Anatomy of the Discussion on Rape

Sometimes in the smoke and dust of wars, it is easy to forget what we are fighting for. The joy of victory often blinds us to the pain of victims. And the fascist in us usually helps us by providing a binary answer to how things should be. The recent national outcry over crimes against women is a good example. It paints the world into rapists and victims, profiles women into those who are prone to being raped and those who are not, and dismisses the genetic programming of males as something that we overcame back in the times of Napoleon. Why it even divides people into those who are making an unnecessary hue and cry and those who are wisely taking it in their stride. The comfort of having an explanation, of having it all fall neatly into place, of having someone to blame, castrate and hang, is too tempting. And all of this is made palatable by the offer of public spaces to protest at, revisions to the law, and FMCG sponsored citizen initiatives.

We as a people are so fond of this comfort that those who are "forward thinking" have always capitalized on it. That is why the priestly classes emerge, why people wage wars over borders of thoughts, and why the same corrupt politicians keep getting reelected. Watching the public reaction to the recent rape of the five-year-old one afternoon made me write something that I could not make much sense of as I wrote it. I sent it to +Bhavana Upadhyaya of TillingTheEarthWoman as a guest post since I did not know what to do with it. She redacted it, very simply and with as good as no changes, into a readable piece and published it on her blog in two parts. You can find the posts here. Do take a look and join in the discussion.

Rapes On and On … (Qs We Need To Ask)

Rapes On and On … (Solutions We Need To Seek)

How Tea Got Its Name. Seriously!

 For the last two months, I have been trying to write a piece to announce the launch of the rehearsal for the uprising. However, in spite of written two or three such pieces, they all lie in the Work in Progress folder. Perhaps one reason for that is the complexity (insane is always complex) of the thinking behind it. Then - this guest post from Rickie Khosla showed up, a followup from a long forgotten conversation. I could think of no better way to introduce our fine tea catalog (see link in first line of post) than with this.

Contemporary Indian writing in English is, to be kind, a minefield. Duds abound. The blogosphere is no exception. When I chanced upon Rickie's (measurement and information) writing, the first thing that struck me was his precision with narration time, narrative and dialog. The next thing was his totally weird sense of humor. Much of his writing revolves around popular culture, and his gothic irreverence comes through with an insider glee that is hard to describe. The richness of his wisdom and the depth of his knowledge are finely balanced with an Aragonesesque darkness (quick, light, irreversible, piercing) that is all his own. Knowing my fondness for rambling, he has provided an introduction to this Georgian delight himself. Without any further ado, SJD gives you - Rickie Khosla.

Deride without Prejudice

Hundreds of years ago, a plain Jane English writer called Jane Austen wrote an epochal novel called ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Quite miraculous that she would achieve that, for, the woman had heard nothing of Blogging in her day. Despite that, how she procured the clarity of thought, the grasp of storytelling technique, the dry wit and humor, attributes that all Indian Bloggers are naturally blessed with the first time they hold aloft a pen, we shall never know.

Anyway, my research has shown that Miss Austen may not have found it that facile to produce her seminal work, as proven by the multiple versions of Chapter 47 that she wrote longhand, one of which I have reproduced here. Moreover, I found it quite interesting that this particular trashed piece alludes to a certain beverage that +Subhorup Dasgupta has great affinity to – making this a remarkably serendipitous find! Read on to find out more.

I wish Miss Austen had retained this passage in the book instead of the inferior one that she ultimately went with. Had her writing been of the Blogosphere born, that lapse of judgment would have never occurred.

Ah, well.

Chapter 47

Draft 4

Mrs. Bennet woke that morning with a start. Forthwith upon doing so, she was dismayed to notice that her right eye was fluttering recurrently. “Oh dear, this is not going to be a good day!” she exclaimed to herself. Yes, as her past assays of similar harbingers portended, the omens had aligned for this to not be a good day at all. The fluttering left eye one could cheerily contend with. But the right one? That was to cause nothing short of dread! Each of Mrs. Bennet’s flights of fancy, for her mind was wont to vigorous ones at a moment’s notice, flung her to similar and thoroughly tragic consequences.

