From a Consumer to a Producer of Technology

It is important to have great ideas, but it is even more important to implement these ideas. While I am typing these very lines, I have young people chanting the slogans of Aam Aadmi Party outside my house.

My first ever tryst with technology came in the form of 91 Springboard on the weekend in Delhi. Let me confess; I am struggling to maintain my life prior cellphones and I do not prefer to have a smartphone. I am only 25 years old. I have detested technology in my own way and I have never ever thought of technology to be my ally.

So I knew I was walking into my enemy's territory when I walked into the world of hackersforchange. I had my reservations about technology but I was also fully aware of the benefits of this new thing. And I wanted to learn about this tool. I just did not want to be a consumer of this tool, I wanted to use this tool for creation.

Hackathon organized by hackersforchange and breakthrough was an excellent assemblage of ideas and developers. The theme for the workshop was safety for women. It was great to see the journalists, coders, designers and researchers all under the same roof. I had no idea how we would all develop a common product however I could sense everyone wanted to contribute.

I chose to join the Wikipedia editing session conducted by Noopur. I have always believed in the power of knowledge. I myself coming from a researcher background , was fully aware of power of information. So I was in for a rude shock when Noopur informed us about how there was no Wikipedia page on India Saare. We did not have a page on Vina Mazumdar until a year ago on Wikipedia. 90% of the demography of Wikipedia editor was white male from Northern America. And we were talking about the so called revolutionary wikipedia!

Where the women and And how were stories/information being created?

As part of an exercise Noopur made us read the personal section on Vina Mazumdar on her Wikipedia page. It had mentioned about how she had 4 daughters and all 4 were divorced. Now, if we go by the logic of factual information about a personality, how her daughters being divorced in any way is important to the reader?

Was there a hint of voyeurism, or a sense of tarnishing of an eminent feminist or sheer misogyny? Was there a need to admit that even knowledge/information out there had to be gender sensitized or atleast made gender neutral?

This was the power of technology for me: to contribute correct information to the world, to curate stories of Global south in our own words, to be able to counter misogyny and sexism prevalent in the virtual world, and to provide the truth to an audience out there. W ikipedia was one step towards it.

Narration becomes the truth only when it finds a true story teller.

It was wonderful learning the techniques of Wikipedia editing in this session. She not only shared her expertise and talent but also made us edit an existing page on Wikipedia. This was where I felt like a creator. I was no more just consuming technology but I in my limited understanding and space was producing something useful for an audience out there.

I still have a love-hate relationship with technology however thank you for organizing for such an event. It was truly worth it. Big thanks to Noopur.

Ram Leela - The Bhansali Frenzy

I had to come out as  BHANSALI die hard fan. I am one of those who follow the world of 'Bhansalisque' sense of cinema. Larger than life images, colours splashed across frames where violence has a soothing background score and it all ends up in tragedy. That is my view of Cinema in Bollywood movies and this is exactly why I wait for his movies so patiently.

When Sawaariya came out, I was one of the few souls who loved it.  I still get rebuked for my taste for Bhansali's movies, but how could someone not like Saawariya! It was based on Dostoevsky's "White Nights" and in-spite of such horrible acting by Sonam Kapoor it did justice to the tragic notion of love. Guzaarish took the plot ‘love’ and elevated love to another level. That is Bhansali for you. He would rather let the couples die than love getting united.

So when I went to watch Ram Leela, I was all prepared to get tear jerked. I was looking forward to emotions, drama, and tragedy. The movie indeed ended with death but it did not feel heart warming. But this time it was not JUST about the tragic love. As one of my friend stated, death was pretty boring compared to the rest of the movie.

Bhansali finally colours his hand with blood...

It started with violence, people shooting and throwing bottles at each other. A man running behind a child to shoot him down with a gun; this happening in a mainstream Bollywood movie was something that amazed me. Nothing was politically correct and it was charged up with all the correct regional abuses. There was no moral police to control the urges and no censor board to decide for us what we wanted in the scenes. The movie had violent scenes with perfectly choreographed action, colour combination was right and even got mosquitoes flying on the blood! There were even some dirty lanes in the picture and even some not so pretty looking sets. Bhansali was clearly getting out of his comfort zones. This was too much for a man with a sense of very polished beauty. Yet he maintained the canvas of beauty on screen.

Extreme hot bodies, dresses and language...

If I discuss the characters, it would begin with their looks and bodies. Both the female and male characters were extremely hot looking people. It gave a lot of people goosebumps, woman like me clapped everytime Ranveer removed his shirt and men clapped for Priyanka and Dipika. However this time it was more than just the bodies. The bodies were also given soul and colours.

The bodies were wrapped with gorgeous looking clothes and wonderful dialogue baazi. Nothing seemed politically, ethically or morally correct when it came to the dialogues. It was raunchy at different levels and sexual innuendos were the flavour of the day. The raunchiness was enjoyed by everyone in their own secret world. Even the woman character mouthed the sexy so called “ non veg” dialogues. The discomfort if felt by the audience was on both side of the binary gender frame. If the guy spoke about her size, the girl retorted back asking for his size right before their celebrated suicide. If the guy talked about pornography, she talked about her sexual desires. If the guy pretended not to be interested in her, she talked about seducing him. The word-play between the two was simply amazing. Kudos to the wonderful combination of the script-writers(Garima and Siddharth). I enjoyed the smart dialogues that held the story together.

