Desicritics Category: Culture: Family

Book Review: The Wish Maker by Ali Sethi

Vinod Joseph — Fri, 3 Jul 2009 07:34:40 EDT

I have just finished reading The Wish Maker and the sights, sounds and smells of upper-middle class Pakistan are still with me. Though I am nowhere near Pakistan, I can still see around me the crowded thoroughfares of Lahore. If twenty-four year old Ali Sethi’s main objective was to convey to his readers an idea of what life is like for Pakistanis of his class and ilk, he has succeeded admirably.

Having spent all his life in Pakistan, except for a brief holiday to Spain, Sethi’s protagonist Zaki Shirazi goes to the US for his higher studies. The novel starts with Zaki’s return to Lahore from the US for his cousin Samar Api’s wedding. Actually Samar Api is not his cousin, she’s his father’s first cousin and consequently his aunt. However, Samar is generous enough to treat him as a cousin most of the time, though occasionally she reminds him otherwise.

Zaki’s father was an airforce pilot who died in an accident when Samar was ‘minus two months old’. Zaki is brought up by his mother Zakia who is a journalist and a political activist. Surrounded by women, his mother, his paternal grandmother – Daadi, the domestic help Naseem and Samar Api, Zaki has an unusual childhood. For example, he gets to accompany his mother to a political protest and they end up spending the night in police custody. Zaki is sent to a posh school where he makes some friends and even tries to get picked (by his teachers) as a class monitor. There is a surprising amount of politicking, buttering up and back stabbing involved in getting picked as the class monitor. School politics almost mirrors the politics played by adults in the big, bad world outside. Zaki gets into trouble once in a while. What child doesn’t? Sethi does a very good job describing Zaki’s school life. I’ll leave it to you to read the book and find out more for yourself.

Zaki’s cousin Samar Api is an Amitabh Bachchan fan and when she has an affair, she is looking for her Amitabh. When Zaki returns to Pakistan for Samar’s wedding, he knows that the London educated lawyer she’s marrying is her Amitabh.

By way of flashbacks and otherwise, Sethi tells us the story of three generations of Pakistanis. We are shown Papu and Mabi, his maternal grandparents. Papu migrated to Pakistan from his ancestral home in India and he ends up as the General Manager of a posh hotel. Mabi is the hostess of a Chinese restaurant inside the hotel. We get to know how Zaki’s parents met. We are shown the (decadent?) lifestyles of some of Zaki’s cousins. As I have mentioned earlier, one gets to smell the real Pakistan, albeit from an upper class balcony.

Political events in Pakistan form the backdrop to this story. One gets bits of commentary on everything from the Partition, the various coups that took place in Pakistan, Zulfikar Bhutto’s execution, Benazir Bhutto’s election etc.

Sethi’s language is pretty straight forward and matter of fact, except when he makes a conscious effort to use poetic language. This happens only in a few paragraphs and they stand out. No, I’m not saying they don’t gel with the rest of the book, but they do stand out.

All in all, I would definitely recommend this book, though I am sure that Sethi’s best is yet to come.

SPOILERS AHEAD – DON’T READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU ARE PLANNING TO BUY THE BOOK BASED ON WHAT YOU HAVE READ SO FAR

I have a few grumbles about the book. My main crib is that Zaki’s relationship with Samar Api is not covered as well as it ought to be. After Zaki lands in Lahore for Samar Api’s wedding, he doesn’t go and meet her and the reader doesn’t meet her either, except when the wedding actually takes place. You are told that Zaki and Samar are very close, but you see Zaki going around town with his other cousins, and Samar doesn’t make an appearance for a while. In fact, the only time Zaki and Samar are shown to be close and talking and exchanging secrets is when they are both very young and they have a few mutual friends. After Zaki is moved to a posh school, Samar Api sort of disappears. Samar Api doesn’t have a presence in a large swathe of the book.

My only other point of dispute with Sethi, and I am nitpicking here, is the scene which takes place in the days just after the US started to help the Mujahhidin fight the Soviets in Afghanistan. Zaki’s mother, the political activist, is shown telling a retired Brigadier that the US and Pakistan were making a mistake by helping the Afghan fighters. Just before she does that, a visiting American intellectual and a friend of Zakia, declares that the blowback (from helping the Mujahhidin) would be costly. If Sethi didn’t have the benefit of hindsight, I doubt if he could have written anything of this sort. Just after the Soviet invasion, I don’t think there were any Americans or Pakistanis worrying about the “blowback” from helping the Mujahhidin. In those days, the only serious dangers the world faced came with a capital C – Capitalism and Communism, depending on whose side you were on. Religious fundamentalism was not a major problem. Many Arab nations such as Egypt were going through a phase of Arab nationalism and socialism. I’m sure we’ll get to read a lot more of Sethi in the days to come.

Harassment Of Women On Cairo Streets

Kim — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 09:12:23 EDT

Warning: While most of my posts are General Audience, this post has some material that you may not want young children reading.

Sexual Harassment on the streets of Cairo is a common topic that comes up whenever a couple of women here in Egypt meet up, online or in someone's home.

There are those that say that it isnt really bad, incidents of rape are so low compared to the US, what's the harm in a little cat calling? The problem is that if you ignore the cat calling, it then turns to men masturbating at the sight of a women (I've had friends who said they saw their taxi drivers masturbating with one hand while driving with the other, simply because a foreign looking woman got into the back seat of their car), groping (which happens in a lot of cases) and could eventually by progression lead to rape if this malaise is not stopped in its tracks.

I've posted before, about Sexual Harassment but its mostly been newspaper articles or other people's experiences. Few women choose to detail their own humiliation for dissection to the world (its a different matter between close friends who understand and have gone through the same - that is in a way, slightly therapeautic)

When I last traveled to Dubai in March, most papers were filled with the news of 2 construction worker immigrants who were facing court proceedings for cat calling/ whistling at a South East Asian maid.

Points to be noted about Dubai.
1. Women (foreigners/expats) here cover far less than the majority of women in Egypt. (think tank tops and shorts to the maximum, off shoulder, backless, low necklines are pretty common too)
2. This is a muslim majority country and local Emirati women are predominantly dressed in the black abaya type hijab. Fully covered black robes and heads/hair covered.
3. There is a high number of single men - men who have left their wives behind in home countries because they cannot afford to bring them over when they are here on long work contracts/ unmarried men.
4. There is a large population of hired labour living in what would be considered as Below Poverty Line status in the rest of the world.

All of these have been used as excuses to brush away sexual harassment in Egypt, yet Sexual harassment in Dubai overall is not even 0.1% of what "I" face in Egypt on a daily basis.

Why? Mainly because authorities take action about any such complaint. The law is tough and it is applied without fail. No excuses.

I'm not saying that everything about Dubai culture is perfect or everything about Egypt is imperfect (I've lived in Egypt for 3 years) but harassment on the roads makes me tend to avoid going out unless absolutely necessary or in a large group of friends. I know a lot of expat women in Egypt who are here on husbands postings, who do not visit anywhere that is not an expat dominated location for fear of being assaulted. While such fears may not be justified, it is a real feeling that these women live with daily.

A closer look at my wardrobe, shows me much higher necks and back lines than 3 years ago. Sleeves below the elbows, loose fitting semi-shapeless clothes. Visiting Lebanon and Dubai makes me realise how much I have changed my own style of dressing to suit this country. (Not that I ever wore plunging necklines to work in India, but they didnt all end above my collar bone either) Changing the way I dress, was just one of the adaptations to blend into the culture and surroundings in Egypt.

