Snap-knots!

Many moons ago, maybe half a super moon ago, as soon as we turned 18, all North Indian girls trooped down to Samir Das’s studio on Theatre Road. We were required to wear a printed chiffon / georgette sari, almost no make up, just kaajal.A string of pearls. He painstakingly adjusted the lights and angles. In those days of no photoshop the images were I am sure touched up manually to provide perfection. He was a legend!

These photos were circulated to find us a groom. Strange that men did not need one of these! Strange that everyone: in-laws and all were always aware of imperfections glossed over in these oh so super pictures. They obviously had daughters who did likewise. Needless to say they made suitable noises – oohed and aahed. Ultimately the main-stay for marriage was the family you came from, background, standing - financial mainly. I was wheat complexioned, 5’2”, not so pretty (Unlike the pic) and educated. Oh mama dearest these were disqualifications. Fair and lovely, added automatic points exponentially discrediting other requirements! Educated meant a mind of one’s own. Work, no way. Naah... Not desirable.J Ultimately all that probably mattered were the green backs (newly upped to pink) that exchanged hands because one witnessed girls dark and not at all presentable ensnaring the so-called most eligible bachelors.
I came with a suitable endowment but education became a disclaimer and believe it or not the fact that we were three sisters and had no brothers was one too. I was puzzled - they (in-laws) would then inherit the wealth. I had no brothers and as per the Mitakshara school the boys inherited excluding the girls which was a presumed norm surpassing the prevailing laws of inheritance. We were somewhat heiresses :P These unspoken rules still exist – under the legal radar. The rationale was the brother represented a “pihar” which would keep traditions alive amounting to the “lena-dena “ on occasions – birth, marriage, festivals, even death ( the pagri ritual which is symbolic and a gate pass to heaven ) Boys were a premium to keep the family name going, to do the final rites as per “gotra” (genetic or adopted – I thought that was cheating but that is another story) so that the respective souls and successors could go to heaven and ancestors (pitris) rest in peace. A family of girls was “tauba” – surely doomed. As was ours!

Coming back to the pics. I had lovely long tresses, much coveted which I cut to make a statement - so the photo had to be upgraded. My parents brought us up contrary to social expectations, well-educated, career minded, forthright, capable and gave us a voice. I did my Law and CA with distinction and came into the so-called marriage “market”. I protested and said no to most “boys” who were making money faster than they could recite the alphabet, time for not much else. That was not a life I had dreamed of. Ever!
I spurned norms, upped and married a Bengali all of 30 years ago with much social disapproval. That is again another story...
These photos surfaced. I gloated and preened and here we are!

Trumped up! American elections

I am a woman. I am not an American but have watched the American elections closely. I am a woman. I am a feminist. I stand for abortion, gay rights. I stand for empowerment. I stand for breaking the glass ceiling. Yet...

As I watch the rhetoric of a woman who has worked hard for 21 years to get to the top versus a misogynist, womaniser, buffoon, tax evader. I find myself staring at some disquieting questions floating around. What is America today? Obama had a dream. Luther King’s dream and became the first black President. We were all ecstatic. What is the legacy he leaves behind? The dream which was perhaps a bubble, illusion, aspirational, dreams unfulfilled. What is the fine print. What emerges when you connect the dots.

Wars, ISIS, economic shambles, A failed Obmacare which the poor cannot afford... Just citing some!

The author of a book Hillbilly Elegy speaks of Ohio, the lost jobs, opportunities, poverty. Obama created a dream of white collared Americans but what about the rest. They fell by the wayside. There is a rampant problem of drugs in the border states, loss of jobs to immigrants. Inclusion yes, certainly, but are there enough jobs to include? No one wants wars, ISIS threats looms large on the horizon. I have watched the debates and I daresay Hillary has been ambivalent , not definitive to say the least on most of these issues.

There were closed door meetings in Wall street. Expensive! Addressed by Hillary wherein the bigwigs contributed undisclosed sums to the Foundation, which has funded the elections. What was the agenda? Noone is telling. One does know that tax sops were introduced to favour the elites. Obviously everyone jumped onto the bandwagon to make the best of this opportunity. Shouldn’t all accounts come up for scrutiny – Why only one? Who are the other contributors to the Foundation? there have been whispers. There cannot be smoke without fires. Why no answers? Why no transparency? Questionable financial ethics!

There have been talk of walls and Russia and China and the likes. I am sure all exaggerations to catch the fancy of the public imagination. In the long run they are metaphors for a bucket list. Much like “the dream” America goes to polls with wounded pride, poverty, loss of jobs, questionable state support. Young people fighting someone else’s war and the constant fear not of Big Brother but the ISIS bother. They are nervous scared, of a rerun of the eight years. Doom or gloom.

The vote is perchance anti-incumbent. I am a fierce ideologue, have fought for glass ceilings. I am pro women’s rights, Durga, Kali. I support abortion and gay rights. Yet I am a mom , have kids, can understand the angst of a bleak future with poverty and wars in the horizon. Idealism perchance cannot thrive in a questionable vacuum. I become a realist!

Out of desperation one grabs whatever one gets – clutch straws. Straws of a madman. Straws nevertheless...

Starts with I and ends with me!

Very true... Have realised it the hard way. Whatsapping and not reaching out personally, to amend, commend. To converse empathise and truly share not only happy but troubled times. To find the time despite your own shit to share another person's. To feel another person's angst despite your own is real caring. NOT frivolous mindless coffee shops, shopping malls, clubs, drinks get togethers. Selfies and meaningless dualfies. Two people in the same frame, not knowing who the other is. To reciprocate and understand... To find the time... Nope! Not there! So easy to live in a bubble and assign blame unilaterally! Not see what the other stands for. Learnt the hard way that nowadays "I care" is lip service. Time and empathy are at a premium! Expectations are endless. No one wants to live and let go. Harbour silly grudges without knowing why? Learnt the hard way that you cannot keep understanding the other person is busy, Its hard to learn that someone you stood for simply is not there! Life in this material world is no longer a two way street but a one way alley... IT starts with I and ends with me