When will you be home?

 

You haven’t come home, the street’s got emptier.

A car whooshes past, an ambulance somewhere

pierces the dark. The clouds overhead clear

but the remnants of rain still drip on the stairs.

I’m on the balcony. I’m on the phone.

Where are you my girl, in this night alone?

 

I’ve taught you a few things early, much before

I’d wanted to. Hands, touch, violence, abuse.

Bliss was not an option. Every day’s a war –

girls have to grow up fast. We cannot choose.

I’m at the doorway. And still on the phone.

Where are you sweetie, in this wide danger zone?   

 

I’ve taught you to dream. But I’ve been circumspect.

Only hoped that you’d be safe on the streets,

that you’d be given some basic respect.

We dream small, where red lines and limits meet.

I’m out on the lane. Please pick up your phone!

Where are you, daughter and when will you be home?

News of the Kolkata rape and murder of a post grad trainee doctor on 9th August has been reported in the international media,  you might have seen it and therefore can surmise the reason for the poem above. 

Widespread protests have erupted across India this time, people are marching in their thousands calling for justice for the doctor and for women's safety. It's distressing, outrageous, preposterous that women face this level of violence but it's also heartening to see the solidarity. I'm hopeful still. 

Kolkata used to be a safe city for women, it's still regularly voted as the safest in India. However, the sad truth is that India has become progressively unsafe for women over the last 20 years. The reasons are many layered and complex, but what is not in question is that we require a seismic societal shift if things are to change. Making the laws more stringent can only achieve results if they are implemented rigorously, that is where the system is failing. And it is failing deliberately - because there is political patronage of criminals, an enabling of violence against women across the board and across party lines. That needs to stop immediately if the rape culture is to change. 

Hoping for that change soon, for speedy justice for every case of abuse/rape and in the R.G. Kar Hospital case in particular.   

Wishing all women a crime free, disrespect free and stress free environment at every corner of world. May we get to see the dream of an equal and just world realised in our lifetime. Thank you for reading.

Split continent

 

This whole structure unravels if you move

from a northern to a southern continent

the festivals jack-knifed out of their grooves -

the underpinnings of Holi and of Lent.

Cusp seasons – they’ve been flipped and tipped and vaulted

to a different month, a different time of year.

And yet. Should or shouldn’t Holi be halted

because springtime does not march over here?

 

All cusps are colour, all cusps are a promise

never mind the season they’re redeemed and how

don’t lose the shades of autumn to reminisce

about past springs, celebrate what’s here and now.

The rain, the sun, the leaves, the oceans of blue -

all colours wash off in a day or two.

   ~^~^~^~^~^~

Last week was tough and confusing. There are on-going family issues back in India. And then Holi, the Indian festival of colours, essentially observed as a start to spring and renewal, coincided with my father's second death anniversary. That always throws a spanner in the works, I remember years ago, not feeling up to celebrating Diwali one year because my FIL's death anniversary fell on the exact same day. Not that I celebrate Holi as per regulations every year, the last time I played Holi was more than a decade ago, in the Chancery grounds in Cairo, dragged into it by a friend and more as cultural education for the offspring than an actual celebration, if you know what I mean. 

Holi also coincided with the International Women's Day this year. Not a particularly happy coincidence personally - because when I was a college student in Delhi, Holi was used as an excuse by the neighbourhood/university thugs and hooligans to grope women indiscriminately. I don't know if that has changed much, I hope it has. But what I see being done to women in India makes me think not - plus ça change plus c'est la même chose.

Certainly there are greater opportunities for women now, more women in responsible jobs and charting their own courses, more girls getting enrolled in schools and staying there to complete their education, improved literacy rates. That's just basic to any self respecting society that calls itself civilised. I don't think that needs separate mention. 

But there's also more DA, more sexual violence, more abuse and trafficking - crimes against women have spiralled to mind boggling levels. And in spite of all the improvements in enrollment and working women's hostel schemes etc, the participation of Indian women in the labour force is abysmal at something like 20%. 

There was the usual stuff on Women's Day on my feed everywhere - praise, gratitude, positivity, progress. All great and undeniable.  But what stuck with me was a reminiscence by an elderly lady who wrote about her domestic helps through the years - how little they got paid 40 years ago and still do now, how they're abused by their husbands/in-laws and hand over their salaries for the man to blow it on alcohol or some other vice, how they have no agency. And that we, the more privileged ones, the middle class, educated, empowered women should help them in whatever individual capacity we can. I have no arguments with that either. 

However, what niggles more at me is this assumption that the only change will come from the NGO's and the privileged middleclass working women. This subtle shift of responsibility - from the community and the government to the individual. Why and how has that happened? 

It's a huge, complex issue. It's not a problem that can be tackled by individuals no matter how earnestly a woman might wish to help a DA victim to walk out and be independent. She just wouldn't have the resources - emotional and financial, to achieve anything of substance long term. It has to be addressed on a massive war footing, many institutions, many thinkers, many resources must be single mindedly aligned and devoted to tackling this problem at the societal and national level. Individuals, however well meaning they are, cannot provide anything substantial - drops in the ocean. Real change has to come from the top, and start with awareness and inclusivity.

But I don't see that happening, there is no real political will, just lip service once in a while. And little concrete action. More importantly there is no monitoring of whatever little action is taken. As an example the government launched a scheme of building 70,000 working women's hostels in 2017. Can't find any data on how many have actually built and where and how many working women have actually used those facilities. It's disheartening sometimes. 

However, disheartened is not my preferred colour 24/7. Quite the contrary.  It's not an excuse not to celebrate the beauty of the season - yes, Holi in autumn and Diwali in spring are a little confusing to wrap my head around, but thankfully, all cusps are beautiful. Happy cusp season to you, whatever you are observing/celebrating. And thank you for your patience if you've read the rant!

 

Don't You Dare!

 

Credit

Give me a word as the sunset is to sea -

a tender ocean cupped by infinity,

give me a word as the wind is to hair

rake your fingers through and give no scarves to wear.

Some...any word that humanises me.

Just say something as choice is to the soul.

But if you can’t then don’t you dare speak at all.

 

Give me a word as plumed grass is to free,

rooted to the ground but at one end only.

Oh I have waited far too long for you to care,

give me your word or else watch me burn and tear,

just watch my sharpest edge slash gleefully

through these massive knots that presume to control,

and if you can’t then don’t you dare speak at all. 

For all my daughters, those that were never born and those that were born to other mothers.