National Poetry Month: Red Leaf Poetry Evening

Linda and Nivedita are two amazingly enthusiastic poet friends of mine who spearhead a movement that I am proud to be a part of, Red Leaf Poetry. The objectives of this group are to reclaim the creative arts and bring it back to where it belongs - among the masses. They have been mixing memory and desire to come up with activities to commemorate National Poetry Month. The regular meeting is scheduled for 5 p.m., Saturday, April 13, at the usual 2nd floor corner at Landmark Somajiguda. (Hope to see you there.)

Our guest speaker this month is Anand Vishwanadha who describes himself as an (allegedly) unemployable copywriter and corporate communications professional who spends most of his time looking up into trees and photographing birds, and also writes the occasional poem. He has published two well-received volumes of poetry.

One of the outcomes from the last Red Leaf workshop merging poetry and photography.

Recently, the group was covered in a Times of India article on how poetry groups in Hyderabad were creating a new awareness among the people. Here is what they had to say. You can click through and download a full res image if you wish.

In addition, Red Leaf is also conducting Poetry Appreciation workshops for young people (class 6-12) at various schools in and around Hyderabad. Confirmed workshops are at Delhi Public School, Chirec Public School and Mosaica International School. If you would like Red Leaf to help organize an event at your location, please send an email to hyderabadpoets (at) gmail (dot) com.

Zero Sum: A Song for Kashmir

Zero Sum (aka Mount Despair)

Come sit with me and rest a while, come drink my salted tea.
Smell the hills, the open skies, in all you'll know of me.
Take off your bunting, your hurt, your creed; what good come from these?
Wash your hands in the silent warmth of our samovar of grief.

The Bugloss flowers brightest blue; its roots red as blood.
The lotus stem holds forth the truth from ancient beds of mud.
Paisley prints the stolen beats of witness protected lives.
My valley isn’t twice cooked meat for your sharpened carving knives.

March 9, 2013
Hyderabad

[Uncredited image found across several Kashmir related blogs and site. If it belongs to you, please let me know, will gladly credit.]

Babul Films: Because It Matters

How did we observe Earth Hour 2013? On March 23, I met Gangadhar Pandey, the person behind Babul Films, an organization dedicated to promoting sustainable lifestyles. We met on the occasion of a painting competition organized for children to observe Earth Hour. Earth Hour is the 2007 campaign created by Leo Burnett for World Wildlife Fund that asks you to turn off the lights for one hour on a March Saturday evening. The next morning, however, you are free to return to your life of consumption and wastage. A couple of us had been invited to judge the contest, and since I have never been asked so nicely, I didn’t say no. It took a few misplaced emails (true to his style, his email handle is admn without an "i," another clue to the mind behind the face) before it was confirmed. It turned out to be one of the most life-affirming decisions I have ever taken.

Participant at the Painting Competition organized by Babul Films on the Occasion of Earth Hour 2013. Photography by Bhavana Nissima

Who is this Gangadhar? We bussed our way down to the outskirts, and took an auto for the last mile. Much of habitation, both affordable and high end, now implies places which are not serviced by public transport. We walked into the community we were supposed to reach, and looked out for Babul Films. We were met by Renu, the man behind the man, as she bustled around managing more than two dozen kids in the basement of an apartment. She led us to where Gangadhar was struggling with stubborn wiring to set up the screening area. We soon realized that Babul Films was really a one-man army. Two-man actually, since Renu’s contribution to this movement is as critical as Gangadhar’s. Later we learned that after they packed up the event for the evening, they needed to pack up their home, since they were moving to a more accessible location the next morning! Then I figured out a possible explanation for the name of their endeavor; it was a misspelling of Bubble Films, since the two of them were constantly bubbling with enthusiasm about their role in creating a better world.

Arrogance: Breaking It Yourself

Arrogance has to be the greatest pain one can inflict on one's self, the biggest obstacle one can put in one's own path, and the most difficult personal failing one can attempt to address. As I sit in the stillness of a summer dawn, birdcalls and intercity bus horns (and the softly playing Ghost Trio) slicing through the dim air, it strikes me as a good thing to write about. A good thing to remind myself of.

