Roe v Wade - Half a century of efforts drained

I am terribly sad; that is the only word I can think of that describes all the emotions I am going through. I also know that my sadness, in this case, will impact no one and is not of consequence as such. Yet as a woman, as someone who believes everyone should have the right to self preservation and privacy, I am saddened by the overturning of Roe v Wade. What is far more flummoxing is that this decision comes from the highest court of a country that is a self declared champion and moral authority of human rights. 

Motherhood, the word itself evokes smile, joy and nurturing instincts. But that is when it is a cherished desire or a choice. Anything forced is a burden and motherhood even as an elected choice is a life altering experience, so the forced option probably is more chaotic than one can even imagine. 

In the most extreme cases I am thinking of women like Norma McCorvey (who got Roe v. Wade in place) whose pregnancy is the result of an assault. A victim of a crime, forced to give birth to the consequence of the attack, can have multiple physical and mental health issues; her chronological, economic and aspirational circumstances not withstanding. Then there is the debate on nurture vs nature that has claims on both sides of whether genes pre dispose individuals to a life of aggression and crime or not. Even if nurture was to be the winner, who is to say that a tormented individual would be able to nurture a young life ably...

Reality could be completely anti a life born to a poor, socially isolated and traumatised rape victim. So at the end of the day are we saying that it's ok roll a dice to decide the fate of a new life? Of course there is the argument that a roll of a dice gives the life a chance vs abortion that takes away any chance at all. However, who are we to play the game of probability when the person who will be responsible for changing the odds potentially is an unwilling participant? Denial of self preservation in these instances is a crime in itself in my view. 

There are those who will say rape pregnancies are a small percentage. Reluctantly, but still let me accept that data point without having any facts to support or deny this claim. The thoughts steer towards to young couples not ready for a child, couples who do not want children ever and single women not wanting (yet or ever) children. This is a subset that does not want children and no contraceptive is a 100% foolproof. So what happens when they conceive? We take away their right to lead lives as they would like to? And who is the state, in a democracy,  to dictate how a couple should structure their family or to a woman or her life choices? The counter argument to this thought is that the state is speaking on behalf of a life that cannot speak for itself. Well that is why there is the so desired separation between the church and the state! What about atheists? How can the state impose religious beliefs on those who have none? Once again this set of citizens is forced into a life that is not theirs by their choice and a choice that is not creating harm, injustice or unrest to the society in any way at all! 

As I am writing this, I am reminded of a story. Before I pen that down I will state clearly that I am spiritual, I believe in life, after life and rebirth, and I am also a moderate Hindu. The story is from the Hindu epic Mahabharata and talks about the decision of nurturing a life resting with the mother. Santanu was a Kuru king who fell in love with Ganga, the river goddess. When he asked for her hand in marriage she hesitated and then before she accepted she only requested that he trust her a hundred percent and not question any of her decisions. If he did question her, she would leave him. Drastic condition by today's standards and by my own belief in transparent communication! That not withstanding and given that love is blind, Santanu crazy about Ganga accepted her only condition. Soon after marriage, Ganga conceived. But as soon as she delivered she took the infant to the river and drowned it. A shocked Santanu could merely watch. This happened seven times over and each time a devastated Santanu became a tormented bystander but did not break his vow. The eighth time he saw Ganga walking with the infant towards the river he could not contain himself and questioned her ghastly actions. Patiently she explained to him that she had promised these souls salvation and hence agreed to be their mother. Given that Santanu had questioned her motives, the vow to the last such soul was broken and the last child would live. Also as per their prenup she would leave him. The legend has it that this was the seed that planted the tree that bore the fruit of the epic battle of Mahabharata between the Kauravas and Pandavas. 

The reason I narrated the story above is because if we were to turn a blind eye to the absence of separation of the church and the state, church being used symbolically for religion, then there is merit in looking across the spectrum and we will find there to be enough advocates of mothers' rights and the saying that mother knows the best. 

Steering back to a fact based discussion, my attention is also drawn to the disabled. What happens to those women who are either physically disabled and conceive by force or those who soon after conceiving become physically challenged. How can someone unable to take care of themselves, a hundred percent independently, be forced to take care of an infant who needs to be attended to day and night! Will state provide means for these mothers and if yes who will fund that? 

Of course, at the moment it's twenty six states that will rejoice in the acceptance of this ruling. Which means there are twenty four options for the thirty six million women impacted. But to access these and the international options they will need to have adequate financing or else they will need to go to courts where their right to privacy will be shred into rags. For a capitalist country this works I think, if one has the money one has the solution. And yet it seems so inhuman and unfair. 

As a woman I love children and I believe that their innocence brings hope and learning in the crazy times we live in. I believe that we should bring children in the world but also that the world should be a safe and happy place for them. As a woman I also know the challenges that a female mind and body goes through to be able to bear children. It is not a journey that everyone may want to undertake. As a woman I do feel for the victims and the disabled and what their mental makeup could be due to their own agony. How can we force a way of life on them ! As a woman I feel that this is a pre-conceived judgement that is not just unfair and reeking of inequality, I also feel while women have silently and patiently nurtured, loved and sustained life for generations this is just putting them through a fire test they did not sign up for.

I do hope a constitutional amendment at some point will come through and on that optimistic note I sign off for this time. 

Needed - 12% Tax on Sanitary Napkins

When I put forth my thoughts on why a 12% tax on sanitary napkins and tampons is not discriminatory, I thought I was being logical and rationale. But then there were those who communicated their scepticism, their disbelief or simply a disagreement. Some of them are extremely intelligent and some are wonder women. And so I began to wonder if I could gather some numbers to highlight that a 0% tax on these products will probably not be sufficient to encourage their use. 

Based on Google research, facts and mathematics here is the data - 

Average cost of one sanitary napkin (SPC) = Rs 6.00

Cost without tax (0SPC) = Rs 5.36

Average number of pads used per month (#) = 17 (average of min 15 and max 20)

Total monthly cost of sanitary napkin use (SPC#) = Rs 102

Total monthly cost of tax free sanitary napkins (0SPC#) = Rs 91.12

Average income of a rural household for a family of 5 = Rs 5000. 

Assuming an equal split of the income for every member of the family, per rural woman we have Rs 1000 of monthly spend. For a monthly requirement of sanitary napkins the woman would thus need to shell out 9% -10% of her monthly income. That sounds unaffordable, especially when one considers that one kilogram staple food such as tomatoes or pulses could cost as much!

From an urban woman's stand point, a saving of Rs 10.88 every month represents 0.22% if she earns Rs 5000 monthly. 

So why shave tax off when it probably makes no difference to either set? Let me elucidate a bit more.

Notice that the tax of  Rs 10.88 can almost buy 2 sanitary napkins. The tax paid by 9 urban women can actually buy the monthly quota for one rural woman, but 2 sanitary napkins a month help neither one!

According to last census there were 106.916m women in the age bracket of 15-24 in India and 251.070m in 24-54. Rounding off, there are about 360m menstruating women in India. Of these 12%-20% use sanitary napkins. Tax collected on this sale could help an additional 4.8m - 7.8m women use sanitary napkins, which is 1% - 1.5% additional Indian female population!

