No country for men

“Their parents died in a road accident. Poor things. When they came back to school we found out they were living with the father’s sister because their grandmother was too old to take care of them. She should have tried more, after all they are her grandchildren. Who knows what the uncle is like. And with the girl so young...”

And so, with these few, simple words a mans character was called into question. I have many uncles. And none of them have looked at me as anything but a kid (albeit a misguided one sometimes.) And this is normal. That is to say that these are not abnormal saintly people, they are absolutely normal people with tedious faults which I would be glad to point out. And also, this whole not being molested by your relatives is also a normal thing. The opposite situation, is actually not. 

And yet, when I looked about me in that room when she made that statement, they were all nodding. Why? Because he is a man and men are pigs you know. As simple as that. Maybe he was a Delhi man. They’re the absolute worst kind of men. The kind of men who make Delhi the most unsafe city on the face of the earth. Thankfully for me, the journalists are out there in hoards today to make sure that I know exactly what is wrong with Delhi and well, India too. They know how to set it right too. Death Penalty – that will fix ‘em.

Although somehow, it didn't. Then we figured out what the real problem was. THE SYSTEM. The police move too slowly; the judiciary don’t convict enough people. Conviction rates for rape cases is about 25% - and this is for cases which were decided. They are letting all those rapists get away!!! And that my dear friends, is what makes India so unsafe.

The numbers unfortunately, do not seem to agree. The “rape rate” in India is 2 per 100,000 people (2008 to 2012) period. For US, the same number is much higher at 28.6. Sweden at 66.5 and South Africa at 114.9. Now of course, we have the problem of unreported cases. Obviously that number is much higher. However, studies indicate that even there, India is not on the top. Meaning, Delhi really may not be the most unsafe city in the world.

All this is not to say that rape in India exists only in our imagination or that India is a safe place for women. But heck, it ain’t very safe for men either. In fact if we go by the reported rape cases in Delhi, they paint a bleaker picture for men than for women. The Hindu, in its article “The many shades of rape cases in Delhi” came up with this fascinating piece of information. “Of the cases fully tried, over 40% dealt with consensual sex, usually involving the elopement of a young couple and the girl’s parents subsequently charging the boy with rape. Another 25% dealt with “breach of promise to marry”. This is to say that of the fully tried cases, a massive 65% is not the violent crime we associate with the word rape.

No wonder the “system” moves slow. And thank god it moves slow. And as long as it needs to deal with this tangle of deceit, it will have to move slow.

So next time you light candles for rape victims, maybe spare a thought for the people who get pulled into fake cases. And the next time we ask for death penalty for rapists, let us also negotiate a  stricter punishment for those who misuse the law to try and achieve their own twisted purposes. And also maybe go a little slow on the hyperbole.

As a s(n)ide note – I did want to mention another factor which leads to rapes. Alcohol. No one really says it out aloud, but it’s there -hiding in the corner of the article a inconspicuous – “the men were intoxicated...” As if that has anything to do with what follows. 

The Haunting

He jumps out of nowhere. He has been lying in wait in the shadows under the parapet. He steps forward and in the darkness I catch the glint of something in his hands. Then suddenly I wake up to the sound of my own screaming. It is still dark around, but mercifully, a familiar darkness.

The dream has ended, but reality is a different monster altogether.

Catharsis

I went in to get away from the suffocating heat and humidity and there I saw her tucked away in the corner, a familiar face, all alone in a bustling coffee shop. There was a book in front of her, but it was closed. And of course, the obligatory coffee and remnants of something crumbly. I looked at the same old face lost in thought and I realized, I missed her. After all the time we spent apart, all the distance between us, I missed her.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’

And so, the face gets knocked out of its reverie. A start and then of course, that familiar smile.  ‘ Oh my god, it has been a long time! How have you been?’

‘Oh! You know, same old, same old.’

‘Yeah, you look just the same. Corporate life doesn’t seem to have taken its toll on you,” she smiled.

‘Well I wish I could say the same about you. You look different somehow. Older?’