My husband and I both love traveling around the country/city and discovering hidden gems of cultural, architectural and historical interest which takes us into sometimes weird areas. Our driver/translator despairs when 'Madame' wants to visit Souk al Gumma (The second-hand Friday market) and other such areas, which he tells me even his mother and sister who have lived in Cairo all their lives, avoid.

But a part of the charm and beauty of living in another country is to explore its nooks and crannies. Unfortunately in Egypt, exploration into some of these nooks and crannies brings a lot of unwanted attention and in many cases, especially if my husband isnt with me, harassment both verbal and sometimes physical. So one has to be extra careful about where one goes, with whom one goes and what kind of clothes one is wearing.

Fortunately, not being cursed with blond hair, white skin and blue eyes, the harassment that I face is less than those who look "foreign" even if they are conservatively dressed.

Yes, making a scene helps and you don't need to speak in Arabic. I remember generally strolling around the pyramids alone when my husband went inside one of them (I'm claustrophobic and chose to not go in) one of those camel ride guys was persistently trying to get my attention. As is the case with most touts in the pyramids area (I have visited over 25 times in the last 3 years) I continued to ignore him, as though I couldn't understand him and refused to make eye contact. (this may seem rude, but works in most cases of persistent touts) Usually after 3-4 tries they leave me alone. This guy actually touched my hand and attempted to give me the riding whip/stick for the camel. While his gesture was not sexual, he was still "touching" me without my permission and when I had given him absolutely no reason to believe I was interested.

In Egypt, Egyptian women will never permit a strange man to ever touch them, so why do they think it is ok with tourists/foreigners? Anyhow I screamed at him in English "How dare you touch me, what do you think of yourself, what gives you the right to even touch me?" Nothing abusive, nothing indecent. In English and loudly. It was enough to make the people around stop and look and stare at the man. There was nothing confrontational about my attitude. I just made a noise to attract the attention of other people around to what was clearly something this camel guy should not have been doing. He immediately apologised and slunk away. The incident shocked him (I train people in NLP and Body language, so I KNOW he was shocked) and I doubt he will be touching any women any time soon.

But why do foreign women coming to/visiting Egypt allow these men to touch them, hand on shoulders, holding hands (not shaking hands) People whom they have just met in a shop, not people they know. They would not allow men in their home country to impose on their personal space this way, but yet some of them are perceivably ok when it happens to them in a new country. Any theories?

Point to be noted. Most of the harassment, my friends & I have faced, has been in Cairo. Men in Luxor, Aswan, Alexandria (unless during the Cairene summer invasion), Dahab, Sharm el Sheikh, Hurghada, Abu Simbel, Bahariyya, Siwa, Sinai have been way more respectful of women.

Teamwork

rads — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 00:03:29 EDT

Problem:

You land outside a center for your son's class. The doors are shut and the access requires the teacher to buzz doors open. The doorbell's busted. Three minutes left for the class to start and the son gets antsy.

Wife's solution:

1. Stress and curse under breath for a full minute, before wheels churn.
2. Ask son to check if he has the teacher's phone number written somewhere in his book.
3. Drive into an alley, put blinkers on, and shield the toddler's incessant questions on why the car was parked and not going the usual route.
4. Check phone to see if the phone number was miraculously saved. Realize it isn't and wonder why.
5. In the meanwhile, try calling another parent who also attends the same class. No answer.
6. Use the handy iPhone and check gmail to see if the number's in any email.
7. Acknowledge that gmail's superior search function in the new updated iPhone system is useless, unless the right query's inserted.
8. Think.
9. Realize with glee that the teacher had indeed called, but sadly 7 days ago.
10. Quickly stroll through the calls and find a number that could match the time when the call was received.
11. Thank iPhone's feature on saving all missed calls.
12. Dial.
13. Get a voicemail that says "am out of the country, but here's my sub's number"
14. Memorize the said number rattled out in a tone that resembles a desi version of Kramer on caffeine.
15. Dial the number.
16. Get the sub to open door for husband waiting outside.

Husband's solution:

1. Say 'Oh'.
2. Call the wife.

Fathers Rally in Bangalore for Access to Children

Sumanth — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 14:29:49 EDT

On the eve of International Father's Day, fathers separated from their children protest in Bangalore on Saturday.

The Indian Judicial System is cluttered with 3 million pending court cases. There are 13,000 cases pending in the Bangalore family court alone. The old mindsets in society find it difficult to understand the importance of child custody or visitation for men. The 16th century MCP mindset is that men are polygamous and it’s common for a man to ditch a woman and children to marry other woman.

However, in this metro-sexual era, young men are also playing the role of a nurturer unlike their dads in the 60s or 70s. Fathers today are worst hit during separation or divorce. The small children are cut off from these fathers and often they are not even allowed to see the children for months or even years. A few years back, courts used to find it very strange that even a dad could ask for child custody or that a father can bring up children. The children suffer the worst between the warring parents.

We were tired of counseling these grieving Dads, who had no chance of getting justice. That's when one of our special envoys enrolled Kumar Jahgirdar to work with us to create a Dad's movement in India. We met in Cubbon Park in December 2007 and his funny, positive and energetic view of life inspired fathers in Bangalore.

Kumar Jahgirdar has been fighting for more than a decade for custody of his daughter after his ex-wife Chetana married former Indian Cricket Captain and Spin Bowler Anil Khumble.

(Link, Link)

Fathers across India got united with support from Kumar and work began on research on issues of negative impact on children due to parental alienation syndrome, parental abduction from US, the Hague Convention on International child abduction and the children's right to have access to both biological parents. (link)

The data on impact of fatherlessness in US, is shocking. 70% of prisoners in US have not seen their fathers. The fatherless children have very high rate of crime, drug abuse, suicide, teenage pregnancy and rape (Link). The fathers in India got ready to not only campaign for their rights, but also to protect their children from parental alienation syndrome. (Link)

That's when the Children's Rights Initiative for Shared Parenting (CRISP) was created. Not only Dads, but also Mothers, who are deprived of child custody started approaching it. There are even grand parents, who contacted CRISP for their right to have an access to their grand children(Link).

On the eve of Father's Day, CRISP has organized a Protest in front of Gandhi Statue, M.G.Road on Saturday (11 am to 1 pm) to demand shared parenting and to put an end to denial of children's right to have access to both biological parents.

The Times of India Reports:

Kumar Jahgirdar said,“I want to clarify one thing. The members are not only fathers who are fighting for the rights of their children’s custody. We have both fathers, mothers and grandparents, who are fighting for justice and equality in child custody laws of our country and who believe in shared parenting when the parents are either separated or divorced,”

“In the process of parents getting divorced, it is ultimately the children who suffer the most. Thus we want equal rights for both the parents over their children,” said Lokesh Reddy, a member of CRISP.

“We want a change in Indian family law which in most cases is tilted towards the mother when it comes to a child’s custody,” he added.

According to CRISP, parents contemplating divorce should be given mandatory counselling on “shared parenting” and its benefits by a panel of experts supervised by the family courts.

“This will eliminate unnecessary child custody battles, stress to the parents and children and waste of the precious time of the courts,” said Jayant, another member of CRISP.

The situation is grim and there is little justice for Dads even today. The Indian Govt has failed to take any steps to deal with these side effects of marital problems. The delays in courts are proving to be fatal.

