Goodbye

This blog has run its course and I'm ready to let go of it. It would have been nice to not let this last post be any longer than the first two-line blog I wrote but there are more things to say. I want to thank everybody who ever came here, everyone who managed to sort through the mush of readable and unreadable posts, everyone who wrote back to me and everyone who came back again for more. I have been very thankful for all your attention. I don't want to stop writing but when I do, it won't be like this blog. This was like school and it's time for college. I'm taking some inspiration from this year's Nobel prize winner who published her first book at 37. If I ever start a blog again, I hope you stumble upon it one more time.

Goodbye and cheers,

Ellie and I wish you a happy Diwali!

 

See the cute little face and the worried puppy eyes?  Make it a noiseless Diwali!

Pondi Post II

                                The friendly, neighbourhood snake that turned up for breakfast.

One of the things that I appreciate very much in retrospect about Pondicherry is that they let animals be. Nature is mostly left untouched and allowed to take its course in the protected areas of Auroville. It's nice to go to a place in India where humans are not busy hating, killing other creatures only to make more space for themselves. I say this because I have a little pup here in a city that doesn't have any public places where she can go walking without strangers complaining.

The sea has long inspired painters, poets and writers and I was reminded of the reason why, as I stood on the promenade watching the waves crash into the rocks. The sea can't be conquered or exploited to extinction like everything else.

We weren't allowed to take any pictures at Sri Aurobindo's ashram. The area around has lots of large French buildings, well laid out and wide, clean streets. At Bureau central which is the first stop for visitors looking to visit the ashram, we procured a map and useful directions from a very polite staff.

Now, I come to the part which I was most interested in during this visit. Sri Aurobindo played a major role in the early days of the freedom struggle when the idea of independence had not deeply resonated with the general, poor populace of India. He was one of the most well-known and important leaders of the time, working hard to establish resistance groups in India until he withdrew completely from the struggle in 1910 after a hard stint in jail, to go on to establish his ashram for meditation and spiritual awakening in Pondicherry. The part of the ashram that I visited houses the samadhi or graves of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother. The lady who is revered and remembered as the Mother was a French woman who became a follower and companion to Sri Aurobindo and adopted this country as her own. She was also the visionary behind the idea of Auroville along with the architect, Roger Anger. That according to me was her best work. We left the ashram with a collection of poetry by Sri Aurobindo, Savitri. I went to the ashram more in search of stories and its rich history rather than seeking spiritual solace in their brand of meditation. That is not to say, that I disapprove of the teachings and path followed by the holy figures. I don't have an opinion on it as I did not try it. Maybe someday, I'll write a post about all the different kinds of meditation I've tried in India and my opinion on the various episodes.

Roaming around in the French quarters and at the promenade took us to the best views of the sea, the French architecture and even a war memorial, but, our steps faltered at the Hidesign hotel on the Promenade which has a fantastic view of the sea from their premises. I also tried out and liked the little cafes and bakeries that we found scattered on our walking route.

                                          The magnificent Gandhi statue on the Promenade

Let's pretend there isn't an auto obstructing the view in the picture, okay?

My last day was spent at Paradise beach, a long way away from our guest house in Auroville. The ride in our over laden, security disaster of a boat was fun and gave us the opportunity to take these:

 

     








I am not very inclined to recommend Paradise beach, it closes early by 5:00 PM (as do most beaches in Pondi) and seems to be fun only if you're staying at the Paradise beach resorts. If you're a day visitor to the beach, the larger part of it is cordoned off with red flags and guards who don't allow you beyond a point. There are two shacks to order food from that don't look very appealing. Also, the boat sailors don't seem to follow any safety regulations in carrying people across to the little island where the beach is situated. They are always over laden and have significantly lesser flotation suits than the number of people they carry. Go to watch only the strong sea waves, if you're not paranoid about accidental drowning.

During the time that we stayed at Auroville, they were hosting a short film festival that seemed really good apart from lots of workshops for woodwork, wax work and other handicrafts made of locally produced raw material. A special mention about the incense manufacturing at Auroville, I brought back a lovely earthy fragrance that I haven't found anywhere else before called, Mattipal. I had a grand time cycling and shopping at Auroville on my last day. I loved these little touches.

               

This was a really tiring but refreshing and satisfying vacation. Everybody that we talked to was warm and polite in conversation. The hot weather in the day would suddenly turn stormy in the evenings and I would sit outside looking at the forests in the rain, watching little streams of water run down the sides of trees. It was very relaxing.                                                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                                       

I came back to Bangalore with aching muscles, puffy eyes and yet a satisfied mind. I hope to see more of India in the next few months. This experience has made me want more and more travel, given me lots of         lovely memories and food for thought. I wish everybody reading a similar vacation!                                        

Pondi Post!

                                       

                     View from the sea wall at the Promenade

My heart still bursts with joy when I think of my four-day long trip to Pondicherry. It was so amazing that I've spent nearly a month racking my brains to think of the most perfect way to write about it in this post so it may come close to describing how longingly I miss and look back at that time. Now, I've decided that looking for perfection in words doesn't really add any value to what was already a perfect experience, so I'm on free-flow from here on. I must first thank my awesome friend, Yameen, who also happens to be a fantastic blogger for pushing me to take this vacation and for making this a wonderful time for all of us by patiently taking lots of pictures and holding all our bags and purchases as we shopped.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Pondicherry didn't turn out to be anything like I'd thought it would be. Looking back, I realize that I ended up there without really any preparation or research about the kind of place it would be. It was all for the best. The train journey from Bangalore was comfortable and we were there quite early in the morning to start our day with a nice, piping hot verbal duel with an auto driver over fares to Auroville. Since our faces bore the invisible stamp "tourist", he decided to drop us about a kilometer away from our actual destination after overcharging us. The beautiful, pleasant walk to the Visitor's centre in the only bit of tamed greenery in Auroville made up for everything and we dragged our suitcases to reach a quaint little coffee shop at the Centre. There were two extra things on offer apart from the coffee, a magnificent view of tall green trees and Quiet - a steady, peaceful, morning time quiet that was only broken occasionally by the chirping birds. I solemnly swear, I did not copy this from an early century novel.    

