A couple of asides

My first two restaurant reviews are up. A has been very kind and hosted them on his blog. You can find my review on Oh!Calcutta here and the one on Moets Defence Colony here. And if you want to know what to eat, where to go and how to get there you must go read A’s blog. Now!

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Asmita theater group has been organizing several street plays lately to raise awareness on atrocities against women. They have already performed at least twice and they have one scheduled tomorrow (March 22) as well in front of the MGF Megacity Mall at 5 pm. For more details you can visit their FB page here. Their street play is called “Dastak” and is directed by Arvind Gaur, a very well known theater director.

As a human rights activist, I do believe that street plays are an excellent way of raising awareness and reaching out to the masses. And Asmita has done some brilliant work so far! Please lend your support to them. Remember, every single voice counts!

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I am at the moment running pretty much all over town saying goodbyes. But I am just not ready to talk about it. I just can’t. And when it comes down to a select few, it gets all the more difficult. I think we have all been laughing a bit much these last few weeks because its easier to deal with the heartbreak that way. No?

Years gone by.

© Paroma Ray

Three years have gone by! And how!

This post is a part of wordless wednesday.

Thank you note.

Dear Readers,

Thank you. The response to my open letter was overwhelming. The number of hits on my blog was over 1500 till midnight. I am humbled to see all the comments, emails and the facebook messages that I have received overnight. You, readers, make my writing worth it.

I wrote the letter out of much anguish. You see, a rape is a rape is a rape. It does not matter what the victim was wearing, what time of the day or night it was, where she was going, with whom she was at that time. Nothing matters. Rape is a crime. And it is only the criminals who should be punished and not the victim. The victim does NOT commit the crime. Yet she has to live a life hiding from the society. It is the criminals who should hang their heads in shame instead.

Safety of the citizens is a state responsibility as is law and order. Under no circumstances can the state shirk away from this and continue to shift the burden on women and women alone.

Thank you once more, all of you.

Paroma

On Spring. And flowers.

© Paroma Ray

“Just living is not enough…one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower” – Hans Christian Anderson

This post is a part of wordless wednesday.

An open letter to Haryana authorities.

Dear Sir/Ma’am,

I write to express my heartfelt gratitude for coming up with a such an innovative and brilliant idea to curb the incidents of rape in the city of Gurgaon. I, as a citizen of India, urge you to expedite the process of implementation of this rule at the earliest. I completely understand that banning women from working after 8 pm would benefit this city immensely and would immediately render it safe for the working women. Also, directing the employers to secure additional permission from the labour department to employ women to work after 8 pm would encourage them immensely to hire women employees. It is definitely a step towards the economic and social empowerment of women. After all, what business does a woman have working beyond 8 pm? I think, that a woman should come back home and quietly put dinner on the table and watch her serials and take care of the family to avoid getting raped. In fact, your idea of this ban has been so thoughtful that I do think you should project it as a model for the entire nation. Have you considered presenting this to the Ministry of Women and Child? They can immediately issue directions for a nation wide implementation of the same. Imagine the safety net that would be cast for all of us women if we can avoid working after 8 pm.

While we are discussing this ban through, I do think you should go all the way and take a look at the provisions in our Constitution and the Indian Penal Code. Suggest amendments to both perhaps? I mean, I understand that Part III of our Constitution contains a charter of rights which include individual liberties to citizens of India, but really why would one even think of granting the rights of freedom of movement to a woman? I mean yes, right to life and all those guarantees of non discrimination of women in the constitution and equality before law is fine, but in this day and age when men are busy raping all women, such liberties granted to women must be curbed. I agree that men are men and will always remain so. Post 8 pm, they would rape a woman and what can the state or authorities do about it? The most practical solution would be to curb all that has been granted to a woman. If only women stuck to traditions and kept wearing sarees and doled out chapatis all day, then none of this would have begun. It is also very important to carve out an exception in the Indian Penal Code. The provision on rape as it stands today strangely does not make any exception as to time, place and employment status of women. Shocking isn’t it? I wonder what the law makers were thinking in 1872! But we will let all that pass. We must focus on the issue at hand which is to immediately propose an amendment to the IPC section 375 to carve out an exception for women who are seen on streets after 8 pm and also maybe formally impose a dress code for all women for their own safety. Of course, some people will say it is terribly unconstitutional but imagine the safety it would bring for all woman kind! And crimes against women would go down and the work of the police and other authorities would be reduced to half. I agree that it is perfectly alright to rape a woman after 8 pm and in fact the state, instead of only hinting at it, should send out a concrete message to all men giving them a free hand to commit such crimes. And you must remember that such exception should not only apply to working women. It must also apply to home makers daring to step out after 8 pm, female students coming back from tuitions, girls who go for movies after 8 in the evening, girls who are out in town for a fun night, a female jogger going for a run, a female police on duty, a female doctor on duty, patients who are women, professionals who work night shifts, mothers picking up their children from birthday parties. I think I have missed a few but you must be kind enough to include all categories as possible.

