Bye Bye My Angel!

Those of you who have been following my adventures and escapades here for the past some months will remember me confessing to being a Grade 1 unadulterated male chauvinist pig. You will also recall me scale down from those exalted heights when this happened to me! And you who have been keeping my company in recent times will agree that whatever may be the scales of misogyny I display when it comes to my wife and other womenfolk who pepper my life, I am by far the most gender neutral person in this side of the hemisphere when it comes to my daughter. Another confession that I will remind you of now, the last for the day I promise, is the one about the beginning of the demise of the MCP in me the day I realized to my horror what if my daughter is treated the way I treat my wife!

As the ruminations above would have told you I have tried to bring up my daughter as an equal citizen. Equal in her rights, equal in her freedoms, equal in pampering, equal in mollycoddling. As equal as my son. Maybe more as at the time of going to press the junior is still very junior to her!  The point being she has had no ‘special treatment’ meted out to her only because of her sex. In the parlance of the prevailing social scenario in our country, I have tried to bring her up like a ‘boy/man’! Though I find the last line offensive and sexist, I use it to ease your understanding of the context that I/We have imposed no discrimination on our daughter vis-à-vis the rights enjoyed by our son. Random discriminative suggestions or ideas propounded by my better half out of a sense of concern or worry for our daughter’s safety or future were mostly discarded by us for what they were, discriminatory in nature albeit well intentioned.

We fed her along with the morsels of thacchi mammu the fact that she was second to none in the world just because the chromosomes decided differently. We tried always, sometimes successfully or sometimes not so, to make available to her the opportunities that she deserved. We loved her, spoilt her, disciplined her or put restrictions on her as the situation demanded for her own benefit or betterment but never because she wasn’t a ‘he’! Suffices to say the treatment would have been the same had she been a ‘he’! And hence never did it once cross my mind that she was a paraya dhan whom I would have to one day ‘gift’ away to some so called knight in a shining armour. Yet..!

YET! Despite all the above bravado never could I reconcile to the fact that one day I will have to say good bye to her as she goes on to decide whatever is good for her. For her career. For her marriage. For her life. All the above gyaan has still not prepared me to the fact that my baby girl will one day leave my house for another man! I don’t know whether this thinking would pass muster and camouflage this as my sense of concern, loss and worry rather than as an acceptance of a practice which is totally patriarchal. The thought does cross my mind and despite all the conditioning that I have done to my grey cells that it is her life, her choice and it is her decision that is paramount but try telling this to the father in me!  

I am however reassured that no calamity was in the offing as we are sure we are trying our best to equip her with all the knowledge, skills and experience which we can provide, buy and share with her so as to enable her to take educated and informed decisions on matters relating to her life. I was also fairly serene given the fact that such a parting would still be a decade or so away given her age. Imagine my consternation when like a bolt from the blue, the decade under discussion seems to have melted away and here we are on the doorsteps of exchanging hugs, kisses and tears of parting! My darling daughter is going away!

Was fate giving me an opportunity to reconcile to the pain that I would have to encounter in the future? Was it helping me prepare better for the blow that will fall on me? To prepare and equip me to help digest the sweet sorrow of parting that is in store for me? Now I know why those fathers shed tears when their angels get into the doli or drive away in the car decorated with flowers for their honeymoons. Now I do! Thank you fate for giving me the dress rehearsal. Thank you for grooming me up so that I am not left wanting when the D Day arrives. However I promise you this! Despite the rehearsal, I will shed tears when that moment arrives! Tears of concern, tears of worry, tears of love and tears of happiness. I don’t know when that eventual day will arrive but today on the day of ‘mini’ parting I make do with the song sung by millions of Indian fathers rooted to Bollywood, with slightly modified lyrics!

Khushi khushi kar do bida, Ke Rani beti raj karegi.

DU main admission mila, Ke Rani beti raj karegi!

FYI: DU as in Delhi University!

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PS: My Daughter In Delhi has always been my worst nightmare. I hope and pray my fears about Delhi are as exaggerated as the exaggerations is spin about my nightmares!

Glossary:

Thacchi Mammu : Curd rice in Tamil babyspeak

Paraya Dhan : Property belonging to others

Gyaan : Lecture/Knowledge

Doli : Ceremonial palanquin in which the bride leaves her father’s house.