 Auroville is mostly a  forest with all kinds of guest houses and small local settlements. Online, it is described as an experimental town where no religion or politics interferes in the life of its residents. The place itself is inhabited by people of many different nationalities, chiefly Indians and Italians. I think of it as a little handicrafts village trying to be a place for relaxation and meditation with the main attraction being a temple called the Matrimandir. I didn't take any pictures of the large golden-coloured globe in the middle of Auroville cause I wasn't really sold onto the idea. Pondicherry is Sri Aurobindo's town and I noticed the propensity of everyone and everything related to his organization to claim to not be interested in commerce or entertaining tourists but only genuine visitors to the ashram who wanted to take back things other than expensive handicrafts. They have some lovely stores selling beautiful handicrafts and also dresses, shoes, bags, beauty products etc. I am not being critical and I see nothing wrong in business. I bought plenty of things myself but you're either a business enterprise or you're not. It's a bit hypocritical to pretend you're not, when you're doing everything to attract shopping tourists, especially the foreign ones with the deeper pockets. Auroville has plenty of daytime entertainment. Notice, I say only daytime. The place shuts down at sunset and doesn't have any street lamps at night in most places. Even the eating places close early and if you're staying at Auroville as we did, you might go to bed without dinner, if you didn't prepare. Now for some more pictures.

Speaking of shopping, it was a good day for a hat.

We stayed at a lovely guest house called Afsana in Auroville, I have never seen a more beautiful, well-maintained guest house than this. We took a Japanese cottage that was encircled by a moat full of fishes and frogs and to our great surprise, one morning, even slender water snakes. The water was clear and we could see right through it at all the colorful creatures that swam in it all day long. The pictures will tell you everything.

 

Afsana does not have any lunch or dinner, so we set out that first morning walking in the mud paths at Auroville looking for a Ganesh Bakery, that we'd found on the map. This was the hardest bit of my entire trip because we got lost numerous times in the forest and I'm not a big fan of walking for hours in the sun...or the rain. Walking in the rain is overrated. We finally gave up this adventure and decided to call a taxi to drop us at the bakery. I must put in a word about the taxis at Auroville. The service is good and polite but fares for small distances of a kilometer or two are exorbitant. You can't really protest, it's not meant for 'tourists'. I assume that the management at Auroville thinks genuine visitors to the temple must prove their faith this way. Back to Ganesh Bakery, the food here was freshly made and I must put it on record that I had this amazing chocolate dosa.

                 Taken too late, but you see the brown goo oozing out of the dosa on the right?

As the clock strikes 1:00 am and I watch Ellie sleep, my resolve wavers and I've decided to make this a post in parts. Part II - Sri Aurobindo ashram - coming tomorrow.

      

New roommate!

Proudly introducing, Ellie, the devourer of ropes and strings! She is also my new roommate. I have already imagined all the long walks, the night time prowling, the slipper ripping, the tantrums and the welcome homes that lie in my years ahead. We are going to get old together!

September

September wasn't an easy month, but it had it's high points - like this cycle ride in Pondicherry. So, my dear, sweet reader, I shall torment you with the plagues of the world no more this week. Pondi post coming through!!

The night is darkest just before dawn.

Every bitch for herself

I used to be the proud co-care person for a little dog. When Janis first came to us in late 2009, I had just started a tough job and was living a rather chaotic, stressful life in Bangalore. The most wonderful moments of the day were after coming home to see her. Too soon though, it was time to be separated from her and she had to go live with our parents because I moved to a different part of the world succumbing to the lure of a better life in a foreign country. I missed her a lot but realized that she wasn't doing too badly for the move. At home with my parents, she had a lot of space and green lawns to run around in and my doting, overly indulgent Dad who took her on as a third daughter the moment he first saw her. But there is something else that I now observe in her when I visit her during vacations. She seems to have a brilliant understanding of my mother and a reverential respect for her commands. Janis is an exceptionally naughty dog when she's around my sister or me, with my Dad she seems to become a thug but with my Mum she is a bashful, shrinking violet. Like all dogs she hates taking baths, even warm ones and loves to roll around in the dirt in the garden every chance that she can manage following it up with rolling on our sofa in the middle of the night when she feels nobody is watching her. Nowadays, she doesn't roll around in the mud anymore and we found out the reason for this new found restraint, from our mother who casually mentioned to us one day that she managed to get Janis to obey her by simply dragging her to the bath after every adventure on the garden floor. Janis stopped her mud escapades because she dreaded the bath after and came to see my Mum as someone who had to be obeyed over everybody else in the family.

Ironically, my own behaviour closely resembles that of my dog though our 'adversaries' are not the same. As I have a great deal of idle time these days, I've been advised by my friends to make as much as I can of the opportunity to be outdoors because there won't be as much time to do whatever I like when I start work again. This advice seemed quite pleasant on the surface. For young people living on a budget, one of the cheapest ways to kill time is to take long walks. This might sound like a perfectly harmless way to spend time, except that it is not. I feel unsafe on the roads of Bangalore even in the daytime in a way that I've never felt before. The moment I step out of my house, I feel the staring, leering glances of everyone from young teenage boys to toothless old men boring into my skin. Their malevolent smiles make me want to curl up into myself so my body can't be seen. Taking a walk means meticulous precautions, wrapping up in baggy layers and scarves in mild, pleasant weather while trying to look confident in a hostile, threatening environment. It is such a paradox. On one hand, I feel that I should exercise my rights to enjoy and walk on the street and on the other I seem to have unconsciously trained myself to not make eye contact with anyone, walk very fast and try and shrink into invisibility when in a crowd of strangers and clutch my pepper spray tightly whether I'm walking on the road or sitting in an auto. I now go out only to reach destinations unscathed. I've done away with any expectation of enjoying the journey itself. How is one supposed to enjoy the fresh air or long walks if one is continuously on tenterhooks to fend off street harassment? A particularly unpleasant experience on Church street last week has triggered this post. My sister and I had just stopped our auto as we reached Church street near MG road when we saw a man outside give us a very revolting, lecherous look as he evaluated us from head to toe. He then proceeded to make gestures and sing a song as we got off the auto. At this point, my sister, couldn't contain her anger any longer and yelled at him to behave himself. The man promptly came uncomfortably close to us and started to abuse us loudly, even raising his hands as if he would beat us up. We ran for dear life as he yelled after us for the street to hear while not one passer-by came to help us. A few paces away, we saw a Constable stationed on the road and immediately went to him and told him about the man. The Constable beckoned to the man to come to him. Then something quite unexpected happened, the man walked up to the Constable in a huff and started yelling at the Constable to mind his own business. He asserted to the police that he could do anything he liked in the public space and nobody could stop him. Imagine how our confidence grew. After a few minutes of watching this, we were frightened enough to abandon our plans and quickly escape the area through a different route in case we were followed home by the man. We came home feeling rather miserable with ourselves, unsure if we should have done more or less, in this situation. People told us that we should have ignored this man from the start. But, we think, that the risk in talking to the police was not an unfavourable one at the outset because this happened in daylight and among a crowd. I didn't realize that molesters were bold enough to intimidate the police these days. I would never row in an isolated place, not that the crowd was any security in this situation.