She laughed and then the fake grimace. ‘The years haven’t made you nicer. Couldn’t you have said wiser?’

‘Well look at you, sitting all alone, not even reading your book, lost in your own little world’

‘Oh I was just thinking. I’ve just been trying to read this book again. It’s a Marquez - Chronicles of a Death Foretold. He used to be my favorite author back in the old days. So many people told me, he is gory and morbid. I just found the descriptions vivid. I loved it. And I was in the middle if reading this book, when you know… he died, and all of a sudden it was gory. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it again.

I looked up and asked, “Ho are you? ok?” She smiled and nodded. ‘I am now.’

I didn’t say anything, so she continued. ‘I wasn’t, but I am now.’

She looked out of the window. It had started raining.

Then she looked back with a sad little smile. ‘You know how it is. You have a picture perfect existence till then and all of a sudden death hits you. It is such a sad thing, but it happens so often. That makes it sadder doesn’t it? The fact that it is all so common; someone close to you dies. Sometimes it is someone not so close. It happens to everyone.  And you think, I should’ve met them that one last time, I shouldn’t have fought with them, I should’ve made an effort to get to know them better, I should’ve…

She was looking into the rain again.

‘It is those should haves and those could haves that pull you in. when you really think about it, you know you wouldn’t have done anything differently even if you had the time. You have a life of your own afterall, dreams to pursue, all that.’

A pause. ‘I went to pieces in the beginning. I didn’t know where to turn.’

‘We all tried reaching you but you just disappeared. You know I was just a call away’

 She smiled once again. ‘I just fell off the grid. You know, it’s all so common. I didn’t want to turn to friends and hear all the clichés. I know this happens, I know it will all be ok; but that doesn’t help does it. The only people who would’ve have understood were wrapped up in their own grief. So I had to deal with myself.’

‘ Then one day I decided I had had enough. Enough of the constant gloominess, the swollen eyes, the stuffy noses, the headaches. Everything. I just threw myself at work. That and running, hiking, trekking, jogging, reading, travel, cooking, singing, anything. Just anything to keep me busy. I didn’t want time to think. All I wanted was to fall back in bed at the end of the day into a deep, exhausted slumber.’

‘ And then suddenly, I didn’t have to make an effort for all this. The more I worked, the more work came my way. And the weekends, oh my god, the weekends! Do you know that this is the first weekend I have had free in six months? Things just kept falling in place, one after the other. And suddenly in the middle of all this, I didn’t want to be busy anymore.’

‘ I know people frown on burying memories, but it really helped me. So today, on my free day, I have picked up this book again. After two years,’ she said looking at the book.

She looked up at me, ‘You were right you know. Marquez is really morose.’ Then she put it down with a happy sigh, ‘but I can deal with it now.’

‘Oh look,’ she said,’ the rain seems to be letting up. Better get home before it starts again.’

I agreed. We walked up to the door together and there we parted ways. I turned once to see her walking into the rain, a brave façade for the world. I hope it really is over, I hope she really is ok.

Feral Men

There are some nights when everything goes wrong. It was off from the beginning. Her flight was delayed by a good hour. And then of course, the traffic. We couldn’t cancel the plans; for old times sake. It had been far too long since we had done this. And the future was far too uncertain; no one to say if this could be done again. 

All in all, it was about 11 when we sat down to dinner. Catching up and reminiscing followed. So by the time we were done with the food, we were faced with the prospect of walking back home at an unseemly hour.

When it comes to safety, there are two rules I adhere to quite religiously. When alone, don’t stay out too late. And never venture into isolated spots. 

We weren’t exactly breaking either of these rules here. I wasn’t alone and we had to walk past a famous public park, which while not exactly teeming with people at this time of the night, didn’t qualify as a lonely spot either. Plus we’d walked back from this very place scads of times. Not at this hour, but still - scads.

