Spit for Thought........

The face resembled so much to the worn out faces I see everyday, of men in lungi,sweating hard,stinking bad,in share-rickshaws and railway stations.He was a short,lean,dark man and he came walking,swaying all along.He seemed to enjoy some unheard music that apparently was playing only for him.The huge government buses rattled beside him,the rickshaws,the share autos,the innumerable tvs50s that cover he largest percent of Chennai's suburban kacchapukka roads,daddies in cars driving carefully along,men on bicycles,walking children,shopkeepers drawing down their shutters to go home for an early dinner,,,,,ladies selling flowers on the roadside,,,,,dust all over,smoke all over...noise all over..there was nothing unusual today as I got down the cab and waited for the traffic to subside so that I could cross da road......As I advanced further, I could see him walking along the road towards me.I stepped back, allowing him to pass through....He was drunk..completely..da smell could actually kill an infant.Before I could realise that he wasn't walking anymore and had stopped and was staring me...It came flying onto my clothes...The cream coloured kurta that I wore to office today was smeared on the borders with sticky red spit..He spat on me!!!I was struck with silence,,a spell of all loud thunders.But there was more to come..He walked a little ahead, picked up some mud,shouted something and threw at me.I didn't want to run away.I stood like there like an innocent convict questioning his crime.He was totally drunk,upto the brim of this tiny slim throat which had layers of skin hanging out..He was wrinkled...he was old and he looked tired......That he was drunk proved lucky for me,he missed his target.The mud flew over my face,blurring my eyes....n even in the smoke of the dust,I could see him laughing.........laughing and singing...He realised his moment had come n just as any ecstatic hero falls on to the ground and kisses the battlefield,he stumbled and fell down....n there he lay ,the smile still showing on his lips and the song still coming out.The watchmen of the society came running,people stopped,sum to comprehend what actually happened and some just to use their muscles to kick an old drunkard lying on the road who was seen"eve teasing"...The victim "me" was given some sympathetic glances.The men offerred to kick the life out of the poor hero lying on the ground but the presence of a police station exactly opposite kinda obstructed their flow of chivalry..

The drama went on for five minutes.My 'assaulter' lay happily unconscious.The watchman told me he was a regular sight there,worked as a labourer in a construction nearby.I wasn't angry with me.I wasn't even scared .I didn't want people to hit him.But I was shaken!He made me think of the numerous selvis,pushpas and lakshmis(domestic workers in my building) who need to put up with such people as their husbands,not for running their houses, but just for social and security reasons.

The traffic resumed,the dust,noise and the smoke too came back...I walked back home thinking about.... everything.... Suddenly everything seemed to have a solution, an answer that in turn posed another question.I get choked wen I write this..I have always felt for the under-privileged women of the Indian society more than anything else..This time it's a lot more..As I wash my kurta today and try to brush off the stains of his saliva,I know many a stain on the society that we live in will take ages to get removed.Our life styles,migration and dislocation of ppl to cities and their empty bargains with their own destinies,disparities in the stratas of the same society,social evils,ground breaking truths

and unnerving realities......The cloud gets denser and denser..Today would be a long night for me............

The doctor says"It's a gal!!!"

It's the fire in my eyes,the flash in my teeth;

The swing in my waist and the joy in my feet....I am a woman...a phenomenal woman....!!!!

No, I am not talking about Michelle Obama....This may come across as a neatly phrased,imminently powerful and subtly strong lines describing the so called "woman of Substance".These may actually look the best on cards meant to be gifted to these "important women of our lives" on Women's Day ,to, may be, elude them,may be, convince them or may be to just give them that twitter of hope that they are treated on par with men....I see women languishing on my televison sets every now and then.Some are weeping in their "maykaas" perpetually while some are making elaborate preparations to head off to their "sasuraals" where they can languish more... some are already there in "sasuraals",all decked up with extensive jewellery but heading off to prisons and dungeons ..everywhere.Thats the whole issue.The area around some women is so glossy and glamorous that one feels they are the new queens and empressess of the new world.With some women,you really don know what's the story.Women have learnt to live in different spectra..some vye for power,some for money ,some for existence...same as men...but one lil thing separates them-the constant struggle to fight for dignity.This fight might be as simple as Rihanna's fight against Chris Brown's violence on her,or her subsequent subjugation to it, or my maid's determination to learn to read and write so that she saves her money in the money,away from the prowling eyes of her wayward,drunkard husband.Women trust other women more than they trust their husbands.All my maids have an agony in common.They get beaten up,ritually every other day.

