unheard voices

A lot of my learning is from the didi who comes to my place to work. I genuinely look forward to the evening chat. It is a good way to come out of all the stress in your life otherwise and find similarities and dissimilarities in life and ponder. I come to know about the latest home delivery shop around the corner, the not-so-good uncle in the building and also about the flawed PDS system and how she is denied of her ration at times. Today was a dull day. I had a bad headache, fever and could not go to office. She came in the evening and sounded very depressed to see me. She told me ‘ In the last 5 years I have never seen you this sick’. The emotions in her eye made me want to hug her- various forms of love and ways of expressing it or maybe when you are sick you look for that extra bit of love and attention. What came after that left me stumped. She went about with her daily chores saying, you were looking so pretty in all your engagement pictures am sure ‘ tumhe nazar la...

I work to conduct research on Violence Against Women, we research on causes of violence, consequences of violence and even go to remote areas to understand how violence is perceived and while doing all this your own brain is also constantly thinking. It is indeed disturbing when you see Domestic Violence shrouded in a social culture of shame and silence where most women are socialized to accept, tolerate, and even rationalize domestic violence and to remain silent about such experiences. They are socially humiliated and called a shame if they go to the police station for help. I have had sleepless nights after hearing such stories of physical and emotional violence and seeing woman so badly beaten up black and blue by their drunkard husbands. What I am saying is not something that happens in remote corners but actually a very common occurrence in both rural and urban areas.  In a recent study conducted by Dasra [1] it was found that 50-70% of women in India face some form of...

On a sultry summer weather, When the sun was about to set down the horizon The pitch of our thoughts matched that of our steps; And we decided to walk a little slower for a little longer! We crawled through dark dingy caves Showing the torch light to each other, We trekked to the root bridge, In our not-so-ready trek attire Shivered at Pangong and enjoyed Maggi at the ‘3 Idiots Dhaba’ Remember our guide at the Bada Imambada?   Shared silence waiting for the tiger at the Wildlife Sanctuary And also fought inside a Monastery. That candle light dinner over the lake Udaipur, Where it was so difficult to find a place That early morning ride behind the Camel’s back Where I laughed at your discomfort, Every time the camel would race the pace. That morning walk beside the sea, And that song you sang to please me; Cant forget the moment you bent down on your knee. Not all rosy, we also started a trek fighting over photographs and selfies We walked...

I remember coloring Green, Saffron and White, With pride, made the drawing of my national flag right, Celebrated our Independence and Republic Sang ‘ Ae mere vatan’ and wrote new patriotic lyrics; Shared a bond, right from the time I was born, Like the mother and child; we shared unspoken words and unexpressed emotion; My mother encouraged me to speak up, Even if I did not like the care she provided or the freedom she gave me We negotiated our difference of opinion; For we are a family, we agreed on common settlement Because every time I could speak up when I was sad or happy; My love and responsibility multiplied towards my mother and family. That love my friend should never come to question, No journalist, no politician gets to define the scope of my love for her For we all play a different role, And to the mother, neither one is more important than the other. She does not prefer her son who stays up to protect her; More than the son, who is...

There is a growing resentment within me and even after knowing that it is created by the government, it still feels very strong. Living in the Northern part of the country and having grown up in the North-East, I love my chicken, fish and mutton. Because I was born to a Brahmin family thankfully, pork is not one of my favorite meat. However, I equally like all the vegetarian preparations that most of my friends have to offer or relish on. Most of my favorite lunch boxes (yes, Arpita and Anushree I am talking about you guys here!) from college and work are vegetarian and I can still die for them. As someone not with a voracious appetite, if I am the only non-vegetarian in the room, I will always go and enjoy the vegetarian dishes that my friends would have and up until now I was never conscious about this fact. It is only in the recent days, in the growing political scenario of orange uniform and meat ban that I have become protective of my right to my choice. My diet, my culture ...

Very soon you all will grow up to recognize me and am sure all your parents will introduce me as your mad Aunt (mahi or pepi). I already have many mad stories and promise to have many more by the time you all can sit together along with the family and laugh. To start with, right at this moment am writing you this letter with a plastered foot, the story behind how I managed this will come to you later! In spite of the happy, mad self that I am; I am concerned about you all. I am concerned about the world that you will grow up in. And I am concerned about the communal, patriarchal walls that will tie you up in spite of the best upbringing that you will get. You will go to school and see the images of your nursery rhymes where the women will be shown in the kitchen and the men will be shown with a briefcase. Your tiny mind will form its first impression. You will sing rhymes which will read ‘the king was in the counting house, counting out his money; the queen was in the parlor eati...