Now we see things moving. 

If the government would contribute an equal amount to this we could have an additional 2% - 3% women having more hygienic facilities available. Corporate CSR and NGOs can help improve this number.

Schools are already being used as free distribution points, but girls get only 5 pads a month. So alternatively, with tax paid on sanitary napkins, we can now triple this grant and ensure they have enough for the entire month! When we inculcate awareness at a young age, we groom a healthier future with better prospects for national GDP.

The God or the devil, whichever be your pick, lies in the details. The numbers scream out for tax on sanitary napkins to be used to make this facility available for the ones who cannot afford it. That must become the endeavour of the urban, educated, sanitary napkin using women - to ensure that our government puts our money where the bloody need is!

Bleed to Lead, Breed and Succeed

I am a woman and my reality is that I bleed and breed. Equally is my reality that I lead and succeed; but that does not change the fact that I am a woman. I cannot own one and turn my back to the other. Both these aspects complete me just like heads and tails maketh a coin. So if I can walk the corridors of the corporate world, use logic and reasoning to make decisions and forge ahead why should I not use the same analytical skills to answer questions on discrimination...

Ever since GST has been rolled out in India I have worked with my team to understand if the pre roll out impact analysis was accurate and sufficient. In the last 12 days I have read, heard and discussed varied reports and opinions. All of them have led me to the conclusion that this much needed reform would have created upheaval whenever we would have attempted it despite preparation ad nauseam. While the focus remained on business, in the background there was this constant humdrum that sanitary napkins are being taxed at 12% when bindi, bangles, sindoor and condoms are tax free. The women empowerment morchas have been crying foul and their voices are never fading. The secular brigade is on a slogan screaming campaign just behind the feminists. Their din is hurtful to the ears. While logic told me that taxes alone cannot make sanitary napkins unaffordable I decided to flesh out this discussion a bit more.

To begin with - bindi, bangles and sindoor were tax free pre GST as they are post. In the post era they are tax free not to appease sentiments of religious factions or to force women to use them as some sort of bonded labourer marks, but because a majority of these products are manufactured by entities with an annual income of less than INR 20 lakhs. These entities are outside of the GST network, which means that they do not get to avail of input tax credits. Now if these enterprises are made to pay an output tax but they don't get input tax benefits then we are making them economically unviable and that will be injustice. So the status quo for these items remain to ensure that GST roll out does not eat away livelihoods of the lower strata of the society. That's logic and rationale from the leading and succeeding me. The bleeding and breeding me wants to ask the secular brigade one question - are bindis and bangles used only by women of one religious faction? I know of Hindu, Parsi, Muslim, Jain and Christian women who love wearing both these accessories on a daily basis to enhance their beauty or for personal pleasure. Parsi married women equally support red bangles as do the Hindus. Hindu women in urban India, at least, no longer sport sindoor on a daily basis unless you count the Indian television appearances of Sindoor soaked women. Feminist senoritas now that's the cluster of modern society you need to educate because their caricatures propagate what you are so against. And they propagate to the world and not just to Indians in India. Fight the battle at the root cause and maybe you can eradicate it. 

Now coming to condoms. Well it's not just condoms but all contraceptives that are tax free. And that's to control the population growth which is already at levels where food, energy and water security for the nation are threatened. That is logic and reasoning once again, but singing the logical notes I am forced to think that condom manufacturers are larger organisations. So why should they stand to benefit with no output tax but access to input tax credit. Do they though? Must research this point or need to logically understand it. Flow of thoughts - So if an enterprise has an input tax carry forward do they get cash back from the government? No. Also if sold B2B the dealer has no input credit and no output tax so no benefit. B2C the retail customer anyway has no input tax credit availability. So is this really a huge benefit for the organisations... If you still want to harp on condoms feministas, well they also protect the health of the woman and ensure her pleasure with the least discomfort. And while condoms are tax free the government also distributes them free to encourage the use and save this country from turning into an overcrowded ant hill. So the bleeding me thinks that tax free contraceptives and condoms benefits women too.

That brings me to the point that no one has spoken of yet - free distribution of sanitary napkins. Take away the 12% tax and rural India will still not be able to afford sanitary napkins. Distribute them free, install hygienic dispensers and educate women on benefits of pads - that is money well spent. So I say charge me 12% every month but use that 12% on a fellow woman who cannot afford even one tenth of the 12% that I stand to save. Create a corpus from the tax proceeds of sanitary napkins to be spent on improving menstrual health of girls and women in the most deprived parts of the nation. I would say give an additional tax break to the larger manufacturers of women hygiene products so that savings on tax are ploughed at the ground level to help us bleed healthy and breed secure. That's logic, rationale, emotion and solution all rolled into one. 

If the government pulls of something like this then the reforms in India will truly be revolutionary. If the fire brand women can lobby for something like this then the colour of red would have painted us in a different light globally. If the religious factions can implement this at grass root levels, their votebanks will be ringing in well wishers in abundance. Any takers? Any seconders? Anybody for a positive change? And well I don't count on the media to help with something like this. At the end of the day this is really worth implementing and not sensational enough you see...

Duty vs Love

Last night, during a family gathering, a younger cousin and I were exchanging views on Hindu mythology when he said, "Sita was a dutiful wife" and I reacted with "Sita was a loving wife. We must not mistake her love to be acts of duty." My cousin was not convinced. His take is that duty is also a form of love. While I appreciate his point of view and respect it, I have a slightly different definition of both duty and love. 

In my world view, a duty is an obligation that is expected to be rendered. It can make the doer of the duty feel burdened, and guilty if she does not fulfill this expectation. At times the duty can become so onerous that it takes pleasure and joy out of all action. Then there is love. Any act done out of love, is voluntary; making even the most dire of situations possible to navigate. Because one wants to do something one finds ways and means. There is no burden of expectation but a strong desire of doing and attaining significant personal satisfaction. If unfulfilled, there is no guilt; a tinge of sadness maybe...

And this is my understanding of Devi Sita as well. As a daughter her duty was to obey her father and attend the "swayamvar", the platform provided to her to select her own groom. The catch was that any prospective groom must be able to use Lord Shiva's bow. She fell in love with Lord Rama when she saw him in the gardens of the palace before the Swayamvar. She  acknowledged that the task suitors were expected to complete was tough and she wanted Lord Rama to win the challenge. She wanted to render her duty as a daughter and get her love; so she turned to the only way she knew and that was to seek the blessings of Goddess Parvati. Her first act of love came when in the course using Lord Shiva's bow Lord Rama broke it and incurred the wrath of sage Parshurama. 

Sage Parshurama was a great Shiva follower and was enraged when he learnt that his Guru's bow had been broken. Scintillating with anger he entered the Swayamvar complex, where out of duty and respect Devi Sita bowed to him and he blessed her with eternal happiness. Then he shifted his attention to the reason of his arrival and on learning that it was Lord Rama who had broken the bow, challenged him to a duel. Not wanting to fight the revered sage,  Lord Rama bowed in front of him when the sage picked up his axe to cut the Lord's neck. Devi Sita swiftly bowed between Rama and Parshurama - she would let no harm touch her beloved. The sage suddenly realised that if he harmed Lord Rama he would be taking away his own blessing of eternal happiness that he had bestowed on Devi Sita. And so love conquered anger and averted a duel. 