Gradually, Janis has evolved a mechanism to stay away from my mother's path when there's cleaning going on in the house. She doesn't go out in the lawn without permission anymore and seems to have consciously or unconsciously chosen to stay in her little box when my Mum is about to clean the place so she doesn't get noticed and called for a bath. She is quite happy when my father returns home from work and roams around wherever she pleases in his company.

Between the two of us, Janis obviously has the safer life in a home where she is loved and is actually safe though she voluntarily takes certain measures to be in the good books of the mistress of the house. Her world is small and the only 'challenge' in her life is to avoid her weekly bath. I promise I am only slightly amused by this strange parallel and by the realization that I have unconsciously developed almost the same kind of shield to protect myself in my bigger world where I feel constantly unsafe, objectified and the weak prey for whoever may decide to harass or molest me on any given day. It is the cold, stinging shower I am forced to take everyday. I cannot stop in a street to look about me at the sights or talk to strangers or even help people in need. I have once been stopped on the road by a school boy who addressed me as 'Didi' and asked for directions. After I'd given him directions, he grinned at me, flashed himself and thanked 'sexy'.

I know I'm not the only one who suffers this. I have seen girls walking alone or in big groups get molested, stalked, harassed, groped in so many millions of ways and by so many different strangers that after all these years my first reaction is that of fatigue. After the fatigue comes virulent, blinding rage, when people,especially, women come and tell me and other girls that we should have been more careful. More careful. I refuse to take any blame or responsibility for the weakness of a man's mind and yet I choose to do everything I can to protect myself by limiting my own freedom and my wishes.

There's much to write about on this issue. I wrote once before that we'd probably be a more peaceful race if we saw each other as humans first instead of as genders or sexual organs or spoils to be conquered. The future might not become worse for young girls if a little care could be taken in our homes now. It is entirely upon young parents today and what they teach their little boys and girls about how much and what they are entitled to in the world. Please do your daily bit to not unleash another young creep upon the world over time so young girls do not feel compelled to hide in boxes.

The Gender Handicap

As our civilization grows older, our lives have become easier than ever before but it seems to me that all this growth and innovation is only one dimensional for most people, even the educated ones. One thing I've recently learnt from my sister is that as you advance and improve your life and accumulate new things for your comfort, it is also important to dispose off the old, non-functional things to make your personal space orderly and clutter-free (in other words house-cleaning!). I think this extends to the mind as well. I find it's very important to purge your mind of rubbish, especially most of the rubbish passed down over generations. In the last few days, looking about me makes me feel that in an effort to be male and female, we frequently forget how to be humans.

Human values apply to everybody but gender values differ for every gender, are usually unfair to the those involved and I believe are very limiting. A scene I once observed on a crowded bus comes to mind. It was a rare, blistering hot day in Bangalore. A large family boarded the same bus as me, it consisted of a set of grand parents and their two sons and wives with their small children. All three women, young and old were wearing sarees with a ghunghat or veils drawn over their faces. Their obvious discomfort in this situation made me realize how our established gender related obligations have no regard for human vulnerabilities. If your life is difficult already, then be sure that it could become worse if you live around members of the gender police. If you're a man, you'll be ridiculed if your likes/dislikes are not manly enough, if you don't establish your masculinity through random acts of machismo, if you'd like to leave your job to look after the children while your wife works, if you participate in house decoration, and don't you dare cry in public or dress bright or 'girly'! If I started the strictures on how a woman ought to behave, this post would never end and I have garbage to throw out early in the morning.

All I'm trying to say is that things would be so much better around us if we looked at people around us as humans first before throwing the gender book at them. If everybody was human first empathizing with each other for wanting the same basic things in their lives, we wouldn't be thwarted by our genders while trying to pursue the same basic goal. People wouldn't have to suffer in the heat on crowded buses because their father-in-law shouldn't see their hair. Everyone could make a comfortable journey to the end.

The road from #597 to #6757

I am on the brink of joining the elite company of people who take great pride in having a number associated with their name in public records! Yay!

Excuse me while I take a moment to throw humility out of the window and sniff on my vanity salts. Woosh!

There. Now, if you're bored and have loads of time to kill, you'll be able to look me up here very soon. I'm not there yet but I've gleefully jumped the gun and decided to announce this to the general populace anyway.
:D

Cheers to the girl who passed!

P.S. I was number 597 on the day I was born.

A tale of two snacks.

A few moons ago in Bangalore, an unexpected crowd of thousands of people was jostling its way into the platforms on Bangalore city railway station hoping to find a place in the few trains to Assam even as the state home minister appeared on the station loudspeaker urging these people to return to their homes in the city, trying to make them believe that they were safe. This sudden urge to flee the city was caused by continuous rumours that had been circulating in the days preceding to this sudden mass exodus which threatened people from the north-east about the safety and well being of their families and businesses in the city.

I was walking down a busy footpath next to the local park last week and I was reminded of this incident from last year as I saw the numerous momo stalls along the footpath which seemed to have cropped up overnight along this stretch that I happen to frequent. I counted and there were almost ten of these little momo stalls all run by people from the north east states. They seem to appear at about 7pm and are nowhere to be found by 9:30pm.

Among these momo stalls, I have a particular favourite when I find myself craving for vegetarian steamed momos after gym. He's the closest on my path and also the only one on the short walk after the park. This particular evening, I found him sharing a large umbrella with a Bihari golgappa/pani puri seller . It might seem silly but I found it very heart-warming when the pani puri seller helped my momo guy with some packing and finally some change to give to me. I know it's regular business for them but how often do we forget that we all need and complement each other. I believe in the importance of these little gestures which seem trivial on the surface. All this hate of each other based on the differences in our facial features, cultures, colours and religions is detrimental to nobody's well being except our own.

Maybe business is the best way to unite people and to get rid of all the baggage of prejudices we have from our ancestors about all the communities that we are not born into ourselves.

I am especially affected by the way my north eastern friends are continuously treated by people from my own region. I once watched in horror when an auto rickshaw driver in Bangalore threatened a friend of mine telling her he'd bash her face with an iron rod if she didn't pay him extra fare over the pre-paid amount that she'd been told to pay by the traffic constable on duty on M.G. road. Foreigners like her had to pay extra, she was told.