Shifting away from the good girl syndrome:

There were a clear shift from the 'good-girl' syndrome to just a girl who decided for herself. Instead of waiting for him to seduce her, she went ahead and kissed him unabashedly. Not once but so many times she gave in to her desires. My friend totally found it unethical when she decided to elope with her lover instead of mourning her brother's death. I somehow never connected it to the family honour or her duty. As dramatically said in the film “ Badtamees, behasharam, buzdil hain yeah pyaar, par pyaar yahi hota hain” ( It is shameless, uncouth and lacks courage, but this how love is), I was very much in sync with her line of thinking.However,  the issue of ethic was never made an issue when the same girl's wedding was arranged within 10 days of her brother's death to keep her brother's honour. Maybe selling her virginity within the societal norms was fine as opposed to her choosing what to do with her virginity.

The Women Characters :

I have always admired Bhansali for the portrayal of women in his movies. Be it Nandini ( in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam) or Paro's mother in Devdas. They were all very clear about what they wanted in their lives. And this time Bhansali took it to another level. This time he made his female characters assert their sexuality. He gave them agency. Be it Leela's sister in law, who demanded to spent more time with her husband when her husband returned , or Leela when she demanded a night with her husband before her death. This agency was portrayed with violence in the backdrop to justify their assertive nature, but these women clearly ruled the cinema and the screen for me.

Even after the rape incident, when they accused try to approach the survivor again she scowled back and walked out of the place.

The Rape incident

This was the only part of the movie which I hated. There was no need to even hint that rape could be used as a tool in war. Rape as a tool to destroy the honour of a family was something problematic that the director could have avoided. I do understand that this was the reality that still happens in India but was cinema not the medium to bring about that change in our attitudes?

 If the movie could insist so much on love, it could have gone ahead and depicted violence in different ways. I am fully aware of the fact that the way rape incident was dealt later by the lead character, was more on the lines of peace, but the reference to rape as a tool did upset me.

The madness:

A lot has been written about the lack of logic in the movie. First of all, when did Bollywood ever cater to the realms of logic? And seriously from the genre of Rajnikanth and Amitabh Bachchan, do we expect reasons? Was there not a parallel cinema movement that was explicitly meant for real life and reasoning (and because of the same things it has not been able to garner enough audience!).

However madness is needed, not just in the case of thousand people dancing on the roads without any context, but also for instances like love. The movie tried discussing Romeo and Juliet and tried setting up this tone in Indian context. It did feel like it was using love as the rational ( read madness) for most of the steps taken by the actors. There is no other emotion in the generally accepted range of emotions that caters for madness in the world. The scene where Leela repeats the messages sent by her husband 4 times while her sister in law is trying to reason out with her, can only be (understood/mis-understood) using the language of love.

We are mostly taught to reason out our actions, most of us don’t tend to spontaneously act on our desires. Well we have been taught that desires need to be controlled, censored and now even under surveillance. We need to follow rules and codes of our surroundings and in such a scenario there is no space for madness of individuals. Ram Leela in its own spicy, bollywood style try providing that space for madness. Maybe Bhansali did not intend to see it in that sphere but I would like to read that into it.

Overall I enjoyed! BIG thank you to Bhansali.

Red Brigade : A different form of revolution.

Red Brigade

We had heard that girls from small towns were different from city girls. They were less educated and more under the pressure of patriarchy. However our experience with Red Brigade was different and humbling in a way. They gave us the lens to understand their fight; a fight they were willing to fight against a mind set called Patriarchy.Somewhere in the hearts of India a different form of revolution was brewing up. It did not have the media attention, neither the fame of Femen. They were angry and wanted to solve their problem. And they found this help in self defence,or we must say Martial Arts. 

Red Brigade

The girls walked in silence and reverted those gaze. They were no more scared and no more felt the insecurity. They just wanted to reclaim those lanes, their lives and their schools. Girls were tired and Red brigade gave them hope. That’s what Red brigade meant for them: the symbol of power, the symbol of hope.

A bunch of girls from age group 9 to 25 years old formed the part of the notorious “Red Brigade”. Notorius because nobody really supported them. Police thought they were nuisance, neighbours thought they were bad influence for other girls and their own parents were against their acts. All of them attended classes in martial arts and had been associated with this effort for a long time. They assembled in the Dragon Academy and learned methods of self-defence  from Mr. Gyan. 

Why Red Brigade? And they smile and let us know that it was a gift given by the boys who used to mock  them. Whenever these girls used to go out for practises in their red salwar and black dupatta, they used to tease them saying : Red Brigade aa rahi hai ( Red Brigade is coming)¹. So they just stuck with the name.