As a daughter-in-law Devi Sita's duty was to take care of her mothers-in-law in the tragic turn of events that had dealt Lord Rama a fourteen year exile. Her love for her husband created a need to be with him, even if it meant that it would sans luxuries and comforts. And so she convinced her mothers-in-law that between her duty and her love, she wanted to pick love even if it meant giving up worldly pleasures. A princess who was brought up in opulence and married into a royal family, the life of a nomad without any paraphernalia of any sorts was a challenge unforeseen. Yet she undertook it, not because it was her wifely duty but because of her total and unconditional love for Lord Rama. Had she wanted, he duties as a wife could have been hidden behind her duties as a daughter-in-law and she could have stayed in the palace with all amenities at her disposal. Yet she decided to walk the uncharted waters because her love gave her the strength of conviction. 

After Ravana was killed and Lord Rama and Devi Sita were reunited, she was asked to walk through fire. To the world this was to be a test of purity. Was it her duty to obey her husband that made her walk through fire or was it her love and faith in Lord Rama that got her to glide over the flames? If it was out of a sense of duty, her willingness and cheerful acceptance would not have been a part of her persona. It was love and the belief that the Lord had a reason he was putting the love of his life through this unthinkable task that got her to cross the fire with a smile, an open heart and no questions asked. 

Was it her duty as a wife and a queen that got her to bear Lord Rama his children? In fact it was her undying love that she not only wanted to be the mother to his children, but bring them up in an environment that would prepare them for all eventualities of life. That is the sole reason that she asked the Lord that she get time to spend with the saints in the forest and the children be brought up in their care. It is this wish that led to her being sent to the forest by Lord Rama; a wish that gave them both the grave pain of separation from the beloved. So while Devi Sita had the children to be with, the Lord spent the years only thinking of them and in the calm of the knoweldge that he had fulfilled his beloved's wishes. 

Devi Sita's duties as a queen were to render her responsibilities to the kingdom. Lord Rama as the king was duty bound to his subjects. So when a pregnant Devi Sita, as mentioned in Valmiki Ramayana, asked for her time with the great saints in the forest, the Lord did say that in face of our duties I am unable to grant your wish, however, my love will ensure that I don't let you down. And so, to keep the sanctity of duty and love, an incident in the kingdom instigated talks about how a woman who had spent a night at another man's house should not be accepted by the husband. This gave the Lord the excuse of saying that Devi Sita had spent many nights at Ashok Vatika, a garden in the palace of Ravana and so she would be sent away. 

I could continue with my views on the difference between love and duty, on the life of Devi Sita and the great love that Lord Rama and Devi Sita harbour for one another. I could add to that my learnings of the life of Lord Shiva and Devi Parvati and how duty and love in their lives have been depicted and brought about union and disruptions. However, the idea of this post is simple - to bring forward my understanding of duty and love and to see if the more evolved readers agree or can show me another view point I may have missed out on. The reason for my writing today is to put forward an understanding of a couple we whole heartedly worship but at the same time blame the Lord for oppressing his better half. The purpose of my writing is to challenge my own self and to see if my own convictions are rational. On this last point, with my data points and learnings, I stand by my belief and faith - Duty is not love, love is far stronger a force than duty and the lives of Devi Sita and Lord Rama are symbols of how great love can be. 

Women Empowerment - A Better Pool of Choices Please

After I published my post Women Empowerment - The Context of Us vs Them, for many days I was agitated. I wanted to do something to help her. I asked friends and acquaintances for suggestions. For a few days, everyday I would get a call from someone giving a suggestion that I would note down in my feasibility evaluation list. One such call came when I was sitting with a colleague and discussing a work problem at hand. However, solving "her" problem was also a priority, and so uncharacteristically I interrupted the discussion and took the call. Needless to say that my colleague heard the conversation.

As I hung up, my colleague turned to me and said, "how can we help?" And without thinking, without blinking, from I don't know where the words that came out were - "Can we brighten their Diwali? Can we give her and her daughter some clothes?" My colleague said most definitely and we continued our discussions. Later that evening, I sent a message to my team members, requesting for any clothes or utensils that they could spare for the mother daughter. Lo and behold, the Friday before Diwali, I had five bags full of clothes - bright, colourful and great quality daily and party wear! I was touched by the generosity of my team and of course delivered the surprise to the family promptly.

Why am I writing this today after all these days? Because I want to share what happened today.

Everyday after Diwali I would ask her why Shireen was not in her new clothes. Why was the child still wearing the old torn clothes? Everyday she would say, "Didi, tomorrow, promise." Today I asked her the same question yet again and she said, "On Friday is Tulsi Vivah (a Hindu festival). We will all go to the temple and now I am not busy selling flowers due to Diwali. So I can dress her up and I promise I will take a photograph and we will come to meet you. What is the use of her wearing such wonderful clothes when all she does is play in the dust! Let me enjoy her enjoying her new clothes on a festival."

Having an answer that I could not respond to, I asked her if she had worn any of the clothes that were for her. "Can I be honest with you didi", she asked. "Of course, my dear, always", I replied. "I sent them to the village with my parents. You see my elder and middle sister both ask if I have good clothes from Bombay to send to them and I never had any. This time I did. I get clothes here every once in a while and so am not in need. They may not be as colourful but I get my need satisfied. My sisters do not have this opportunity, so I sent the clothes for them. Please don't feel bad but I am telling you the truth."

Could have I felt bad after what I had just heard! She lives, eats and sleeps on the pavement along with her daughter. She has to worry about every next meal. She is fighting to keep her daughter with herself. And despite all these hardships, she has the magnanimity to look after her sisters! I was unable to say anything and so concluded our meeting with a hug and walked away.

As I am writing, I am staring out of the window and can see her and Shireen sleeping peacefully. Seeing them and thinking of our conversation earlier in the evening, my heart swells with emotions I cannot express. Recounting what she said I am humbled once again with her strength, positivity and generosity.

If I can help her, I will be fortunate. If not it's probably because I did not try hard enough. And on that note I say it yet again, she is making the tough choices but these are not choices out of freedom. Her life can be better and she is ready to work for it; but are we, as a society, ready to help her start somewhere? Will we give her the freedom to make a better choice? Will we empower her to give her daughter a better life? Or will she just remain a story that was written and read...

Women Empowerment - The Selfless and the Less of Self

The brother sister duo's school had started. They had enrolments, teachers and a sufficient temporary premises. Construction of a permanent building was being planned. It all seemed to be under control, and yet there was one person who saw through the calm. She understood that the sister needed someone trustworthy to shoulder the day to day responsibilities; someone who was truly dedicated to the cause and someone who could contribute to furthering the vision that is the foundation of the school. And so Shabri, as I would like to call her, volunteered her services. This is her story.