In April 2009, a software engineer named Syed Makhdoom committed suicide after being cut off from his children for prolonged period of time. Syed wrote blogs seeking help and even mentioned his phone number in the blog. Any NGO can give hope, but not many have the strength to wait for couple of years to get child visitation, when they live every day thinking whether their children can even recognise them after a separation of a year or two. Syed left an 8 minutes video before hanging himself. (Syed's Blog, Bangalore Mirror Article)

Even as I go through the comments in Bangalore Mirror article, I see a comment with email address,"anonymous, ******(at)gmail(dot)com.

My story is same as Syed. I am not being allowed to see my daughter by my wife. May be I too will commit suicide like Mr. Syed. Is anyone willing to help me. Please help me see my daughter."

It is high time, Indian Judicial reforms take place in India and judges dispose the interim custody and visitation orders on a high priority basis. The number of Family Courts has to be increased all over India immediately, as there are 13,000 cases pending in Bangalore alone. It is also important to appoint younger judges in family courts, who can connect to the younger generation of men and women and react to fast changing realities of the society. The courts have to be operated in multiple shifts in mornings, day time and evenings, even holidays and Sundays to dispose all the cases at the earliest. If Hotels and Airports can operate 24/7, why can not courts?

Fiction: Dessicate

rads — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 22:49:24 EDT

Summers were always the worst. The city scorched and charred under the blazing heat. So did everyone living there, including me. It was always hot I guess, one never really realizes such things until it cooled. Which it never did. So, I never really understood how hot the days were and how wilted, parched and thirsty I always seemed.

I did notice the subtleties around me. The ones that made the times I live in, the place I grew up.

The trees went pale green and then gave up as the brown overwhelmed them. The dust forming a fine layer over all in nonchalance. The caked grounds forming deep empty gutters with each passing day. Even the ants moved lethargically, tempting me to crush them under my finger or even the big toe. Just like I did with the flies. There were many buzzing around the bananas that were turning black in front of our eyes. Flies were the hardest to get rid of. Mosquitoes were easy. These flies, they were dropping like the mosquitoes.

Sorry state of affairs when energy saps enough to change one from within to form a different specie.

My lazy teenage neighbors would throw disapproving glances at us when mom's pressure cooker woke them up at 8 am. The sun's rays burnt deep streaks onto our beds, kitchen and patio. We shielded their rooms in the mornings for exchange of the pleasanter cooler waves of the evening.

Balance, as my grandma would say.

Perhaps that's what she meant when she said she had never known drought growing up and now at the age of 70 she managed to shower and wash her sari in a small bucket of water that she pulled up the well herself. It usually took her one whole Hanuman Chalisa to bring up enough water to fill that bucket. Then she included Lakshmi Ashtotram too. This was God's way of making sure she paid attention to Him than while she sat in the Puja room, with just the wall separating the neighbor's incessant chatter with his girlfriend.

Mother was upset as much as she was excited. All those summer prep foods including green mangoes that needed to dehydrate enough to look like raw bone hide were being made at a pace that would put an assembly line at the local rubber factory to shame. She didn't like the fact that she had to draw water from the well and she couldn't just turn the tap and do her things like at her home in the town. "This is what I traded for the city lights?" She'd grumble. Every mug, glass and vessel she filled when the local tank came to supply the rationed 4 buckets of water per family. We managed another 2 more as the bachelor living upstairs really didn't need 4. What would he do with so much water? Swim in it?

"We adapt." Dad explained: "When you learn to live with very less, you can survive anywhere and a survivor's always respected, admired. By stroke of luck, fortune or hard work if you do land in a better place than you are, it's just going to make living all the more sweeter."

Dad should've been a boy scout master or a pastor. He seemed to always find hope in the hopeless.

Apparently, I've lived thirsty and parched, for a good part of my life. I had no idea what thirst was, as that's how it's always been. How does one know better when one hasn't experienced it?

Since he's walked into my life last year it's been raining. There have been the occasional drizzle, the thunderstorm, the tropical lush soothing rain, the spring showers and of course there's always that hail of last winter. There's a pleasure, a thrill and even a fascination in each experience. Always leaving me changed just a bit from within. Perhaps moisture has that effect as much as heat did? He told me that he didn't like the thunder and the hail. Rains he could take, showers he loved, and the occasional drizzle was the best. Anything else shook him from within. Like the palm trees shook at the approach of a tornado.

Dessicated I stand wondering on how one adapts going back. I've tasted water, and now the thirst dries me up from within.

So where's the balance I ask myself and my grandma, now in heaven. She however, is a smart lady. Hitting her forehead, she goes back to her Vishnu Sahasranamam while I stood under the sun, scorching. Again.

Diwali Dreams: Kal Aaj Aur Kal

Somik Raha — Tue, 9 Jun 2009 08:31:35 EDT

This is a skit I wrote 2 years back, on the occasion of Diwali. Please feel free to use it as you like. Do let me know if you perform this somewhere.

Scene 1: Kal (Yesterday)
Father and mother are talking to each other.

Father: We must plan a big Diwali (Festival of Lights) celebration. Our son is coming home after a long time.

Mother: Indeed, I am eager to make so many sweets for my daughter-in-law. She especially loves rasamalai.
Father: Our grandson must be old enough to walk. I must go buy some clothes for him.
Mother: Let's tell them about our plans today. Our son should have called by now.

Phone rings..
Son: Hello Ma, how are you?
Mother: I am fine beta, how are you? What time is it?
Son: Great! It's 9 PM Friday night, as always and it's 9:30 AM at your end, as always!
Mother: Son, we are making our Diwali plans - we're really excited about all the things we will do when you come here. Your father is here too, and you can hear him on the speaker phone.
Son: Umm.. Ma, Baba, I am sorry, but we're making other plans this time. The thing is, we only get 3 weeks of vacations every year, and we use that to come to India. This time, we want to go to South America.
Father: What? So you won't come home this time, son?
Mother: We haven't seen you all year!
Son: Please try to understand. We really miss you, but we must have some time on our own too. With our current lifestyle, we're unable to get a vacation any other time.
Father: Don't worry, son. We will see you next year.
Mother: Yes, I will do puja for you, bahu and our grandson.
Son: Thanks, Ma, Baba! I knew you'd understand. I have to run now, we're going to a movie.. all is well here, I will catch you next week.
Mother, Father: Bye!

Father and Mother look at each other.
Father: Hmm, we broke our backs to get him to school. We got him through IIT coaching classes, he got through to IIT and he is a big man now in the US. He does not have any time for us.
Mother: There, there. You should not make hasty conclusions. They have their own life to live and we have ours. Our happiness lies in their happiness.
Father: Hmmm.

That night.. Father is sleeping and he sees a dream. Enter from left, a young boy carrying a sack with things in it. He is hardly able to walk because of the weight.

Father: Boy, I see you are struggling with that weight. Can I help you?
Boy: No one can help me. Only I can carry this weight.
Father: What weight is this?
Boy: These are my expectations. I have lots of expectations.
Father: Why don't you let go? You won't have such a load then?
Boy: But what will happen to my expectations then?
Father: They will cease to be.
Boy: Really? You mean I don't have to drag it around?
Father: No. It is you who decides to drag it around. So also it is you who can leave them behind. Life will be much easier.