All of us aspire to a broader canvas, a better life, a brighter, warmer, safer nest. That is at the core of our evolution, of our survival. The tools to get there are provided by nature - in the form of intellect, reason, physical ability, etc. I will never forget the words of my friend, Joseph, the man who walked on fire by mistake, when I expressed wonder at how he mastered the art of sewing/stitching in a few hours. He said, "God gave me hands, and God gave me a brain. There is nothing that cannot be achieved."

Man "dicovered" fire. Man created wikipedia. Image of Discovery liftoff from wiki commons.

This very ability - to overcome challenges and achieve anything, a virtue that we should be grateful for - becomes for most of us, the foundation of false pride and arrogance. We forget that each step we have taken to get where we are today has been possible only through the collusion of a million different factors. Starting from the attachment displayed by my mother (and father) on my birth, to the zillion times I have strayed and tested fate, to the opportunities that have found me - if one reflects on what has gone into making this "me," one can only be amazed at how insignificant our own role has been. I have been coaxed, nudged, rapped on my knuckles over and over by a million different protective forces before I learned even the basic lessons of social behavior. One can only guess at how much input goes into shaping thinking, personality and intelligences.

Strangely, this realization is largely kept hidden from us. This is part of the cosmic April Fool joke. We are given what we perceive as free will, only so that we can sculpt our destruction. We are given just as much choice to build upwards as we are to bring that edifice crashing down. Having been in the "business" of helping people (little time in the conventional "helping" profession and much more time in the "training" profession), I have seen this happen to everyone without exception. The best example, of course, is my self.

Dialog: The Starting Point, The Common Ground

One of my gifts from blogging is the joy of knowing Bhavana Nissima, a sentiment shared, I am certain, by all who have known her. All. I love her distinctive approach to things we see around us. Her posts question what we take for granted, yet in a very gentle, non-confrontational way.

When we announced a blogger's meet in Hyderabad in 2012, she caught a bus (after missing her train) and came to encourage us all the way from Chennai. Her posts blend social responsibility with her personal quest, with her commitment to reclaiming the feminine and with quiet moments of self disclosure. The result is a fine tapestry of thoughts and feelings (and a lot of facts) that reaches far beyond the individual and showcases what we as a people are truly capable of. This also comes through in photography illustrating her posts (as well as on her photography blog, Photobhavna).

Bhavana embodies the belief that concern by itself, unaccompanied by action, is of little value. In this guest post, she sheds light on the very essence of the journey from conflict to wholeness - Dialog. Before my introduction becomes longer than the post itself, over to Bhavana.

*****

I began this piece the day after the Hyderabad bomb blasts, sitting in an office not far from Dilsukh Nagar—the site of the blasts. In some, there was anger, in some, helplessness, in some, a real physical pain, a loss, and for others life went on— “lite teesko” as they kept reminding me.

A stream of fresh air blew through the crack in the window reminding me to think afresh, anew and to think of dialog again. Yes, even now.

You see when folks think of the word dialog, they think of two people sitting together, in a polite, civil manner, talking soft sweet words to each other, listening and comprehending and that after sometime folks come to an understanding--a consensus.

What is the use of dialog when we are speaking in chorus? What is the use of dialog when we are already in agreement? When what is at stake is not important enough? When memories don’t hurt enough? When values are not deeply rooted enough?

Dialog when you believe that a dialog is impossible. And here is how. Not a full and a sure how. But a “thereabouts” how.

Pre-Dialog

Dialog begins within yourself first. This is the toughest area of dialog.

1. Dialog is sometimes not even with a person or a community—it may happen with a book or an idea or a faith. It is not so much an “inter” process as it is an “intra” process.

2. If you are psychologically or materially invested in the issue, you have to develop an emotional distance from the topic, a process I call as “disidentification.” Identify ways in which the issues prick you and ponder on their roots. Then disidentify by mindfully observing the thoughts that course through your mind and work on being still.