Aap ka Jagruk Rahna bahut zaroori hai.( It is necessary to be alert in your daily lives)

Red Brigade was the brain child of Ms. Usha who had most of her family members involved in this campaign. She found this as the only way of protecting herself and her loved ones. She noted that lot of girls facing similar plight were simply locked up in their houses and their education was stopped. The notion of eve-teasing was at rampant in Lucknow, from where this group operated. Red Brigade was an effort to give the girls their sense of security back.

Sehat banana zaroori hai. Aapko har roz dood peena padega ( Your health is important, Make it a point to drink milk everyday)

The idea behind teaching girls self defense came from within the group itself. These girls knew each other from before. They used to go to coaching classes where they were involved wit each other's at some level. They were very active in street theatres and somehow felt social issues needed to be addressed within the community. There was no help coming from the government, private organizations did not find any incentive to interfere and families found it easier to lock the girls up inside instead of tackling the issue. The girls had to take up their issue of safety in their own hands.Red Brigade was an effort to remove the fear away.

9 year old Shanti joined Red Brigade only when she was 6 years old. She was the youngest in Usha's family. She spoke eloquently , in between giggles spoke about sister's solidarity that kept her confidence up. She was not aware of feminism as a concept but very clearly spoke of the gender inequality she faced with respect to her brother. She said shyly how her brother was scared of her.

Itna stamina se kya hoga, arre cum se cum 1 minute ki dod! ( You really need to improve your stamina, you should be able to run fast for a minute)

Red Brigade took the feminist movement to one stop forward. Usha clearly shared her discontent with the feminist movement which was more worried about other elite issues and failed to tackle the basic issues. She said that she still needed to fight for girl education in these places and issues of sexuality was far away from their present concern. She was tired of sitting and waiting for revolution to happen. One fine day she just decided to take up the revolution in her own hands.

The girls don't have a conceptual understanding of the fight they are involved. At some level the society and their families have let them down. They just have the sisterhood that gave them back their identity.They know the patriarchy is against them and really wished at least their brothers , friends and their female relatives understood them.

One of the member shared how every day was a fight to come for this judo classes. She still fought and continued coming for the classes. This was the only place where she belonged and she regained her self respect.

Usha proudly mentioned the number of foreigners who had asked for their uniforms. She had people coming from Portugal, United Kingdom and other European countries coming giving them trainings. A Mexican group just came and stayed with them and showed interest in making a documentary on them. She just hoped she will be able to set up more defence classes. She really found it amusing how people from far away were aware of her efforts and people sitting in Delhi were yet to recognize her issues.

After all this, it was disheartening in a way to see these girls, talk about basic issue of food. They knew their health was important. They did not want to win championships but needed to be fit and yet had to fight for basic right to food. It was easier for the trainer to tell them to drink milk, but in their houses they hardly had access to food and resources. To demand their right to milk was an issue they still had to tackle.

While we were leaving one of the girls told us how all this fighting and all was fun, she would still love it if only she could dance. Somehow it was easier for her to fight than to dance. Dancing was another fight she needed to take up, but for now she was happy with Red Brigade!

Contributors : Nastassia and Jasmine. 

1Red Brigade in Hindi also is used to denote a a group of people associated with violence.   

Strangers in the train : Murakami Style

7 minutes means a lot in a daily routine. By 7 minutes one can miss the metro, one can alter the morning schedule, one can mix the faces of the fellow passengers; Life can change. Most of us do not like missing those 7 minutes. We don't like being late; we don’t like having our well prepared lives altered in any way. There is some sense of soothness in the daily chores, a kind of rhythm which reminds us of the world around. To be sure it is still the same place we last checked in; we need the boredom. It is difficult accepting change in anyway.

I am a daily passenger and I travel for hours for daily commute. One needs hobby to spent these hours. I somehow never developed the habit of listening to music. It never made sense to me, having the blast coming from tiny little things. I would see thousands of people getting lost in this noise. I somehow could not get myself into this.

Most of the people don't notice things happening around. Some say nothing special ever happens. I cant argue with that. There is always a sense of uniformity in everyone in the metro. Everyone wears clothes, everyone has a bag, everyone is tensed and everyone is rushing. Nothing exciting ever happens.

Maybe we don't look enough.

I spend hours staring at the sky; the sky is always lot more calmer than the crowd inside the metro. I love the way how colours of the sky always have a story to tell, There are scores of birds diving in and out of sky creating beautiful aerial shows. If I am not gazing at the sky, then I am sometimes listening to conversations. Conversations sometimes tend to be boring, most of the times repetitive. It's amazing the amount of mundane and repetitive conversations human beings are trained to deal with on a daily basis. As an observer most of the times, I don't get to chose my performers. I become their observer sheer out of luck. Some people enlighten me, most disappoint.

I have been reading Harumi Murakami for last few weeks. This was a desperate attempt to slow down my brain's deterioration in the metro journey. A flat hard bound black book helps me cut of from the rest of the noise around me. These noises are neatly divided into two source: the humans and the non humans. Both of them are without aim and mostly nuisance. As someone had once rightly stated “I wish I could control my hearing devices and go off on mute mode”. Murakami 's book is currently playing the role of mute device. I start reading : and before I know I am reaching the destination. Time and Noise both lose their significance or as stated in the world of Murakami, they lose their essence. It keeps travelling in two and fro movements.

