Nightmare

I woke up this morning
Shaking
Heart beating like crazy
The vision playing over and over in my head
Of an almost rape
An almost gangrape
Mine
Almost, only because I opened my eyes
I could picture the room
The numerous faces surrounding me
Closing in
Most unknown, but not all
A sense of righteousness in their faces
Like this just had to be done
Like it was payback
And that I should accept it
And the thing I remember the most
Is the fear
Pulsating through my every breath
Through every heart beat
Fear of a magnitude I've never felt before
Fear of what was to come
What would have come
Had my eyes not opened

And as I lay there
Trying to slow down my breath
I tried to remind myself
That this was a dream
A nightmare, really
That it wasn't real
But that fear was so palpable
And it made me feel
For those few moments
A minuscule of what so many women go through
And just that thought alone
Was humbling
And terrifying

But the thought that lingered
Long after the breathing slowed down
Was the familiarity of it
That fear
I'd felt it before
Never at this degree
But felt it, nevertheless
Every time I stepped onto a dark street
Or an empty bus
Or a cab at night
Every time a car slowed down next to me
Every time a stare lingered longer than it should have
Every time I've stepped out alone
Every time I've felt an unwanted touch

A gripping, relentless fear
Always there
Crawling under your skin
Reducing you
To a part of you
A limited you
A fear so familiar
That it feels normal now

And I don't know what was more terrifying
The magnitude of the fear I felt
Knowing, that it was nothing compared to the real deal
Or the familiarity of it
Knowing that this is something that's now just a part of us.

A Plate of Maggi

Sonu eagerly waited for the school bell to ring. The whole day, she had been fidgeting around and thinking of the evening. As soon as the bell rang, she was the first one out of the classroom and into the school bus. The journey, which took no longer than 15 minutes, seemed to go on and on today. “I’ll ask di today. There’s no way she’ll say no,” she thought to herself.

As she stepped off the bus, she didn’t go inside the gate of her house. Instead, she walked confidently to the playground opposite the gate. A familiar face was waiting for her.

“Di!” she screamed as she ran towards the taller girl waiting quietly for her under a tree in the park. Cheena di smiled broadly and stood up, opening her arms for Sonu to run into. Cheena di was almost ten years old – double the age of Sonu, but the two of them were still very close to each other.

As they sat down under the shade of the large tree, Sonu talked in a rushed voice about her day in school. They had started learning how to read words, and Sonu was sure that soon she would be able to read the headlines in the newspaper – just like her mother and father did when they sat in the verandah of the house.

Cheena di listened to her, smiling gently and asking questions in between. She didn’t tell much about her own day; but then, Cheena di was usually very quiet.

When Sonu finally finished talking about her day, the two girls got up to play. They both sat in the merry-go-round for a while, and then Sonu sat on the swing as Cheena di helped her push it. They chased each other across the ground, laughing every time one caught the other.

When both were quite tired, Cheena di said “Come on. I think it’s time to go home.” She went to pick up Sonu’s bag, but the younger girl whisked it up with a mischievous smile before she could reach it. Rolling her eyes, Cheena di held out her hand and the two crossed the road towards the gate in front.

As Cheena di opened the gate and gestured for her to go inside, Sonu wondered if this was the right moment to ask her. She had been holding it in for so long that she felt like she would burst if she didn’t say it now.

“Di, please come and eat with us,” she said quickly. Even as she said it, Sonu saw Cheena di’s smile drop a little. Sonu had been asking her this question almost every other day for a while now. But each time, di would smile and shake her head. And then, just as softly, she would make her way to the side of the house where another smaller house stood – the home where Cheena di’s family lived.

Cheena di’s father was the gardener at Sonu’s house, and he and his family had lived beside the larger house since before Sonu was born. Sonu was extremely close to all of them, and spent many evenings eating dinner at their house. But she had noticed that they never came over and ate at Sonu’s house with her parents. Ever since she realized this, she had been after Cheena di to come over for dinner, and each time, she had smiled and refused.