Now I don’t know if all these thoughts running around my head that set my teeth on the edge. Or if it was the sight of that man jerking off. Right besides a busy road. He was standing, hand busy at his groin, half turned toward the dark foliage. He saw me see him. And he turned towards what is a fairly busy road, keeping his eyes on me and my friend. There were other people around a little ahead. But no one saw him. Not even my friend. Like the coward that I am, I hustled her along and he thankfully melted into the darkness.

We kept up the pace for a while, crossing the park, and walking along the same road, past small by lanes. While crossing one such by-lane, we saw approaching from the other side a homeless person. He was dirty, or rather – filthy, and had the definite stagger of an extremely drunken man. Between us was a board announcing the name of the street. He looked as if he would cross it on one side, both of us instinctively took the other. Then suddenly he stopped and changed directions. So, we did the same. Then he did it again. Now angry, both of us stopped this game of peeka boo and stood right at the center. He did the same. Then he said, “ Arre, ja na. roka hai kya kisi ne.” we crossed quickly, while he stood where he was. My friend whispered to me, “he’s just drunk.” At this, he turned around, and said with a look of utmost contempt “Drunk bolti hai.” Then he walked off.

We must not have walked a hundred feet, when we saw another person just like him. This guy deliberately bumped into a man who was walking about 15 – 20 feet ahead of us and tried to pick a fight. At this point I groaned, “what is it today?” and my friend agreed – “Mumbai was never like this.” So then we steeled ourselves and sucked our breaths in and walked past this guy, right at the edge of the pavement. He walked past us. Just like that. Not even a glance towards us, nor a hint of trouble. Leaving us looking foolishly at each other.

There are some nights when everything goes wrong. This was not that sort of night. It was off at the beginning, but it ended with a lesson for me. That night, I judged two men because of their class, their state(read- drunk) and most shamefully, because of the actions of another. Decency isn’t the inheritance of the rich/middle class family men with regular access to female companionship. There are decent guys everywhere, just like there are indecent ones. Unfortunately, even today, if I see someone like that fallen by the side of the road, I won’t check on them to see if they are ok just out of the fear that one of them will pounce on me. But then hopefully, when I write something more public than this blog, like I don’t know, a newspaper column, I hope I don’t judge the feral men too harshly. :|

Once upon a time, long long ago...

News is so dreary nowadays. There are always discussions on who didn’t do what, or if something was done then what exactly was wrong with what was done. Rapes, murders, lies, scams, random acts of perversion(yeah, I saw the video of asaram bapu dancing too :( ), defeat at the hands of the aussies – these are the depressing things that fill our news nowadays. So today, I was pleasantly surprised when I turned on the news and some minister called his predecessor ‘Sheik Chilli.’ Now of course, this is in relation to one of the aforementioned depressing categories, but I am still glad because that one name took me back to entirely another era.

I don’t know how many people know about that simpleton named Sheik Chilli. I heard about him for the first time when I was about three or four from an old man who used to carry them around in his head. They were like pacifiers; when we troubled him too much, he’d start with one

‘ Aaj kaunsi sunoge?’

‘Sheik Chilli wali!’

or

“Rana Pratap ki kahani’

Or so many many more to chose from. This all stopped when I was about 9 or 10, but then the stories are still there in the back of my head somewhere. Because bits and pieces of nothing keep triggering these memories. A while back, i came to know that the Bhopal airport is called the Raja Bhoj airport and that sent me back to the exploits of Raja Bhoja. An incredible man, among whose many achievements is the beautiful city of Bhopal; and yet in our lovely NCERT school books, I don’t think even a single page is dedicated to him. But I have him from my stories. Same as with Sheik Chilli, Birbal and countless other characters, who would be all but lost except for the lovely tradition of story-telling. That is how I know my Ramayana, Mahabharata. That is how I know countless things.

This is where my love of history comes from. This is also where my love for literature comes from. The understanding of our (in)significance, the understanding of life’s subtle irony, the understanding of the roundabout nature of things; all this I got from the storytelling. And this is what I want to be. A story –teller. That is my one burning ambition.