With all this on my mind, when I see people from the north east who generally keep themselves to their own groups (with good reason), feeling comfortable enough to mix with people from other regions, I feel hope for this country. I hope they continue to mix and stay together, only if it's just to sell. I love both momos and pani puri!

In the last few days I've found myself oscillating between different pieces of writing. I have an unfinished poem describing the comforts of using reason in daily life, a little scene from Independence day, a note about people from the North-east India and even a post on bindis. Where is all this writing, you may wonder.

When the mind isn't at rest, it finds no solace in completing anything that isn't immediately alleviating its worry. Without alarming any one too much, I'd like to stress that I am only a teensy bit worried and I'm doing very well. In fact, during this time I've come up with my own special concoction of green tea laced with a tiny portion of rum to keep me happy while I keep shuffling between various books that I am trying to read. The job will come when it comes, I've decided.

I felt the need to share this very brave story.

Love isn't my favorite subject to blog about but a lot of men and women need to be told that love shouldn't come in their lives with asterisks. The writer says some very important things about not involving yourself in relationships where you're asked to change, or give up other important relationships out of your life or follow rules that someone else lays down for you. It's all about how you feel you should be treated for the rest of your life. Some one once said that once you've compromised on the quality of an important relationship, you are much likelier to compromise on the quality of almost everything else in your life.

The next project

I have finally laid my hands on my grandfather's old copy of Ulysses. It has been on my mind for a while now even though I've been actively discouraged to read this book until I'm 50. Apparently, the book is so layered, rich, intellectual and generally amazing that I will only be able to truly appreciate it after I'm older. Well, as you know the best way to make someone do something is by telling them not to do it. I hope to write about it when I've finished it which might take a while seeing how thick, a tome it is. Then if it lives up to its reputation, I'll read it again at 50 and write about it again. Sounds good, I think.

P.S. In case you're wondering why there's a pretentiously positioned fountain pen on the book, I wasn't trying to make it look as if I wrote the book (as one person suggested!). I was just rather happy when I took the picture and so that's two things that make me happy. A book and a nice pen.

The pesky interviewer

I've been looking for work lately and went to an interview recently where I wasn't asked a single question on my area of expertise during the technical round which lasted less than five minutes.

It seemed they only wanted to know about my personal life which annoyed me a bit. A talk with some friends revealed that not everybody finds personal questions inappropriate, some think that they are quite pertinent. Employers seriously consider your "family status" before they give you a job, more so if you're a young woman.

After I'd given my brief introduction, this interviewer asked me about my "family status". It caught me off guard and my thoughts instantly turned to my parents and I had just opened my mouth to talk about them, when all the buzzing in my nervous brain suddenly turned to pin drop silence as I realized that this was a question about my marital status. This was followed by "what about your plans in the next two years" and I immediately thought he wanted to know if I was going to change my "family status" soon.

I'm not sure that the marital status of a prospective employee says anything about his/her capabilities even though people insist that here in India, it gives an idea about whether the person would be willing to sacrifice all their days and nights to their job. Another part is that, if you're a single woman, the assumption is that you are going to marry soon and quit your job to parcel yourself off to wherever your spouse would want to take you. Sigh. Stereotypes. I think no one, neither man nor woman should have to reveal their 'status'.

What do HR managers think of this? Do such questions really add any value to their assessments of candidates? Personally, I feel that not only is it quite rude but also useless and unreliable information which nobody really has any way of checking out. So, people are just trying to satisfy some kind of voyeuristic urge in themselves which they have rationalized in their minds as professional curiosity?

P.S. This is off topic but I must confess to being rather derisory about Facebook's relationship statuses. I try not to paint everyone with the same brush but there are too many people who take them far too seriously and these days there seems to be real peer pressure to have 'something' on your relationship status. I've actually been told that if one were to update their facebook to 'Single', it means they are 'soliciting' for romantic attention. Ugh. It's complicated. Shakespeare would have done better to say, the world is a market place..

Dear World,

Whatever!

Smirks & disdain,
Miss Bingley

Chandrakanta

Nothing breaks your illusions about the greatness of old literature as much as actually reading it. I finished Chandrakanta today and am left with a mixture of feelings at the end of it. I read the original hindi version authored by Devakinandan Khatri. I have spent a great deal of my time growing up, surrounded by all the Chandrakanta books and watching the television adaptation so I was delighted to actually get down to reading it after all these years.

I must give a brief description of the storyline and some of the main hindi terms in the book for the rest of this post to make sense. This is essentially a love story of the Princess Chandrakanta and her lover, Prince Birendra Singh. At the start of the novel, we are introduced to the two lovers who belong to two feuding royal families of different states which makes the path of love difficult for them. This equation soon changes and Prince Birendra is lovingly welcomed at her father's palace when Chandrakanta is kidnapped by a third king, Shivdutt at the behest of Kroor Singh, a courtier at Chandrakanta's palace, who is also besotted with her. The most interesting characters of the story are the 'aiyyars'. Aiyyars are warriors and spies for the royal families with some very special skills of disguise, astrology and even a bit of magic which all comes in handy when the aiyyars are trying to make or break a 'tilism' for their side. The tilism is a kind of magical maze or trap which has both advantageous and harmful things concealed in it. There are a handful of aiyyars on each side with the number scale tipping in favour of Shivdutt. However, the best of the aiyyars, Tej Singh is on Prince Birendra's side and is also his best friend. The aiyyars also have a separate honour code among themselves different from that of regular warriors, they don't kill any of their own brethren. So, while King Shivdutt's aiyyar's will use every last ounce of their skill and intelligence to outwit their enemy aiyyars, they won't kill them.

Commit this to memory people, aiyyars = special warriors; tilism = magical maze or trap

Now I can get to my own thoughts on the book.

The good things first: I think Chandrakanta narrowly passes the Bechdel test for fiction, so we have two women (tick), who talk to each other (tick), about things other than a man (tick). If you've seen my earlier entries on my feminism, you'll understand why I'm quite delighted by this and why it's important to me. Now, our two women in question, Chandrakanta, the princess herself and her waiting maid, friend,confidante and aiyyar, Chapala, are as thick as thieves. Granted, that they spend a great deal of time mooning over the love of the prince Birendra Singh but imagine how happy I was when the two are kidnapped by Shivdutt's aiyyars and manage to escape into the forest all by themselves and actually pause in between expressions of love to discuss survival in the jungle and other important life-saving issues.

