Trapped in some dingy police cell and disowned by family and state, terrorist Ajmal Amir Kasab must be wondering what he had done to deserve his lot. And perhaps he is, in a sense, a victim of his circumstances. His is the story of a poverty stricken runaway who walked into the trap of fundamentalists, got indoctrinated and hardened with the use of arms, and sent on a vile suicide mission. And the lesson from the story: that terrorism feeds and thrives on a diet of poverty and illiteracy. Let us remember - 70% of India still lives in her villages, where life is dictated by monsoons and caste lords.
If values get easily tossed out of the lives of the economically disadvantaged among us, the story is not very different at the other end of the spectrum. The middle and upper middle classes, dazzled by the glamour of a globalized free-spending economy, have found their value systems subtly changing. The aggressive cultivation of the ‘what’s-in-it-for-me’ and ‘learn-to-say-no’ attitudes has led to self-absorption and self-indulgence, the likes of which has never been seen before. Malls, multiplexes and money have become the focal points of our lives.
The other side of India – poverty-stricken, caste-ridden, unemployed, illiterate – seems to be falling out of the purview of the radar of our uppity middle class urban youth. It took a tsunami to open Urban India’s eyes to the social alienation and economic backwardness of our invisible masses.
And now the recession. Young Urban India, in spite of all its slick comfortable life, has been going through troubled times. The recession is in the process of snatching the money out of the hands of our free-spending youth, and showing up the weak foundation of our economic and social systems. The Satyam fiasco suddenly showed up respectable captains of industry as having feet of clay. To watch iconic industrial houses and entire economic systems crumbling like a pack of cards can be a mind-blowing experience.
Obviously all is not well in India, rural or urban. Do we have the courage, the strength, endurance and resilience to take these momentous and disturbing changes in our stride? Do we have the resourcefulness to think, plan and act for the entire population of the country and not just our small peer groups? Do we have the compassion and sensitivity to take our entire population under our protective wings? Does our education system equip our children and youth to meet the challenges posed by this strange new globalized world, with its disturbing attractions and even more disturbing swings in fortunes? Does it help us contend with the economic divide and give us the vision to think of ways to bridge it?
Saturday, April 24, 2010
The yardstick of time
Some days ago when I worked my way into a sari, I felt – rather unusually - comfortable. Gone was that familiar puffed out, wriggly, stuck-to-something feeling which I have for many years associated with the sari. A frightening doubt gnawed its way like canker into my mind…
Time was when draping a sari seemed a terrible ritual. It needed time and space besides a load of safety pins. The air conditioner, too, to help me keep cool, while the six yards of cloth went round and round me and got tucked and stuck into all the right places (and held there with pins- a substitute for self-confidence and the social graces.)
Pins! How many I would need to hold my sari in place! The pleats needed them, the pallu, the waist even. And often at functions, a vicious pin would decide to open up and prick me just when I would not be in a position to do anything about it. Painful memories!
Saris for occasions, I would fume. Only under unavoidable circumstances. Like other people’s weddings. And your own ,of course. You couldn’t get married in a churidar, or jeans, not on your life, not even today, ten years into the twenty-first century.
And that instrument of torture, that symbol of the trappings of feminity that no Indian woman has ever escaped, that weapon of soul destruction that programmes one to be constantly conscious of oneself, that diabolical invention that keeps women entangled and preoccupied in their own clothing – why do I now feel so comfortable in it?
And why, to continue the introspection, do I find it so easy to wear one these days? The time between two rings of the telephone is all I need now, to drape a sari around myself. As for pins, why it must be some years since I even saw one.
“Just experience,” my husband says, in a voice that sounds most insincerely comforting. I look at his face probingly, but he is inscrutable. All those years of domesticity have bounced off on him, I observe to myself, and realize with shock that it is now nearly two decades since we came together in holy matrimony. That’s a lot of time, I think slowly. (How did we ever manage?)The canker grows insidiously.
As I bustle out of the room, ready for the outing, my daughter gives me the onceover, as only a brattish, overconfident, self-opinionated teenager can. “You look like a..a…a..a…” I wait hopefully as she searches for the right word – and there it comes: “a school teacher… with your glasses, you hair done up in a bun, and this crisp cotton sari.” The canker spreads fast. What could she mean? Did she mean I was - well, you know, not so young any more?
Of course, I don’t let my hair down – literally I mean – any more. It irks me when wisps break free and tickle my neck and ears. I gather it all up into one big bun and try to forget about it.
