Not all men, but all women

Violence against women has revealed itself and reflects in everything that we do. 

First is the act of violence, second is the coverup, third is the revelation, fourth comes the justification, fifth is the deflection, sixth is the sheer number and age variance of victims, seventh is the scale, eighth is the absolute submission of women to the knowledge that we are not safe and we cannot do anything about it.

Not all men were built to violate. But all men were built to protect. 

Pause to think - who protects? What needs protection? 

To nature all that matters is the birth and rebirth, and regeneration and evolution. Who carries that responsibility in the womb? Of course the one who has been given the gender of a woman at birth. The woman. The first gender. The queen bee. Women were supposed to be the heart of the lair.

Men were supposed to protect, not because she is weak, but because she carries the offspring, she carries life itself. She needs rest. She damn well knows her job and does not need command. She needs to rest while knowing that someone guards her gates. She is the mother. She is the nurturer.

Men were supposed to guard the gates, so that life can be birthed, species can be carried along. They were built to be the soldier who safeguard - the role of the protector, it is real. In all species.

But not in the way, human social atrophy has presented itself.

The protector has turned the tables because of raw power, and dismantled women from within. The one who was supposed to hold the power was systematically broken from within until she forgot that she ever had it. 

The commander therefore became the king. And shoved a harem full of women into dark corners. Either submit or be witch-hunted. Be packed in clothes like parcels, like goods in transition. Like commodity.

Look at the world systems today - society, politics, religion, corporations - do you see nurture anywhere? Imagine if women were at the helm. They would have built systems that would care - unfortunately we cannot even imagine what that system would look like under the chaos in the world.

Patriarchal corporations are stuffing women into sweatshops and have not been able to create safety, despite measures. They have silenced people who question.

Households have told women - work is hierarchy, money talks. Earn money like a man, or be thrown in a corner.

Human beings - the most sophisticated species of the planet - have betrayed their own. The monkey kings have built money empires that will justify sweatshops. 

National leaders who wage wars have men at their helms. And then they use their harem of slitherine women to justify their acts. The sisterhood has been corrupted.

And religion? What religion? Where man gods are at the head. Where Adam was the innocent guy whom Eve corrupted with the poisoned apple? Works well to stuff the apple forever in her throat and let her rest in guilt! And where the most diverse religion on this planet, hesitates to place Sita beside Ram. Where Buddha's enlightenment is built on Yashodhara's sacrifice

The women dead, the children dead. Often tortured, ra*ed at will, but always shoved back into dark corners. Violated, humiliated, commanded, trafficked, silenced. 

Life began within women. Men built an entire system to make her forget it, calling it civilization.

Women will have to take up the sword. Not because it is their war, but because it was brought to their door, and the gatekeepers became the invaders.

Not all men, but all women were supposed to lead his command. 

Frozen!

The mental and emotional angst of lying low under the vigil of a hawk who is waiting to devour you. The feeling is paralysing, the morale death is slow - you know you are alive, you know you can fight back, even shoot them down. But you are held down by an unknown fear - a fear that evokes a certain sense of survival, and the limbs don't respond. 

You pick up a dead blade of grass and throw it at the hawk to shoo it away - but it thinks that it is a friendly wave and continues to soar high. 

Everyone praises the hawk, and the hawk tells you that you can also fly, and it can give you the wind beneath your wings. 

You lie there in shock, wanting to get up and fly away, but you are frozen. There are no shackles, no bars, just the weight of your own mind. You have an arsenal of arrows to shoot the hawk down - but you don't, somehow. And you hate yourself for your own debilitation. And you lie like a piece of wood - listless.

You shut your eyes. But the hawk's eyes keep haunting you. You lose track of time lying there.

Such is the emotional effect of moral abuse of a predator! 

Then along comes a friend, places a warm hand on your forehead gives you a sip of water and asks - can you move your thumb? Just the thumb? "Yes!" - you barely speak through a dusty vision. "Okay, move your thumb" - he says. And you do. 

"Now can you move your wrist?" "Yes" - you speak for the first time. 

-"Both?" 

-"Yes!" 

-"Okay, let's see you do that."

You move your wrists. 

He says "Place your palm on the ground, and hold my hand and get up." You do.

"See? It isn't so difficult" - the friend says, holding your hand. 

With one giant heave, you get up and stand. 

You know the hawk is watching. You clasp onto the grip of the rapier slung around your waist, and look up. 

The hawk takes his gaze away, and says that it's a shame since we could have soared higher together. 

You cling onto the friend's hand for dear life. You keep wondering why you cannot kill the hawk, and why it held you captive.

You want to scream. But you don't. 

You start to walk towards home.

The hawk still soars, never really losing sight of you. And even when you don't look up, you feel those eyes on you - still waiting to devour you.

Exhaustion sets in. But you trudge along towards home.

[If you know someone who is under the spell of a hawk, don't ask them why, don't shame them if they are not able to get up, hold their hand. Tell them to move one muscle at a time and make them walk home.]

