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Monday, December 15, 2014

nirbhaya and our metamorphosis...

Much has been said about ‪#‎Nirbhaya‬ since that fateful night of‪#‎December16‬ two years ago. We have expressed outrage, protested in the streets, cried for her parents, shamed her assailants, wrung our hands, moved on and in some ways ahead too. When her gruesome rape and murder took place two years ago it took the capital and really all of India - at least urban India - by storm. Petitions were filed, commissions initiated, the perpetrators arrested and new laws legislated. All moves in the right direction, but only the beginning of a reckoning long overdue.
#Nirbhaya became the lightning rod for violence against women in India, and about high time something did. A deluge of reactions ensued, albeit of many flavors. There were the usual nincompoop politicians, religious leaders and other "elders" of India who came out with their predictable proclamations amounting to, "it was her fault for being out at night, for being with a man, for wearing jeans, for owning a cellphone, for having a dream, for ....blah blah..." ad nauseum! But what was noteworthy was the shaming they received, especially from youth in India.
There were those who resigned themselves - most of them cynics from my generation - "this is how it is, nothing will change, and all we can do is tell our girls to be more careful...". I grew up in India so that did not surprise me. We are such pragmatists that we can almost always be counted on to take the easy way out. Telling our daughters to curb their freedom is so much easier than doing anything about such horrendous acts, lest we spend an extra minute pondering any value worth fighting for. Don't get me wrong. There is genuine and understandable parental concern at play when we tell our girls to be careful, not trust strangers, or not go out on lonely streets alone at night. Do note that Nirbhaya was not alone, nor on a lonely street. Also that more than 70% of sexual crime against girls and women is committed by men they know - often family members, neighbors, and trusted family friends! But even so, telling our women to be careful should be treated as a necessary - and hopefully temporary evil - while we expend our energies towards limiting if not ending the need for it. And that includes teaching our sons better, speaking out when someone is demeaning our girls and not letting our elders' traditions dictate how women are viewed. Telling women to limit their freedoms, should be seen as an unfair restriction we impose, NOT a burden that is theirs alone to bear, and their freedom NOT the source nor the CAUSE of the violence against them. That does not demand an environment that is perfectly safe - there is no such place - but let's not use some esoteric concept of perfection to stall progress.
There have also been those - some feminists included - who criticized our reaction by calling our attention to similar heinousness experienced routinely by rural/ Dalit/ poor women in villages, small towns -- victims who almost never receive justice. So why this reaction now? for this Delhi girl? They have a point and the complete lack of humanity meted out to women, and girls in villages and small towns is undeniable. But there is an important psychological and sociological phenomenon at play here. India is going through a huge economic and social transformation. There are employment opportunities now that are allowing women unprecedented financial and personal freedom. Nirbhaya represented that. She was an urban, middle class girl who had dreams. And yes she wore jeans and used a cell phone - those are important icons in India, if you know how to read symbols. Millions of middle class urban girls and women identified with her - and that was the crucial difference this time. Urban women have greater access to media, greater means to be heard and are often more vocal, and this garners them an unfair share of attention. That does not make it OK that non-urban/ poor women suffer injustice or that their suffering is any way less valid. But this is how cultural and political change comes about. The personal is the political. People sit up and take notice when it is someone they can identify with. So while we can wring our hands about how wholly inadequate this is, it is an irreversible start. I don't have any illusions about the speed with which change will come about - especially given the pathetic state of law enforcement - but many of the the preconditions for a transformation are present in India like never before, and that's reason to be hopeful.
Perhaps the thing that was most noteworthy, inspiring, and heart-breaking, in all of this gruesome mess was Nirbhaya's own parents' reaction - particularly that of her courageous father. When the media reported this incident without naming her per the law in India - ironically reflective of a vapid culture that heaps shame on the victim and exonerates the perpetrator - he came out openly revealing her identity. He reminded us that she was innocent, a girl with dreams AND the victim! He showed us how we should treat our daughters. He exhibited a more progressive, enlightened view of women than the VAST majority around him; many of them more educated, better off, and better placed. This from a man who worked doubly hard, sold his ancestral property in the village to support his daughter's dreams. He must grieve every day even as we move on with our lives, and he will die grieving. Such is the nature of things when children die leaving parents behind. We can't alleviate that. But perhaps we can prevent another family's suffering by bringing about change, even a miniscule change, whatever is within our individual reach. Perhaps all that amounts to is speaking up next time someone blames women for such violence, or writing a check for an organization devoted to such a cause, or something even more profound like raising our sons to have respect like Nirbhaya's father had for her.
I will light a lamp for her tonight. Join me.
In the meantime I offer you this poem I wrote for her in 2012...

---------------
Reena
December 15th 2014 in USA....

...it is already the 2-year anniversary of Nirbhaya's murder in Delhi on Dec 16th 2012....