Going and Coming in and out of Murakami is bit of harrowing experience . I am engrossed in his work, am going though his journeys and then out of nowhere, I hear a sound at the far end. And slowly my brain starts tracing the source of it. And then zapped into the real world. I used to get sad, an immense amount of sadness would dawn upon me on this realization. In the crowd one could not look sad, even though nobody really looked on the faces. Slowly got used to this time travel or even better as Aisha would say: this was my entry point to my third level. I could get in whenever I felt like and get out whenever heard a noise at the end of the tunnel.

7 minutes where about to change, something. Reading Murakami has its own defects. The magical realism starts spreading into your parallel lives. One starts craving for those things , even starts justifying the imaginary world created. I start looking for miracles.

7 minutes and I was late today. Everything behind time, I was no more interested in the sky. I was pissed at the birds for not getting the formation right. Passengers looked uglier and noises became unbearable. Murakami smiled at me from this world to another. I refused to enter the third level that day. I just had him next to my body.

Staring at people, I realized another soul staring at the sky. People don't stare, people look at things. Their eyes are always drifting. Its as if eyes always are in a hurry, there is so much to see. I have sometimes caught people staring at me. I don't mind that. But they always revert their eyes. Eyes are always moving from one place to another. But she was staring, regardless of time, regardless of space. The whole profile looked peaceful. Her hair long and curly,refused to be calm. Her eyes lost and her lips as straight as possible. She looked like lost in trance. I could not help but check her body, her feet, her hands and her beautiful little hands. It grasped my attention and I was awaiting for a big surprise. A fellow Murakami fan. She was reading one of his works; work I simply love. I really wanted to make sure I was right. I really stared hard at her book, I could see the grasps of her fingers getting tightened around the book. She was nervous and I was excited. Was it really possible ; a fellow Murakami fan looking at the sky at the same moment as I was involved in the same process. Maybe not in my world, but in Murakami's world it was totally possible. Maybe it only happened in Murakami's world.

I struggled to keep my nerves under control. I really wanted to know if she liked the book, did she like the protagonists, what did she think about it? Could she sing for me the song in the novel? I was bubbling with questions, unable to control my stare. With my body getting excited, my stare did become incomprehensible. I could see her pupils staring at me and increasing in size.

7 minutes late that day and I was standing face to face with a Murakami's fan. In ordinary world this was no miracle, nothing extra ordinary happened, there were no magic moments. But I could not help feeling excited about the prospects of talking to her. She was some metres away and it felt like miles away. She suddenly had this immense power over me, that I could feel my feet going numb.

I gathered all the courage of the world and went and dropped in a hello. It is not easy saying a Hello in the world of metros. One has to manoeuvre through a lot many faces, a lot many thoughts. One has to side away one's own thoughts,the thought of encountering a stranger. It is tough in its simplest way. It is no easy job talking to a person.

So hello it was, and she still did not smile. She thrust her book inside her bag and awaited my reply. I continued my monologue, How I loved that book, How I am a big fan of Murakami and how I had to drop in a Hello. It would not make any sense in this world, but as Murakami fans know,it did make sense in his world. That was the only driving force I had myself going. Murakami would have made sure that his characters dropped in a Hello.

My rambling eased her tensions, She smiled, she understood my craziness about the book. She smiled further and let me unnerve my fears. She was a patient listener and I could say she was glad that someone spoke so long about Murakami. She confessed how the book had left a mark on her, how she was trying to re-read the book in every sense possible. The part of staring at sky was an attempt to understand his world. I was only glad to hear her version of Murakami.

We had a total of 7 minutes for all this. It never occurred to either of us to ask each others names. It was not important. The discussion was about Murakami and somehow it was complete in its own way. She got off the same platform as mine. I had never seen her on this platform and somehow I had the intuition that I would never see her in future either. We continued our conversation fully aware of the fact that we might never see each other.

She ended the conversation on the note that it was wonderful meeting someone who was equally in love with his worked. I fully agreed with her, in my heart of heart wishing she would ask my details. She did not. I did not feel the need to ask her contact details, this is how Murakami worked. You had to give coincidences some credit, serendipity had its own role to play.

7 minutes and that day felt so different. In a way beautiful and complete. I had done things I would have normally not done. Talked to a stranger and had a beautiful conversation about an author. I did not make a friend , instead found a beautiful soul.

It's wonderful to realise that there are more beautiful souls out there somewhere.  

Little bit of space, little bit of thought

A friend of mine started the day saying, women are risk averse, we don’t like taking 'risks'. we calculate and avoid risks. We only move accordingly. If only we had taken more risks, if only we had faced our fears more, life might have been different.

She was quoting Nivedita Menon ( one of the Indian feminists) who have been ferociously arguing that women need to reclaim public spaces, they need to get out and take back their rights.