Honey Bee

Why she fell for him head first, when everyone else said it was so wrong...

Because he was a L-I-A-R... the greatest one that she had ever met...

Because he told her the best lies about herself that no one ever told her....

That there was no other like her...

That she was the best amongst everyone he knew....

The best driver and the most confident presenter..

That with her public speaking skills she belonged on the world stage some day...

That she was the hottest girl, his little queen and no one else's...

That her skin was baby soft, like butter, like silk...

That he lost his mind when she took his arms and wrapped him around her...

That her touch made his heart flutter more than his highest success...

That he knew every curve of her body, every look to a fault...

That their jokes were never spelt out, but always ended in muffled laughter in a room full of people...

He stood towering over her, she was tiny.. 

He made her stand on his feet, and embraced her around the waist...

And they danced slowly for nothing...

He lifted her up to the heavens and showed her off to the universe...

He told me her was unlimited, boundary-less, madness...

Her messy hair was his nest, her cinderella feet stress balls in his big hands...

She has known love at other times too, but they don't lie to her.. about her..

He lied so much that she became those lies for him... 

And she believed those lies about herself too...

She only wished he were hers...

But he could not be..

He will always be her if-only... A LIAR... But made her a believer... The greatest liar of all...

Why didn't you leave?

Abuse is strange. Abuse has an impact that is counterintuitive. Everyone asks the abused "why didn't you leave?" 

But the same people asking the question may not be able to leave themselves and be putting up with an abuser in their own homes. 

That's how abuse works. It plays hot and cold with our minds so many times that slowly our brain dissociates from logic and the obvious solution - leaving. 

The first time I am hit, I experience shock. Then I cope thinking I must have done something and try to justify the abuser - because I love him too much + the home that I am here now feels safe + walking out is shameful. 

The second time I am hit - I try to justify it as his anger issue. I tell him it is not acceptable behaviour. And he also profusely apologises. 

The third time I revolt a little. He uses his family and friends to make me "understand" what a nice guy he is and he is trying.

Then the fourth, fifth, sixth. Slowly I begin to think that it is my fault and my shame. 

Seventh, eighth, ninth - my brain has started to accept the toxic drama as normal. Just like my mom or dad used to hit me when I was wrong. And I already have a child - they need a father, I cannot just walk away.

Tenth - it is in front of the child. He drags me by the hair and thrashes me. My child screams in fear. I come out and comfort my child - nothing has happened, daddy just got upset. Don't you see how much he does for all of us?

One day when I leave, after 7-8-10 years. People say "you should have tried harder". And only some of them ask, "what made you stay?" Notice how the victim is shamed - if you leave, it is shame, if you stayed it is shame. Because we are not aware how in a strange slitherine way abuse messes our minds.

(P.S. the above stories are a compilation of real lived experiences of different people from different walks.)

Therapy is for you, not for me

"Oh! you are taking therapy? That is awesome. You are so brave. If you feel something is wrong with you, you should get treated."

"Nah! I don't need therapy. I am okay, I am strong enough. It is just a regular thing, you know? I can handle it."{

Most people will be very happy for you if they heard that you are going to a therapist or a counselor, but if you suggest it to them, they will say they don't need it. 

The process of therapy is not easy. It feels like peeling back a lot of layers of dead skin, burns, scars, ga[ing wounds and underlying infection. And then putting a balm on those time after time after time. And worse still your surgeon i.e. your therapist is actually not dressing the wound, but guiding you on how to do it.

The most frustrating part about therapy and self-awareness is that even when you know that somewhere your inner child is seeking validation from the wrong places, that you still continue to seek for it in the wrong places. It doesn't stop. No matter how many people you have to love your adult self, there is that one day when it may just all fall through. 

That even as you are aware of the journey of your parents and other caregivers who affected you unwittingly and perhaps unintentionally, and you want to forgive them deeply and unconditionally, their devil continues to provoke your darkness and you respond - with anger, with frustration, and with thoughts of self-harm, and  sometimes seeking that guilty pleasure of wishing they did not exist. 

Even as you call it out, and admit that you are working on it, you may be more self-aware and empathic, others who carry on without remorse will call you crazy and misfit.

Therapy is not easy. The label of someone under therapy is not easy. Dealing with yourself and all those dark corners of your life that you had to turn to get on the path of life, it is not easy. It takes courage and a commitment to fight for yourself despite the world and our culture. It is hard to cut toxic cords and yet take care of people who were given to you through your karma.

But I want you to know that I understand. That you are loved. That your journey is unconditionally understood. That the universe has your back. That in your darkest moments, if you are willing to reach out, the universe will surprise you with support from unexpected places.

Love and light

My gender experience in Kolkata

The intellectual, well-read Bengali needs to wake up to the fact that all the revolutionary ideas that they have read while growing up, are not to be taken merely in a cerebral manner, but is also to be implemented in day-to-day life.