Thursday, December 11, 2014

paper boats

torrents come rushing down
water gushing to meet this earth
a union thirsting for completion
as if we waited a thousand births

the wind blows in fierce approval
the trees they sway in drunken trance
i watch with wonder and expectation
she calls me out to join the dance

the grass is soaking a deep green
flowers nod, let the showers pelt
new leaves peep out, eager to unfurl
storms won't make their ardor melt

the streets i know stay brave and calm
rivulets running in hurried streams
reminiscing the paper boats of my youth
so many i launched - technicolor dreams

paper they were yet they're entrenched
in my memory castle of all such hopes
the paper melted, the colors ran
yet painted the water a bright rainbow

the rain has come, the winds we fear
the storm they say is bearing near
yet my heart sings from what I know
a happy childhood of hopes and boats...

------------------------------------------------------
Reena
Dec 11th, 2014
One stormy rainy day in December...

Friday, December 5, 2014

Arranging marriage, and a life to follow

In India there is a special term for getting married to someone you first fell in love with - "love marriage".  The idea is that we marry someone we can presumably share our soul with and love forever and if love is gone then the marriage is not worth it. And in the case of loving the purists will say that loving someone is not enough; you have to be IN love for it to work.

That's the idea in it's purest form, driven by romantic love.

I grew up in a culture where this notion was an after-thought. You can learn to love, they said. No specifics were given.  Love, confused with romantic love further confused with a fondness one can't help but feel for someone you get used to were all interchangeable.  And then this idea that really, literally you can learn to love. This was of course in the context of arranged marriage. Loving someone before you agree to share the rest of your life with them is not critical. A commitment to making it work is. I see the tragedy of it - always have. And that part's easy.

What I do see now however is something quite different, even contradictory to what i noted before. What I see now is the sheer commitment, the faith of it - in the best sense - and how it pervades the culture to make marriage something you sign up for and then you work on. It's not a honeymoon affair, it's not something susceptible to a seven year itch; it's a lifelong thing. I don't have a blind admiration for this idea. In fact I only saw too clearly how often it went wrong and more clearly how it missed the essence of romance, which to me is the ultimate tragedy. What makes it possible and still pervasive in a culture like India's are two factors - economic reality and the strength of social pressure.

But there is much from it that we can learn.  I don't know if we can learn this and somehow imbibe it in our culture -- without throwing the baby out. How does a culture do that? 

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Come out to play

I don't always know how to play or follow every tiresome rule
And when I do I get by, sometimes looking like a fool
Occasionally I even show a flash of brilliance
So rare that it could simply be chance

But I don't stand and watch, not worry about looking good
I jump in and play it is what I always do

I came to regret the few times I held back
For reasons of fear or pain
So I'll come out to play every time I'm asked,
Come a hot sun or unyielding rain!



---
July 23rd 2014...an ordinary day

Friday, July 18, 2014

This year of living...lovingly

Life isn't brutish and short at all
Hubris & half truths that we've been sold
Short and beautiful -- and therein contained
The fount of our grand tragedy

Gushing so much I can hardly embrace
Fully all that I was meant to
So many hills and winds to glide upon
So many lives and worlds to woo

Perhaps this shortness is the honey it instills,
The price heightened cause it passes so soon
So much love packed in I can hardly sit still
Even though so few - the precious few - that I even matter to!



---
reena
july 18 2014...
pondering this sweetness of my so very few...and they are the world...

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Blink of an eye

This month will simply fly on by
It's sweetness drained in the blink of an eye
I know it still, I hold it close
I feel the blessings on my brow

I have been here and know this time
Embracing the love and those who are mine
Yet the fear of loss lives right next door
I catch, I grasp, I clutch it close

So much, so full I know it well
This feeling that overcomes my head
My heart bursting every way
This love too big to contain

Brimming with gratitude complete
Such fortune, my stars replete
I wonder if I did some good
A previous karma that came to fruit!

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Banish

You think your happiness so precarious
One stumble would knock it down
A tenuous connection could be cut
And you'd be lost again

But life has brought you to a different plane
Foundations uncompromised have been laid
The rocks that hold you in your place
Are here to stay and carry you

So come what may and it surely will
You will meet it on terms all yours
You'll hurt perhaps and the tears will come
But the destruction will only go so deep! 

Thursday, January 23, 2014

small hands

i've seen those eyes brim over with love
i've felt the warmth of her little arms
i've kissed her sleeping forehead with tears
is it possible to see a greater god?

her hands are growing as is her gaze
she gives me hints of glories to come
and worries me when i see pain
but promise i will let her set the terms

this flourishing we are bound to witness
even as we fuss and fear, stand ready at watch
i know i signed up for a helpless plan
to water, to shade, to simply stand at guard

When...

When you come back
Can I cry in your arms
Tell you my woes
Sing you my fears

When you come back
Will you hold me close
Will you let me tell you
Of my hardest fights

When you come back
Will you give me permission
To ask for what's mine
What you take away and go

When you come back
Will you promise to not
Make me feel I ask for too much
Demand what's not mine

When you come back
Will you promise to listen
Even when I struggle to say
How I miss even at my best

When you come back....