Workplace Etiquette Primer

Worldwide, women’s right to work remains a contentious issue even today. It is only in the past few decades, that women have been allowed into offices, first as secretaries and then just all over the place; Really, so kind of you sir, so kind. Unfortunately, what this has come to mean is that men must attempt to modify their behavior to accommodate and respond to the more touchy sensitivities of their female colleagues. The rules regarding the same are several and frankly, just convoluted. For those confused souls who have spent years lost in that labyrinth of workplace norms and conventions, this is a simple primer; one designed to facilitate your speedy and artful maneuvering though a work day. For your convenience, the same is divided into sections.

Where your eyes, hands and in general your body must be.

While speaking, the voice emanates from the mouth in women, just like it does among men. Even the olfactory senses are linked to the ears, just as is among men. There is therefore no need to look at the third button on her shirt. Or thereabout. Similarly, when I am done talking and walk away, you must try and get back to your work. No good can come from staring at my butt.

My back, head, shoulder is/are not resting places for your arms or elbows. Leaning into is frowned upon. Especially from the back, as this may mistakenly be construed as trying to look down someone’s shirt. Sidling is also not appreciated either. As a general rule, you must imagine her throwing a punch and keep in mind that most women punch straight, rather than that roundhouse shit. Try to stay out of the reach of these punches. Simple as that.

On conversation

Conversation is fraught with pitfalls and is in general one of the trickiest areas to maneuver. There are so many rules. The most acceptable course of action is to pontificate on mundane topics like – the industry is growing in an unstructured manner or business is hard to come by or it looks like there won’t be any bonuses this year either or other similar management bitching. You throw in some jargon, she throws in some jargon, and it all flows naturally.

You may make requests for personal information e.g. – How old are you? – Only if you are a friend, a very good friend. Or scratch that. Not even when you are a friend may you ask those questions to a lady. Nor may you ask other questions with the intention of getting an approximate idea of such details. Yes, we get exactly what you are asking when you nonchalantly ask ‘So doesn’t it get lonely staying here?’

Even within this constrained set up, using vivid adjectives like ‘h*****i’, ‘c*****a’, is considered forward and consequently, unseemly. Now now, no one is questioning your right to your vocabulary nor indeed am I judging you. In fact, in all probability your use of the word was apt and most definitely called for. But, unfortunately, rules are rules and you must make all efforts not to appear uncouth. The only clawback under this rule is allowed when the lady takes the first step. Even in such case, you must refrain from cursing with gusto as you might with your college friends. And while at it, if you could contrive to look a trifle mortified about it that would be just wonderful.

This may all be a little overwhelming to learn all at once, so I’ll help you with a shortcut – when you get five continuous answers in monosyllables, maybe you have advanced into territory that she does not want you to chart. Retreat immediately and comment on the weather. See where that goes.

Dealing with confined spaces.

When travelling back from a meeting, which you have needlessly dragged me to, you have several options to choose amongst as the answer to the big question – What is the correct guiding principle during a cab ride. There is always the less than comfortable option of not talking at all and staring out of the window, forefinger placed on the chin and thoughtful expression on face. This could easily seem like a waste but you must attempt to apply your mind to thought during this time, after all who doesn’t need practice on that eh? You will notice that during this time I have not plugged into the radio nor did I dive into a book and instead I also sit with a similar dazed expression looking out of the other window. This is because said actions would be considered rude. Nor must one dial a buddy on the mobile device and start yammering on about weekend plans. This is not just rude, but also inconsiderate – I do not need to know that your nickname is Pillu (really dude?)

Of course, if you chose to converse instead, you could refer to the conversation section of the primer.

While in a cab, or in a meeting room, do not attempt to stretch. This sometimes lets those around you become intimately acquainted with that peculiar species of fungus or molasses or whatever it is you are breeding in your armpits. If it is accompanied by a yawn, the action might call into question your oral hygiene issues as well. And of course, it could always accidentally result, to your detriment, in your breaching the punch radius.

Now, it is time for me to sleep and as you will learn in future sessions, it is never acceptable to keep a lady up past her bedtime. So till we meet again then!