song ‘pyaar hua ikaraar hua’ or Kareena Kapoor and Amir Khan in ‘zoobie doobie’ from the movie 3 Idiots, as the main leads enjoy the coveted moments of romance under their umbrella, titillating the senses of the audience! What these mesmerised audiences fail to understand is that they have been fed with yet another stereotype. Yes a stereotype! The love struck individual, who used to loath the grey monsoon showers, suddenly seems to be in peace with the pitter patter, all because she or he (though mostly it is the 'he' following yet another popular stereotype) is in love! This is nothing but a fancy idea, which has been presented time and again as the epitome of romance.

It is no different from the stereotypical role of a caring and nurturing mother or the macho portrayal of the hero, which has been sold to the public as being ‘ideal’. This tempts the audience into following the same footsteps as the characters on screen, to imitate them and live the ‘ideal’ and ‘perfect’ life, at least what part of it they can. This is where the whole idea of the ‘rain romance’ comes in. The general public or the audience that places these characters and people on screen to be higher than themselves, basically beyond the ordinary, are convinced into doing almost everything that the protagonist does in order to experience the ‘magic’ they see on screen. People try to emulate and behave like the actors to satisfy their own need to feel special.

This however does not mean that a person can not genuinely love the monsoon showers or find them romantic, but when a person who hates the very idea of a tini-tiny stain on his or her clothes all of a sudden is all too excited to hit the road for a long walk in the rain with his or her better half, which would most defintely cost him or her a few mud stains, is where the question arises. We rarely realise that most of our likes or even our general opinion towards certain things or situations are based on what is been presented to us as being ‘ideal’ and are ingrained into our minds through their repeated projection in movies, songs and other such medium of influence.

With this thought I leave you to contemplate and do a little introspection on whether the pitter-patter actually sounds like the melody of romance to 'you'. 

The Tutoring Street

On the noisy and bustling streets of Connaught Place, with her colourful beaded necklaces wrapped around her neck and arms, she tags along the ambling tourists, putting to use her baffling knowledge of an array of foreign languages, trying to persuade them to buy her necklaces. Ask her where she learnt to speak so many languages, she replies with a proud smile “here, on the streets”. Eleven year old Karma is one among the many such children who have not only made the streets their ‘office’ where they earn their bread and butter, but also their tutor, everyday learning a new trick of survival!

Induced into selling necklaces at a tender age of five, Karma can speak in English, French, Malay and Arabic which she calls “Muslim wali angrezi”. Her day starts as early as six in the morning and ends as late as ten at night. With her father being an alcoholic, leeching on the money her mother makes by selling the necklaces, she has no choice but to fill in her fathers shoes to ensure they do not sleep with an empty stomach at night. But she doesn’t complain, “I like it, at least I get to eat at night” she says, maybe this is a virtue that you learn on the streets, to fend for yourself and be content in what life gifts you. When questioned about her abstinence from school, where she could learn many more new languages and also grab a meal, an awkward ‘silence’ is all she could give as a reply. Though her mother was quick to retort back sarcastically saying “lo milgaya khana” (yes you get food). But karma’s silence said it all. Her longing to be the child she is, to not have to bear the responsibility that is originally her father’s to carry could be clearly heard in her silence.

To survive you need to be ‘street smart’ and these children epitomize this. They not only manage to persuade their costumers to buy their necklaces for double its actual price, but also manage to grab a few extra bites asking people for their food. “The puppy face trick works” karma says as she goes about asking for food when she sees someone with something that tempts her. “I like ice-creams and chocolates” is what she says, but can not buy one for herself, so she has to make do with asking people for it.

Their dreams are molded to fit the picture frame of the street; it starts on the street and ends there. “I want to sells malas (necklaces) when I grow up” is the reply you get when you ask karma about her dreams for her future. Her wings of aspirations have been clipped by responsibilities and her financial situation. Then again you feed on what you get, and karma has always been fed by the streets, which has provided her with means of earning her bread, butter and shelter.

One can say that we have a lot to learn from these children. Despite the lack of resources and freedom to be their age, they are able to make the best of any given situation that even people with access to resources fail to do. The sense of responsibility rather than bending their shoulders and making them weak, strengthens them and teaches them to overcome the hurdles of life, in turn making them more mature than their counterparts who are oblivious to the hardships of life. The intelligence that these children possess is remarkable, but then again the credit goes to their ‘tutor’- the street!