Besides, in a bun, those streaks of gray and silver don’t show. Anyway, there were just a couple of them. They didn’t mean a thing. Even teenagers have them. Bad water, pollution, and all that. But you wouldn’t want them to show, right?
The glasses – the doctor did suggest contact lens, but the thought of a foreign body inside my eye makes me uncomfortable. He also suggested refractive surgery, but all this new-fangled technology cuts no ice with me. I can’t believe that short sight can be cured – no matter what the experts say, no mater what the internet says. The doc said I didn’t need bifocals – of course not, what could he mean? Young people don’t need bifocals.
“You don’t wear those synthetic clingy saris any more, don’t you?” my daughter’s voice breaks through my reverie, as she goes to the mirror and starts adjusting her hair. “What are you going to do with them? You have about a dozen of them, don’t you?” I consider.
Yes, she was right. Why did not wear my synthetic saris anymore? My chiffons and georgettes. I shook my head. They kept sliding off one’s waist and shoulders. “Sliding off?” my daughter gave a bellow of most-unladylike laughter. “maybe they did then. Surely not now?”
The canker reared its ugly head gleefully. Now? Yes, it was different now, let me face it square on, I sighed. The waist and shoulders were amply rounded: no sari, no matter what its mettle, could slide off any more. I felt uncomfortable.
Even three layers of the stuff couldn’t effectively conceal the folds of flab. I really must start doing yoga. I had learnt yoga while at school. What was that asana which won me a prize …how could I forget? Was I getting old? Old? Me? Surely not? Laughable thought! Or was it?
Time was when draping a sari seemed a terrible ritual. It needed time and space besides a load of safety pins. The air conditioner, too, to help me keep cool, while the six yards of cloth went round and round me and got tucked and stuck into all the right places (and held there with pins- a substitute for self-confidence and the social graces.)
Pins! How many I would need to hold my sari in place! The pleats needed them, the pallu, the waist even. And often at functions, a vicious pin would decide to open up and prick me just when I would not be in a position to do anything about it. Painful memories!
Saris for occasions, I would fume. Only under unavoidable circumstances. Like other people’s weddings. And your own ,of course. You couldn’t get married in a churidar, or jeans, not on your life, not even today, ten years into the twenty-first century.
And that instrument of torture, that symbol of the trappings of feminity that no Indian woman has ever escaped, that weapon of soul destruction that programmes one to be constantly conscious of oneself, that diabolical invention that keeps women entangled and preoccupied in their own clothing – why do I now feel so comfortable in it?
And why, to continue the introspection, do I find it so easy to wear one these days? The time between two rings of the telephone is all I need now, to drape a sari around myself. As for pins, why it must be some years since I even saw one.
“Just experience,” my husband says, in a voice that sounds most insincerely comforting. I look at his face probingly, but he is inscrutable. All those years of domesticity have bounced off on him, I observe to myself, and realize with shock that it is now nearly two decades since we came together in holy matrimony. That’s a lot of time, I think slowly. (How did we ever manage?)The canker grows insidiously.
As I bustle out of the room, ready for the outing, my daughter gives me the onceover, as only a brattish, overconfident, self-opinionated teenager can. “You look like a..a…a..a…” I wait hopefully as she searches for the right word – and there it comes: “a school teacher… with your glasses, you hair done up in a bun, and this crisp cotton sari.” The canker spreads fast. What could she mean? Did she mean I was - well, you know, not so young any more?
Of course, I don’t let my hair down – literally I mean – any more. It irks me when wisps break free and tickle my neck and ears. I gather it all up into one big bun and try to forget about it.
Besides, in a bun, those streaks of gray and silver don’t show. Anyway, there were just a couple of them. They didn’t mean a thing. Even teenagers have them. Bad water, pollution, and all that. But you wouldn’t want them to show, right?
The glasses – the doctor did suggest contact lens, but the thought of a foreign body inside my eye makes me uncomfortable. He also suggested refractive surgery, but all this new-fangled technology cuts no ice with me. I can’t believe that short sight can be cured – no matter what the experts say, no mater what the internet says. The doc said I didn’t need bifocals – of course not, what could he mean? Young people don’t need bifocals.
“You don’t wear those synthetic clingy saris any more, don’t you?” my daughter’s voice breaks through my reverie, as she goes to the mirror and starts adjusting her hair. “What are you going to do with them? You have about a dozen of them, don’t you?” I consider.
Yes, she was right. Why did not wear my synthetic saris anymore? My chiffons and georgettes. I shook my head. They kept sliding off one’s waist and shoulders. “Sliding off?” my daughter gave a bellow of most-unladylike laughter. “maybe they did then. Surely not now?”