This statement and Menon's arguments have left an impact on me . I have always considered myself pretty bold compared to my counterparts in the given social set up. I always assumed I had faced more challenges and did feel that I had crossed the binaries of gender. I was also aware of the fight I was fighting to seek my freedom, but it was really difficult for me to accept that I was being calculative while doing all these things. That is, I was still being aware of the risks involved, and would always avoid the risks. I would not just jump into any situation just because I felt so. I was always calculating. I would never venture into public spaces,even if I craved for parks, I would not go there alone. I was fighting, but I was cornered and as I have said before in my blogs,the fear was instilled inside my own body. There were no eyes to avert, no gossips to avoid. I had the parameter and the risks calculating devices within my body. It was always ticking.

Some women in Delhi hardly ever go to public spaces. By public spaces,I mean the parks, footpaths, gardens,monuments or any common open space where people could sit and chat. I am restricting the women here to middle and upper class women. This group has been shifted to cafés, malls and shopping areas. This is the space that has been created for them as the public spaces which are safe, even though these spaces might be expensive and not always available.

There is still a big chunk of women who still venture out to those public spaces which somehow does not resonate the essence of safety. The parks, footpaths, gardens and monuments are visited by some women, some with family , some as part of their work, some might use them as shelter. They still tread these so called unsafe places. These are women who belong to the lower economic strata of the class structure. So what makes them more 'risk taking' while others happily corner themselves into these limited and expensive options ?.

I recently joined a survey initiative regarding women's safety on roads in Delhi. I conducted a survey in Nehru place regarding women's safety in the surrounding areas. Nehru place is a commercial hub which is thronged by dozens of people who visit it on daily basis for work purposes. These transactions are mainly around electronic equipment. It was difficult for me to find women there. There were very few women on the streets, plaza or the open area.

While conducting this survey I came across various interesting anecdotes which in a way, made me re-think on the idea of 'safety' that I have always considered somehow universal. There were women from different class who were part of this crowd we were about to question. My colleague suggested that we should take the views of the women hawkers also. At this point the answers to the questions somehow became obscure for me. The questions themselves became redundant in a way For example, in the beginning of the survey, we were asking questions regarding usage of mode of transport, air pollution and length of distance a women is willing to walk without being scared, ( these are some of the questions that somehow were thought to be important for women's safety). We found out that most of the women who had come for shopping there, or who were working were either dropped by their partners or were using private mode of transport. Their idea of safety was pretty much restricted to the usage of their private vehicles or using expensive mode of transport. They did not expect any public amenities to alleviate their distress regarding safety aspects.

On the other hand, the women hawkers when they were questioned, their sorrows were very different. They were far more risks taking and far more dependent on public amenities for their public safety. For these women, questions regarding air pollution and length of distance they are willing to walk alone, were totally useless and I thought so bit cynical too . Some of them found the question of length of distance willing to walk, but amusing as they were walking miles to reach their homes. They did not care much about the pollution as such. They knew it was very unsafe but still had to walk. Did they have an option ? They had to earn and they simply could not afford the expensive safer mode of transport. They just could not be calculative as some other women out there. They had to take the risks.

So this brings me back to my question, why is that women from lower strata of economic ladder willing to tread into the public spaces; are willing to sit in public parks whereas middle/upper class women are willing to lose their claim to the public places? Should it not be the other way round, the middle/upper class women who are more educated, independent, and liberated in a typical sense be claiming their rights to public spaces. Why are they happily resorting to the cornering , why are they satisfied to the limited spaces which are being produced by some capitalistic ventures?

In response to these questions, I have been told that if the women from lower strata are provided with enough access to resources even they might not venture outside. They might restrict themselves to cafes and malls.

Is there something more to the 'risk taking' nature of ours?

I have been told that every day when a man leaves his house, he is aware of the fact that he might be humiliated , he might be killed,or he might not return back. He still goes out, takes the risk and has been doing this for a long long time. On the other hand, women are mostly restrained to some private spaces, fully aware of the fact that if they venture out, they might get raped or assaulted , women don't even reach the part of murder, for women rape is the ultimate, and this has been a good enough risks to keep women outside the public spaces and inside the private space.

To be continued ….

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There have been days I have wished, if only I could go and lie with a book in a park and stare at the sky. I like the feel of big large sky looking at me. I have not done so, I do think about it a lot. The stars shining, and the big big sky.

.

Single Ladies

All the single ladies......

I remember dancing over Beyonce’s song, it was bouncy and exciting. All the single ladies were indeed dancing, but it had a caveat, it was begging for a ring, it sought for a companionship, it was dancing towards the ring...

All the single ladies

25 and single and not at all ready to settle. This might be a story about one girl, two girls, many girls, or a whole sector of our population. One is 25, one is single , and one suddenly finds herself in the marriage market.

Let me give a background scenario first, This is the story from India. This is story of Indian girl, who just turned 25, finally realized it is awesome being a woman and finds herself in the marriage market . I say marriage, cos we don't date just for companionship, we don't date just for fun, we are always seeking an end, a purpose. Maybe something to do with our Indian philosophy and karma; maybe the fact that one of the ashrams, 25-50 years age group is meant for family and companionship. So please bear in mind all these factors before judging me and my friends, or even sympathising with us. We just exist with all of this as a backdrop.

