BHOKRI

     The mighty Banyan Tree stands right outside my officer's colony. It flutters its leaves in celebration of every stroke of wind. It receives with reverence all the diyas kept around it in the evenings, meant to deal with the shani doshas of Hindu devotees. You see, Peepal ka pedh is divine.

     It reminds me of Kerala in many ways. The erstwhile gramsabhas of Kerala were invariably held under the shade of the Banyan Tree(aal maram) .The eternal presence of Banyan trees is inevitable outside temples and some movie scenes. The aalila thaali(North Indians please read as Mangalsutra) and aalila kannan(Lord Krishna) are all related to Banyan tree.  

     I was out for office on time, that day. While waiting for the share auto (No mini bus please!) I could see that a couple is busy pulling down the tender branches of Banyan tree down to the ground, with an unsually long bamboo stick. The pale green leaves and shoots of the tree had just arrived after winter. I watched the activity for a while and was confused why they never stopped doing it despite having a considerable collection of the leaves and tender shoots. And I wondered what purpose it was supposed to serve. I decided to ask, out of curiosity.

     The couple temporarily paused and looked at me. My Hindi is good enough but it cannot always work in place of Bengali. So conversing with locals is not easy. After repeating twice "Kya kar rahe ho aap log? Peepal ke pathon ka kya karega? ", with the necessary actions, they smiled. 

     The lady replied loudly, "Bhokri main khayega" !!

     "Accha..". Now the ball is in my court. 

     Bhokri... For next 5 seconds my mind scanned all the North Indian terminologies associated with the sound "Bh"... Bhangra,Bakrid, Bhakranangal(But thats a dam!), Bhai Dooj, Baisakhi... My logical conclusion was that Bhokri is a local festival wherein banyan tree leaves have some religious significance and is used to make some special dish exclusively for that occassion. Queer enough...

     " Accha...Bhokri main tumi ye patta khabo...?"(You are going to have these leaves during Bhokri?) I retorted with confidence in my broken Bengali.

     They looked at each other. Then they looked at me. 

    "Ami noi...Bhokri main khayega...Bhokri main..". The guy took over this time. 

     The same conversation was repeated another two times with same results. 0-0

     By now I knew I am in trouble.There was some serious miscommunication going on. ' I'd better hurry for office than experiment my Bengali skills with people on the road', I thought to myself. Dismissing further conversation with an "Accha Accha teek hai..", I became busy looking for an auto that would appear at the end of the road any time.

     "Didi...Bhokri.. Bhokri..

      Bhokri hain na..."

     The couple were still determined. I gave a puzzled look. " Ki bolchi"?

     "Choto...choto...choto Bhokri hain na... meeeeeeh meeeeeh..."

     The guy was now demonsrating his mimicry skills, bleating like a goat. I looked around to see if anybody was watching this tamasha. Nobody... Thank heavens! 

    " Meeeeh meeeeeh....." he continued. 

     Finally... the tube light in me got enlightened.

     The tender Banyan leaves are fodder for their goats and lambs. Great. Thumbs Up.Yo..!!

     I smiled at them, acknowledged that I understood and quietly boarded an auto, heading for office leaving behind a happy couple, jubilant in translating their idea to me .

    P.S:  I never imagined that Bakris would aspire to feed on Banyan tree leaves!! Hope they had a nice time munching the tender leaves! 

AMI DEE DICHI

     It was a hot afternoon. I was rushing home for lunch from office. That privilege of employees living in a township: A 10 to 15 minute walk to quarters. But it was too late to afford a walk. And it was too hot. That means I had to decide to board the local minibuses that ply in the route.

  The minibuses. They are mostly crowded with people who seldom take a bath. These buses are smelly and nauseating and take half the life out of me during the 4 minutes I spent inside it .They are a miniature representation and a true testimony to the life of the people in this part of the country. And this part of a country is: A small village in a corner of West Bengal close to Jharkhand border; “Sanctoria” to be pronounced as “Shaactodia”. Don’t mind. Sa is Sho in Bengali just as “ Aa” is “Oo”. Much to my dismay, in the first few days I had learnt that Saurav Ganguly is not actually Saurav...hes Shorob da...I was mispronouncing his name for my entire life..!!(and I will continue to J] Well, I got used to it now. Not a problem.