Boy hesitatingly lets go, then looks at the bag
Father: If you don't let them go, you will lose your freedom. Your expectation will bind you, little boy. Here, let me help you.
Boy: No, no, no!!!! (yells)
Father: (takes the bag from him and throws it) There! That's all there is to it!
Boy: Huh! Huh! (looks at himself, his hands, and becomes very light, jumps up and down) I am free! I am free! Yipee! (hugs father) Thank you! I am free! (Cartwheels out of stage)

Father sits down, smiling. Then lies down. Now he wakes up with a start.
Father: Oh God! Oh God!! (Wakes up his wife) I am free! I am free!! Can you believe, I am free!!
Mother: Have you gone mad, dear husband? It's 2 AM!
Father: Starts dancing.. I am free, I am free. I have no expectations from our children. We will be really happy this Diwali!

Scene 2: Aaj (Today)
Husband and Wife are brooding.
Husband: You know, something's bothering me.
Wife: What, my dear?
Husband: I feel like I am not balancing all our relationships. I want to show a lot of love toward my parents. But I don't know how to do so.
Wife: Hmm.. This is a complicated topic. Let's talk about it in the morning.

Husband and wife lie down. Wife gets up. A boy walks up to her, looking very unhappy. He has a toy fire engine stuck to his hand.
Boy: I want to talk to you. I need your help.
Wife: What is worrying you, child?
Boy: I am deeply troubled. Someone told me you can help.
Wife: Tell me what is troubling you.
Boy: Well, I have a little sister, and I have been trying to show her some love. But I don't know how, you see - she breaks my toys and I am really attached to my toys. Someone told me you can help me out.
Wife: Do you really care for your sister?
Boy: Yes, I do.
Wife: Well, love goes hand in hand with sacrifice. To test your love, you must test your ability to sacrifice.
Boy: What is sacrifice? Do I have to give up something?
Wife: Yes, you must give up what is really precious to you and what you would like to have. This precious thing must be something your loved one would like to have from you.
Boy: Oh, she loves my favorite toy - the red fire engine.
Wife: Then, you must give it to her.
Boy: But I can't, it is my favorite toy - see, my hand is stuck to it. See, it came with this glue attachment glue. I spread it all over the toy and then put my hands on it. Ever since, the toy has been stuck to my hand.
Wife: There is a special magic oil that can remove the glue.
Boy: How do I get this oil?
Wife: Think about your sister, and how much you love her. When you do that, look in your pocket - you will find the magic oil.
Boy: (closes his eyes and smiles, the puts his hands in his pocket) Oh!! Here it is!!
Wife: What does it say?
Boy: Detachment Oil.

He pours it, and it comes off his hand.
Boy: Yay!! It came off! It came off! Sister, sister, see what I have for you.

Runs and gives to sister, who is delighted. They go off stage.
Wife goes to lying position. Then wakes up with a start. Wakes her husband up.

Wife: My God, I have the answer to your question.
Husband: What question?
Wife: How to show love to your parents.

Husband sits up now
Husband: How?
Wife: What is the most precious thing we have or are looking forward to?
Husband: Hmm.. It is our time together when we go to South America.
Wife:We break our attachment to that and gift our time to our parents.
Husband: Hmm.. but that's hard. I really want to go there. Ever since I saw the package, I got attached to it.
Wife: (Smiles) I know. You need the magic oil.
Husband: What?
Wife: Nothing. Think of all the love and joy you will bring to your parents, and attach yourself to that idea.
Husband: (Closes his eyes) Hmm.. (Smiles, calms down, becomes light) You are right, my dear. We will go to India. Let's surprise them.

Scene 3: Kal (Tomorrow)
Mother and father are lighting the diwali lamp.
Father: This one has all our prayers for their happiness, wherever they are.
Mother: And this one is for any misfortune on their path to come to us instead.
Father: Now, let us light two more for them.

Two are lit, and two are about to be lit, when son and daughter-in-law come in with their child.
Son: Stop. Those two are for us to light.
Father: My God!!

Lots of shrieks, emotional reunion. Tears on everyone's eyes.

Dr. George Tiller Shot Dead and the Abortion Debate Continues

Vinod Joseph — Tue, 2 Jun 2009 09:17:31 EDT

A couple of days ago, Dr. George Tiller was shot dead during a service at the Reformation Lutheran Church in Wichita, Kansas where he served as an usher. Dr. Tiller ran a clinic in Wichita which “performed elective and therapeutic abortions during the second trimester of pregnancies and therapeutic abortions during the third-trimester of pregnancies”. A therapeutic abortion is one which is required to preserve the health of the mother whilst an elective abortion is one that is by choice. A doctor with 40 years’ experience, Dr. Tiller had been targeted before – he survived a shooting outside his clinic 16 years ago. Abortions have always taken place, over the centuries, often using crude instruments and methods. The Soviet Union was the first country to legalise abortions in 1919. Iceland followed in 1935 and Sweden in 1938. Nazi Germany encouraged abortions among those considered ‘hereditarily ill’ while German women of good ‘Aryan stock’ were expressly prohibited from having abortions. In the UK, abortion was permitted in specific circumstances under the Abortion Act 1967. In 1973, the US Supreme court in Roe v Wade struck down state laws which prohibited abortions. In India, abortions have been legal since 1971. The women’s lib movement made the right to abort a foetus an integral part of women’s rights claiming that not being able to abort takes away control over ones’ own body. It is in the US that the tussle between pro-lifers and pro-choicers is most vociferous. I guess this is mainly because a large segment of the US population is deeply religious and abortion is unacceptable to all organised religions.

In my opinion, abortions ought to be legal but…. and that’s a big ‘But’. I am against elective abortions in the second trimester, especially after 20 weeks when the foetus is capable of surviving outside the womb, unless of course the pregnancy arose out of rape or an incestuous relationship involving a minor. I don’t think a therapeutic abortion is wrong even in the third trimester. Most, if not all pro-lifers in the US, have deplored Dr. Tiller’s killing. I can’t say I admire Dr. Tiller or his work, though I too strongly condemn his murder.After Dr. Tiller was shot dead, Peter Brownlie, president of the Kansas City-based regional Planned Parenthood office claimed that “Dr. Tiller’s patients were almost always in circumstances where something had gone horribly wrong with a pregnancy, and where a woman's health would be endangered if the pregnancy continued”. The words ‘almost always’ imply that Dr. Tiller did carry out elective abortions in the second trimester, as his clinic’s website says. In all probability, Dr. Tiller was a man of strong convictions, who believed in what he did, not unlike a man who volunteers for a war which he thinks is just, even if he knows that it will cause death and destruction.

Not many doctors in the US perform late-term abortions. According to this article, Dr. Tiller was the director of one of just three clinics in the United States that provide abortion services to women past the 21st week of gestation. I’m sure that some other equally ‘committed’ doctor will step forward to fill the void left by Dr. Tiller.As long as the human race endures, abortions will continue and there will always be a demand for people like Dr. Tiller.

Fiction: Maternity Leave

Vinod Joseph — Fri, 29 May 2009 14:07:56 EDT

Rajeev wanted to sit down for a while and get some rest, but Kiyan didn’t give him a chance. To be honest, Carla had been running after little Kiyan since morning and he had no right to complain.

‘Kiyan, don’t go there. You’ll fall into the water.’ Rajeev picked up Kiyan and carried him back to the top of the steps of the beautiful Santa Maria della Salute where Carla was sitting. The moment he put him down next to Carla, Kiyan started to slowly and carefully climb down the steps. Rajeev watched with wry amusement. Kiyan took a while to get to the bottom, after which he ran towards to the pier.

‘Don’t go near the water!’ Rajeev pointlessly admonished Kiyan as he ran after him. It was so easy for that boy to fall into the water, or if he didn’t jump in, that is. And there was no getting away from the water in Venice. It was everywhere.