I came to Kolkata a year back. Been in Delhi for 15 years (2005-2015). Delhi was love. Delhi taught me how to stand up on my two feet, to stand up for myself and to stand up for others. And no matter what we do in Delhi, for better or for worse, it gets highlighted. Delhi gave me the opportunity to understand the corporate world and professionalism, it allowed me to mix with the political clout - the AAP, the Ministers and Bureaucracy of the ruling parties in State and Center. My career also allowed me to rub shoulders with the who's who of the industry - the C-suite of the top business houses, and the media. 

On the streets of Delhi, I have seen pride walks, slut walks, campaigns against rape laws, I have seen the presence and absence of police and administration. I have seen rowdy neighbours, but I have also had the delight to be with neighbors who were like a network and did not hesitate to knock on my door and send me soup and medicine, even as a contagious pandemic raged outside. In corporate houses, I have seen talks on gender, diversity & inclusion. I have sat through hours of meetings choking on an ominous smog trying to understand how to build a sustainable environment.

But in Kolkata, I am having a very different experience. I see how a lot of things that people elsewhere are revolutionizing is still normalised here. It may not be for everyone and everytime. But more or less, I am observing a few things in disturbia -

1. 1. In marriage, while on papers it is a shared responsibility, in practical life you are still expected to behave in a certain way, and naturally undertake certain responsibilities
2. 2. Working/career in many cases is an option. You may be expected to be a homemaker before anything else.
3. 3. Social circle and social interaction may have a divide. Men sit with men, women with women.
4. 4. Much less women drive
5. 5. A lot more people are homophobic - LGBTQ to them is a Western concept. Especially a lot of the men here think gays are abominable
6. 6. The word "rape" or rape-jokes are sometimes loosely used in a humorous way, whereas in Delhi many people have risen to the fact that this is not alright, and rather offensive
7. 7. Plastic usage is very heavy, waste segregation is poor
8. 8. Beating their children is a thing. Cognizance of child abuse and child psychology is low
9. 9. Divorce is a stigma. By having a divorce, the belief is you break the family. So you keep holding on to bad marriages for sake of society
10. 10. Neighbourhood is interfering most of the time and want a piece of your personal life. But are not useful when you really need them in sickness etc. 

While not all of the above may not be true for every household of every locality, but I have highlighted at best an approximation of my observation. 

#jaagoBengalijaago

The empath is the womb through which a new universe will always emerge

What hurts you, blesses you

Dear Empaths, 

This planet is made up of two kinds of people - one who gives and one who takes from it. Healers, lovers, sufis, travellers, environmentalists comprise the empaths - people born with their cups filled with love that they have to offer to the world so that the world can heal from its incessant pain and abuse. These are the gems of humanity who can put the pain and the sufferings of others ahead of themselves. These are the people the world needs but do not want - the people who make the world go round while they bear the cross.

The journey of the empaths is one of the most difficult ones. It is one of constant pain and pealing and experiences. It is how it is meant to be. An empath is meant to be broken up, cut to pieces with shards of terrible experiences. "A wound is the place through which light enters you". I never understood this until late in my life when my heart had been broken so many times that there was nothing left to be broken. I stopped judging the world or myself completely. What was left of me was love and acceptance, and deep surrender to the energies around me. My recluse became my little hut in my heart and I was able to hold other people's hands when they needed some respite. I realize the value of the pain I was put through, some of it I inadvertently chose, when people started to stop at my little hut got a bit of placebo from my experiences, and got the energy to move on.

This is the journey of the empath. A loving and feeling person initially is like a child - innocent and loves everyone with all his or her heart. They come from a place of seeking love in return as well. But life takes its own course. Universal love is not about one person or fulfillment of one or a few relationships around you - it is about your capacity to love the entire world without losing yourself. The child-like empath needs to learn to grow through the pain, the rejection, and the guilt. They eventually learn that they are as beautiful as is the rest of the world. They learn to look out for themselves, to express with some gumption what they need and what they don't like. This the art and science of an authentic life, where you don't put yourself behind everyone else nor trample over the lives of others. You come to a place in your heart where you find that pot of gold - it was always there inside of you. But for this journey, you must first take care of yourself. The pain, the bad relationships only are a reminder that you belong to yourself first. Once you learn that you need to take care of yourself first, you will not give anything to others with the hope of love in return - you will then love life the way it is, you will love all connections around you and you will be able to become the nurturing force of this world that an empath is meant to be.

I know that I may sound eccentric to most people. But I certainly hope that some tired traveler finds this chalice when needed, drinks from it, and is able to trust again the journey that he is on. Everything is in divine order. The very hand that rocks the boat also nurtures the flowers. Life is everywhere around you - in your solitude with yourself and in the people around you. Breathe with it, sing with it, dance with it. And I hope that you are blessed with enormous amounts of love from the universe. so that your cup is never empty.

Peace and love!