Travel down to the suburban areas areas of Tamil Nadu someday.An interesting,infact hilarious sight awaits you...At nights you see huge,macho men,clad in dhotis tied high,exposing their long chaddis ,beating up their wives...wait untill the dawn the next morning.the situation now gets reversed.It's now victory time for the same women to bash up their useless husbands.The women in south are strong, better educated than their counterpart in other parts of the country,and they talk,they can go on talking and they talk sense 70% of the time...They want to be independent and they want a life of dignity.They have the urge to live a life of expressions and freedom and they try hard for that,even if they need to break ties with their husband.They speak about their rights with such intensity and passion that you get intimidated.Tamilndadu has the highest percentage of women employment. You see women labourers,domestic women workers,even fisherwomen,nurses,women making tea ,frying eggs on bus stand stalls,selling "mallipoos n kankambharams(gajras),roses,kadalai(peanuts),buttermilk" ....in trains,buses,on the roadside.The state has employed a huge number of traditional water harvesting methods that requires a lot of human labour.A bus ride in the suburban part of the city will treat you to the most glorious sight of the bucolic fete..Women with knee lenght sarees,bent down,rapidly picking up weeds and collecting them on straw baskets that they mke during the nights,while their husband hunt for the little fishes that might have strayed in the slushy streams..

I remember once when we lived in the city,we wanted to go to the beach one day and as we waited or a rickshaw,we prepared ourselves for the expected haggling and nonsensical bargainning with the very 'dangerous,foul-mouthed rickshawkara"..to our bewilderment,the one that stopped infront of us,had two ladies on the driver's seat,we got in immediately.We didnt mind paying them a little extra .We almost emoted the theory of relativity..How cool and bold of them..We were happy with the sight actually and there we journeyed,,along the roads of adyar and besant nagar upto the beach,two pretty ladies in the front earning their way out in this profession reseverved initally only for men,while five prettier ladies sqeezed ,sat and talked all the way behind..Women Empowerment,women Emanicipation....? Ya....as they say,the under all glimmer and shine,lies the truth,the forbidden reality...

We had gone to Spencer Plaza yesterday after a long time.I love outings,especially the short ones,the eveining ones which refresh you and that if you have Rishabh and Ridhima with you,you could go mad,with Ridhima actually being dumb and sweet most of the times and Rish with his N95 ,showing us random pics or we clicking our puzu pics with it ....As we were discussing the mystic,vocal sounds that one of my friend produces when she's asleep,on the Egmore station,we heard a quick thundering sound,n then it came again,,and again,with every time,da fierceness increased..it was not the the engine breaking down,it was a man,decently dressed beating up a gal sitting on the bench.He was on the phone a short while ago and god knows wat discovery or realisation had advanced upon him that he was violently thrashing up the gal,who looked much younger than him.....People on the station stared at the tenacity of the situation.some ridiculed,some shared pathetic glances at each other, some just walked away........and some just stood on thinking...........I was hurt,I was angry but I didnt know how to react.I was scared too....and I felt enslaved.......The term "weaker sex" wasn't coined by a chunk of high society women who wanted to overwhelm the males by playing the 'less privileged'.As the train left the station, I looked at the gal,she had her face buried in her hands.She was shaking and there was nobody to hold her,shame on me too!!!

A journalist is killed in the the capital and the chief minister feels she invited her fate cos she was "too adventurous"..Someday wen I go to office,with my face wrapped in a dupatta,people call me "taliban"...There was sum "talibanization" in Mangalore pubs happening sumtime back and Ms Renuka Chowdhury was displaying her theatre skills all over again,in an improvised,appealing manner on all leading news channels.And there's yet another "Moderate Taliban" according to president Obama,which isnt all that extremist with just 5 % of them being high handed muslims(This amazing statistic was the result of Joe Biden's exhaustive research on the same topic....).Too many talibans to talk about,yes only talk about.We all are veterans at talking..that's it...It all seems preposterous now,even to debate upon.