She got married as soon as she was of marriageable age. That she wanted to work and not enter matrimony was not understood by her parents. Not the one to cause friction when there could be other potential options, she agreed to get married. But with the one who now was her better half, she had a candid conversation. Not that home and family were less important but her desire to teach was strong and she requested his understanding. Her passion and honesty were easily understood and so he truly became the man behind a woman's dreams. 

She completed her teacher training and started to teach. They had two children who were brought up in a disciplined and value oriented environment. Her career continued on its path and so did the family life. It was a simple and complete kin. The children grew up, got married and by this time she had become a principal. All of them were proud of her, but none of this is extraordinary. This is the story of a number of families in India.

The true test came in mid 2016 when she retired. According to the government norms, once an employee crosses 60 they have to make way for the younger generation. This is when the brother sister duo's school had also commenced it's first year and seeing her friend's needs, Shabri decided to offer her services as a teacher in the school along with doing all that she could in the women's home. She asked for nothing in return!

The sister was stumped! Not because Shabri had offered her services but because offering those services meant that she would need to leave her family many many miles away and relocate to live in a village that offers the most basic life. There was no proper accommodation that the sister had to offer, after all she herself had decided to live in a make shift arrangement! And well a salary would not be what Shabri deserved! It was a wonder why had Shabri taken the decision and it was to be seen how her family would react.

When the day of reckoning came, the doctor husband turned to Shabri and asked her if this is what she truly wanted. The son asked her if they would see her at least during the summer holidays. Her answer to the first was affirmative and the second was a maybe,  if her responsibilities permitted. She also asked if she could use her pension to support herself as she would not want to be a burden on the brother sister duo. Seeing her passion and determination, the husband relented yet again and not only agreed to her request on her pension but also said that his help in cash and kind would always be readily available. He helped her pack, loaded the vehicle that was going to take her far away and with tears in his eyes bid her adieu. The son and the daughter in law joined him in a tearful goodbye. But not once did they stop her; and so she is here at the school, devoting all her time and life to those who need her.

Calling her Shabri seems only fit. In Ramayana we read about the Shabri who decided that it was more appropriate if she ate any rotten fruit than any such fruit finding its way to Lord Ram's plate. So she tasted each fruit herself, discarding the spoilt or tasteless fruit and only giving the juicy ones to the Lord. Similarly, the Shabri of today has decided that it is only apt that she undertakes the challenges rather than her friend's noble mission suffering for the lack of a trustworthy person. She is putting in 15 hours of hard work in the school and the women's home every single day only so that goodness and greatness can reach the needy. Such selflessness - demonstrated by Shabri and the doctor, one cannot deny his contribution- is completely rare in today's times...

As I finish making my tea and start to wash the pot, I hear Shabri scolding me;  another aunt worried that my cold will worsen if I wet my hands. Another elder telling me that I am not used to the winters of North India that have begun to set in and so I need to be careful. I tried, but I could not stop myself and I asked her why were there two standards of living - the easy one for me and the tough one for her. Her response was simple, " when you become a mother you will understand".

Will I ever understand these strong women; ladies who have lived tough lives on their own terms, pouring love and values into the lives of all those they have encountered? How can I even attempt to understand the sacrifices they have made, and yet have smiles that light up any room they walk into? Is it even right for me to think that I am capable of understanding them?

While I am contemplating all these ifs, the truth stares at me once again. I am face to face with a life that demonstrates that her happiness is thanks to the respect, trust and freedom of choice that she got. That she undertook struggles, because she had these all around her,  empowering her. She provided for her family, strengthened in the knowledge that give and take are for everyone alike on this planet and not for once feeling victimised or oppressed when she was the giver. She has embarked on a new life, at this age, only because she knows that her beliefs have the understanding of the most important people in her life and that she is truly loved and empowered. What a wonderful world it would be, if we could all live her way. What a wonderful world it would be, if we could all understand the doctor's ways. What a wonderful world it would be if we could all have a little bit of love, respect and honest communication is all our lives; but that would mean that we also give as much as we want to take. I leave the school and this story in this humble acknowledgement.

Women Empowerment - The Context of Us vs Them

Returning from my evening walk, I spot her with her signature flowers, walking towards a car at the traffic signal. Where did the promise of my tube roses go, I wonder. With that thought I call out to her, and on the divider lovingly pull her ears. "Didi (an address for an elder sister) I am so sorry. Will get them tomorrow, but now can I pull your ears too please..."

This banter is quite usual between her and me, two strangers who meet at the same traffic signal; everytime that I walk past or drive by. A bright wide smile, lustrous black hair and a bunch of colourful flowers in her hands; she tells me small anecdotes each time and her smile transfers to me.

Last week as I sat in the car, waiting for the traffic signal to turn green, she knocked on the window. She never asks me to buy flowers and nor was that her desire then. She wanted to show me how her daughter was growing up. Shireen; she pointed out, with a mother's heart swollen with pride. Somewhere I sensed the pleasure was burdened with pain. Before I could ask what was bothering her my way was clear. The cars behind honking, I had no choice but to drive away. After I parked, I thought of going back to verify my suspicion but feared being interfering, and so buried my inkling....

"Of course you can pull my ears", and I bent my head towards her. 
She gently pulled one and said, "didi this is probably the last time you will see me. Post Diwali (the festival of lights coming up in 10 days) I am going away to the village". 
"For how many days?" 
"Maybe I will never come back!" 
"Oh sure, and I was born yesterday! You have been here forever! So when will you return and when will my tube roses come?"
"No didi, I am serious. I have never shared what I am about to, with you. Do you recollect, a few months ago, I had asked if you knew of anyone looking for domestic help? Well I have been asking multiple women and have been unable to find a job. The reason I was asking is because I want to get away from my husband; I need physical distance between us. He does not earn, drinks and then comes home to beat me up. I have legally divorced him but he wants us to remarry. How can I, when he does not respect me or support me? He comes even now, on the pretext of meeting Shireen and verbally abuses me. I am scared that one day he will hit our daughter. That I won't be able to tolerate. And so I want to go away."

My brain is processing this very slowly. I am not hearing this right or maybe my instinct last week was right.

"Didi I tried very hard to find a job but because of a two year old, no one will employ me as domestic help. I have no other skills and it's so expensive to live in Mumbai and send her to school."

Puzzled I stare at her. No solution comes to mind. She looks tired but not sad. She looks gentle and yet determined. She looks helpless but still is persuasive.

"So I am thinking of going away and renting a small room in Ahmedabad. There I can find a place for Rs 500 monthly rent, sell vegetables and get my daughter to study. Only if I could get Rs 5000 for the deposit I can manage all else."

My feet are glued to the ground and are not moving when suddenly her sister appears.

"Yes didi he verbally abuses us too. She is better off with some distance from him. Maybe with no way to get to her he will mellow down. But she has no money. we have no money. Who knows..."
"He has tracked me down when I moved away from here to a shelter. If I could get a job as domestic help, the fear of the employer would keep him away. He abuses the cops too. So not able to find a job, I have to leave. There is no option left. Promise me you will come to meet me before Diwali..."
"Of course I will..."

I make my promise, stroke her arm, pull her sister's cheeks and my feet start to drag me home.

My head is spinning. On the day that most women in the neighbourhood are fasting and praying for the long lives of their husbands, this one is struggling to find a way away from the one she has divorced. The irony of life!