   Let me come to the point. I got into the bus. The conductor wore torn clothes greased with dirt. His face was as shabby as his hair. I sat down reluctantly ensuring minimum contact with the seat. Hurriedly I searched my hand bag for a 5 rupee coin...UHH.. Now...I had just run out of money. I just missed going to ATM.  No notes. No coins. Empty purse. I franctically checked every nook and corner of my bag and purse like a blitzkrieg so as to hand over the money before I get down. There I was, One, two, three....Three rupees..I made it! Almost made it!

   I counted it again and handed it over to the conductor and pretended to keep searching for more coins. But then, I knew these were people for whom every rupee is a lottery. Denying them the balance would be very unfair. I looked up at him hoping for some consideration. But, before I could say, Bhaiyya paise nahi hain...baad main denge.. those words rang into my ears from my side... “ AMI DEE DICHI...AMI DEE DICHI..”. 

   A lady with pan stained teeth grinned widely at me. Her sindoor adorned her forehead extending to midway of her cerebral hemisphere. She had by then opened up the knot, at the end of the pallu of her unwashed Sari and neatly handed over two one rupee coins to the conductor after due verification. I saw in her eyes a divine satisfaction of having helped me. I smiled at her and thanked her profusely. Both were happy. She smiled gleefully at me as though I made her day (but why?) and I smiled at her because she actually made my day!

    She helped a Madamji. For the local people, Madamjis are those officer grade women who work in Govt. Offices, clearly distinguished by their clothes and accessories and the place they live. Madamjis wear neatly pressed clothes and wrist watches. They carry handbags and use mobile phones and they can READ and WRITE. They live in company quarters. They possess good footwears and expensive wallets. But sometimes...They don’t have a two rupee coin!

   The incident through some light into the corners of my mind. The insights are as follows:

      1. Never underestimate the value of a rupee

      2. Never underestimate the power of a common man/woman- Courtesy: Sharukh Khan

   After coming here I just realised that I am not a common person. I realised that I am extraordinarily blessed. I received good education, love, care and attention. Good food. Shelter and laughter. Good job, bank account and adequate bank balance. Good water and toilets inside my residence- Always(Thankyou God!!) . Good friends, freedom, outings, books, movies, opportunities to travel, and good clothes.

    I did not know at some point of time that these are a distant dream for millions of people in this country. After joining Coal India and shifting my base to West Bengal, I saw what life is like for many others. Women work as aayas/maids in houses for 600-700 rupees a month. They earn a little more than 20 rupees a day, when a packet of milk costs 19 rupees and still feel happy that they are financially independent. They get up at 4 am to go out to attend natures call into the thickets. They have no toilets at home. 

   They queue up at 5 am to fetch water from the taps on the roadsides. Young girls lift two to three pots of water at a time to their homes. They bathe in public ponds and are exposed to water borne diseases and their personal safety is often jeopardised. They carry coal crumbs and make gobar cakes and pick up twigs to burn the chulhas.

    They may or may not have electricity at home. They may or may not have good food every day. They may or may not be safe. They may or may not be educated. Infact, most of them are illiterate and use thumb impressions instead of signatures. When inflation grips the price of vegetables they live on potato and home grown veggies if any.

   The woman I met was definitely not in a position to spend 2 rupees on a stranger. Simply because that’s roughly 10 percent of her daily wages. It does mean a lot to her. But I am so thankful to her that she had a heart to spend it on me and I write this because I couldn’t till date find and return her hard earned money. I could never tell her AMI DEE DICHI.

   So, I dedicate this part of my blog to her. The grinning Indian woman in the minibus! 

   My salute to her.

WHY I DON’T FULLY AGREE WITH YOU KALKI

Hey Kalki,

When my friend told me that Kalki has just made another epic by giving an impressive monologue, I was as excited as I was after watching your satirical video titled “Rape: Its your fault”. 

I admire you Kalki. You represent the woman of today who believes in herself and who knows how to walk her own way.You think and speak about women's issues much more than your peers in Bollywood. You are beautiful.You redefine beauty with your confidence and by just being yourself. But quite contrary to my expectations, barring some moments of truth, your monologue just disappointed me.