‘Shall we head back?’ he shouted to Carla from below as he dragged Kiyan away from the water’s edge once more.

Carla looked at her watch and said, ‘No. We have plenty of time.’ The she added with a laugh, ‘don’t be so restless.’

She was right. It was only nine thirty. The vaporetto would take them from Salute to Rialto in less than fifteen minutes. The walk to their hotel on the Calle de la Fava was less than five minutes. Unless Kiyan insisted on walking rather than be carried, in which event, it would take them ten or fifteen minutes. The return trip from their hotel to Rialto would be painful with their big suitcases since there was a small bridge to cross and carrying the big suitcase up those steps would take time. The vaporetto ride from the Rialto to Ferrovia was only another ten minutes and the Santa Lucia train station was right across the Ferrovia pier. Their train to Rome was at quarter past twelve. He couldn’t help being restless. He was always restless. Not that his restlessness was a bad thing. He wouldn’t have set up Chipmunks and made such a success of it if he was the type to sit on a fat arse and watch the world go by.

Rajeev relaxed his grip on Kiyan’s shoulders a bit. Instantly Kiyan tried to break free. Rajeev reluctantly carried him back to the bottom of the steps saying, ‘When Kiyan grows up, Kiyan will learn to swim and then Daddy will let Kiyan play close to the water.’

‘Why don’t you go inside and take a look?’ Rajeev encouraged Carla. Ultimately she would want to see the inside of the church, even though they had seen half a dozen churches in the three days they had been in Venice. Might as well get over the viewing so that they could go back to the hotel, Rajeev thought. Carla got up to go inside.

‘Kiyan, do you want to go inside the church with Mummy?’

‘No, he doesn’t. He hates the indoors, even that of a beautiful church,’ Carla brushed aside a few strands of hair from her freckled face as she spoke. It was very warm and Carla had her sweater off and tied around her waist, which made her look plumper than she actually was.

Rajeev did not press the argument. Carla was right, though it wouldn’t have hurt Kiyan to see the inside of a church.

At that moment, Rajeev’s mobile rang. Or rather it vibrated inside his pocket. As he fished it out, he yelled, ‘Carla, hold on. I need to take this call. It’s the office. Kiyan, here, go to Mummy, Daddy needs to talk to someone’

Carla’s face puffed up in annoyance, but Rajeev ignored it. If he worked for the bloody NHS, he too would keep his mobile switched off while he was on holiday.

As he suspected, it was the office.

‘Hello!’ He bellowed into his phone as Carla came down the steps and took hold of Kiyan.

It turned out to be Linda. ‘Raj, I’m sorry to trouble you when you are on holiday. Do you have a couple of minutes?’’

Yes, of course. He definitely had a couple of minutes. He owned the business, didn’t he?’

‘Today morning Jessie interviewed all three candidates Charlie had short-listed. She says she is fine with them all.’

‘Good. Let Charlie take the call. He’s going to be the direct supervisor, isn’t he? Have you asked him whom he wants to hire?’

‘Yes, I did.’ Linda paused for a second.

‘That’s brilliant! Good.’ Rajeev never hesitated in lavishing praise, which didn’t cost him a penny.

‘And what did Charlie have to say?’ Rajeev prompted Linda who was actually the office administrator. She doubled as the HR manager when situations like this one arose. Which wasn’t very often. With a staff of less than twenty, it didn’t really make sense to have a HR manager in addition to the administrator.

Charlie said he likes Toni the most. That’s Toni with an ‘i' and not a ‘y.’

‘Hmmm. If he has made up his mind, then I have nothing further to add.’

‘Raj, I think you should interview those three candidates before we make an offer. You are the best judge of people I’ve ever known.’

Linda, the born flatterer! However, he was definitely a better judge of people than either Jessie or Charlie. Jessie was strictly a hard-nosed accountant with an unbelievable inability to look beyond numbers, whilst Charlie was a statistician who was determined to miss the woods for the trees.

‘No, no. There’s no need for me to interview anyone. I don’t want to poke my finger in every pie. Charlie is perfectly capable of deciding on his own. In any event, I’m not back for another 4 days.

‘Hmmm. Aaaaah. Well….’

‘Have I missed something?’

‘Well….’

‘Go on, I’m all ears.’ `Since Linda could not see his face, Rajeev did not have to smile.

Linda seemed to sense that Rajeev was getting impatient and her tone became crisper. ‘This is actually none of my business, but ….’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’d still like to know what you have to say.’ If it was none of her business, Linda ought to shut up. At times like this, Rajeev did think he had taken employee empowerment too far. In addition to giving all employees stock options, Rajeev had decentralised decision making to a remarkable extent. Everyone was encouraged to speak his or her mind. All of which helped in keeping employee turnover low though the pay at Chipmunks wasn’t anything great.

‘I met Toni briefly when she came for her first interview. She’s very pleasant and she comes across as a very energetic person with a positive outlook. In fact I liked her a lot.’

‘So what’s the problem?’ Rajeev was getting irritated with Linda. He looked around and realised that Carla and Kiyan were not to be seen. Carla must have gone inside the church with Kiyan in tow. Which wasn’t a bad thing, Rajeev thought as he smiled to himself.

‘Toni said she hasn’t ever been on sick leave exceeding a day at a time. And she has been working for almost six years from the time she graduated.’

‘That’s good for us, isn’t it? Too many people take sickies these days.’

‘Toni hasn’t even taken any long leave.’

‘What long leave?’

‘Like maternity leave.’

‘That’s good as well, isn’t it? Oh….. I didn’t realise…’

‘She has been married for 2 years now. She’s almost thirty. She’s bound to start thinking of … you know.’

‘Ha! I see! So, she’s married?’

‘Yes she is. Her husband is a journalist. He works for …’

‘Did you discuss this with Jessie or Charlie?’

‘With Jessie yes. The moment she said she liked all three, I asked her and ..’

‘What did she say?’ Rajeev needlessly prompted Linda.

‘She agrees with me. It’s just a matter of time before Toni goes on ML.’

‘Why is she leaving her current job? From what I know, you aren’t eligible for Maternity Leave until you complete a year at your job.’

‘She was made redundant two months ago. She used to work for Jeremys. They’ve been having huge layoffs at Jeremys you know…’

‘Yes I know Linda.’ Jeremys was the biggest player in market research and Rajeev knew as much about Jeremys as he knew about his own business. ‘I didn’t know Toni was from Jeremys.’

‘Yes she is and ……………..’

‘Why don’t you ask Jessie to have a word with Charlie?’

‘Jessie wants to, but she wanted me to check with you first.’ So it was Jessie’s idea after all. Trust Linda to make it sound as if it was hers. Jessie would know if a woman was planning to get pregnant, wouldn’t she? She had two teenagers, one doing his A levels and the other tackling her GCSE.

‘And please ask Jessie to call me this evening after she’s had a word with Charlie.’ Charlie would have to be handled with caution Rajeev thought as he walked up the steps to the church to join Carla and Kiyan. Though it was almost two years since he persuaded Charlie to leave his job with one of the largest market research firms and join Chipmunks, Charlie had yet to come to terms with the fact that he was now with a very small outfit. One that could not afford to have an employee on Maternity Leave for a year.

Carla and Rajeev had one of their routine arguments on the train to Rome, which was almost empty.

‘You needn’t have booked a ticket for Kiyan,’ Rajeev mildly suggested.

‘What if the train was full and we had to have him on our laps for the entire five hours?’

‘On a weekday? Come on Carla! You know better than that!’

‘It’s only fifty Euros.’