I also did a mental somersault when I realized that there are both male and female aiyyars. Chapala is the best aiyyar on Chandrakanta's side and is even training other women to become aiyyars. Isn't that awesome? The women are just as wily, deceptive and ruthless as the men and also take part in taking the story forward, sometimes having entire plans revolve around them.

The characters engage in all kinds of intricate plots to kidnap, steal, implicate, frame, elope and of course trap each other when the time comes. It gets interesting when Chandrakanta is trapped in a tilism and the aiyyars on both sides engage in a final tussle to win her for their own prince and king even as prince Birendra's love for Chandrakanta is being tested through a separate honey trap. In those days it wasn't infidelity if it was the King or Prince engaging in polygamy. I don't mind it in this book very much cause there's no arguing with the times gone.

A distinct Indian flavour manifests itself in the descriptions, leaving me wistful, of the dry countryside, the hidden caverns, the daily durbars, the palaces and the local customs etc.

Now, the not so good part, this book was first published in the late 1880s. Though this is a work of fantasy, the social and political realities of the time are reflected in it through the author's treatment of his Muslim and hindu characters. Note, that there are no important muslim characters in the story but they are collectively mentioned a great deal in the book. We have the hindu Kings and Princes plotting to have their muslim courtiers slowly ousted from their court and responsibilities or have their entire lot serve as a sacrificial lamb at the front deliberately in a losing battle. Then, the muslim groups are lobbying to have the King removed in a coup and install someone more amenable to their own interests in his stead.The timing is interesting to note, cause this novel was published well after the uprising of 1857 which was supposed to be a mutiny in which hindus and muslims protested together against British rule. I realize this is off-topic but I wonder if the author was affected by this in his writing, my history books suggested that it was after the mutiny of 1857 that the British, started to sow the seeds of discontent through their 'divide and rule' policies for hindus and muslims.

I would recommend reading Chandrakanta if you like to read titles based on the distinctions they hold, this one is supposed to be the earliest work of prose in modern hindi. It is a pretty decent work of fantasy, the love story sometimes got on my nerves but I loved the aiyyars, all of them. The author mostly reveals all of his mysteries upfront so there won't be any edge of the seat moments but it still manages to be sufficiently engaging. I say, that you forget all your LOTR, Peter Jackson, Artemis Fowl, Game of Thrones and all of the other modern english works of fantasy if you want to enjoy this. And absolutely do not compare.

A last word to those who watched the show on TV, the actual story is nothing like the TV adaptation which I can say quite unabashedly, was atrocious. It's all pretty straight forward, two people who love each other are persecuted and fight against their circumstances to live happily ever after. There are no 'vish kanyas' (doesn't merit an explanation) like they showed on TV, thank god. The good are staunchly honourable in the context of those times and the bad are wholly bad.

The book is in the public domain now so you can go read it for no other reason than it's free. I can see why this was wildly popular a hundred years ago. It still has its old world charm but I would understand if it made readers in this age impatient cause we love the flash, bangs and large machines so much from modern fantasies.

An idea ahead of its time

The title is needlessly aggrandizing the fact that I find myself looking for employment again and it looks like the world is not ready for a 25 year old CPA who wants to spend her time auditing it.

Ever since I realized that I have more than two readers in this world, I've been wanting to have some conversations. I don't often get new readers but my statcounter says that I do get lots of returning visits from my existing ones. How nice of you all. Now, be good people and let me know you're here by leaving a comment occasionally.

"The right to drive your own life"

An amazing TED talk by Manal-al-Sharif, an activist fighting for the right to drive for women in Saudi Arabia. She asks a very pertinent question, "Who do you think is harder to fight, oppressive governments or oppressive societies?"

http://www.gotstared.at/blog/personal/saudi-woman-decided-to-drive/

There are no demons as indomitable and as relentless as the ones of the mind.

Here's an excerpt from a beloved fairytale, "How a woodpecker chopped a Spruce-tree". This is from the book, Tales of the Amber sea: Fairy Tales Of The Peoples Of Estonia, Latvia And Lithuania by Irina Zheleznova and Anatoly Belyukin.

"A woodpecker once flew up to a spruce-tree, lighted on its very top, and, rocking back and forth, sang:

"I will chop this spruce-tree down,
Make a cudgel of its crown,
Wave it once and at a blow
Every beast I see lay low! ""

The lines above are the opening lines of the story. The animals of the jungle who hear the woodpecker's threat are frightened and run helter-skelter spreading the news far and wide and calling a counsel to prevent the spruce tree from falling. Soon, it is decided that the animals will hold on to the tree at the sides and thus prevent it from falling. They collect around the tree and start pushing and pulling which makes the tree shake and finally snap in two. The animals are in awe of the woodpecker's strength as he claims his victory in having chopped down the spruce tree.

So relevant in real life too, isn't it?

http://www.fairy-tales.parnas.info/en/lithunian/woodpecker.html

The just-joker

What is a fail-safe way to get away with making sexist, racist gibes at someone?

End your sentences with 'just joking' in conversation or with one of these in written communication " :p, :), :D, ;) ". Everything will be forgiven and if it isn't, you can just pin the blame on your victim by cracking another 'joke' on their inability to take your witticisms sportingly. You will come out smelling of roses (stinking, dead, plastic ones, I hope) after this.

Dil garden garden ho gaya!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcF9ICgLqi4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=eDdI7GhZSQA&feature=endscreen

Why CMS is an 'issue'.

If you were on M.G. road last Sunday like me hoping to join the meeting about India's CMS, which I also wrote about in my last post, you were probably as disappointed as I was. The protests had been called off cause the group that started it did not find a good enough response in the days leading up to the event.

However, there's a call for the protest again, this time to be held in a few months time which leaves us a lot of time to gather together and spread the word better. I hope to do my part in talking about it.

A lot of people around me seem to think that this issue isn't important enough when there are so many other bigger issues that need our attention. I had a talk along these lines with a friend last evening.

There's a very common saying 'Information is power'.

If you agree with that, who would you trust with that power today?

I don't see how this issue isn't relevant when it is in these last few years than at any other time in our country's history, that we've been besieged with news about how power has been blatantly misused for personal gains in various creative ways by the few who wield it. Call me paranoid, if you like but this clamour for even more invasive monitoring of everyone's private communications and also the wider internet makes me imagine a world where there will soon be huge markets to buy and sell private information on an even more dangerous level than before, it's because I simply don't expect the information that will be gathered under CMS to not be disseminated among all the wrong people if it suits the people controlling it. There's still no known cure for greed.