I wrote, just last week, that to empower women we must allow them to live a life of their choice. But if she lives the choice she is being forced to make, will that truly empower her? I said, just last week, that emboldening girls will give them their rights. If she uses her confidence to move away from a place that is her home, will that be righteous? In this context it is not choice or confidence that she needs. She needs financial independence and some societal support...

I hope we can all educate our children and I hope we can all be respectful of one another. If not, then maybe some amount of affirmative action will always be needed. If not, then we will always remain weary of the other gender, and the us vs them saga will linger on. 

Women Empowerment - A Life of Choice Lived for Others

Where do I begin,
To tell the story of how great a life can be,
The awe-inspiring story of the love she brings to all and me,
Where do I start?

This third story has been on the drawing board for days now. Everytime I attempt to complete it, I seem to go back to the beginning, feeling I have not done her justice. Maybe it's because this story is the closest to my heart. Maybe, because, while my parents gave me my dreams and the wings to fly, she helped me navigate the turbulent winds. Maybe, because, while my sisters showered me with selfless affection, she taught me to love even in the absence of warmth. Maybe, because, while my friends became my support system, she taught me to back my own self through stormy seas.

Her love and guidance are the reasons that I improve as an individual everyday. She is the reason that many young women have succeeded in living their choices by being confident, empathetic and patient; and not fighting under the auspices of feminism. She is the reason that multiple individuals have found harmony and peace despite most dire circumstances. And yes, she is the reason that I say women empowerment is truly about women living their choices and astutely using their abilities to make their dreams come true.

Persuasion

Born into a traditional family, she grew up in a smaller city in Uttar Pradesh. Adept at all house work, incredibly knowledgeable about all scriptures, loving and respectful towards elders and youngers alike; when she should have been getting married she declared that she wanted to give up the larger worldly and materialistic life. She wanted to work for welfare of the society and to spread education. This would only be possible if she could calm and center herself, and keep distractions and temptations at bay. Her choice seemed extreme and her future uncertain; but her knowledge of the scriptures and lessons from her father had taught her to follow her heart. The heart can never lead one astray;  on a difficult path yes, but never on the wrong path. And so she worked on helping the family understand her choice, and her need of their support to achieve her dream. Permission granted, she started her life's work 23 kilometres away from the city on the banks of the Ganges.

It was the early 1990s and she wanted to start a shelter for destitute women - child widows, homeless women of the streets and women spurned by their families. Construction of the shelter was to be done on land that her father had kept for her financial security. The land was duly donated to the Trust (that she had formed for the cause) before it was put to use. Though she was inexperienced, not knowledgeable and had little exposure; she took complete responsibility of the project from conceptualisation to completion. She learnt on the way and asked for guidance when needed; but otherwise in the relatively more conservative and aggressive heartland of India, managed every aspect of the project from monitoring construction workers, to negotiating with contractors, to dealing with government officers, all on her own. No bribes were given, no compromises made on quality and all work was done painstakingly in the manner that it should have been. It took longer than envisaged, but her conviction was that at the right time things would complete. Her determination and calmness did not waiver even for a day; even when locals created wrinkles by bringing up petty issues month after month. She provided all clarification, maintained her focus and kept to herself.

I am calling it a shelter but it is not that, and never was, right from day one. I just cannot seem to find a better word. Every lady was given a room, with an attached bathroom, to share with one other woman. Each one of them had a role to play, the responsibility of a daily chore - cleaning, washing, cooking a meal, tending to the garden etc. And everyone had a title with which they were addressed - bhua or mausi (Aunty) by the youngsters, behenji (Sister) by the elders, or mataji (Mother) by the daily visitors such as the milkman or the vegetable vendor. The same continues todate and it is one big happy family where there is mutual respect and affection, everyone works together, eats together and prays together.

The prayer sessions are all inclusive;  people from outside are welcome to join. Within the first few weeks of the morning prayers starting, she realised that outsiders who attended the sessions were those who had no means of support. So she decided that every one of them should be given a morning meal (rotis and a vegetable), raw dal (pulses), atta (unrefined flour), some salt and a token amount. The reason was simple - one meal taken care of and the basic ingredients of the next one provided for, they would be assured two square meals a day. This would reduce any provocation or temptation do indulge in anything unsavoury. The small sum would be saved, hopefully, and provide a contingency or emergency fund. Or else it would be pocket money to be used when simple wants arose.

Accustomed to waking up at 400am, she used the kitchen before anyone came to make breakfast and prepared the morning prayer meals for over 30 people, everyday. The ingredient packets were put together before she went to sleep each night. This was in addition to running the administration, finances and maintenance of the shelter; and being a friend, philosopher and guide to many like me who form her circle of family and friends. These were her desires and her aims, nobody else could be inconvenienced towards the fulfilment of the same.

All Trust expenses were (and are) met by dipping into the small savings that had accumulated during her tenure as a teacher,  the little money her father had set aside for her and what her brother and sister voluntarily contributed. Ocassionally, friends and family donated (and continue to do so). All proceeds were (and are) strictly used for the works of the Trust.

Money has no significance for her; beyond providing food, water and shelter for the women who she calls family for over two decades now. She owns no more than two or three sets of clothes that she washes herself and wears on alternate days. Jewellery has no place in her life. She eats only one meal a day, and that what is cooked for everyone else. There is no need to travel and if a need does arise, then the cheapest mode is used - tempo travelers, buses and trains at best. With her knowledge and application of ayurveda, a high pain threshold and tremendous amounts of self control; medical expenses are bare minimum. Cosmetics are alien to her and gifts not acceptable. She is content with as little as possible and in giving as much as she possibly can, both physically and emotionally.

To give a purpose to the lives of the scorned, to improve the lives of the villagers and to encourage a community feeling; in the late 1990s she decided to initiate a small sewing school in the premises of the shelter. It seemed to be the most interesting way to skill up the local population and productively engage all involved. The teachers were women of the shelter, students were women and girls of the village, and all material and equipment was provided by the Trust.

Once the pupils were capable, she requested the village women to get their sewing needs, big and small, fulfilled by the newly trained seamstresses. The Trust equipment could be used at no cost, but pre-intimation for planning was needed. Soon there was a thriving close knit community that formed. After lunch, when classes and sewing would be underway; laughter, happiness and melody would tiptoe everywhere that the women went. A sense of belonging was visible on every face on the premises. For those few hours, everyone forgot all worries of life and enjoyed the company of those present. It truly was a place under the sun that soaked everyone in the love of life.

But vagaries of life dance to their own tune. All of a sudden, there was a complaint raised that under the garb of a Trust she was running a commercial enterprise. The bank accounts of the trust showed balances that were embarrassingly low, even for a charity. Her own account had barely enough to meet her meagre monthly needs. Cash-in sources for the Trust were, in majority, identified as deposits made from her and her siblings' accounts. Expense reports and receipts were all available down to the last paisa. Villagers vouched that they never paid anything to the Trust or any teacher. Legally there could be no non-compliance and none was found. Morally not a blemish could be spotted. Ethically, those who were investigating, blushed when the squeaky clean and the noble way of working emerged. And yet someone somewhere decided that all the testimonies and proof were insufficuent and a legal notice was issued. The lessons, the assignments, the afternoon bliss; all came to a screeching halt.

