I have umpteen reasons to despise the present home I live in.
The most important of them is, that the windows in my new home make me feel a prisoner, literally. The hall window allows me air utility from its one by four feet vent. In reality, it's a shutter window but will let in only that much air! What a difference from that MHADA home's hall that had the best of windows I have known!
The kitchen is my other eyesore. For a couple who cook together, this kitchen is an apology. It allows only one person to stand comfortable and my gas stove occupies most of its slab space. If I were to do an about turn from the gas, the kitchen shelf is on my face. Negotiating this space is like opening a lock with handcuffs on. Is that what the builder perceived the kitchen should be like? A box of suffocation?
My hall window opens directly into the terrace of the building next door (hardly a feet away). I bear the brunt of the day heat, and am forced to pull the curtain when I find men around there.
A bedroom that looks more like a store room space with its crammed up walls, thankfully has a window facing east. It means cool breeze. Only, I cannot look out of the window. It opens into a dirty backyard of a building, and another hideaway home.
The terrace above my second floor home is a breather. I can finally dry my clothes in the open! And look at the Kalakshetra buildings popping out of the trees in that compound, to dream of possibly spending time there!
The other boon is of course that a ride to the beach is five minutes away!
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
Monday, 18 January 2010
Am back: Writing from Chennai
For starters, apologies to those waiting for a post from me at Writing on Sand. It's been a neat 20 days since I posted.
My world's turned topsy-turvy in the meanwhile. New City. New Culture. Newer People. I've known this city since I opened my eyes, and yet it feels like I have landed somewhere out of my world. And cry at every image I remember of those sweet Mumbai moments! Chennai. East Coast. Off East Coast Road. How does that sound?
Chennai, where if I chose to sit by myself in a bus, a respectable old man would come by, have the audacity to tell me where I `should' be sitting. If it was Mumbai, I'd have snapped at him, `Tumse matlab?''
It's Chennai, which has perceivably given such characters moral sanction to question women's choice in public spaces. After his consistent pestering, and words I get to hear like, `Looks like you are an educated woman. Why are you not listening to me?', I show him his place politely.
`Am new to this city and I feel safe in this part of the bus. I am comfortable here and am your co-passenger. If you want my seat, go ahead and take it. But stop torturing me like this.''
He is zapped some chit of a woman could talk back that way. I am equally perplexed someone had the time and cowardice to pick on a passenger!
Chennai's good side exists too! The suburb I live in, is vibrant, cosmopolitan, and yet, culturally rooted. The best part over Pongal festival was that I spent three late evenings at Elliots Beach in Besant Nagar, grooving to folk-fusion and classical-fusion beats by bands playing out as part of Chennai Sangamam.
The fire-cracker show at the end of the finale, was the best I've seen till now.
The temples, reverberating music, friendly neighbours, and some lovely local cuisine nearly make up for the civic harshness and that gnawing feeling on roads that I am watched by hungry eyes.
Yet, nothing like those precious moments at Marine Drive.
My world's turned topsy-turvy in the meanwhile. New City. New Culture. Newer People. I've known this city since I opened my eyes, and yet it feels like I have landed somewhere out of my world. And cry at every image I remember of those sweet Mumbai moments! Chennai. East Coast. Off East Coast Road. How does that sound?
Chennai, where if I chose to sit by myself in a bus, a respectable old man would come by, have the audacity to tell me where I `should' be sitting. If it was Mumbai, I'd have snapped at him, `Tumse matlab?''
It's Chennai, which has perceivably given such characters moral sanction to question women's choice in public spaces. After his consistent pestering, and words I get to hear like, `Looks like you are an educated woman. Why are you not listening to me?', I show him his place politely.
`Am new to this city and I feel safe in this part of the bus. I am comfortable here and am your co-passenger. If you want my seat, go ahead and take it. But stop torturing me like this.''
He is zapped some chit of a woman could talk back that way. I am equally perplexed someone had the time and cowardice to pick on a passenger!