Most importantly, I worry for the whistleblowers and the activists, these are people who I think do very valuable work and frequently at great personal risk. In our country, this kind of surveillance will only diminish our freedom of expression further because our politicians only seem to use it quash any negative opinions and control what us little people think of them.

There's a rather old story that I want to end with, it won't immediately connect with the monitoring issue at hand but still gives us something to think about how information when entrusted with people can be misused. About ten years ago, a man was murdered in Gaya, Bihar. His name was Satyendra Dubey. During the course of the investigation that followed, it was revealed that this project director at the National Highways authority India (NHAI) had written a letter directly to the PM, critical of the financial irregularities in the Golden Quadrilateral project. This letter was subsequently circulated inside the government and leaked despite the whistleblower's request to keep his identity a secret. It was quite clear to most people that the sensitive information in the letter was allowed to fall into the wrong hands and which soon led to the murder of a very brave, honest man.

Do you still feel this issue isn't relevant enough to you?

Old gold

This is one of my favorite hindi poems. It is by Ramdhari Singh 'Dinkar'. It talks about being brave in the face of adversity.

सच है, विपत्ति जब आती है,
कायर को ही दहलाती है,
सूरमा नही विचलित होते,
क्षण एक नहीं धीरज खोते,

विघ्नों को गले लगाते हैं,
काँटों में राह बनाते हैं
मुँह से न कभी उफ़ कहते हैं,
संकट का चरण न गहते हैं,

जो आ पड़ता सब सहते हैं,
उद्योग-निरत नित रहते हैं,
शूलों का मूल नसाते हैं,
बढ़ खुद विपत्ति पर छाते हैं।

है कौन विघ्न ऐसा जग में,
टिक सके आदमी के मग में?
खम ठोक ठेलता है जब नर,
पर्वत के जाते पाँव उखड़,
मानव जब ज़ोर लगाता है,
पत्थर पानी बन जाता है।

गुण बड़े एक से एक प्रखर,
है छिपे मानवों के भीतर,
मेंहदी में जैसे लाली हो,
वर्तिका-बीच उजियाली हो,
बत्ती जो नही जलाता है,
रोशनी नहीं वह पाता है।

वीर – रामधारी सिंह दिनकर

What I'm doing this Sunday on M.G. road.

Ever since I finished my exams, I've been in a rage to do all the things I've denied myself for the past year and a half. That's how I find myself looking forward to going to the protest against India's central monitoring system, CMS or ICMS as it is generally known, to be held in Bangalore this Sunday.

As if it wasn't bad enough that I'm still cyber stalked by my ex(s), the Government wants to do it too! Well, to you and to me and everybody else, I think this should be very worrying.

It's quite sneaky how they've slowly been trying to start monitoring our e-mails, texts, calls, and even the holy internet with almost no hint of it being discussed in parliament or even most of the media. I wish this was being discussed as frantically as corruption in IPL, but that's another post.

My reading makes me arrive at the conclusion that there are going to be at least two huge ways in which my life is going to be impacted by this move. Firstly, a very unreliable, corrupt and non-transparent entity is arming itself with a tool that allows it to read through all of my private information with absolutely no accountability and very vague or no ideas about how it is going to regulate it's own folk from misusing this immense information. I am also suspicious cause I've heard so little about this from the government. The stealth with which they've been trying to roll out the system makes me doubtful of their intentions. Second, my dear, holy internet is not going to be the same. Remember what happened to the girls in Mumbai, who put up a very innocuous post on Bal Thackeray's death about the total lock down of the city? I think there's every reason to believe that this censorship is primarily going to be to restrict any criticism of public figures. This old report and many others on the hindu suggest that the government has increasingly requested for removal of content that it did not find convenient to itself. I hate any attempts at restricting what I read, I couldn't choose where to read my history from during school, but I want to retain the unequivocal right to choose what I am exposed to during my adulthood.

Living in India for the powerless, invisible majority, has always felt like living under intense pressure of constricting, contracting and stifling yourself so that the bigger, more powerful people do not notice you enough to want to delete you or choke you altogether for their gains. They simply can't be trusted and this feels like just another way of pushing us further into our dark, desperate corners.

#stopicms

Test for God

Someone said this to me today and I felt it perfectly summed up a lot of what I think about God.

"Test for God: If it gets insulted, it is not God.

Last night after dinner...

M says: It's a pity that there are always people out to dole free advice when you don't need it and there's no one when you actually need help.

I say: It's a pity we can't run down to the liquor store nearby to get a couple of breezers cause my waistband feels too tight.

If someone's told you to get a life recently, I suggest you go here to get it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rEWkFJVd0k&feature=youtu.be

Drown it all out, people!

Bloody Hell.

"Action is the antidote to despair" - J.B.

Joan Baez is my hero! Listen to this and fall in love with her

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dcaZi_G3xVs

and this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bbe0ha3-ycI

I woke up this morning to some incomprehensible news.

Katy Perry apologized to a little known rapper who threatened to assault her, apart from sending her other sexually explicit insults on twitter, because she wasn't impressed by the subject of his song titled "I hate being sober".

Let's try and make sense of this. Katy Perry didn't like a song very much so the 'artist' threatened to beat her up and she tried to pacify him by apologizing.

This is very alarming on many levels. I've never expected Katy Perry to be the role model of our generation nor do I have her songs on a loop. I didn't expect a woman with millions of dollars and a security entourage to buckle before a seventeen year old teenager with too big a head and too little talent even if he's known to be a violent lech.

I remembered an incident that happened to me only two weeks ago. Every now and then, among all the creeps on the road who are out trying to x-ray every girl that walks, is one who will actually follow you around and hiss obscenities at you till your nails are digging into a can of pepper spray and trying to find the pointiest part of your keys. I was accosted by my 'admirer' just outside an ATM and even though I got scared, it made me more angry at being messed around with like this. So, I turned back and yelled at him until every one in the vicinity had heard me. I didn't win. I couldn't compete with him in choosing the vilest words but I know I would have felt thoroughly ashamed if I'd just slunk away without at least letting him know that he couldn't simply walk away with his stupid grin, congratulating himself on making me uncomfortable.

I don't have a career as grand as Katy Perry's. I'm sure she's a very brave person to have made her life as large as it is but I am quite disappointed. I know I'll never be a fan.

Look what I gawt!!

I feel rather relieved today after a very long time.

If we removed all the trappings that accompany God, would he/she still exist?