Violence against women has always been an unpleasant reality.It happens all over the globe.The victims,surpsingly range from the most common of households,to the lower strata,and also the high earning,champagne-drinking league...Many a reigning beauty queen's face has been scarred by the ugly punches of infamously famous yet popular men....I won't preach soultions to this vice,simply cos I know women would actually not come out with it in the open.As long as they remain landlocked in their plateau of so called moral subjugations,compromises and "protecteion of honour", no God would ever help them to throw away that Adam's rib in them and help them grow their own,individually and independently.This whole racket of "women liberation" fails for me when a women's dignity is questioned and silenced with the raise of one "powerful" hand.A woman is no parabola that can only either block a man's retreat into her or succumb to his advances.They aren't mere products who get flogged when religions and faith enter their testing zones.They are just age old victims of opression who,unfortunately live in close association, sometimes forcefully,sometimes out of their own consent,with their opressors fighting silent fraternizing battles with them for dignified living,apologizing for their strengths .Pain for most of them is not an undeserved punishment,it's just natural heritage...That's a soul wrenching tragedy of this whole impediment...For all you silent men out there supposed to be listening.........never let the hand that holds you,ever go down............Women might come across as feeble,weak creatures but remeber a teabag goes strong wen dipped in hot water....Given the right place,right situation ,right time,and right set of men,women might rule the world sumday with dignity and indentity and make it better,probably much better than what lies today!!!!

The Naming Zone

The walk to the station from my place is barely five minutes,but I prefer taking an auto.Chennai heat kills you.It makes you perspire and,sweat makes you stink.I hate that.As I waited for the auto, in front of bhaiya's shop,I remembered his wife had delivered a baby gal two weeks back and the lil baby would have got a name by now.Bhaiya owns a shop exactly opposite to where we stay.He is an ultra cool guy who talks hindi and tamil with equal fluency which make us respect him,and he is quite lenient with our "bhaiya,paise baad me denge, pakkese" attitude,dat makes our respect for him incease by numerous folds.I walked up to his shop,ordered an amul thanda and asked him,"bhaiya,kya rakha naam,preeti,prateeksha ya pragati".The baby's name was a big bone of contention in bhaiya's family of six,comprising of his parents,his siblings and his wife.Every member of the family wantd to name the baby wt a name of his choice.Thankfully,the baby's rashi sed she needed a name with 'p' ,so the options narrowed down a lil. And they had finally zeroed in on the three names.Ah,he gave me da meswak smile(have been using dat to avoid eating paste,the taste really sucks!!!) and spoke with that "shethji" wala attitude,"ab kya rickshaw prateeksha,it's elections everywhere,election is money,election is fame and election is fun...n more than that look at the contenders and campaigners...have named her priyanka,surname badal nahi sakta but I am very fond of priyanka gandhi,kya face hai uska,kya charm hai,seems to be indira's avtaar all over again..meri baat yaad rakhna,next pm wohi banegi,rahul bhi nahi..."

Well,I convince myself.It happens everywhere.I know my friend Lydia is named after sum Lydia who won the maximum medals at the olympics da year she was born.I have had the privilege to be acquainted with and in fact friends with rekhas,zeenats,
madhuris,kirans,indiras,sachins and the list is endless....Poor ppl,may be the baggage and brunt of making their mark in the world cling onto them da moment they breathe into the world.One of my friend's sister was born when her grandpa was paying a visit to a museum in London which had a big life-size poster of The Buckhingham Palace,n poor old grandpa was so thrilled to get a glimpse of its splendour that wen he got the news of her birth,he immediately ordered that she be named "Elizabeth" and nothing else.She was given an indianized "hindu" version of the name lest grandpa got offended..She is called Alzu today.

And ya, I know of instances when people bring their newborns and very dramatically leave them at the feet of Godmen,babas and soothsayers,sum genuine,sum deceitful.I know of a couple who got their boy named as "Valmiki" by their guruji.The guruji by his foresight predicted that the child would be 'notorious' in his childhood just like Rishi Valmiki was(for the ones who don know history,Valmiki
was a dacoit turned sage cum poet..He s da man behind our age old epic "Ramayaana")and then with lot of introspection and training, he would overcum his notoriety and conquer all levels of unparalled success.Well,faith can move mountains they say,I hope it does move walls and waters too.Little valmiki migrated to London with his parents wen he was a kid.He studies in a posh school there now and the kids there call him "mickey on the wall".