I sincerely look forward to more of our ideas to empower women not only in this city but in our nation and your positive steps taken to curb the crime of rape in the country.

Yours faithfully,

A much concerned female citizen of India

On the home and the heart.

©Paroma Ray

“Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts”- Oliver Wendell Holmes

This post is a part of wordless wednesday.

On sleepless nights.

I haven’t been getting too much sleep lately. I find it difficult to fall asleep. When I do, I wake up in a couple of hours, toss and turn on my side of the bed before falling asleep again.

You see. The husband, R, he umm, errr, he snores. Yes. R snores. He snores a bit much these days. So much so that he sometimes wakes himself up with the sound of his snoring!

And yes R is going to kill me for putting this up! *Runs and hides behind the sofa*

But seriously. I looked up treatments for snoring and courtesy Wikipedia, I found that snoring can be treated in various ways. Some of them had me rolling my eyes to an amazing extent and my eyebrows begging for mercy since they just could not go any further up on my forehead!  In the end, I stumbled upon an immensely sweet mushy thing to treat snoring.

And this is exactly what I am going to try out for a few days now 🙂 Wish me luck! Please?

“Love is…when “cold feet” are a cure for snoring”

Source

On fishy evenings.

What does one do on a warm Sunday evening?

Give in to buying hilsa. Yes. And end up paying a bomb for it. And then hold each other’s hands saying “It is okay. We will not get this for a long time.”

Hilsa fry for dinner it is then. And before anyone asks, no, we are not sharing.

Goodnight then fellow Bongs. And HELLO? Sweet dreams!

 

Image Source

Image Source

On not asking for it. Ever.

I never ask for it.

 

Yes. Indeed, I don’t. 

I may be a single mother of two, out at a nightclub, having a few drinks and just having a good time. I may chat up a stranger, I may flirt some. I may be wearing my shortest skirt and my highest heels. But believe me, I do not ask for it.

I may be all of sixteen trying out my first drink voluntarily with a bunch of school friends. I may choose their new car for having my first peg of vodka. I may be with five boys from my own school. I may laugh out loud, happy after the first glass of vodka. But I do not ask for it.

I may be returning home late from work every night. I may be walking down a dark street with no one but my shadow to keep me company. My hair may be open. I may be in a business suit. But I do not ask for it.

I may be six years old. I may be fair and conventionally pretty looking with long dark tresses that my mother ties up with bright ribbons every day. I may laugh often and cry less. I may like the color red and always have a smile on my face. But you see, I do not ask for it.

I may be staying alone in my house. I may be single, unmarried or widowed. I may have children or I may not. But when you pin me down, you must know that I did not ask for it.

I may be a sex worker. I may be young, I may be old. I may be the one who sleeps on the side of the road. I may be your domestic help. I may be your employee. I may be your babysitter.

I may be wearing a school uniform. I may be in my shorts. I may be with a girl friend. Or with a boy friend.

I may have been smoking a cigarette. I may have been stealing my first kiss behind a tree. I may have been by myself walking in the rain.

I may have been in a sari. I may have covered my head, my face, my arms.

I may have been physically challenged. I may have been a patient lying on the examination table. I may have been pregnant. I may have been having my periods. I may have been crying, laughing, smiling, frowning.

But whoever I am, whatever I am doing. I never ever ask for it.

So yes. Next time you point a finger at me, stop once and look at the other four fingers that point right back at you. You could be the stranger who I chatted with at the nightclub and who then dropped me home without raping me. You could be the police man who instead of deliberating on the morality of drinking vodka at sixteen could follow the law to the core and help track my rapists. You could be the minister who could stand up and make statement as to how rape as a crime should not be tolerated instead of talking about fabricated stories. You could be next door neighbor who instead of saying that I was being stupid could stand up and say that I would never ever ask for it.

Yes. Indeed. I don’t ask for it. Time after time, year after year, month after month. You need to wake up, you need to know. In all my stupidity, in all my smartness, in all my happiness and sadness, in all my excitement and in my helplessness.  I DO NOT EVER ASK FOR IT.