‘It’s not a question of money.’

‘Next time we travel, you should do the bookings.’

‘When I was here last year, it was exactly the same. Charlie was with me and we had a whole coach to ourselves.’

‘I’m sure you had fun,’ Carla remarked sarcastically.

‘With Charlie? Yeah, from the time we got on the train at Milan till we got to Rome, he talked non-stop about work. Such riveting stuff it was.’

‘You could have come here with Charlie once again. You both could have kept your mobiles on Loud and discussed work non-stop.’

‘Honey, I didn’t mean to…………….’ They kissed and made up. Things would have become even better if Kiyan who was skipping up and down the aisles till then hadn’t stopped and come over to sit between them.

‘Let’s take a taxi to the hotel,’ Rajeev said when they reached Rome.

‘No, let’s take the Metro to Cornelia. We can take a taxi from there.’

‘Why didn’t you book a hotel close to a metro station?’ Rajeev asked mildly before adding, ‘it doesn’t matter. You know Rome better than I do.’

‘No, I think you know it better. You come here so often on business. My last visit was four years ago!’

‘But you spent three months here during your gap year!’ Rajeev said as he picked up a struggling Kiyan. ‘Kiyan, I’ll have to carry you buddy. If you are to walk, we’ll never get to the Metro platform.’

Carla inhaled heavily and said, ‘I hope it hasn’t changed. Each time I come back here, I am scared that it has changed and each time it has been the same.’

‘You had fun here, didn’t you?’

‘Yes I did,’ Carla said with a sparkle in her eyes that hinted at a world into which Rajeev would never have access.

‘Kiyan, do you like Roma?’ Rajeev asked Kiyan who resolutely ignored the question and continued to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

As they stood on an escalator that took them underground to the Metro, Rajeev asked Carla, ‘is it Line A or B?’

‘Line A, towards Battistini. It’s the stop just before Battistini.’

Rajeev’s mobile shuddered once and was still. ‘Damn,’ Rajeev said as he took his mobile out of his pocket and looked at it. ‘Out of range.’

‘Do you want to go back and return the call?’ Carla asked with extra sweetness.

‘No, of course not. Whoever it is can wait.’

‘Was it the office?’ Carla wanted to know.

‘Yes, it was,’ Rajeev conceded with a wry smile. ‘Must be Jessie. There is something slightly important going on. Otherwise I wouldn’t be so concerned.’ Might as well explain to Carla, Rajeev thought. Otherwise, there was a very good chance of Carla sulking and ruining their holiday.

‘What’s going on? An unhappy client?’

‘I’ll explain once we are inside the Metro,’ Rajeev said as they walked towards the platform wading through a bunch of office-goers returning home. The Metro was crowded and they had to push themselves in. A young girl got up and offered her seat to Rajeev seeing that he had Kiyan in his arms. Rajeev smiled his thanks and nodded towards Carla who took Kiyan from him and sat down on the proffered seat. Rajeev pushed himself to where Carla had been standing and placed his arm with an air of proprietorship on the large suitcase that Carla had been dragging behind her. It was only at Baldo degli Ubaldi that Rajeev got a place to sit, a good three seats away from Carla and Kiyan. Within a few minutes, they were at Cornelia and they got off the Metro.

They found a taxi and the taxi driver agreed that he would only charge them by the meter for the trip to their hotel at the Aurelia Antica. However, within a minute of the taxi moving off, he shook his head and said ‘Signore, this place. Very far. Fifteen Euros.’

Rajeev looked at Carla who shrugged her shoulders. `Si, Si’ Rajeev told the driver who gave Rajeev an approving nod and stepped on the accelerator.

Carla turned to him and asked, ‘tell me, what’s going on in the office?’

‘It’s a bit complicated. I would like to know what you think as well. Why don’t I tell you what it is over dinner?’

‘So that you can call back your office now?’ Carla did not seem to be angry, only resigned.

‘Well, once Jessie leaves office it is tough to talk to her. She has two kids you know.’

Carla was silent and Rajeev took it as consent. He quickly dialled Jessie on her mobile.

‘Jessie? Some one called me from office. I thought it might be you.’

‘Yes, it was me,’ Jessie said. ‘I had a word with Charlie.’

‘And?’

‘He was under the impression that if we hire Toni and Toni goes on ML, we will hire a temp to provide maternity cover!’

‘I hope you disabused him of that fantastic notion. Did you remind him that if we were to spend 20K on maternity cover, his bonus would take a hit?’

‘I did actually. It took me a while, but he finally saw sense.’

‘Thank God. I am sure that of the three he short-listed, at least one is unlikely to go on Maternity Leave in the near future.’

‘The other two are men.’

‘Did he tell you which of the two he likes?’

‘Yes, he did. It’s …’

‘Please ask him to email the name to Linda copying us both. His email should explain that his chosen candidate is better than Toni and the other chap for X, Y, Z reasons. And please ask Linda to prepare the offer letter.’

Jessie was silent for a few seconds. Then she said, ‘Charlie actually wanted to know why we didn’t weed Toni out at the initial stages! Can you believe that?’

‘Charlie is really wet behind the ears. If the Equal Opportunities Commission gets to know that we don’t interview married women likely to take ML, we’ll be in shit. I guess Charlie has never heard of the Equal Opportunities Commission.’

‘He can’t see beyond his data and various ways of analysing it!’

‘It’s not that I have anything against hiring women or giving them maternity benefits, it’s just that Chipmunks is just a start-up and we can’t afford to have employees go on ML.’

‘I know Raj! I know! For God’s sake, I am a woman.’

‘Once we are bigger, and I know that we are destined to become bigger and bigger, once we cross critical mass, we will stop doing things like this. We’ll be as generous with benefits as any of the big players.’

‘Raj, you don’t have to feel so guilty. Even the big players do their best to avoid hiring women who are likely to go on ML. I remember after I announced that I was planning to take Maternity Leave for the second time, and at that time I used to work for _______________, my boss made my life so miserable. He would have fired me if he could have done it. And after I came back from ML, he kept giving me such crappy work, I was forced to quit and go to ______________.’

‘Chipmunks will be different, once it is bigger,‘ Raj declared fervently. ‘Listen Jessie, thanks for this. You take care. Okay?’

‘Bye Raj. You have fun. Give Kiyan a hug from me. And please say Hello to Carla’

Rajeev quickly dumped the mobile into his pocket and looked at Carla’s face to see if she was annoyed with him. Carla was staring out of the window with a blank face.

‘We ought to do a Super Duper dinner today. When in Roma, eat like a Roman.’

‘They don’t have vomitoriams these days.’

‘Carla!’

‘I was just joking. The restaurants here are so much better than in London.’

‘Where should we go? You are the Rome expert.’

‘Do you remember the restaurant we went to at Ottaviano? Shall we go there?’

There was no time to say more since the taxi slowed down and they realised that they had arrived at their hotel.

As the taxi driver helped Rajeev take the suitcase out of the boot, he said with a smile, ‘three Euros for luggage.’

Rajeev looked at Carla who was busy preventing Kiyan from running away. Not a single hotel employee could be seen outside the hotel who might have helped Rajeev. With a smile and a shrug, Rajeev said, ‘okay. Si.’

They had a good room with a view of the hotel’s swimming pool. As they changed out of their travel stained clothes, Rajeev told Carla, ‘we were on the verge of making a job offer to someone. That’s for Charlie’s team. Then we decided not to.’

‘Why?’

Because she’s around thirty, has been married for two years and is likely to start thinking of a family.’