My mom says my name comes in a particular line of Lakshmi Strotam and since I was the first gal in the long extended family of uncles,aunts,grandpas an grandmas n cousins,I was very proudly given the name..it was actually "vasudharini",but my rickshaw driver in kg class couldnt get it propely,atleast poor sensible fellow couldn't associate such a never ending name with a tiny lil gal and he used to shout my mom's name(gita,it was relatively simple) every morning at our doorstep,wen he came to pick me up.Dad didn't kinda like it.May be he realised that I would be facing the same problem trying to remember my own name and he shortened it.Thank god Sense and sanity prevailed....But yes,not every where...I have a lil three year old cousin who's called Srinivasa Raghunandan and since he cannot get it right,no matter how hard he tries,he prefers introducing himself as kemal,thats cos he finds it easy to say that out,it resembles sumwhat to the name of a humped,interesting,dumb looking creature his mom shows on the cd and asks him to repeat after her,and more so because it happens to be his next door ,best "chaddi buddy",yaar's name too...

Names have always fascinated me.I loved the muslim names,even the anglo indian kinds,da old Testament,hebrew ones...I like the charater Anna Karenina so much that I try to infuse her name in very fiction dat i write.I even thought of a hindu name,Anandita,if i ever have a daughter so that I would call her Anna.I know a foreigner called Priscila,who became an ardent ISKCON devotee and changed her name to poornima...She says she loves Krishna,and its only during the poornima's that He cumes down to play raas lila with his gopis..Ah,mythology again?Well,a look into her eyes and u knoe she cant be entirely wrong.

They say the beginning of wisdom lies in calling things by their proper names.I feel another kind of parallel wisdom lies in giving people and products the names you think they deserve...Ya..Nicknames,petnames,they are the names the devil society throws at you and you never know wen u accept them.The worst part is the most ridiculous of them are the most adhesive!!!I have had batteries ,bhopus,tubelights,gotis,chasmis,infact kismis too in schools(many are kinda censored}..These names stick on.Initially they would seem to be stupid similies of association,later they become symbolic sounds of affection.

Then there are names given randomly by your household too,especially the worn out family members,who were either not expecting you,or werent actually prepared for you,or werent genuinely interested to pay any sort of interest to you,or may be just were so ecstatic to have you that the importance of naming you propely didnt actually occur to them.I have many pintus,bhailus,bittus,lalus,bablus and baboos in my neighbourhood.The names look very cute on three four year old running with their half knickers on.But the problem here is -these names are so very sticky dat they cling on-Bhailu kaka(uncle) today has three sons and six grnadchildren,n still he is called bhailu.Infact his passport says he is 'Bhailubhai'.It gets embarrassing for him sometimes but he really can't do anything about it.My maternal grandma once had two huge labradors at her place ,guarding her farm houses.She believes in proper naming of individuals and animals for her are anytime above humans.She called them Rajkumar and Subramanium.All went perfectly okay until a tenant landed up with us.He,sadly had the name Subrahmanium.It was interesting and exciting for we kids to deliberately go to his doorstep,every noon ,and shout "subbu faster,faster,jump,jump,u lazy bones,get up,run,run for ur life,get up else i wil thrash u,ur time starts now.." n subbu the dog would help us,adding on the background by barking continuously and puffing hard.Mr Tenant Subrahmanium left the house in a month and we didn't hear from him anytime after that.Well those are unpleasant incidents that your fateful name brings about....

Well,I remember the riddle I used to ask others wen I was a kid,"sumthin dat's ours,'exclusively ours', but which is given to us by sumone else and used by everybody else".The saga of names seems never ending.The etymologies of our names can be derived by googling,their symbolic presence can be figured out too by sum research but the power they possess,the numbing blows they impart and poetic transgience they supposedly represent, there's always more to look forward to!!!Tigers leave their their skins wen they dies,birds their feathers,trees their trunk and men their names..................