Monthly Archives: March 2011

Heaven and Hell

“Heaven and Hell are right here on Earth.“ My  father repeats this over and over again, but it takes drastic, hard-hitting doses of reality for me to grasp and absorb his wisdom.

My friend Ajay, a journalist based out of Mumbai, just sent me this: Hell in Mumbai.  

I read it and intended to relax around for the evening but a volley of thoughts has flooded my mind, and they must be put down in writing.

Ajay rightly says that the Indian Government has failed its own people. But they’re not the only ones – so have the police and civic services, and above all, we the people.

We have failed those whom we depend on time and again.

At the risk of inviting the wrath of others, I think that a large part of this inertia that stops us from doing anything despite being faced with abject poverty day after day, is that we explain it away. And the more intelligent we are, the worse, because our intellect can help us come up with increasingly creative explanations. (Sidenote: I have a growing list of intelligent phenomena that are negative and hurtful, and that list is expanding and exploding out of control).

A large part of this is due to the perversion of the idea of “Karma” and its use and abuse by the average Indian. In a Hindu majority country, where religion is tightly intertwined into our lives, we use Karma to explain to ourselves why those born at the bottom of the social ladder deserve it.

It doesn’t matter whether or not you believe in Karma, nor does it matter whether or not you’re religious. I’m not religion bashing, nor am I blaming the concept of Karma – that is too easy. It is just another way to blame something or someone else for existing misery. Whatever you chose to blame: the person in misery, karma, religion, your conditioning, or theirs – this is just shifting blame, it is just an excuse to not act. Blaming Danny Boyle for romanticising poverty and exposing the underbelly of our cities, saying that this is not the face of real India, is also just shifting the blame.

We have such deep economic disparities that the numbers that would stun anyone. Just because they don’t make the headlines every day doesn’t mean that these are not real problems, it doesn’t mean that they are not ticking time bombs. The fact that this misery and poverty is normalised does not make it normal.

My mother teaches deaf and mute children to talk without using sign language. Spend an afternoon with them, help them articulate how they spent their day at school, and you will wonder like I do. You will wonder why we who have two hands and legs that are still working, all our senses intact, and a functioning brain, still manage to shift the blame and not act.

When we understand that Heaven and Hell are indeed right here on Earth, and that they are products of our own making, then perhaps we will get up and act. Then, maybe, we will stop waiting for a God or a saviour to come around and help us.

Before you accuse me of blogging in my comfortable bed in a pretty apartment in Western Europe: I will have to ask you to wait a few months and try and say that to me again. Then things will be clearer.

Ajay also said to me that “the women get the worst.” I do not want to begin to imagine what little girls go through in these parts of my city every day.

Just yesterday I was walking around in Amsterdam with a female friend, the weather was quite pleasant, which gave some tourists additional reason to get drunk/stoned out of their minds. There was a group of boys, one of whom tried to forcibly feed my friend some chips from a bag that he was eating from. That was bizzare, and we ignored it, walked along and then turned back to go elsewhere when we encountered them again. We walked past them without looking and a minute later one of the guys was standing in front when I realised that another one of them had forced himself between my friend and I and put his arms around us while the guy in front took a picture. Lecherous screaming from a third guy followed, which is when I lost it and screamed at them to “Get away.” We kept walking but a volley of abuse continued, which included “You talking to me bitch? I will break your head off.”

This was a minor incident, but there were about 15 people seated at a cafe that we passed. They were watching this whole scene as if it was completely normal. What really stayed with me was the violence in the guy’s words. They were drunk/stoned I know, but the words were sharp and acrimonious anyway.

I turned to my friend once we were a safe distance away and said “I don’t understand why these people think they can get away with anything. I don’t want to know what the women who work in the red-light district here have to go through. If they can talk to respectably dressed girls on the street like this, imagine what they think they can get away with when they are paying for a service.”

This is not totally unrelated to the rant about Dharavi above. Combine deep poverty and misogyny and the worst possible humanitarian crisis unfolds before your eyes.

Many will tell you that the women who work as prostitutes are opting to go through the kind of abuse that sex workers face every day. Saying that they’re earning it is the same thing again: shifting the blame.

Wheter you practice Metta like me, pray, send good thoughts, or whatever else you do – don’t forget the slumdogs of our world. Especially not the girls.

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India’s space

There’s obviously a ton of thoughts on the subject in my head, but specifically on the the direction of India’s space programme and ways for the benefits to percolate to the masses – by which I mean the entire population including the rural and urban poor, farmers… everyone.

But I need to read up on the spectrum scandal and a bunch of other stuff before I can say anything. Besides, all I’ve seen so far are politically coloured analyses. I want to hear from the source: legal judgements, investigations, papers, ISRO statements (if any). If you have any such material, I really would love to hear from you.

It’ll take me some time, but the rant is in the making, I promise.

If you don’t see anything here a few weeks from now, feel free to remind me.

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“How have things changed for women in your country over your lifetime?”

The kind folks over at The Guardian’s Global Development site asked if I wanted to send in a reflections piece as part of a project for International Women’s Day. Answering “How have things changed for women in your country over your lifetime?” in less than 400 words can’t be easy, but it’s a welcome challenge.

Here it is: Life in India on International Women’s day. This one is for my parents and Uncle

I started from 1500 words of thoughts and notes that I whittled into what they’ve published. Most of my statements are unqualified for lack of space, not explanation. Tons more to add, say and explain. That’s what I plan to use this blog for anyway.

The interactive that this is part of: Voices from around the world.

Will also take a look at the other pieces on the interactive as soon as I have a second.

Again, thank you Maria Bennett for the photo.

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Update at about 6:30 am on 9 March 2011

I didn’t have the time to look through the entire International Women’s Day Interactive until much later yesterday.

I have to say: wow! What a group of women to be featured alongside!

There’s Regina Yau, founder of the pixel project, Shaharzad Akbar, the first Afghan woman to study at graduate level in Oxford, Bandana Rana from Nepal, women from Sierra Leone, Thailand, Palestine, Israel, Brazil, Burundi, the Phillipines, Southern Sudan, Cambodia, Panama and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Amazing.

It should be clear enough from what I wrote: my dedication for IWD 2011 was to my parents and uncle, for being the trail-blazers that they are.

In addition to them, I want to say this to the women of South Asia: in a subcontinent where even just being a woman can be life-threatening, your strength, courage, attitude and compassion – despite your circumstances – is a beacon to the world. My sisters in Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Burma, India, Nepal, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, I salute you.

 

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International Whose Day?

Is what I’m thinking.

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