I see myself walking on the road, I see myself dreaming, I see myself smiling over a cute guy, I see myself curious about future. So many girls spent most of their metro rides talking to some cute person somewhere, the smile with which they reply to some messages is too adorable to ignore. The hundreds of girls who spent hours on talking on phone while supposedly walking. This is what I see around myself. The bursting romance economy, the joys of so many people going gaga over so many tragic romantic songs.

what I don't see is the marriage market, but I feel the presence, I hear about it, I cant seem to ignore it and its looming all over.

It is not a great time to be 25 on the streets of India, you are either too old or either too young. You are always asked about your future and it is always about a guy. (I am sorry for restricting my story to heterosexual reality). Most of my friends are going through similar phase. I wish there was secret society of 25s where everyone could meet up and rant away their sorrows.

I am not against the marriage, I am extremely happy for couples who happily get married. Remember the focus is on 'happily get married'. I have these wonderful conversations where people say how much they long to be in a relationship. It is beautiful to be with someone, it is beautiful to see the dreams together. It might be even beautiful to be part of this beautiful dream. But not everyone has a bollywood story. 25 and not yet kissed, 25 and not yet in a relationship, 25 and forced to get married, 25 and many more sagas. These are some of the common stories. And people genuinely want to get out of their different stories.

How do we get out?

You look out and think about where have all the men gone? C'mon, they need to be somewhere. I don’t want to be introduced to a friend's friend or family friends. Why cant I just start a wonderful conversation with a stranger. No, I am not a fan of making friends of facebook, what I am seeking is real life friendships , real life companionships. And I am not ready for marriage and so are billions of people out there.

Tricky right, but how is that in this population of billions we are still unable to find our soul mates. I remember once a German friend of mine telling ,me, C'mon Jas, in this population of yours, it might be so difficult not getting into a relationship. They are just so many of you out there. But is it true? If there are so many out there ? Why cant we just talk to them, why cant we just drop in a hi, why is there always a wait for someone to start a conversation?

I have thought thousands of different reasons for why exactly people get into marriages, my all time favourite would be this short story written by Prem Chand, he gives 31 reasons as to why men get married. Some of the funny ones are like,

• I did not like coming back to empty houses
• everyone around was getting married so even I got married
• needed someone who would tell me I am smart

I have thought about similar reasons for women. Why would women want to get married? We all look for this perfect Ryan Gosling and yet we sit on our asses and just wait. We are all bursting with life and we sit and watch it pass by. I am asking for a life where we decide and demand our lives.

So single and not ready to settle, might be a dangerous path to tread. I finally reached a stage in life where I think so I am falling in love with myself. I am developing a strong taste for good things about life. Finally doing things that I love and I would happily seek for companionship.

and it feels good saying this.

Let me look around and find some cute guys, flirt with some and maybe smile a bit. Let me live my life a bit and let me start making my dreams come true.  

Beyonce has to wait. I might just go ahead and find my Ryan Gosling :) 

Dilli ki ladki, Dilli ki Metro

Women's only [in Pink].

I grew up hating pink, it was girly and then when I became a women I was told pink is cute. I do agree it is cute.

I see throngs of people rushing to the metro. I missed this rush of Delhi metro. I see thousands and thousands of them. I see a section of women only section devoid of Delhi men. Ah! Women's only, and that too in Pink. What a relief.

For people who are not accustomed to Delhi men, we do need some crash course. They are bit different. Little bit of hooting and a little bit of whistling thrown in. Delhi has a past for these men.

So I was new to this women's only section. I was used to travelling with people from other sex. I was used to being alert all the time. I was always defensive. There were always some hustle and bustle and I was always pushed. But it was nothing to do with men inside, it was just the part of being a crowd, a crazy crowd.

This women's only was different. Yes, there was a crowd, there was pushing and lack of space. But there was a sense of calmness. As though we were all united by a sisterhood, some sort of solidarity. I saw women dressing up, touching on their make ups in the metro now. I saw women generally being relaxed. I myself was no more tensed or alert. There was nothing to worry. I could notice it was generally used more by younger generation. The ones who were dressed up; Who had higher chances of being stared at, This was like a heaven for them.

So I made it a point to travel only in women's section. I ran to get to the coaches at time, I stood in for extra minutes even if there was space in general category. I enjoyed this freedom in this Utopian sense of coach for women. I was not aware how I was teaching myself a fear of the other sex.

I used to see the men section sometimes, it was always packed. Well Delhi metro was generally packed, so it was not like a new thing but this time the view looked different. Slowly the number of women in general category were reducing. Yes, more and more women were opting for women's only. We could see some men standing at the middle of the two coaches and staring at this Utopian world. Yes, it had loads of women of different sizes and shapes.

Michel Foucault, a French philosopher had once mentioned about a phenomenon called panoptican. Panopticon discusses about having a security vigilance write inside the victim. Its an art where instead of looking at the inmates from outside, one looks at them from centre, from within.

And never realized but Foucault's panopticon was inside me now. I would interpret him in my sweet own way. I was developing my own check system where the ladies coach was the safe world and the general coach was unsafe. No one said this, it was not written anywhere. There were no laws about it. Over time I just realized I had instituted a panopticon right inside me. I was scared, and I was scared of my own mind.