Mental Health: Expecting Different Results

"Fairy tales are nice." ~ Syd Barrett  (6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006)

Most of us will have had some interface or experience with the inhuman practices that go on in the name of mental health treatment. We have heard of patients shackled to their beds being burnt to death, we have heard of rape and abuse, and we have heard about the horrors of addiction treatment methods. Most of us would have also experienced the stigma and the shame attached to mental health issues in a social setting. The combination of these two – a poor understanding of mental health and an ill-equipped, verging on abusive treatment environment - make a perfect recipe for tragedy. And this tragedy plays out in a million lives – both in the afflicted, and in the affected – every single day in our country.

One of the compulsions that made me step away from my life in the helping profession was my inability to understand or agree with traditional models of mental illness and its treatment. In many discussions, I have been branded an escapist, preferring to stay away rather than commit myself. Everybody is entitled to an opinion. In this post, which was originally started on the birthday of Thelonious Monk (which coincidentally is also World Mental Health Day- Google it) and completed on International Women’s Day (coincidence, purely, trust me), I share my thoughts on this topic by looking at three examples that will be familiar to most readers. This is a post that got written very, very slowly, and to allow our understanding to develop, I would invite you to read it slowly too.

We are all searching for our center; it is just that some people need to travel far and wide before they get there.

I must acknowledge my indebtedness to Aarathi Selvan and NVL Satish for helping me to clarify my thinking, for reading and suggesting edits to this post, and for sharing their expert understanding of the subject at hand. I am also inspired by the writing of Indu Chibber and Surabhi Surendra who tirelessly promote a better understanding of mental health through their blogs.

Are You Mentally Healthy?

The etymological root of the word “health” is shared by the words “whole” and “holy.” The World Health Organization defines it as "a state of complete physical, mental, and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.” In the case of “mental” health, the WHO defines it as "a state of well-being in which the individual realizes his or her own abilities, can cope with the normal stresses of life, can work productively and fruitfully, and is able to make a contribution to his or her community."

Leaving aside physiological and organic disorders of the mind, which easily and universally fit into this definition, one then wonders why the understanding of mental health differs from culture to culture and across periods of time. The answer lies in the fact that the general understanding of mental health closely overlaps the “clinical definition” but adds the concept of normative behavior to it.

Own/Belonging

At the fourth cross, holding the kerb
Search for a sign, any, easy to please,
An elf in a waiting car window looks at me
And keeps looking, and I keep looking.

A film, a memory, a number, no background.
On the public address system, mother says,
If you see anybody loitering around suspiciously
Please report it to the nearest police station.

Lights change, making life simpler to see.

The car moves on, the brat still looks at me.
The questions, the fears, the world, shiny reflections.
I am wanted! I am wanted! I am wanted!

Hyderabad, February 2013

Review: When Your Granny Was A Little Girl

On the occasion of my parents' 51st wedding anniversary, here is a guest post of a different kind. This is a review of Mom's memoirs written by Ritwik Mallik, a promising young (three bestselling novels old) author. Ritwik is currently associated as a content writer with a travel company in Delhi. His official bio mentions that he is a former School Captain of DPS Noida and presently a UG student at Hans Raj College, DU.

Ritwik Mallik

WHEN YOUR GRANNY WAS A LITTLE GIRL by Manju Dasgupta

Sanskar Publications, 24 pages

Review by Ritwik Mallik

It is seldom that one comes across inspiring stories in our daily lives, let alone inspiring people. However, Manju Dasgupta is one such exception. Septuagenarian, Madam Dasgupta or MDG as she is fondly called, decided to pen her debut novel in a bid to share with her grandchildren priceless accounts of her childhood days. This was done in an attempt to bridge the gap that grandparents face in communicating with their grandsons and daughters in an age dominated by Facebook and other forms of social media.

The narration starts with the earliest memories of MDG and ends with the story of her father’s deteriorating health – a time when the author believes that her childhood ceased to exist. It is a journey of thirteen years dipped in history, nostalgia and most importantly subtle social messages which very few would’ve been able to pull off so brilliantly.