My intention is not to prove you wrong. It is just to show you the other side of your version. Nobody is completely correct or wrong.

To start with, you talk about the status of women in the past and you seem to be quite oblivious of the fact that women in India were respected the most in the ancient times when  people believed that divinity blossoms in that place where a woman is honoured - 'Yatra Naryastu Pujyante, Ramante Tatra Devata'. Women were learned, they were called Vidushis. They were an integral part of the society but I don't know when the situation deteriorated and collapsed to something like 'Na Stri swatantryamarhati' as explained in Manusmriti. Well that was perhaps Manu's narrow personal opinion which deserves no attention.

Kalki, I think you can decide for yourself what you want to do and can choose to avoid what society thinks about you. I don't expect the women suppressed by Khap panchayats to do it, but you can. If you dont want to wear lipstick, don't use them. If you feel comfortable in an oversized T-shirt and boxers, please wear them. If you want to dig your nose or grow armpit hair, you are free to do that. Nobody is going to arrest you. India is a free country.

I did not understand what point you wanted to prove when you explained about the parties you attended. If you don't like glitzy parties, avoid them. And please make an attempt to understand human psychology in a formal group. It is in human nature to set etiquettes and protocols and induce courtesy when in groups, whether you like it or not. You cannot expect President Obama to put his arms around our PM's shoulder and shout "Wassup mate!" when he is making an official visit. Nor do their wives giggle and chatter like the aunties in our neighbourhood, the moment they meet .Deviating from these norms is not a sin, you just need a little more spine, either to change it or walk away from it. So, I was not convinced with your allegations of fake smiles and painted lips in these parties.

But, your anguish is right and justified,when you talked about adolscent girls being forced into matrimony and female foeticide and women being objectified. Wait a minute.. so women 'are being' objectified? Are you sure? Switch on your TV and pay attention to Hindi film songs. You will see that 9 out of 10 women on screen are choosing to be objectified. They are competing to become the Item Queens. Katrina Kaif dances to the tunes of 'Sheila ki jawani' and 'Chikni Chameli' . Kareena Kapoor seduces in 'Dil mera muft ka' , Sunny Leone thinks she is Baby Doll and Priyanka Chopra is convinced that she has to show her cleaves and navel if Ram and Leela are in love(heights!!). 

Nowadays children do not listen to fairy tales Kalki.. Any three year old TV watching kid in this country are busy imitating Katrina and Kareena and Priyanka and in the process their idea of womanhood gets distorted. In a nutshell, with all due respect to the Bollywood actors and their hardwork and talent, I believe, woman have substantially contributed to their own problems.Just by not saying "NO" when required. Just by not being stern when required. 

Yes, men are yet to improve. But, before we point our fingers at men, let us look within ourselves.

Let us realise that we are half  of this human race and we are powerful. And 'Man' is contained in Wo'man'. Relax. Smile. 

All you have achieved through your monologue is that you have successfully evoked an emotion- the one of despair and disgust. We have moved on from the Bachchan's Angry Young Man era. But luckily for you, Indians are still  emotional. That does not solve the problem.

Let us think about the solutions and not the problems. 

As Vivekananda rightly said, "Kamzori ka ilaz kamzori ka vichar karna nahi, balki Shakti ka vichar karna hai"

If Indira Gandhi or Shakuntala Devi or Karnam Malleswari paid any attention to the reeti riwaaz of this patriarchal society that we exist in, do you think the world would even know them today? The fact is that they never bothered. Else they would not have been able to do anything except roaming around with their heads sticking out of their pallus. They avoided what is not required and simply loved what they were doing.

If we are in capacity to help those women who cannot do this for themselves, let us think about helping them. Let us talk about educating them, making them financially independent, making them stand on their feet.

Let us think with a gender neutral mind and feel with a woman's heart.

Let us not be naive and desperate with a shallow understanding of the world around us.

Let us not whine about all the tides that are against us, but look forward with confidence and faith in ourselves.

Let us walk hand in hand and spread the smile, that genuine smile like yours, without lipstick...

This world is ours too.

Remya.