Chennai's good side exists too! The suburb I live in, is vibrant, cosmopolitan, and yet, culturally rooted. The best part over Pongal festival was that I spent three late evenings at Elliots Beach in Besant Nagar, grooving to folk-fusion and classical-fusion beats by bands playing out as part of Chennai Sangamam.
The fire-cracker show at the end of the finale, was the best I've seen till now.
The temples, reverberating music, friendly neighbours, and some lovely local cuisine nearly make up for the civic harshness and that gnawing feeling on roads that I am watched by hungry eyes.
Yet, nothing like those precious moments at Marine Drive.
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
A tear in my eye
I look out of my window, for that all familiar night view of my suburb. Lights making those skyscrapers look like tall matchboxes shining with glow-dents.The only difference between today and my home as always, is that the scant furniture that gave it that ultra-home feel is out. My luggage has moved out. The kitchen is empty but for some plastic bottles that I used to store water. And walls full of memories. Twenty-four months is not a long time...
With a tear in my eye, I moved the last of my belongings from that apartment. From a complete stranger who set foot in the mad city, got overwhelmed by it, hated it, and grew eventually to love it, I have grown many times over in Mumbai.
When I arrived, my neighbours had shut their doors on my face. When I left, I had the same neighbours open their doors to give me that all friendly smile and say those words I love - `visit us when you come to Mumbai' and a bunch of other friends who said their emotional byes. The city does weave its magic! I've moved bag and baggage from the city I grew to adore, rather reluctantly.
Two years back, it was the fear of the new that gnawed me away when I arrived Mumbai. Now, it is fear of the familiar doing exactly that with Chennai.
Very soon, I want to return to Mumbai. For many reasons. One of them, is that Mumbai made me a winner at a profound level.
When I left Mumbai, I no longer felt a migrant. I felt, at home. Mumbai, I salute you!
With a tear in my eye, I moved the last of my belongings from that apartment. From a complete stranger who set foot in the mad city, got overwhelmed by it, hated it, and grew eventually to love it, I have grown many times over in Mumbai.
When I arrived, my neighbours had shut their doors on my face. When I left, I had the same neighbours open their doors to give me that all friendly smile and say those words I love - `visit us when you come to Mumbai' and a bunch of other friends who said their emotional byes. The city does weave its magic! I've moved bag and baggage from the city I grew to adore, rather reluctantly.
Two years back, it was the fear of the new that gnawed me away when I arrived Mumbai. Now, it is fear of the familiar doing exactly that with Chennai.
Very soon, I want to return to Mumbai. For many reasons. One of them, is that Mumbai made me a winner at a profound level.
When I left Mumbai, I no longer felt a migrant. I felt, at home. Mumbai, I salute you!
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Ruchika case: Thank You...
It is with utmost sincerity and deepest regards that I address this letter to the government of India, the supreme power, to the judiciary, the almighty, the politician, who surpasses all these, and the cop, who enjoys the love and benevolence of the politician.
Thank you so much sirs, for telling me, a survivor, what exactly I must expect of the system if I dare approach it for as serious an offence as Child Sexual Abuse. Thank you Constitution, for me not having to deal with those three horrible words at all in law books.
Thank you judiciary. Really, really, thank you! Blessed art thou....need I say more?
Thank you, for thereby allowing millions of offenders out there in homes, enjoying the tender bodies of vulnerable children for as many years as they can. Thank you, for letting them inflict gnashes on the bodies of girls, threatening them artfully, touching them all over, many a time even boys! Thank you, for showing me my place. And telling me that should I commit suicide like Ruchika and should my parents pursue the case as dilligently as her parents did, they would still be hounded by the system that favours the offenders rather than their daughter. Thank you for telling me right away, that at the end of such a battle, it is my parents who will cry still while the offender has the ....last laugh.
Thank you cop. You are the last word around us! You can smile easy when you are faced with a laughable jail term. For all I know, you will get treated like a king out there! After all, have you not been the one in control of thing, right? Unleash your colleagues on us hapless souls. They could satiate their lethal appetite too, and get away with it!