I went to visit soon after, and in my wisdom told her that we should opt for judicial help. She had a simple answer, "the money and time we would spend in a legal battle can be used for better things. We have to find an alternative, non interfering means to improve life in the village, and in time that path will show itself. Maybe there is a worthier cause that we have missed." I was not convinced and said I would bear the legal cost. She asked me to give the estimated amount to those who needed it for education. When I was not convinced any other way, she took to Ramayana to make the point.

When Ravana abducted Devi Sita, Lord Rama did not need anyone's help to find her. He, the omnipresent and omnipotent, knew exactly who was responsible and where his beloved was. He could have waged a war right then and killed Ravana. Yet he went wandering in the dangerous forests, crying in grief and yearning for his wife. That is when Lord Hanuman met him and avowed to help find Devi Sita. When Lord Hanuman left with that aim, he was faced with crossing an ocean. He had forgotten his powers of flying and it was in the despair of not being able to keep his word to the Lord, that he was reunited with his power. Ultimately when war ensued, Laxman was gravely injured. The only cure for his wounds was available thousands of miles away in the Himalayas; and that is when Lord Hanuman's flying prowess showed it's glory. He flew from Lanka to Himalayas, secured the medicinal herbs and saved Laxman's life. So maybe this turn of events was necessary to usher in another effort that would touch and change many more lives. We had to be patient and calm to see how future unfolds. If the laughter had ceased, she was convinced that so would the eerie afternoon silence of the premises. This explanation and chain of thoughts I could not refute; and was once again left speechless by her equanimity, faith and selflessness.

Time continued on its journey and she continued on her path, toying with multiple ideas to bring about a positive difference in the village life. But every idea conflicted with her ideology of non-interference or spoke of significant capital requirements. Amongst all the plans that she brought up over the years, the one that kept resurfacing was that of starting a school. Her only hitch in starting one was the need of place and capital. Both were in short supply and hence her dream remained just that, a dream.

Where there is a will there is a way. When the desire is deep from the heart then the mind is forced to carve out solutions. That is what happened last September. She called up her brother with the perfect solution for a space for the school. It was the premises of the shelter. The women living there would keep their rooms and the kitchen. But all other available rooms, including her own room, the prayer hall, the communal dining area etc. would be converted into classrooms. To begin with, there would be enough space to create decently sized classrooms from nursery to grade five and a staff room. The space available in front of the shelter could be used to create two rooms that could be used as the principal's office and a small accounts office. The garden of the shelter could be used as the playground and to hold events on independence day, republic day, annual day etc. He would need to help her with the funds.

The brother asked her not to worry about finances, his life savings were hers. But where would she live and sleep? That was simple she said - on a folding bed in one of the classrooms. In the evening, post dusk, the bed would be opened and laid in the room after moving the classroom furniture. The next day before dawn she would fold it back and rearrange the desks and tables. Waking up early, not sleeping in the afternoon and having one meal a day; all these helped in that she would need no space through the day. Her training was probably for this day! And if this was not acceptable, she said she would sleep in one of the tiny storerooms that housed all the linen of the shelter. She was ready to make do with even lesser, only to see her dream come true. She now was derermined to start an English medium school and provide the village children with an environment that not only made them literate, but educated them about the rich heritage and culture of our nation, and the newer ways of life that will change the world of the young ones. 

While her brother was taking his time in weighing the merits of her proposition, she started  speaking to a few young and trusted locals. Soon there was a troop of volunteers to help with tasks such as admissions, finding teachers, designing uniform and doing the clerical and office work. She started thinking of a name for the school. She called an old friend, who now runs a school, to understand what it would take to run one herself. Her passion, conviction and relentlessness forced the brother to cave in. He took on the responsibility of doing the paperwork and raising or providing the funding.

In February this year, the school was inaugurated. While the brother sister duo had envisaged only about fifty children to start with, they were astounded with a hundred and fifty plus admissions. Fees payable by students such as young Ali, whose father was lynched to death by a mob and whose mother washes utensils to provide her children with two meals a day, was waived. Trying to minimise expenses, she decided to herself make and serve tea to the staff and the teachers, thrice a day. To ensure standards are maintained and laws followed; administration, accounts and maintenance are all personally looked into by her. All events are planned under her guidance. Teachers, students and parents can see her at any point in time for grievance addressing. This, of course, is in addition to still doing all the work that she has committed to at the shelter.

Last month I went to spend a weekend with her. She was snowed under responsibilities but content at seeing her dream coming true. She had not a minute to herself but still found time to listen to my stories, grunts and dreams. She put her folding bed in the classroom but suggested that I stay at a nearby guesthouse so that I was comfortable. In awe, I burst out laughing. How could she be so selfless and so loving! I was there to be with her, and would sleep on the floor if I needed to; if she has lived her life as she has, I could live with just a bit less for just two days.

Everyday when I speak to her, I come face to face with the fact that just like respect, empowerment has to be earned. She chose her life with her heart. She fought her battles with grace. She soars in victory with humility. And that is how she brings alive the words of Jacqueline Bisset - Character contributes to beauty. A mode of conduct, a standard of courage, discipline, fortitude and integrity do a great deal in making a woman beautiful and a life meaningful. Yes empowerment is earned and cannot be demanded; that is a lesson I have learnt, and now need to master. 

Women Empowerment - Against all Odds

"Is this what you plan to wear while you go out to meet your friends, shop or go and do whatever it is that you do? I don't approve of it. But well, I have lived my life on my terms and so who am I to stop you." A rare but loving sermon over, I looked at her, smiled, gave her a hug and was out of the door. Neither was I dressed inappropriately nor was this my grandmother, mother or sister. This was the lady who cooks for the family and her only point was that, as far as she is concerned, I look my best in sarees and so should be wearing only those.

She has always been vocal about her views, protective about us sisters and I adore her. She is my second story, my second reminder of the wonders that self belief can lead to.

Sense and Sensibilities

The Relentless, as I call her, follows Swiss watches and has been doing so ever since she started working. Consequently she is always dot on time. Never has there been a day when she has taken a holiday without giving sufficient prior notice. And even those holidays, annually, can be counted on fingertips. There have been less than a handful of instances in her tenure with us, when she has asked for an advance or a loan against salary. All of this has been consistent for almost quarter of a century and for eighty percent of that, she has been the sole bread winner for her family; a family of four plus a mother and a mother-in-law.

How did she become so self reliant, self sufficient and self confident? As a curious teenager I had asked her this question while still relatively new, she stirred the delicious pav-bhaji (minced vegetables stewed in tomato puree, spices and butter). Her regular stern look refused to deter me that day. I was taking a break from my study schedule and could do with some conversation; I left her no choice and she minced no words.

As is the case in most Maharastrian families, she got married at a young age and did not see her husband till the wedding night. On that night, as an expectant young bride, she waited for her husband to walk in confidently, only to find a drunk man barely managing to sway in through the door. She was not new to the stench, but she was not prepared for this to be the foundation of the rest of her life. Reality had jolted her out of her demure bride's blissful dreamland!