The canker reared its ugly head gleefully. Now? Yes, it was different now, let me face it square on, I sighed. The waist and shoulders were amply rounded: no sari, no matter what its mettle, could slide off any more. I felt uncomfortable.
Even three layers of the stuff couldn’t effectively conceal the folds of flab. I really must start doing yoga. I had learnt yoga while at school. What was that asana which won me a prize …how could I forget? Was I getting old? Old? Me? Surely not? Laughable thought! Or was it?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Family Dimension
Instant food, instant status updates, instant communication, instant information, instant whatnot…in the age of the instant everything, one thing has remained constant – there can be no instant family. Raising a family has required and will continue to require enormous patience, endurance, time, effort, care and concern.
There are no short cuts to building a family. It involves not just a personal relationship and a birth or two. It involves creating a web of relationships and more importantly maintaining it. It involves supporting the family economically to make it independent and strong.
It involves anchoring it to a value system for sustainability. It requires imbuing the family with the qualities of honesty, compassion, sensitivity, respect, love and the thousand and one other values without which the human race would not have survived so long.
It calls for establishing a cultural climate at home to give members the comfort of an individual and a collective identity. It means constantly educating and orienting members of the family to ensure that they grow intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. It requires ensuring justice and fairness in all transactions between members of the family, and between family and the community outside. It is empowering every member of the family to support, nurture and care for the family, to feel responsible for the family and accountable to it.
Above all, it involves empowering yourself with new skills and strengths that can help you meet all the requirements and challenges that come with being a family person. For who among us know the full import and significance and implication when we set out to start a family?
There are no short cuts to building a family. It involves not just a personal relationship and a birth or two. It involves creating a web of relationships and more importantly maintaining it. It involves supporting the family economically to make it independent and strong.
It involves anchoring it to a value system for sustainability. It requires imbuing the family with the qualities of honesty, compassion, sensitivity, respect, love and the thousand and one other values without which the human race would not have survived so long.
It calls for establishing a cultural climate at home to give members the comfort of an individual and a collective identity. It means constantly educating and orienting members of the family to ensure that they grow intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. It requires ensuring justice and fairness in all transactions between members of the family, and between family and the community outside. It is empowering every member of the family to support, nurture and care for the family, to feel responsible for the family and accountable to it.
Above all, it involves empowering yourself with new skills and strengths that can help you meet all the requirements and challenges that come with being a family person. For who among us know the full import and significance and implication when we set out to start a family?
The Family Dimension
Instant food, instant status updates, instant communication, instant information, instant whatnot…in the age of the instant everything, one thing has remained constant – there can be no instant family. Raising a family has required and will continue to require enormous patience, endurance, time, effort, care and concern.
There are no short cuts to building a family. It involves not just a personal relationship and a birth or two. It involves creating a web of relationships and more importantly maintaining it. It involves supporting the family economically to make it independent and strong.
It involves anchoring it to a value system for sustainability. It requires imbuing the family with the qualities of honesty, compassion, sensitivity, respect, love and the thousand and one other values without which the human race would not have survived so long.
It calls for establishing a cultural climate at home to give members the comfort of an individual and a collective identity. It means constantly educating and orienting members of the family to ensure that they grow intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. It is ensuring justice and fairness in all transaction between members of the family, and between family and the community outside. It is empowering every member of the family to support, nurture and care for the family, to feel responsible for the family and accountable to it.
Above all, it involves empowering yourself with new skills and strengths that can help you meet all the requirements and challenges that come with being a family person. For who among us know the full import and significance and implication when we set out to start a family?
There are no short cuts to building a family. It involves not just a personal relationship and a birth or two. It involves creating a web of relationships and more importantly maintaining it. It involves supporting the family economically to make it independent and strong.
It involves anchoring it to a value system for sustainability. It requires imbuing the family with the qualities of honesty, compassion, sensitivity, respect, love and the thousand and one other values without which the human race would not have survived so long.
It calls for establishing a cultural climate at home to give members the comfort of an individual and a collective identity. It means constantly educating and orienting members of the family to ensure that they grow intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. It is ensuring justice and fairness in all transaction between members of the family, and between family and the community outside. It is empowering every member of the family to support, nurture and care for the family, to feel responsible for the family and accountable to it.
Above all, it involves empowering yourself with new skills and strengths that can help you meet all the requirements and challenges that come with being a family person. For who among us know the full import and significance and implication when we set out to start a family?
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