‘You don’t want to hire someone who might go on maternity leave within a year of being hired?’

‘Yes,’ Rajeev said simply and waited for Carla to explode. She didn’t. Instead she smiled and said, ‘I’m so glad I work for the NHS. If I were in the private sector, we might not have had Kiyan.’

‘That’s ridiculous. Even if you had to quit your job, we would have managed on my income!’

‘I don’t have the energy to go to Ottaviano for dinner? Can’t we find something close by?’ Rajeev was relieved at the change of topic. Carla did look tired.

They ended up going to a restaurant that was just outside the hotel. As they ordered starters and their main course, Rajeev said, ‘I’m famished. I will go for a secondi after this.’

‘Raj, don’t get carried away. You need to lose weight.’ Which was a bit rich coming from Carla, Rajeev thought. She was still good looking, though. Rajeev looked at Carla for a second time for reassurance. Yes, she wasn’t bad looking.

The waiter brought them the Frascati wine Rajeev had chosen along with a plate of Panini. He opened the bottle and poured a little wine into Rajeev’s glass. Rajeev drank it slowly with a serious look on his face and nodded at the waiter who quickly filled his glass and then Carla’s.

‘What happens if you say you don’t like the wine you ordered?’ Carla asked and laughed.

‘We need to keep up appearances honey. What’s life without a bit of charade? Do you like it?’

Carla sipped her wine and said ‘it’s good, though I would have preferred a Chianti any day.’

‘Come on now! We can’t order a Tuscan wine in Rome! When we go to Florence, you can have a Chianti! Frascati is supposed to be the best among Latium wines.’

‘Fine! Let’s keep up the charade. This wine is amazing. Splendid! Are you happy now?’ Carla laughed at her own joke.

Rajeev looked around and said, ‘look at these Italians. They spend two or three hours over dinner almost every day. An entire bottle of wine, starters, two main courses and a dessert. How do they manage to look so fit?’

‘I don’t think they eat much breakfast or lunch. They exercise a lot and they eat their dinner slowly. A siesta in the afternoon, a slow dinner over two or three hours.’

‘You are not angry with me, are you darling?’ Raj asked. ‘About what I told you?’

‘No honey. Of course not. I understand perfectly well. You can’t afford to have people on maternity! Not when Chipmunks is just taking off!’

They drank the wine in silence. Out of the blue, Carla asked, ‘do you think we’ll have another child?’

Rajeev looked at Kiyan who was strapped into a child seat and was busy playing with the plastic baby cutlery placed in front of him.

‘We should, shouldn’t we? I’m sure the NHS will survive even if you go on maternity leave once more.’

‘Kiyan, would you like to have a brother or sister to play with?’ Carla asked Kiyan who carefully considered the question and went back to playing with his red plastic spoon and fork.

Before Carla could repeat her question, the waiter re-appeared with their starters.

Bow Down Before Your Wife's Diktat: Supreme Court of India Tells Men

Sumanth — Wed, 20 May 2009 10:35:23 EDT

On 19th May, the Supreme Court of India remarked that husbands ought to "Bow down before your wife's 'diktat'".

A vacation bench of justices Markandeya Katju and Deepak Verma observed, "Bibi joh boltee hai woh sunno (listen to whatever your wife says), as otherwise it could land you in trouble. Because if you do not listen to her, you will suffer the consequences."
"Hum sab bhogi hai (we are all sufferers)," the bench said in a lighter vein.

The bench further said that a husband has to accept the suggestion of a wife irrespective of the fact whether it is sensible or not.

"If your wife asks you to put your face that side, put it that side. If she says, put it this side, then put it this side. Otherwise you will face trouble. Hum sub bhogi hai(we are all sufferers)," the bench remarked again.

Being a founding member of a prominent men's rights organization observing the way men are treated, these views by the Supreme Court are hardly surprising to me. This attitude has been prevalent in almost all courts since many years and it is for the first time that the Supreme Court has said this formally, even in jest.

A modern man can bow down before his wife. There is absolutely no issue with that, after all they share a life together. However, does the matter just end there? In most cases, it may not be only about a husband obeying his wife, but it is also about a husband forced to obey his mother-in-law, his sister-in-law and his father-in-law, whose business in not running well.

Today, it's a man's duty to take care of his wife and ensure her happiness, because she dreamed of a happy married life with him. Now, a wife's happiness can also get influenced by happiness of her whimsical mother and her businessman father.

How can a man struggling in a recession hit insecure and competitive professional environment with couple of million rupees of home loan, take care of emotional needs of another couple of adults and live life on their whims and fancies? I have not yet included the emotional, financial and other expectations from a man's siblings and his own parents. So, if a man is unlucky, then he may have to balance his life on the basis of whims and fancies of 3 or 4 people and has to take care of needs of as many as 7 to 8 people. Earlier, parents used to expect their sons to take care of them in old age. Now, the in-laws expect the son-in-law to behave like a son and at least understand their emotional, medical and financial needs.

Are not we expecting too much out of men? I do agree that there are lot of successful men, who have balanced work, personal life, family and also contributed to the society. However, not every man is lucky enough to have the talent to multi-task in a life according to wishes or orders of some 3 or 4 demanding adults apart from doing a demanding job to earn money.

Here, I do not want to talk about the biases that men face in the Indian legal system. I am just going to focus on an increased insecurity in men's professional lives coupled with a rise in expectations from men in the society. What happens, if a man fails to meet the expectations (emotional, behavioural or financial) of others in his life? His marriage will be on the rocks and he may face abuse, threats or get into serious legal mess.

Even today, most men avoid discussing personal life or seek help from friends in such struggles. If they do open up with friends and talk about the rising expectations and interference from mercurial in-laws, the maximum the friends can do is to give him some useless advice and then laugh at his back, which makes the the man to shut up and think that there is no one who can help him.

Now, what is the way out?

Well, the truth is, there is just no way out and that's the reality. The earlier men accept the reality the way it is and the way it is not, the better it is for them. At least, that acceptance will open up new ways of tackling the situations and possible emergencies.

Are men in a position to accept this reality? Unfortunately, the answer is no.

So, this closes down any new possible ways of dealing with this situation.

Why do men refuse to see the reality?

For this, I have to tell a short story. Since inception of the serious men's rights movement across India about 4 years back, I have been observing that he biggest support base that we have got is not from men, but from women. That sounds shocking!!

An organisation, which often uses harsh language bordering misogyny should have been hated by women in general. However, women are our big fans. Eight out of ten newspaper articles or TV programs on men's rights movement is conducted by female journalists, who ask very relevant questions and present the issues in a very balanced manner. We find it a struggle to handle male journalists and anchors as they just fail to connect to issues in the first place. Even in random studies, we have found that a female colleague at workplace judges a man with troubled marriage much less than another male colleague.

What does that mean? May be females are more evolved human beings than men in general. Or may be men are man's worst enemies, just the way women are woman's worst enemies. May be men enjoy to see other men with troubled relationships. As according to evolutionary psychology, they may be sensing an increase in chances of reproduction (or sex) for them, if another man has a troubled relationship. So, do men really hate other men, when it comes to sex and relationships? Most probably yes.

All these create a perfectly unique situation. Here is a men's rights movement striving to protect all the men, who may get distressed due to marital problems in future and ironically most of its fans are young women. The young men whom this movement wants to protect in future, actually hate the very concepts of men's rights, because they subconsciously sense an increase in availability of sex, when other men have troubled marriages or relationships.