Her husband was a gambler and a drunkard. He was hardly able to keep jobs and what he earned was lost to the addictions. Relentless decided that she would put in the labour needed to buy food for and clothe the family. The first job offer she got was from a Bengali woman who lived several miles away, but she accepted. Every morning she would wake up at 500am finish the domestic chores, leave home at 700am and reach her employer at sharp 900am. After she cooked lunch at that house and helped with the daily tasks, there was still time left. So she took up a few jobs in nearby households. At 600pm she would make her way to the station, reaching home by 800pm to finish the remaining home chores. She did not cook at home. That was her mother-in-law's pet peeve. It was a hard existence which she had almost accepted as her fate until one dark monsoon night when it became her choice, her self esteem and her persona.

Her eldest son was running a fever. It was late at night, pouring heavily and it was becoming critical to take the child to the doctor. The father was nowhere to be found and there were the mother-in-law and two children at home to care for. She wanted some help but none was available. Suppressing all emotions - anger, frustration and fear - she made her way to the emergency room. The child was admitted immediately and the treatment started.

Back home, in the wee hours before dawn, she waited for the man of the house to return. It was still pouring outside and after many cups of hot water she was finally able to feel the dampness go out of her bones when she heard the knock. She opened the door and he stood in all his glory, laced with the scent of alcohol and devoid of any sense that a human being should possess; forget a responsible father of three young ones.

He took one wavering step inside the house, when overcome with self respect, she used all her might and pushed him out, into the heavy downpour. He glared and stared and she silently growled back. The mother-in-law emerged from the shadows and Relentless turned to her, "this is my house. I earn and run it. If you want to be with your son you can go out too. If he wants to come in, he will have to come in sans the alcohol and with some sensibilities of his responsibilities. Otherwise I am capable of taking care of myself and my children. I am done carrying his burdens." The mother-in-law retreated inside and the husband spent the entire night outside. That one surge of strength and confidence ushered in a new her and newfound respect for her amongst the family members, including the husband.

The son in the hospital was in a serious condition. She continued to work and care for him, and the father started being around too. But it was too late for him, soon the son died. He was free from his suffering was her take. The husband saw her immense strength and his core was shaken. What had he done to deserve this selfless, nurturing and principled woman as his life partner? Just that thought forced him to stop drinking. He started keeping small jobs and taking some responsibility at home even if it meant only ferrying the children to and from school. But years of abuse had rendered his liver weak and his strength was limited. In a few years time he succumbed to liver failure but not before letting his wife know that the last few years of his life was when he truly lived. It was now her two children and her mother-in-law who comprised her family.

As she closed her narration, my next question popped out. Why was she still following the same back breaking routine? She had avowed to educate her children and make them into responsible human beings. She liked the houses she contributed to. She knew that her gruel had helped her deal with life's blows and not become a victim of circumstances. So this was going to be it until she could physically find it possible to continue.

The wide eyed, confused and overawed teen me, picked up some pav-bhaji and strolled into my room, back to my books. I could not comprehend her tremendous resolve and decided to stop giving her grief over her occasional tobacco chewing.

Six years ago when I moved back to India she was still around. Her daughter had been married by then and was a mother already. The daughter had a driver and a help as well. Her son was doing well in his career, was married to a nice girl and had a nice house for himself. Backup! Why was her son living separately? Why was she still travelling four hours a day and still exerting beyond her years? Why could she not take it easy? Because she would not be a burden on her son and his family. Because she wanted her self reliance and self sustenance intact till the day she died. Because now after her children were settled the responsibility of her mother-in-law and mother was hers. When did her mother move in with her; I don't know. But I know she was a tremendously proud mother who died recently and that was the first time Relentless took time off without a notice.

I could go on about how Relentless built a new home in the village, and refusing to take help from her son-in-law chose to sell her home and move further away to a place that increased her commute. But if I continue her story I would not know when to stop, and I am sure there is no more evidence needed to see very clearly how this woman made her own choices, gathered confidence when the best of us would sink into the depths of self pity and depression and has moved from strength to strength. Relentless highlights how women are not weak and cannot be oppressed if they so choose. I think women just don't have confidence and self belief that they can overcome any obstacle and have it all.

It is ashtami today, the eighth day of Navratri, the day Hindus prays to Goddess Durga - the symbol of strength, the destroyer of evil and the all benevolent and nurturing mother of all. How apt is it that I am writing about Relentless today, not only because she personifies all of the above but also because her name is another name for Devi Durga herself! 

Women Empowerment - The Strength from Within

Engrossed in my thoughts on women empowerment, I mechanically stared outside my window. A huge serpentine queue of women had formed to do darshans of Goddess Mahalaxmi on the auspicious seventh day of Navratri (the nine holy days before Dashera, the day good won over evil). Amidst the flurry of traffic I could spot yellow, pink, orange and purple sarees; giving the serpent a definite soul and character. But why was I seeing only women in that queue? Maybe because my mind was tuned into a station that continuously repeated that women pray a lot more?

As I stepped out into the humid evening, on my weekly visit to the smaller temple just before Mahalaxmi, I realised that I would have to navigate alongside the slow moving reptile line. Awesome! Would give me a glimpse into reality; and that it did! Lo and behold, what I saw from my window was part truth. There were actually two queues, one for men and the other for women. The reason I saw only women was because of the vibrant saree colours and the fact that their queue was on the outside towards the road; while the men in their whites, creams and browns stood on the inside, awaiting equally patiently to reach the temple. How perceptions and preconceived notions can condition the human mind, and colour the thinking of even the educated and aware!

Today we fervently believe that predominantly in the Indian society women have no voice and little choice. We are made to be the gravely oppressed, who have to pick up arms and fight for all the wrongs that the world has committed against us for decades together now. But when I look closer to home, I see examples of some exemplary women who have lived through their struggles, worked against all odds and created happy lives for all those who are in their inner circle. They could do this, in my view, only because they did not feel like the victims that society makes women out to be. They are the happiest of the people I know only because they lived life making their choices. They could make their selection only because they understood that everything can easily be seen to be ugly, but the search for beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. I want to tell you three stories, of three such women who I have come to respect and admire. After that it is up to the more evolved readers to decide whether to agree with, disagree with or be indifferent to my view point.

Pride without Prejudice

It was the late 1960s. She was the pretty and educated daughter of an Indian Revenue Services officer stationed in the small town of Kota, in the desert state of Rajasthan. Her family hailed from Uttar Pradesh and wanted her to get married into a nice family from their part of the country. Soon she was of a marriageable age and her father sought out a groom. Of course her consent was taken, the future life comforts considered; and with great pomp and show the wedding was concluded. The new bride, with her dreams and hopes, made way to the small town of Lakhimpur; 800 kilometres away from her parents. She was told that she should call if there was anything that she was uncomfortable with and not resort to a letter, the most common communication medium of the times.

