Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Friday, September 13, 2013
The Tale of Gujjar Women
Last year, I moved into a house on MG Road. My landlord here
is a Gujjar. He is married with four kids – two sons and two daughters. The
daughters aged 23 and 21 years are married with kids. The two sons are aged 16
and 13.
Sometime back, his wife came over to have a general
tee-a-tee with me over a cup of tea. For some time, I had been wondering about
her age as she looked quite young to me, and I would always hesitate in calling
her Aunty. I would wonder to myself as to how could a woman with four grown up
children , and grandchildren look so youthful. I asked her the question that
day.
Her answer was simple, “ My husband was married to my elder
sister. She died in childbirth, while giving birth to her third child, a son. I
was 15 years old at that time. I was asked to marry my brother-in-law. What
choice did I have? Anyways, he is good to me. The children love me, and I love
them too. Please continue to call me Aunty, as it would hurt my husband if you
call him Uncle and me by my name.” ( My landlady is younger than I am)
Three days back, I saw my landlord sitting on a chair in his
garden looking mournful. Upon inquiring, he replied, “ Bad things have happened
to us Beta. My brother-in-law’s daughter has become a widow. Her husband died
in a car accident outside his house. She has two daughters and a three month
old son. What will happen to her. She is just 24 years old. Widows do not
remarry in our caste. She will have to lead an austere life from now on. No new
clothes or jewelry for her anymore. She cannot laugh openly nor be seen
entertaining herself else society will cast shadows on her character. Her life
is gone.” And he started sobbing.
Friday, September 6, 2013
Yeh Toh Hota Hai Again !!! – The Moral Dilemma
Yesterday, my friend, Ashish came over to meet me to discuss
a particular moral predicament. He had
discovered that the counselor at the drug rehabilitation centre, where he
worked, had been sexually abusing four young boys in the age group of 12-14
years for some time now. The kids were street children who had been placed at
the rehabilitation centre by a NGO.
He had immediately confronted the owner of the drug rehabilitation
centre with this news. The owner, a young, well informed doctor himself, had
pleaded with Ashish to suppress the matter. He had gone on to say, ‘Yeh to Hota
Hi Hai India Mein. It happens everyday in India, but if you report the matter
to the cops, I will be arrested and my career will be ruined forever. I promise
you that I will fire the concerned counselor after a month”.
Ashish had been further shocked to find out that the other counselor,
a lady from a well educated and affluent background, as well as a few of the
other staff members had also known about this whole incident. Instead of taking
any action against the perpetrator, they had tried to reason it out with Ashish.
They were afraid that if Ashish called the cops, the rehabilitation centre
would be shut down by the cops and they would lose their jobs. So it was in
everybody’s best interest to hush up the matter.
Ashish realized that he was caught in a Catch 22 situation,
straight from the Mahabharata. The doctor was an old and dear friend of his. While
he felt extremely repulsed by the whole sequence of events, he did not wish to
ruin the doctor’s life.
Ashish had spoken to the kids. They had been visibly shaken
by the whole experience. One of them had run away from the centre. Ashish had
tried to provide some degree of consolation and comfort . They had pledged their
support to Ashish and had agreed to speak up against the counselor infront of
the cops.
I could provide Ashish with only one piece of advice, ‘Do
what your heart says is the right thing to do. At the end of the day, you have
to live with your own conscience and not with someone else. A wrong is a wrong,
no matter who is involved – your best friend, brother or lover. Values have to
take precedence over personal relationships if we wish to have peace within our
hearts and in the world outside.”
I offered to support Ashish in this particular battle in
whichever way I could. We agreed to speak over the phone in the morning to
discuss the matter. I was feeling stressed. I had committed to supporting Ashish
but doubts began to take shape in my head, “Do I really have the time to do
this? How much involvement can I afford in a matter such as this? Am I willing
to go to the police station several times if required?”
I decided to seek advice from a friend who runs a NGO for
survivors of child sexual abuse. I was dumbfounded by her advice, “ This is
going to be too complicated. There will be too many unknown elements – cops,
NGOs, etc and then there is your own friendship with this doctor. Do you want
to get into this mess? We have to pick our battles in life. Even we ( her NGO) have
to turn down cases of child sexual abuse at times when we feel we do not have
sufficient resources with us.”
Ashish called me up in the morning to inform me that he had
discussed the matter with his wife, following which he had quit his job at the
drug rehabilitation centre. He had
decided to distance himself from the Doctor but at the same time would not to
pursue the matter anymore .He did not wish to destroy the Doctor’s life.
The question that lingers on in my mind is, “What about
these kids who have been abused? What hope is there for them? Are they not
going to end up being criminals, rapists and thugs tomorrow, as is evident from
the extensive research done on the effects of child sexual abuse on thinking
and behavioral patterns.? Who is taking responsibility for that future – the future
of these kids and the future of our country?