General coach was always an option, I could always enter it. But somehow with time, I could no more enter. Yes, a bit of schizophrenic identity might be thrown in, but I was not ready. I had started becoming too relaxed in my comfort zone. I could no longer enter the general category. There was a fear of those men, I started developing this fear that they would stare. I was becoming handicapped, I needed my social protectionism all along. Yes, I was all happy in the women's only section, but it never tackled the issue of woman feeling safer. I had imbibed the fear in me instead imbibing a respect in them .

So what was the need for the protectionist attitude? Did it really help protect me?

Was it not downplaying the purpose behind it?

I did not feel liberated, I just felt more handicapped.

With time I developed a fear of entering a general category where I was a usual commuter before. Now I feel like I am encroaching an untouched territory. I always feel like I am being gawked on. The protectionism played the other way round. The panopticon instead of being kept outside in the open; was kept inside my mind. The eyes I was trying to avert, were becoming my own eyes.

2 months and I still travel in ladies coach. There are moments in the rush of the day, when I am at ease, when I am not worried being harassed, or raped in these women coaches, and then there are moments I do look around to get a glimpse of a cute guy. And then I go out of that safety box and get mixed in the crowd.

Now days I spend some time of my life fighting with a guy telling him to go to the general category. Sometimes its one and sometimes I see half of the coach being taken over men. I ask them, tell them, fight with them and in some instances even resorted to calling the driver. I am always stared with a perplexed look. And the usual dose of questions thrown at me, Tumahara kya jaata hai, aapke paas to seat hai, there are other guys also?

I feel let down, when I see women giving me those stares, when women justify the men standing in the ladies coach. Their silence hurts me, and gets me thinking maybe I should just adopt apathy. One person will not be able to make a change, how long will you fight.

How do I instill the message in them and not in me ? How do I tackle this fear without foregoing my ease. These are questions I have been struggling to answer.

I want the other coaches to answer. The colours other than pink to respond this time.  

Room of one's own

Room of one's own : Virginia Woolf

I remember reading her in narrow lanes of an old library. It was an old book; tattered pieces. I was aware of the scepticism I felt regarding feminists books. Woolf was ready to argue for women and her rights. But I was feeling dejected with life and I wanted to read some fierce article seeking my place, my thoughts and my views. Woolf did not disappoint me at all.

By the end I was convinced I needed a room of my own.

This was three years ago, when I had read her work. Three years later I still never got the room, I remember coming back and staring at my parents room. I went and stared at the kitchen and stared at it for good 10 minutes. The kitchen, where the most important work was done : cooking. I would be there one day , trying to hold on to some thought.

But now I needed a room. A room not just devoid of disturbance, a room devoid of responsibilities, a room devoid of cynicism. In short I was aware of the fact that I was demanding a room of thoughts.

I am still romanticising this room, but am sure this room exists somewhere.

Why do I need a room, for the fact that I am not a painter, I do pretend to be one sometimes in my mind and sometimes in my life, but no where near being chaotic and messy. I do try my hand at writings sometimes, I write for 10 minutes and then I see my words and my mind travelling to an another zone, yes I have a small attention span, so there goes the art of writing. But I still sometimes  crave for this so called room where I could just lie down and stare at wall and think of these great great great thoughts.

There have been time when I think of thoughts, and then by the time I finish all my work and come back to write it, it melts away. As someone rightly said there is something about a great idea, one needs to write it down as soon as it is planted. Or it will be lost in the valley of thoughts.

“What does the brain matter compared with the heart?

So I take care of myself, I take care of home, I take care of food, I take care of family. No, no; this is not a Victorian set up . This is what happens in everyday life.

The idea keeps floating. And one keeps holding on to this great thought which floats around. I am not the first one who is going through this, Kamala Das had to wait for night to set in to write, Jane Austin had to hide her manuscripts.I am way better than these women, I am allowed to think and I am allowed to write also. Just that I am not able to find the time to write it. Excuses, petty excuses.

I am not stating anything which is out of the ordinary, these things happen all the time, but what does not happen is repetition of these problems in the 21^st century . Nothing has changed with time. Women are still playing the roles of home-makers; With time, we have become even more super-human.We are playing double and triple roles. I don’t think so we ever inherited any room. We inherited multiple rooms with multiple complexities. Our roles and duties increased.

Woolf when she was debating for a room of her own, I repeat she was not seeking for space, she was seeking for an idea where women were the producers of thoughts. Where women instead of being the care-takers, were the Einstein of their times. Women were not responsible for a man's success, woman themselves were success.

I still have not found the room.  

Quotations from some lovely novels .