Strangulating Freedom

When not being raped physically, a woman is most likely being raped of her fundamental right to freedom of speech, expression and life by the moral police of our patriarchal society. Most of us focus our attention towards eliminating the former and fail to see the larger picture which is the suppression of women, of which rape is just a sub-set.

Time and again, there have been instances that have brought the existence of orthodox patriarchal system to light, leaving many shell shocked. The fatwa issued by the grand mufti Maulvi Bashiruddin, against the first all-girls band in Kashmir, condemning their music making to be ‘un-Islamic’ and a step towards demolishing the society’s moral fabric, is the most recent incident projecting the Taliban-like dictatorship that men exercise over women in the Indian society. Religion here seems to be nothing but yet another handy tool to clip the wings of women who dare to step into the male dominated field. This fatwa is, however, not one of its kind. In august 2012, militants in Kashmir threatened to throw acid on the faces of women who use mobile phones and do not keep a veil.

The aspirations and free will of women being crushed under the thumb of chauvinist men is however not restricted to the valley alone. The khap panchayats in most of northern India seem to be singing the same tune, as the diktats issued by them hit similar notes as that of the chauvinist in the valley. One such harmony was sung by the Baghpat village panchayat in Haryana, when they issued a total ban on women under the age of 40 visiting local markets, using mobile phones and being seen in public without their heads covered, which was apparently for their own best interest. Also, it issued instructions warning individuals to refrain from love marriages and anyone found guilty of it would face a total boycott from the community. There have been many such diktats that have echoed through the country, as these khaps crown themselves as the law maker and moral police entrusted with the responsibility of protecting the women of their community.

The government has however done little to put a check on such suppressive and oppressive use of power against women. While some politicians, such as Jammu and Kashmir chief minister Omar Abdullah, came out to voice their disgust and angst against such rulings, their words were nothing but hollow, followed by no concrete action against the defaulters. On the other hand, political leaders such as Rajpal Saini and Om Prakash Chautala happen to stand at the same viewing point as the khap and grand mufti, saying that “women will not die if they don’t use cell phones” and that “they should be married off early to prevent rape”. The government and local political leaders tend to favor such unlawful rulings as they are more interested in reaping in votes than securing the general interests of their female voters.

The judiciary though quick on its feet to condemn such incidents, stating them as being against the Indian Constitution, has been unable to come up with a concrete solution to restrict such illicit oppression of women.

NGOs such as Sahakti Vahini have taken up the initiative to stand up for these women and voice out their plight, in hopes of providing them equal stand in the society as their male counterparts. While these NGOs seem to be doing their best in order to weed out such suppressive order, they could use a hand or two from the central and local government to speed up the process.

In short, in this play of ‘strangulating freedom’, women are mere puppets in the hands of the patriarchal society, where the government and authorities play the role of an audience that occasionally passes languid murmurs of criticism, though never fail to clap hands at the end of  every show!

The Dog-eared Pages

I sat in the store all brand new,
my pages freshly bound through.

I watch a merchant step indoors,
little did I know he was the devil,
wearing the merchant's robes!

The journey he promised was hard to resist,
excited I followed,
to add new stories to my list.

Though all my fairy tales went askew,
as he lead me to a place where horror stories brew!

All my covers were ripped to shards,
while I felt my pages being torn apart
With every page that was turned and felt,
I saw the gates of the iron cage weld.

I hear the devil chortle as my heart sank,
watching my tears wash my pages blank.
He said-
"Don't you worry you won't idle on my shelf,
for you are that magic spell book that will make my pockets swell!"

The devil made his money renting second hand books,
and now,
I was his new customer hook.

Passed from hand to hand for a quick read,
satisfying every man's evil greed,
I lay on a pile of dust,
waiting to satisfy my next customer's lust!

The Rippled Mirror

The gentle ocean waves tickling my toes beckon me.
They say,
our friendship will go a long way,
for you and I are as similar,
as the grains of sand that stay together.
Serene we may appear to a passerby,
while the pinch of salt makes us weep and cry.
They may see sailing ships of joy,
while buried below are sunken dreams to fly!

Startled I stand under the twilight sky,
though after a moment I do reply-
My dear friend in your voice i hear,                                                                                      my fear to be seen so clear.

Show not to others what we hide beneath,
for after all,
it is our secret to keep.