But not today, Sonu thought. Just as she saw Cheena di about to shake her head, she caught the older girl’s hand and said, “Mummy’s making Maggi today!”

Smiling at her enthusiasm, Cheena di said, “That’s your favourite, isn’t it?”

Nodding excitedly, she held onto di’s hand firmly and said, “It’s my absolute favourite food and I would love to have it with you! I asked Mummy and even she said it was okay. Please come. Please! Please! Please!”

It took a while, but finally the older girl gave in. Sighing softly, she nodded her head, smiling a little nervously. Sonu, on the other hand, confidently led the way into the house, announcing loudly to her mother that they were home, shouting “Maggi Maggi Maggi!”

Her mother smiled warmly at them from the dining room. “Calm down. It’s getting ready. Go put your bag in your room first. And wash your face. How much did you run around? You’ve tired Cheena out completely!” she admonished softly.

Sonu ran into her room to follow the instructions while Cheena di and her mother spoke softly in the kitchen. Her mother had known Cheena since she was born, and was quite fond of the girl. She often spoke about how hard-working Cheena was and how much she helped around the house, especially on days when Sonu didn’t feel like doing any of her chores.

When she got back to the kitchen, her mother was just taking out the two plates of Maggi. Inhaling the smell deeply, the little girl’s smile got wider as the other two shook their heads in amusement. Sonu gave one plate to Cheena di, picked up the other plate and walked out into the dining room. Placing her plate on the table, she hopped onto a chair, and started swirling the Maggi around with her fork. She was almost about the take the first bite when she noticed that Cheena di wasn’t next to her. Looking around confusedly, she turned behind to find di leaning against the wall and sitting cross-legged on the floor, with her plate on her lap.

Blinking in confusion, Sonu spoke out. “Di, why are you sitting there?”

Cheena di just smiled softly and replied, “I’m fine here.”

That didn’t sound like a reason. Scrunching her eyebrows, Sonu shook her head slowly. “Please come and sit with me at the table.”

Di also shook her head, the soft smile never leaving her face. “It’s fine. I’m okay here.”

Sonu turned towards her mother, who had been quietly watching the exchange, with a strange expression in her eyes. “Mummy…” she said, sure that her mother would intervene.

Her mother stood quietly for a few seconds, as if thinking of what to say. Finally, she said in a voice as soft as Cheena di’s, “Eat your food, Sonu.”

“But…” Sonu began to argue.

“Start eating. Your Maggi is getting cold,” was all her mother said, before walking back towards the kitchen.

But in that moment, Sonu didn’t care about the Maggi getting cold. She stared vacantly at the spot where her mother had been standing, trying to understand what was going on. Whenever guests came home for dinner, they always sat with the family at the table. Mummy would never have allowed them to sit on the floor and eat. So why was she letting Cheena di sit on the floor? This didn’t feel right.

She turned back to look at Cheena di, who had quietly started eating her food, her eyes fixed on her plate. There was something strange going on. Something that Cheena di understood, mummy understood, but Sonu did not. For several seconds, Sonu sat there and stared, fork in her hand, mouth a little open, lost in thought.

Finally, she came to a decision. She had invited Cheena di over because she wanted to eat her favourite food with her favourite person. And that’s what she was going to do. Getting off the chair, Sonu picked up her own plate of Maggi, sat down on the floor next to Cheena di, and started to eat.

The Man in the Sari

During my undergrad days, I remember walking across the campus one day to find two people standing in the middle of a hall. One was a woman, and the other a man. The two stood with their backs to each other, staring straight ahead, ignoring the strange looks they received from the people passing by. I walked closer to see them properly. The woman was wearing a pant and a shirt. It looked a little odd, as they seemed to have been clearly borrowed from a male friend, but still, it didn't seem like that big of a deal. Then I turned towards the man, and stopped short.

He was wearing a sari.