The song reads “Send her off with a smile for She the Queen, will rule wherever she goes!”

For listening to the  'Farewell my baby' song mentioned in the post, click here!

 

  

I,Rapist - 2

Dear Rapist,

I shudder from top to toe when I write ‘Dear’ but then my values do not permit me to start with anything else. I read with interest and some amusement your note, your autobiography as you call it:This--> http://athakkali.blogspot.com/2013/04/irapist.html .

I could decipher the snigger and sarcasm dripping out of every syllable that the note carried. I could feel your sense of being ‘untouchable’ and your complete confidence in yourself to get away with murder as the expression is. Not to mention your tone which was patronizing and reeks of “I am like this only and you can’t do a thing about it”. I concede you, your moment of mirth and indeed agree on a few of your accusations regarding the way I have treated the women as second class citizen. But I also sense something more from your note. A sense of desperation, of fear, of defeat, of screws tightening around you.  You knew it the moment you accused me of mainstreaming you. Mainstream! No longer will you be able duck under the radar; no longer will I allow you to disappear from our collective conscience. Your mask of anonymity is pulled off, your cloak of mystery shred to pieces. Nothing, just nothing is going to restore your peace of mind.  The reams of newsprint, hours of primetime television as you say is after you 24/7. From social media to chatrooms, you are being disrobed across the world, real and virtual. The spotlight as they say is now firmly on you and nothing is going to take it away. Every time a politico says something senseless, you get the brickbats along with him. Every self styled godman who spouts medieval wisdom, has the kitchen sink thrown at him and you. Every time a youth on a strike shouts “We want Justice”, you get a step closer to being brought to it. And every time the police look the other way, I know they too will be in the docks keeping you company. No more dark alleys to hide, you are here, there, everywhere and I will keep it that way. You still think you are beyond my reach?

What you refer to in your note is just what is physically visible on the ground and you guffaw at measures which have failed to completely uproot you. No, I am not looking for tougher laws to rein you in as you suspect. No, I am not talking death penalty as it has never worked and never will. 24/7 policing I know it is not feasible. Chemical castration is like locking the stables after the horses have bolted. They are not a deterrent strong enough to hold you back. Did I hear you mutter “Then how?”?

You have only scratched the surface and as one would expect from you, are unable to look inside my subconscious. What you have failed to notice is the change in me. I, Husband, who could not stand up for my wife in a patrilineal household, am now standing up for my daughter. I,Mother who bore all the biases silently is now saying no to your domination. I,Son who was the prima donna in the society am now ready to take up cudgels on behalf of my sister. And I,Women, whom you tried by all means to eliminate and subjugate, am here not as a weakling but as an educated, independent, confident and empowered being. Empowerment! Guess you would never understand this word! And I am not referring to Gen-Next; I am Gen-Now, here and now.  No longer will you bully me with the fear of Shame!  No longer am I worried of hiding your deeds under the carpet in the name of Family honour, fear of seclusion, afraid of living a life of a recluse. I have mainstreamed you, I am changing the mindset of the dark ages and I am closing the easiest escape route that you took by putting ‘kudumba gauravam’ below the well being of my woman, my girl! I have got you cornered, hurting you where it hurts most. Through my mindset. I have learnt that to send you to ‘in’, I have to come ‘out’ into the open. Pun intended! Is that a frown that I notice developing on you face Mr. Rapist?

Long haul, you said? Yes! I know it is. A very long haul at that. It is a slow process indeed. Mindsets developed over millennia do not change that fast or easily. The process has begun, slowly but surely. It gains momentum by the minute and sooner rather than later will snowball into a deluge never seen before. A revolution that will permanently wipe off that smirk of yours! It is now but a matter of time. Welcome, be my guest, be a cynic! So were many more once, till 15^th August 1947 happened. The second freedom movement is well and truly underway.

 As my parting gift, here are a few lines which you can sing to yourself during the lonely life that awaits you in the nether world Mr. Rapist:

“The mindset of the dark ages which enslaves us,

 Is being set to a bonfire!

Slavery is a thing of the past,

 Men and women will live as equals in this great land of ours!”