We ask what is wrong with our country. We talk about the
socio-cultural factors behind rape and sexual abuse in the country, and when we
are faced with real life situations, we conveniently close our eyes and refuse
to take responsibility. We knowingly chose to live in denial, wishing the whole
thing away. And when the whole cycle repeats itself, we ask the question once
more – What is wrong with our country?
And life continues……
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
The Anger Within
Few weeks back, my brother, along with his fiancé came
visiting me and mom. Now, Mom and I stay in a two-room apartment. Having a
guest stay over (which is rare) means giving up my bedroom and sharing the
other room with my mother.
My brother and his fiancé were supposed to stay over for two
days .I had mentally braced myself for that period. But when at the end of the two
days period, they announced their plans to extend their stay by another two
days, my heart sank.
I caught myself feeling irritable and angry with everyone
around me, especially with my mother. I stopped myself in my tracks. What was happening?
Fortunately, I had recently come across a different approach
to anger management in a spiritual text. The text spoke about my feelings being
my soul’s ways of communicating with me. Each feeling communicates a particular
need, desire, or a state of being to me. Sometimes, the feelings tell me of a
lack, and at other times of the fulfillment of a need. And the feeling of anger
is usually our soul shouting to us about an unmet need.
This approach to
anger management consists of five steps :
Step 1 : Take responsibility
for my anger without blaming external circumstances or other people for it. My
anger is “my” feeling. I am feeling angry - PERIOD. I cannot blame other people
- mother, brother, his fiancé, etc for my anger. I revised my statement from “I
am angry with my brother for overstaying in my room.” To “I am angry.”
Step 2 : Pray (
you may laugh but it works) .I sat down in a quiet place and prayed to my
Higher Power,” God, I am angry, and I hand over my anger to you. Help me return
to a place of sanity.”
Step 3 : Share it
– I have discovered that sharing my
feelings with someone else always helps. The feeling becomes less intense. I
feel lighter and saner. Humans are social animals. When I share about my anger
with someone I trust, my desire to express my anger in damaging or unhealthy
ways diminishes.
Step 4 : Write
about what caused the anger. Writing is cathartic. It puts me in touch with my
deepest needs and fears . In this particular scenario, I wrote about my anger,
and discovered my need to have some private space to myself. It was not my
brother, or mother, or anyone else. It was the un-fulfillment of my need that
caused the anger.
Step 5 : Take
action to fulfill the need. Upon discovering my need for private space, I went
to a park, and spent some solitary time with myself. I felt calmer. When I
returned, I asked my brother in a respectful manner if he could spend some time
somewhere else , so I could have my room for a few hours. He understood. I got
the room.
Everybody was happy in the end.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
No Country For Women
A few months back, when the Nirbhaya rape incident rocked Delhi,
everyone started painting Delhi as “the rape capital of India.” I wanted to
determine the veracity of this statement. I went online to check the rape
statistics and incidents across various states in India. As per the Crime
Bureau Statistics, this statement was not true. Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh
and West Bengal account for the maximum number of reported rapes in the country.
Rape cases are regularly reported from across the country.
When I posted on my facebook page “Maharashtra is more unsafe for women than
Delhi’, a Mumbai based friend made vehement protests..She went to great lengths to prove me wrong, despite
the fact that I had substantiated my claims with research data. Well, the
recent broad daylight rape in Mumbai narrates a different story.
I decided to take my research to the next level and take an
in-depth look at rapes at a more global level. I had been unnerved by the rape
incident in Delhi, and wondered about cities/countries across the world where
women could feel safe.
South Africa has the highest rates of rape in the world, with some 65,000 rapes and other sexual assaults reported for the year ending in March 2012, or 127.6 per 100,000 people in the country. A 2010 study led by the government-funded Medical Research Foundation says that in Gauteng province in South Africa, more than 37 percent of men said they had raped a woman. In South Africa, rape is so common it barely makes the news. The rapes of elderly women and babies are outlined in four-line stories on the inside pages of local newspapers, but most sexual assaults get no public attention.
Sweden has the highest incidence of reported rapes in Europe and one of the highest in the world. According to a 2009 study, there were 46 incidents of rape per 100,000 residents. This figure is twice that of the UK which reports 23 cases, and four times that of the other Nordic countries, Germany and France. The figure is up to 20 times the figure for certain countries in southern and eastern Europe.
It is not only the rape statistics that confound me. It is also the rape laws that exist in various countries that brings several questions to mind. As per Amnesty International, Danish laws on sexual crimes fall under a chapter called "Vice Crimes", unlike in most Western countries, which sends the message that rape violates public morality or public order, rather than the rights of an individual to bodily integrity. The definition of rape is very narrow focusing on violence and excludes many situations dealing with other forms of abuse, which, according to the report, are considered rape in most other Western countries.
In a 2006 case in Italy, the Court of Cassation ruled that a 41-year old man who raped his 14-year-old stepdaughter can seek to have his sentence reduced on mitigating circumstances, due to the fact that the girl had been already sexually active and "since the age of 13 had had many sexual relations with men of every age and it's right to assume that at the time of the encounter with the suspect her personality, from a sexual point of view, was much more developed than what one might normally expect from a girl of her age". UNICEF in Italy stated that the decision "seriously violates human rights and the dignity of a minor.