If everyone were to wake up tomorrow realizing that there's no heaven or hell, would they behave worse or better? Imagine how many institutions that thought would bring down. You wouldn't be able to pay or fast for your seat in the pleasant afterlife cause nobody knows what that would be like. It would be chaos, I think. There will be people who won't be able to cash in on other's fears of God's retributions. Imagine, having to start living your life doing some real work.

If God does exist, he must feel terribly used and abused.

P.S. I'd like a gender-less God, wouldn't you? Enough with the he/she/it nonsense!

I am very excited about reading a hindi novel after a long time. I ordered a copy of Chandrakanta online and it should be delivered in a few days! Yay!

Comics return!

I love comics. Here's a link to my current favourite comic!

http://www.mysocalledsecretidentity.com/comic/volume1/issue1/cover

For me, this is just as game-changing as the yellow kid!

A mouthful of rain

It was a lovely, rainy night and I was sitting in a cafe in Koramangala for dinner with my sister. Since we are both the sort of people who enjoy the rain very well from a distance, we sat next to the large glass window which gave us a good view of the rain tearing down, on the main road, on one side of the cafe. My sister was reading a comic and I was busy attacking the amazing banana waffle before me with a vengeance. We would both look up every now and then to look at the people and cars moving in the thick rain. After a while, the couple at the table next to us started to leave and I could hear them laughing down the stairs. As they crossed the road outside in the rain, the yellow light from the overhead street lamps fell on their figures and it had almost a movie like effect with the rain beating down. We looked out just in time to see the young woman do a little jig in the rain as the man drew closer.

It was one of those moments which are not your's but make you happy anyway.

Does anybody reading this remember the name of that short story by Ruskin Bond where a young school boy is waiting alone for a train at the station and meets an older lady who makes friends with him? She takes him to the station cafe and feeds him all sorts of goodies like samosas and jalebis while they wait for his train. A little while later the boy's friend arrives with his mother and they all start talking. The unknown lady pretends to be the boy's mother.

I feel so contented tonight that I won't even write about how blatantly sexist is Andhra Pradesh's new law prohibiting women from drinking in pubs after 10:00 pm. It's so much easier to lock up the women, isn't it? But I just said I won't write about it.

P.S. What would I not give to have a detachable scalp or even retractable hair. Every year I tell myself that the winter is the worst and then summer happens!

I miss her.

It's been a long time since I've been excited about reading a book. I've had Oscar Wilde's "The picture of Dorian Gray" on my reading device for a while but somehow I haven't gotten around to reading it. I read a few pages and realized that this is going to turn out to be an exceptional book and that I won't be able to put it down or even stop thinking about it when it's over. So I've put it away for a while until I finish off other work.

Such a pain.

Baiting the feminist

Have you ever played the "Pin the tail on the cat" game? I have played it numerous times in school. Every time I, or someone else pinned the tail at the wrong spot, I used to imagine the cat give a loud, comical squeal.

The internet was full of poison for people like me this week. Well, it's usually like that but this week I probably read more sad, heart-breaking stories about women than usual. It's like some sort of barrage has broken and now we are flooded with uncountable stories of horrifying things done to women and children.

To be honest, none of those stories have prompted me to write this post. It's something much more trivial, something quite silly. This morning I saw someone of my acquaintance declare gleefully on a social network that feminists must be jealous and so they do not like Lara Croft, the tomb raider games. It was irritating in a prickly sort of a way, nothing to cause any anguish but something that cannot be ignored either. It was probably meant in a funny way and feminists are often accused of not being able to see a joke. So, I find myself, who was really upset last night from reading a deeply disturbing story about the life of the widows in Vrindavan, here on the verge of defending feminists who may or may not justly think that Tomb raider is sexist. I won't.

I don't like to get into debates about whether tomb raider or any other game, comic, movie or image is an awful, exploitative portrayal of women or not. I don't see how it makes a difference to the life of a woman who is thrown out by her family when her husband dies. These aren't the kind of families who are led by people who play or are even exposed to tomb raider. These are devout, god-fearing, hymn chanting and tradition following families who throw out their women to the wolves. I think this is about as fruitful as the bra burning movements of the 1960s. It merely keeps us and others diverted from attacking the root of problems, from reaching people who are a lot more dangerously and deeply entrenched in misogyny, and from thinking of practical ways by which women can actually get free of the chains of patriarchy. These derisive jokes on women and feminism, the perpetration of stereotypes of women in the media seem to me to be only symptoms and sometimes we get so caught up in these symptoms that we expend valuable energy into engaging with them. We have precious little time and energy left to tackle the bigger mental malaise, which produced the symptom in the first place.

It's quite tempting to give a piece of my mind to everyone who calls feminists idiotic, jealous, man-haters. But if I were to go by the experience of the earlier feminists, I'm not sure if it got them very far. We are still bound by our misogynistic, traditions and cultures. We are looked upon with suspicion even by women who truly need this movement to go on. I'd like to attack but I'd like to put my energy into an attack that will cause a little more than a flutter. I'd like to pin the tail right.

It's a lot more difficult to say how this can be done. What was that which if it hadn't been missing, would have made the life of a widow in Vrindavan different? Why is it that a widow in this age is still thrown out of her home because she is considered the most inauspicious of all things in our damned religious texts but a widower may remarry? What will become of the 21,000 and counting, widows in Vrindavan?

I don't have an answer to my questions but I'm going to think hard about this and probably do more ramble writing.

-An angry, disgruntled feminist

Butterfly

Darting, rollicking, bouncing in the wind
the butterfly made its languid way to me
I lay forgotten among the over bright blossoms,
in the earth of the garden of those gone

It wasn't beautiful, it wasn't colorful
it was a great, brown, live butterfly
flapping it's wings among the dead
finding a spot on my gasping chest

I wanted to touch its pulsing wings,
touch life here in the garden of the dead,
where no sparrows called nor worms crawled
only the bright blooms preyed,the vines prowled

Fearing it would fly away if I breathed too hard,
I swallowed my gasps and contained my sobs
It seemed content there on my chest
as my breathing slowed, my sight cleared

I'd never cared much for butterflies
until that day, when one saved my life
I lay in the black mud unseeing, unmoving
my arms slack and my mind hushed

I went to sleep with a butterfly on my heart
with the smell of trees and living in my mind
knowing I lay at the end of the garden of the dead
feeling life knocking again on my beaten chest

Someone put it quite succinctly: "I hate everybody!"

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?

As much as I like to say that girls and women should stand up for, and look out for each other, I can't say that women make this easy enough for each other to practice in real life.