Like most women moving into a new way of life post marriage, she was nervous. But she trusted the man she was to spend the rest of her life with and so she was ready adapt. After all, adaptability comes more naturally to women who are even able to mould their bodies to bring another life into this world. But what she came face to face with, no woman, including today’s empowered lot could have dealt with. The man she called husband was already married, not only that, he had two children from the first wife. Why did he get married a second time, I have never asked and do not know. What I do know is that when they got married the first wife had been sent back to her parents, never to return.

There was turmoil and there was devastation that seemed to be all around her. This was not the new life she had dreamed of. This is not what she had left her loving and protected home for. At the tender age of 19 or 20, she did not know what had hit her and what should she do. Before she made up her mind, she decided to think. And in her words, there was no fun in being considered a victim. Her choices were to stay in or call off the marriage. But before she could decide which road to traverse, she wanted to restore the rights and honour of the first wife. A brave and bold move, one that I do not think I would have considered being mine for the undertaking.

So the first wife and the two children were met, got back home, and the husband given an ultimatum that if they were to be sent back or discriminated against then a police complaint would be a certainty. There was no support system at her disposal as she contemplated and executed her actions. The in-laws were enraged, the husband hostile and her own mind undecided. Yet she followed her heart, no self pity in mind and no feeling of loss enveloping her aura.

Having gotten to understand the first wife, another conversation with the husband ensued. Now she would want to make use of her education and start to teach in a school. While she would be earning, the first wife would take care of the home and the children. The husband was not allowed to object. That was her condition. She would only concede in trying to understand him if this was acceptable. And so it was. Against all his wishes he allowed her to start working. She started to understand him and he began to see her strength.

It was when there was some peace returning, that her family found out. The father rushed from Kota to take his innocent and wronged daughter back, use his influence in the services to punish the man and his family and to find another loving and more deserving man for his daughter. But she refused. What if the second man turned out to be a lazy non-achiever? What if the next man was one who believed in extramarital affairs? What if the other chance she wanted would mean she would need to be stuck at home and not be able to teach, a dream she had harboured forever? Against all assurances, parents’ pleading and world view of justice and rights; she decided to play the hand she was dealt with, with confidence and equanimity.

Her career progressed and she graduated from being a school teacher to being a college principal. She had two children who were looked after by the first wife while she worked. All four children knew her story and for them she was the anchor of their lives. The first wife loved her more than God and the husband died in her debt. After her husband and the first wife died, one of the four children succumbed to some sudden illness. Now there are three children and more than half a dozen grandchildren who vie for her love and attention. Now she is retired and spends time in an old people’s home not wanting to be a burden on any child. Now she tells her story with a smile and a belief that all the love, satisfaction and glory she found; was because she knew that no one could hurt her unless she let them.

Truly empowered, she has led an inspirational life; but her empowerment did not come from any enablers from the society or from a support system that righted her wrong. Her confidence and ability to choose for herself are what have let her lead a fulfilling life, a story every time I recount gives me goose bumps. No outsider can sanction such self belief and strength. And so I go back to saying that the fight for women empowerment needs to be a movement to build a more confident, compassionate and capable next generation.

The next two stories will follow over the next few days.

Gender Divide - Us vs Them

What was a gender equality row has now become a women empowerment movement. Of late, feminists have taken the discussions, debates and dues to women to a whole new level, and that has really made me sit back and think. How much of it do I agree with personally may not matter really, but as a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a mentor to millennials, as a woman with aspirations and ambitions and lastly with the responsibility of the many women in my team; I feel compelled to be honest about my views. If I fail in this honesty, I would not only be failing those I love but more importantly my own self.

That women have the right to be treated well is one thing I cannot deny. That women need to be encouraged to follow their dreams is an opportunity I have been given, and cannot deny the same to anyone. That women have been stereotyped is a truth best acknowledged upfront. However, as I am writing all of this, I am left wondering; do we not box men into types, do we not expect men to follow certain paths in life even if they are a hundred and eighty degrees opposite of their own desires,  and do we not suppress boys at any point in their lives? Even if one of these is answered in yes then the affirmative action needs to be inclusive in my view.

One argument against inclusion and pro women is the imbalanced ratio of opressed women vs men; and to that my question is that with a biased affirmative action are we not running the risk of having men in the same boat (as women are today) at some point? Where does this us vs them end?

I have written this before and I will say it yet again. To truly empower women and to create a balance, we need to give them the freedom of choice and confidence in themselves. Because a girl is a good science and maths student should not mean that she is forced to follow that path even if her choice is journalism. Because a girl wants to do Engineering let us not make it easier for her by lowering the bar that allows her admission into a college of her choice. Let us train her into becoming that person who can overcome that hurdle just like we would expect the boys to fight. Because a girl wants to work, let us not push her towards giving priority to her career even though she wants to be a stay at home mother. Because a woman prioritises her family but wants to work as well, let us facilitate the same equally for men and women. And while working on inclusive change let us sensitise genders about one another.

The girl child has an X and a Y chromosome and the male child two Y chromosomes. That must lead to some inherent strengths with each gender and some traits that are complimentary. Why is the same then denied or refuted? If a woman can run during her periods without a tampon, why can a man not shave for months? If a woman is expected to dress well and wear makeup, why is it alright if a man turns up as if he is just out of the gym? If a woman should be allowed to express her emotions and not be discriminated against, why do we call sensitive men sissy? If a woman is expected to lovingly nurture the family, why can't a man be the unconditional supporter? These are all views that we must consider and ask the next generation to dwell upon too...

Ramayana, the Indian epic, has had me fascinated for many years now. It is widely considered to be one of the biggest examples in Indian culture of how women have been wronged against regularly. Not something that I have ever agreed with, but was unable to articulate till I read the very gripping, In Search of Sita. A collection of twelve essays by twelve different contemporary personalities, it highlights how everything has two sides. For example, while Sita's exile when she was pregnant may have been a decision by her king husband, Sita's acceptance of the same was not her weakness; but a mark of strength to say that she could and would survive against all odds. It also demonstrated her faith in her husband who, if one reads the Valmiki Ramayana (the original Ramayana), himself gave up the comforts of a royal life in grief of not being able to live with his wife. Now if we take these views into consideration, love, equality and empowerment are all understood beautifully.

In fact it's amazing how the Ramayana over and over again signifies the importance of inclusive empowerment and the right to choice. It was queen Kaikayi who won the war for King Dashratha and hence became his consort. It was Sita's and Laxman's choice that took them to the forests for a fourteen year exile along with Lord Rama. Sita chose not to marry the very handsome, talented and powerful Ravana; both at the Swayamvar and post her abduction. At the same time, Ravana respected her choice and maintained his distance till such time that she said a yes. So if men were powerful, women with a right to choose were equally empowered.

The world has been painted with varied brushes and in many colours. There are as many emotions and interpretations as there are human beings. Happiness and sorrows ebb and flow with every passing second. And in all this complexity, if we add the variables of us vs them and subtract empathy and compassion; chaos and volatility will only multiply. If it had to be us vs them, then men should have never left Mars and women should have stayed on Venus. But now that we are here, together, on Earth, let us appreciate the beauty that we each bring and help one another rid oursleves of the wrinkles that we can do without. In our short lives let's make every interaction and each encounter special, irrespective of gender or any other divide.