Thank you politician, for blessing the offender with such lovely stars that he can smile away for eternity. You, are the almighty! You walk and the cop follows! You bless and the cop becomes blessed! Bless the cop more, with some more favours for his family members, some more promotions!
Cop, should I understand that you have women in your family too! Probably women who you may in remote possibility, love! And women who you're slapping on face and saying exactly what you'd love to, that you can have your share of fun, others of your breed can have their share of fun, and women, yours or theirs, would have to put up with it!
Thank you Government, I mean, Government of India! Thank you, for doing nothing, nothing at all except for throwing empty words in the air, when it comes to the safety of women in this country. Thank you for telling me, a woman, that I would have been safer if I was not born at all. If I was killed before birth, I would not be lusted after by hungry wolves out there even if I wore a burkha, is it not? And they have a right to touch me at the slightest possible chance! If God never made me, I would not be prone to vultures out there in buses, offices, worse, homes, isn't it?
Thank you for letting me know that your prized politicians will fight tooth and nail against a 33 per cent reservation bill for women, while ensuring that women's safety should only be as far as suiting their sexual and emotional needs, 100 per cent.
Thank you all those families, who've sent out messages to your children, that should they report to you about someone of your ilk molesting them, you WILL NOT believe them. God knows what you will do, but you will ensure IT IS swept under the carpet. And let another perpetrator have his share of lust and beastliness, thanks to your ability to silence your child.
Yours...sincerely..
Thank you so much sirs, for telling me, a survivor, what exactly I must expect of the system if I dare approach it for as serious an offence as Child Sexual Abuse. Thank you Constitution, for me not having to deal with those three horrible words at all in law books.
Thank you judiciary. Really, really, thank you! Blessed art thou....need I say more?
Thank you, for thereby allowing millions of offenders out there in homes, enjoying the tender bodies of vulnerable children for as many years as they can. Thank you, for letting them inflict gnashes on the bodies of girls, threatening them artfully, touching them all over, many a time even boys! Thank you, for showing me my place. And telling me that should I commit suicide like Ruchika and should my parents pursue the case as dilligently as her parents did, they would still be hounded by the system that favours the offenders rather than their daughter. Thank you for telling me right away, that at the end of such a battle, it is my parents who will cry still while the offender has the ....last laugh.
Thank you cop. You are the last word around us! You can smile easy when you are faced with a laughable jail term. For all I know, you will get treated like a king out there! After all, have you not been the one in control of thing, right? Unleash your colleagues on us hapless souls. They could satiate their lethal appetite too, and get away with it!
Thank you politician, for blessing the offender with such lovely stars that he can smile away for eternity. You, are the almighty! You walk and the cop follows! You bless and the cop becomes blessed! Bless the cop more, with some more favours for his family members, some more promotions!
Cop, should I understand that you have women in your family too! Probably women who you may in remote possibility, love! And women who you're slapping on face and saying exactly what you'd love to, that you can have your share of fun, others of your breed can have their share of fun, and women, yours or theirs, would have to put up with it!
Thank you Government, I mean, Government of India! Thank you, for doing nothing, nothing at all except for throwing empty words in the air, when it comes to the safety of women in this country. Thank you for telling me, a woman, that I would have been safer if I was not born at all. If I was killed before birth, I would not be lusted after by hungry wolves out there even if I wore a burkha, is it not? And they have a right to touch me at the slightest possible chance! If God never made me, I would not be prone to vultures out there in buses, offices, worse, homes, isn't it?
Thank you for letting me know that your prized politicians will fight tooth and nail against a 33 per cent reservation bill for women, while ensuring that women's safety should only be as far as suiting their sexual and emotional needs, 100 per cent.
Thank you all those families, who've sent out messages to your children, that should they report to you about someone of your ilk molesting them, you WILL NOT believe them. God knows what you will do, but you will ensure IT IS swept under the carpet. And let another perpetrator have his share of lust and beastliness, thanks to your ability to silence your child.
Yours...sincerely..
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