Why do most women, in their private lives, not naturally inspire any loyalty or any feelings of empathy or even a 'sisterhood' among each other? Why do we find it difficult to cheer for or celebrate each other's accomplishments? We seem to do it well enough when we are in large groups but not in our private lives with fewer people around.

I read or heard somewhere recently that women are quite detail oriented but usually miss the big picture. I wasn't very flattered by such a description.

Some days ago I announced quite gleefully to my female friends that my sister was to marry soon. I expected some congratulatory messages but I must admit myself to have been quite surprised on not receiving a single such message from any of the twenty or more girls to whom I spread this news and who have met my sister personally. A few days later, someone did respond to me, not with any congratulations or with any good wishes for my sister's happiness but with questions about who the groom was to be. I wrote back to everybody quite openly describing my bro-in-law. While I know that everybody read what I wrote, nobody bothered again with expresssing any good wishes. Am I wrong to conclude that we do want the scoop on each other's lives, but we can't be bothered with niceties with each other? We don't immediately root for each other's success or happiness.

I'd like to be clear that this is no grudge trip. I know that my sister's or my happiness doesn't depend on anyone congratulating us. I can't help feeling a sense of disappointment in women, though I proclaim myself to be a feminist. I can't help but analyze this. I feel that these small things translate to a much bigger apathy for each other in more serious situations when we are called upon to support a fellow woman in our individual capacity. We seem to nurse a kind of passive hostility towards each other which comes to us too easily.

A common behavioral pattern that I have noticed is that while a woman does take fairly quickly to a woman who she believes to be no better than her, it's always difficult for her to appreciate another woman who she sees as better in some way. It just means to me that we are always competing with each other subconsciously, if not consciously. We are always trying to not only look good, but look better, sound better, come across as smarter than the other girl. When a girl meets another girl, the first instinct is to quickly size her up. Is she fatter since the last time? Is her make-up better? Are her clothes nicer? Are the guys paying more attention to her? We frequently greet each other with a "You've put on weight" rather than a "how are you". In being unkind to each other, we are also being unkind to ourselves.

I recognize that feelings of jealousy and competition are quite natural, we are all animals of the world. But shouldn't the fact that we have a more developed brain and a little more understanding than other animals mean that we should train ourselves to be less hostile to each other?

As a last note, some years ago as a teenager, in a brief moment of anger, I broke of contact with a friend from school. I was meeting her after a long time and was very happy to see her. As she was leaving, I complimented her on how splendid she looked, her response to me was that I looked 'very shabby' and then without another word, she was off on her way before I could get in another word. I've gone back to think of it many times, thinking that maybe I was too harsh or too hasty in cutting her off but it wasn't the first time she'd said something like that to me. What I want to bring out is that she doesn't inspire any good feelings in me to go back to being friends with her. I know that this behavior will be repeated because she sees no wrong in it and tells herself that this is only a joke and not any unkindness. I haven't lost any self-esteem because of her constant insensitivity, I've lost a friendship.

My intention in describing these incidents is not to nitpick or split hairs. I am not trying to criticize every woman, there are far too many great ladies around to make this a general statement for all women. However, it is my experience that it's harder to make friends with women even when I make extra efforts to be friendly with them. This is only to point out that we could treat each other a lot better. If we want to be treated well in a society which we share with men, I think a starting point is to respect and value each other. One billion rising events are a great platform to bring women together to dance but to raise it from being merely a mechanical exercise, a mindset change is needed. There is a need to self-reflect that in this world, a woman is the most natural ally for another woman. We need to remind ourselves to be as instinctively nice to each other as we are to men. Our good behaviour shouldn't be limited to those women who are either much older or much younger to us.

P.S. I wanted to name this post 'autopsy' but then I remembered that I'd named my last one 'the cadaver'.

The Cadaver

Sometimes I watch from afar
I stand by the cadaver,
watching as it stumbles,
as it crashes into rocks
drowning itself in swamps

It does not grieve me
because it did not happen to me
I leave its form behind
as the murky shadows approach

I have no part of it
This piece of flesh
which was never mine
It belongs to the early hawk
who must have its pecking

I chose to not see
when the hawk closed in
I looked away,
as the talons snapped,
I drowned out the grinding

It did not happen to me
This wasn't my being
I haven't lost a thing
and yet I am bleeding.

The other F-word

There's this F-word that's gotten me going these days. It's a rather misunderstood, misjudged word just like the people it seeks to describe. Feminism.

I remember growing up, I'd never looked it up in the dictionary but had gathered a rather negative connotation from the books I read and the people I heard talk. I always knew it was something undesirable, something not right, something shocking.

I did look up the dictionary a few days ago and it describes feminism as "the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men".

Not very shocking, is it?

The thing about feminism is that the thoughts have to come first and by yourself. A lot of people who agree with everything that feminism stands for, do not like to be called feminists. It probably had a worse PR team than the Tata Nano.

When did I first start thinking about feminism?

I've always thought about it. I've always yearned to live in a society that promotes equality between all genders. I'd like to be challenged just as hard as anybody else just as I'd like the same breaks as anybody else. I'd like to live in a society where the roads aren't more unsafe for me than for a man. I'd like to live in a time where my life decisions won't have to be influenced by all the special diktats that need to be followed exclusively by people of my gender. I want neither the pedestal, nor the pits.

I've only recently claimed the word feminist for myself. Last year, I read a book by the lesser known Bronte sister, Anne Bronte,"The tenant of Wildfell hall". When it was first published, it caused a sensation introducing the revolutionary idea that a woman could leave her husband if she was not happy and still be the heroine in the novel. She could slam the door in his face if he abused her. She could earn her own living and support herself and her child. This sent shock waves in a society where at the time, divorcee women were treated like pariahs. If they left their husbands, they lost custody of their children and also all of the money that they brought themselves into the marriage.
I wonder how many women of the time read Anne Bronte's passionate book and felt compelled to reclaim their independence and to strive to make their lives better again. I call it a passionate book even in the absence of a central love story because a woman's desire to live her life and to turn it around for the better even when all her choices turn out to be wrong is quite exhilarating and probably a much higher passion.

Another thought is that you can be a feminist while not burning your bras and not laying away the shaver. Hell, you can even like men! You can joke about feminism and feminists while raising a toast declaring yourself one!

I've stormed out of the mountains,cracked the unyielding rocks to fragments
I've gushed gently by the little shrubs,cradled its fine seeds in my currents

I've been this or that,I've been one thing or the other and everything

I saw you along the way, you who feared me and yet loved me
You felt one thing or the other for me,
you thought the world of me and yet betrayed me.

-The River