Yours,

I, Hope!
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PS: The verse is from Mahakavi Subramania Bharathi’s immortal Tamil song “Viduthalai Viduthalai” (Freedom,Freedom). For helping me understand the soul of these awe inspiring lines and for this link http://www.raaga.com/player4/?id=11508&mode=100&rand=0.030441350070759654 (third stanza) my humble Namaskaram to Shri R.Janakiraman, @periyakulam! Thank you Sir!

I,Rapist!

I hate you! Rather I have developed this hatred for you since the past few months. Here I was blissful in anonymity; post the deed well done, till you mainstreamed me. Many things have been written about me recently ranging from uninformed, well intentioned but wrong, stupid, outrageous and some bordering on downright hilarious to say the least. All this attention though is bothering me no end, not to mention the downright libelous things being spoken about me.  Well the last straw did break the back and hence I take it upon myself to set the record straight so that one can reach my authentic autobiography. I, your friendly neighborhood Rapist.

Why shouldn’t I rape her? It is all her fault. For wasn’t she the one who bit the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden?  Hence she is an object to be killed when she is a foetus. Should she survive this attempt, she must either be abandoned or as my midwife friends in many villages do, fed with a liberal dose of ‘Aralippal’ to put her in eternal slumber. But we know this girl is a pretty tough species to get rid of easily. So we must prepare her to a life suited for her. Education did you say?  Why, when all she has to do is to listen to me, that’s all the intelligence she requires. Household chores she must learn because she is a servant. She should eat last, less, left over or starve as she is inferior. She should be prepared to be wed/sold as and when it catches my fancy or the need arises to the highest bidder. Isn’t she ‘Paraya Dhan’ anyway? (Disposable property my Tamil friends, welcome!) Why shouldn’t I profit from this ‘dhan’? She shouldn’t wear clothes of her choice, love and marry as she wishes, go where she wants after dark, decide her destiny, nothing. These go on to make her a person of bad character. Of course she will wear revealing clothes for films, sell flesh in every market from Kamathipura to Sonagachi and more, will walk the streets after dark to pick hungry customers when I say so! I have been raping her in million different ways and here are you, the ignoramus, raising a hue and cry for a simple act of intercourse against her wishes or an odd tap to her vagina with an iron rod.

STOP! If you get the impression that I am some sort of a fiend, I think it is my duty to correct you here and now! I love women, nay worship her.  Haven’t you seen me in temples from Kashmir to Kanyakumari offering clothing, jewellery, ‘prasad’ to her? Haven’t you seen me offer my hair as a mark of respect at Velankanni? Haven’t you seen me cover her in a protective black tent so as to avoid your ‘evil eye’?  Every ‘aadi maasam’ I organize festivals for her and feed ‘koozh’ to poor in her name.  I take ‘padayatra’ to Deorala in respect of her supreme sacrifice of joining her husband in his funeral pyre and become ‘Rani Sati’. I deck up the entire city of Kolkata, nay the entire state of Bengal and more to celebrate her annual arrival during Pooja and its Gujrati/Tamil variant ‘Navratri’. I try my best to stop her from visiting ‘mazaar’ of ‘Pir’ like Haji Ali lest they get afraid of spirits. I have even developed dance forms like ‘Garbha’ to celebrate the ‘sacred womb’ that she is blessed with. In Thiruchengode in Tamil Nadu is a temple where I have given half the body of Lord Shiva to her, ‘ArdhaNarishwaran’ as we call him. (Ardha-Half, Nari-Women, Ishwaran – Lord, Welcome). What more can I say about my ‘devotion’ for her!

I, Rapist have been outraged by this incessant focus on me being a pervert, a sadist, an animal and what not. My village background, my lack of education, my lack of ‘cool quotient’, my class, even my race, geography I belong to, has been dissected in reams of newsprint and hours of primetime television.  I mean that’s like missing the trees for the woods. Since when has education, urban background, bulging bank balance, ‘upmarket’ community or south Indian geography prevented me? I rape, period. Class, region, education, BPL status, age, religion no bar. Please note, I rape because I have been programmed to treat her like a worthless piece of garbage that she is. I rape, every minute, every day! And if you still want me punished, let the man who has never sinned throw the first stone! Amen!

Now where did she go??.................................

                                                                         --- End of Part 1---

Part 2 is in the offing. If you are not already disgusted with this ‘Mirror’ that is…………