This is a perfect trap for men as they refuse to evolve. If they get unlucky, they go through trauma, while other men enjoy, without realising that some of them may be in queue for a troubled marriage in future. About 12 years back, I did read in the newspapers about a men's rights organisation in Nasik. Now, I recollect how I felt when I read it first time. I visualised a queue of some 30 poor weak men beaten by their wives. It seemed so funny to my hardwired male brain, trapped in its own evolutionary conditioning. In fact, I would not have even paid any attention to a news of any of these men committing suicide thinking that these poor men are wife beaters and alcoholics and if one of them dies due to his wife, what's such a big fuss about it? Did I ever consider that, maybe one day I may also be in the Queue as well?

So, what is the way out for men to handle professional insecurity coupled with huge rise in expectations from society and family?

Men have to take some time out of IPL, workplace gossip, CNBC and International politics, to come down to smaller issues of life. They have to create some space for expressing and communicating of emotional experiences and issues related to everyday life. They need to talk about it. They need to blog about it without looking at men's issues from a feminist angle. They have to question the traditional male roles with which they are so comfortable even today. They have to question the basics of the male identity and introspect, if they can give up a bit of that identity, which makes them chivalrous, competitive, courageous and risk taking. That can help them free up some resources to handle the situation (related to high expectations) at hand. Finally, they have to negotiate with the society about their choices in life and live a life of their own design rather than merely following a lifestyle that is being handed over to them by previous generation of men. Men have to think about financial freedom than owning a costly house taken on loan. Men have to think about travelling around the world being free at any stage of life. They have to negotiate with the society regarding their personal space, time for hobbies, sabbatical, dreams and a healthy life. They have to collectively create it for themselves and ask the society to give them the choices that they genuinely deserve.

After all, the language of the courts and the nation is nothing but a reflection of the language of the society.

Book Review: Hyperion

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Sat, 9 May 2009 21:55:15 EDT

I believe that one of the most poignant emotions that are evoked inside of one is when one reads or hears about a parent facing the death of his/her child. Whether it is burying his child, or lighting the funeral pyre or laying the child out for a vigil or wrapping the child in a shroud, the feeling is perhaps much more powerful than any other death. Compared to the deaths of any of other relatives and family members, the death of your child might be the most heart wrenching one. But why on earth am I talking about this? This topic came from a strange source and made me think about it, so as usual I jotted down some thoughts on this.

First, I have to explain that I am a bit of a science-fiction geek and have been reading this particular genre for the best part of 30 years now, starting way back when I got my little hands on HG Wells' books, like The Invisible Man, The Time Machine, Island of Doctor Moreau, War of the Worlds, God The Invisible King, Wheels of Chance, Research Magnificent, etc. Second, I usually haunt charity shops, flea markets and websites such as abebooks, Alibris, eBay and other places where secondhand books are sold. The idea being, just because it’s a secondhand book that doesn’t mean that the book is bad. Words are amazing things whose worth does not diminish with frequent use. Just because it’s a bit yellowing or has a broken spine, that doesn’t mean that it cannot be read again or anymore. But more importantly, second hand books come with an idea already built in that somebody found it good enough to put it back into circulation. Generally, you always win that way.

So now we get back to the topic. It was surprising that I have not come across this book anywhere else before, other than when I saw it in one of those charity shops I mentioned. This book, Hyperion by Dan Simmons, was originally published in 1990 and won a whole bunch of awards, like the Hugo and Locus Awards for the best science fiction novel). Naturally, I scooped it up and finally got to reading it and found its basic premise to be quite interesting. The story deals with a group of seven travelers, who have joined to go together on a pilgrimage to another planet, which seems to have a God like creature in residence called as Shrike. The pilgrimage is embarked on to beg for Shrike’s assistance to save mankind’s galactic civilization. The overall structure of this galactic civilization under threat is rather popular, but not what I want to get into in this essay. What made this book very interesting is the fact that the story is actually not just one story, but it comprises the individual stories of the seven pilgrims.

I am not going to say much about the other six sub-stories except to say that each of them was fascinatingly imaginative and amazingly creative and uniquely different. But it was one of those seven stories which really tugged my heartstrings and made me want to write about it. It is the story of one of the pilgrims mentioned above, who is carrying a baby of about 6 months of age. That bewildered me at the beginning. What on earth is this? Did you ever hear of a hero going off on a galactic quest carting a baby around along with the essential nappies and vital baby formula milk, favourite blanket and other assorted vital accessories?

The story of that baby is amazing. As it so happens, a young woman was trained as a scientist and went off to research Shrike. But then something happens to her that is not really explained very well (nor am I going to try to explain it here), but the effect of that event or happening is that she starts regressing in age rather than growing older. Every day, she loses one day’s worth of life and memory attached to it or knowledge gained during it. The doctors cannot figure out neither the illness, nor a cure for it and so she finally ends up with her parents. Physically she is doing just fine, but she grows younger and younger every single day instead of growing old.

You might say that this sounds brilliant, to grow young again! But I don’t think we have really thought this through properly. In popular fiction, you would have somebody who is old and then grows younger for some reason till they reach an ideal age and then they stick to that age. This ideal age is say around 25 or so, when people are at the prime of their lives. Shades of She by Haggard, no? But you don’t really believe that this is good, do you? The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, has a similar theme, but that still doesn’t talk to me the way this particular story does.

I refer, obviously (or perhaps it is still not that obvious) to the feelings of the parent, in this case here the father, which is precisely what I was thinking about and what pulled so violently on my heart strings. As somebody once said, the worst experience in human life is to have a father bury his child. In other words, no parent should have to outlive his children.

I have a young daughter of my own and while I obviously cannot (and hope to hell not) imagine to ever go through this, but reading about how this father managed to go through each day shook me. Every single day that father was teaching his daughter everything all over again starting from zero or square one, knowing that tomorrow, they will still have to do everything all over again, because she would have forgotten all that she had learnt the previous day.

Still, going back from an age of 25 to 24 is bearable, despite it being 365 days of utter pain and enormous loss. From 24 to 23 is also OK, and perhaps it’s acceptable untill you reach say 12 or 10 years of age. 15 long years of seeing your child shrink, lose maturity and knowing that the end is inexorably coming. Yet still rushing about, trying everything and anything to get her cured and failing miserably.

Then childhood comes, where some of the basic human functions start failing. And then finally the dreaded day comes, when your daughter forgets language and the ability to speak and she also can no longer walk, but moves into helpless babyhood again, which is where the story ends. It was a frightening read for me and Scared the bejesus out of me. It sort of gave me a better appreciation of what your children really are. Emotional? Too crazy? Allowing what is science-fiction to become kind of real in my mind? You bet your bottom dollar On all of the above!

It did impact me and despite it being just a story, I was ended up putting myself in that father’s shoes. I am not sure if I would have the discipline and courage it definitely would take to live my life all over again, but this time in reverse. What do I do with the photographs that I had taken? The toys that she played with? How about the sleepless nights I spent walking up and down in the hallway with her in my arms trying to get her to sleep? Or the days I spent out in the garden with her, playing with her dolls or on the trampoline? Or reading a book with her? I can do it now, because we have a bright future in front of us together. It’s a joyful time. But would I be able to do the exact same thing knowing that there is no real future for her, because she is not progressing but is actually regressing and heading inevitably towards her death?

I know I will have to do it, but can I? I do not know, so I thought of asking you who also have children about what you think. Could you?

P.S.: This book was brilliant, a good read and comes highly recommended. There is a second part to the book also, but more on that one perhaps later…

All this to be taken with a grain of salt!

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