In a study, some of the common conclusions were given to the participants, it recorded that 33% of the police officers suggested that "some women deserve rape", 66% of police officers, as well as nearly 50% of other professional groups except the psychologists about 18% and 27% of psychiatrists, suggested that "the physical appearance and behaviors of women tempt men to rape."
The U.S. Bureau of Justice Statistics defines rape as penetration
by the offender, and excludes rape by envelopment.I am not even going to delve into Middle-East rape statistics for
obvious reasons.
I am left wondering – Is there a Country Safe for Women? Or
Is there “No Country for Women?”
Monday, August 26, 2013
The Prodigal Daughter
It was her younger brother's engagement. She had been invited to attend the function back home. Her brother was very keen that she be a part of this important event of his life. She was his only sibling.
But the thought of going back to that house sent shivers down her spine. She had visited the house many a times in the past few years. But every time she had to brace herself for the familiar nausea in which that house managed to envelop her. She had however done it in the past in the name of social and family obligations. She had tried hard and in earnest to shrug off the dust of the past - to forgive and to forget. But it had not happened.
Her abuser still lived in that house, and the sly smile on his face never failed to bring the memories flooding back - memories of being abused at the young age of 13 years, memories of feeling suffocated and trapped, memories of an innocence lost forever.
Should she do it again in the name of her brother's love, in the name of family honor? She was not sure. She had found a little oasis of her own, and she was not willing to step back into the desert anymore. "But Didi, I really want you to come. There will be no joy without you," her brother had said over the phone.
After some introspection, she realized that she really wanted to be there for her brother's engagement. She loved him. She did not wish to deprive herself or him because of the abuser.
So how could she participate in the function without having to go through the trauma of staying at that house. She decided to book herself into a hotel." But what will the relatives say? This is unheard of - staying at a hotel when you have your own home. What about the family image?" her mother protested.
She chuckled at that. She had come a long way in life and had found a guiding philosophy that was serving her well - "To thine own self be true".
But the thought of going back to that house sent shivers down her spine. She had visited the house many a times in the past few years. But every time she had to brace herself for the familiar nausea in which that house managed to envelop her. She had however done it in the past in the name of social and family obligations. She had tried hard and in earnest to shrug off the dust of the past - to forgive and to forget. But it had not happened.
Her abuser still lived in that house, and the sly smile on his face never failed to bring the memories flooding back - memories of being abused at the young age of 13 years, memories of feeling suffocated and trapped, memories of an innocence lost forever.
Should she do it again in the name of her brother's love, in the name of family honor? She was not sure. She had found a little oasis of her own, and she was not willing to step back into the desert anymore. "But Didi, I really want you to come. There will be no joy without you," her brother had said over the phone.
After some introspection, she realized that she really wanted to be there for her brother's engagement. She loved him. She did not wish to deprive herself or him because of the abuser.
So how could she participate in the function without having to go through the trauma of staying at that house. She decided to book herself into a hotel." But what will the relatives say? This is unheard of - staying at a hotel when you have your own home. What about the family image?" her mother protested.
She chuckled at that. She had come a long way in life and had found a guiding philosophy that was serving her well - "To thine own self be true".
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Letter from 80 year old me to the 35 year old me
I was asked to write a letter from “me at 80 years” to “me
now at 35 years” expressing what the 80 year old Pearl, looking back at her
life would want the Pearl right now to do with her life. I wrote it impromptu, so
please excuse the causal writing. I never intended to make it public initially,
but then I asked myself – what the hell, I want to share my lessons and
experiences with others. Here goes the letter:
Dear Pearl at 35
I send you my love. My memory is somewhat faded but I still remember
all the wonderful times we had together. I would very much like to tell you to
get off your ass and go out and fulfill your dreams - does not matter how, just
go out and fulfill them. Do not worry about money and other issues. Do not give
in to your fears. Just book that ticket
to South America - your dream destination. You will never regret it, it will become
one of the most cherished memories of your life - trust me on that. I promise
you.
Book that ticket. Do not over-think it. Ask for some help
from the people you know there - ask Vandana, Deepa, etc... but just go, go,
go, go.... The experience will leave you completely transformed. And when you
are 80 years of age, and you look back at life, you will be really glad that
you did it for me and for your own self. The trip will set the stage for all
your other dreams to follow. So go for it. Do not wait any longer. You have
already caused yourself so much trauma and pain by waiting for so long. Nothing
else matters. The dream is waiting for you to fulfill it.
And yes, keep writing. Your writing is improving day by day.
I am a published author today but it is all thanks to you, and your consistent
effort - so keep writing and keep the faith .
Lots of love
Pearl at 80
Pearl at 80
What do you think "80 year old you" would ask you to do with your life now?
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