I learned this art from Akira Kurosawa. He used to take down notes of novels he read. Mostly Dostoevsky .i used to read , read a lot and then I used to yearn for some lines. Writing down these lines helped. As though one preserves these lines for sometime with oneself. It freezes the time. 

these are some of my favourite lines from the following novels 

 Sugar Street : Naguib Mahfouz

• My Dear Coffee-house, you are part of me. I have dreamt a lot and thought a lot inside you. What value does nostalgia have?Perhaps the past is the opiate of the romantic . It is most distressing affliction to have a sentimental heart and a sceptical mind.
• When we are in love, we may resent it, but we certainly miss love once its gone.
• he had been his drinking partner.
• The most wretched thing that could happen in this world, would be having to ask in one step-hour one day, "where am I"?
• a woman does not need to read or write unless she is exchanging letters with a lover.
• I don’t care for sick romanticism
• independence is not the ultimate goal. It is a way to obtain people's constitutional, economic and human rights.
• Artists too must learn their share of science. It is no longer just for scientists.
• I am a tourist in a museum where nothing belongs to me, I am merely a historian. I don’t know where I stand. You observe and ponder everything with total freedom acting like a tourist
• I am certain that I am miserable , despite having created a life that assures me both intellectual pleasures and bodily delights.
• You have liberated your mind from every fetter, but your body is bound with chains. Your body, at-least your body was created to be a teacher.

Notes from Heart of darkness : Conrad.

• No, I don’t like work . I had rather laze about and think of all fine things that can be done. I don’t like work – no man does but I like what is in the work, the chance to find yourself. Your own reality- for yourself. Not for others, what no other man ever knows.
• There were moments when one's past came back to one, as it will sometimes when you have not a moment to spare for yourself, but it came in the shape of an unrestful and noisy dream, remembered with wonder amongst the overwhelming realities of this strange world of plants, water and silence.
• Intimacy grows quickly out there,I knew him as well as it is possible for any man to know another
• he had given me some reason to infer that it was his impatience of comparative poverty that drove him out there.
• The last words were : the horror! The horror!
• Pull of the primitive upon the men
• what white civilization is doing in a black Africa, sine in effect,its veneer soon vanishes in situations, where colonialists are far from their own European environment.

Mediations : Rene Decarte

• usefulness and greater appearance of truth, which shows us man naked. Empty aware of his natural weakness. Fit to accept outside help from high.
• Our senses frequently deceive us
• what do we know ( que sais je) ? The implied answer is very little.
• Favours conservatism due to ,imitation in our native intelligence : faith over reason
• anyone who regards themselves more intelligent from others take refuge in scepticism. When they find nothing in the commonly accepted philosophy to satisfy them and cant see any alternative which is more true.
• Waldeinsamkeit : the feeling of being alone in the woods

Notes from Norwegian woods: Murakami

• I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend.
• But if I do have the time, I will come to understand you, better than anyone else in the world
• I want you to always remember me. Will you remember that I existed and that I stood next to you here like this ?
• A map that shows too much can sometimes be useless
• have you ever be in love? Never
• that has not had the baptism of time
• when you are surrounded by endless possibilities, one of the hardest things you can do is pass them up
• we had completed one full cycle of the seasons, only dead stay 17 forever
• I think you got me all wrong
• the true enemy of this bunch was not state power, but lack of imagination
• way more than I need. I wish I could give you some to help you sleep
• you have to find those 'episodes'
• I have got pretty good intuition, I am hopeless as a logical thinker, though
• you should not trust anyone who calls himself an ordinary man
• because we would have to pay the world back what we owed it
• it was an awfully long day
• that can be told by the rubbing together of two imperfect lumps of flesh
• I sucked the music right out of it
• what does sine and cosine mean \?
• Peace. Peace.
• Polaroid camera.
• Its good when food tastes good, its kind of like proof that you are alive.
• Did you ever run away from home, wanatbe . Never. Why not ? Lack of imagination. It never occurred to me to run away.
  Notes from Little Prince
• They always need explanations
• I have seen them at very close quarters which I am afraid has not greatly enhanced my opinion of them
• I like my misfortunes to be taken seriously
• straight ahead of oneself, one can not go very far
• grown ups love figures
• it is sad to forget a friend, not everyone has had a friend.

Notes from Wedding Song: Naguib Mahfouz.

• No one is crueler than an idealist. Who is responsible for all the carnage in this world ? Idealists.
• Why don't we keep track of the happy moments, so that afterwards we will believe them?
• And the people are clapping, they are clapping!
• So when does one become a whore?
  After getting raped.
  After sleeping with someone
  after developing a desire. When ?
• If these walls could speak they would tell you the most fantastic tales
• the dramas of the stage, with their heroes and victims, had moved into our house.
• I used to make lengthy speeches about these things to myself in my solitariness
• A playwright must learn about everything, the good and the bad. The theatre had its fountain-head in wickedness
• It is unfortunate that life of the soul can not do without money
• Abu-al-Ala-al-Ma'arry ( 973-1057) born near Aleppo was a blind poet-philosopher who is said to have been a sceptic, free thinking and materialist.
• What is life? It is the struggle of soul against materialism.
• The battle in mind between the erotics of Omar Khayyam and epic romance of Magnun Leila.
• He is going to be the author of tragedy, how beautiful, that anyone could be virtuous these days, his eyes are weak, so he cant see what is going around him .
• Could there be a playwright without love?
• Failure in art is death itself- that is the way we are made and art, in my case, was made not just art but the surrogate for action that an idealist like me is unable to take.
• A world where a man could travel lightly, immersed in art alone.