I stared at him for a few moments, trying to sort through my own reaction. The first, visceral reaction to this sight was: strange. Not in an indifferent, haan okay kind of way, but in a way where I could feel something twisting inside me - an uncomfortable kind of strange. When that reaction passed, the second one was that of respect and admiration at the man's willingness to do something that he was clearly going to face some backlash for.

But as I walked away, I couldn't help going back to that first reaction, questioning over and over again why I felt okay at the sight of the woman dressed in 'male clothing', whereas I couldn't extend that same nonchalance at the sight of the man dressed in 'female clothing'. After all, hadn't people often said that our patriarchal system made lives far more difficult and oppressive for women than for men? Then why was it that in this case, a woman was able to break her stereotypical boundaries far more easily than a man?

And then I began seeing glimpses of this difference all around me. Girls could wear blue without anyone creating a fuss, but boys wearing pink were made fun of. In fact, girls could now wear jeans, pants, t-shirts and shirts, but boys still couldn't wear skirts, dresses or heels. Girls were encouraged to play sports, and not see it as a male-only field; but few boys were encouraged to take up cooking or embroidery. Women in engineering classes were seen as a pleasant surprise, but men in arts classes were frowned upon. Women were joining the workforce in larger numbers, and this was seen as a positive step towards their empowerment; but men choosing to stay at home and take care of the children was looked down upon. Women were lauded for being tougher; men were shamed for being emotional.

Clearly, there was a trend here. As a 'progressive' society, we had become largely okay with women doing things that had been traditionally associated with men, but the reverse wasn't true. We were okay with women blurring the boundaries that differentiated males and females, encouraging even, but felt instantly unnerved and unsettled when men tried to do the same.

But why? Why were the two so different? Why were our reactions to them so different? How was a female adopting 'male traits' different from a man adopting 'female traits'?

Till date, whenever I had imagined society's perception of the male and female, I had assumed the two were on different sides, with a line going between them to show the boundaries. Based on this model, challenging social norms just meant doing what the other has traditionally done.

Old perception

But then I began to realize, that perhaps this really isn't the right model. Sure, there's a line dividing the male and female, but the two aren't just on different sides: they're also on different levels. The male is positioned higher than the female.

New Perspective

Now, honestly, this wasn't a startling realization. Even as a 4-year-old, I had decided that being like a boy was definitely cooler than being like a girl. As a result, I had rejected skirts for shorts, dolls for cars, and playing house for playing cricket (despite having minimal love for the sport).

But almost 20 years later, I came back to analyze my own actions, realizing that the fact that I aspired to be more like the boys around me showed that I automatically viewed them to be at a higher position than myself and other girls. Evidently, I wasn't the only one who had this perception. Everyone believed it, though they never said it. Men were better than women. The characteristics of men were far superior than the characteristics of women. Everything associated with the masculine was something to aspire towards, whereas everything associated with the feminine was to be looked down at. Not only did this pose many problems for women (which was the common narrative), but it also posed challenges for men who connected with those so-called-feminine traits.

The bottom line really comes down to this - women can aspire to be more like men, but men should not aspire towards characteristics associated with women. That's it.

What a mess.

And unfortunately, this idea is so deeply ingrained within us, it prevents us from truly accepting people around us for the way they are. The judgement. It's all around us. It's also within us. He's a fashion designer? Must be gay, obviously. No straight man enjoys shopping or talking about clothes. That man is wearing heels! What is this world coming to?! These young people have no respect for society. Everything has limits, okay, and you need to stay by those limits. Why do you have to question and challenge everything? Why can't you just let some things be the way they are?! No man ever had a problem with wearing pants - where do you come off trying to stir all this trouble about letting them wear skirts? Listen, it's for their own good. Do you realize how much fun other kids will make of him if he goes out like this?! It's better for him if you teach him some social rules from now itself. He stays at home and looks after the kids while the wife works? Clearly, we know who's wearing the pants in that house!

But why is this a problem? For two primary reasons.

One, it limits choice. We might call ourselves liberal and progressive and open-minded, but every time we squirm and judge a man for wanting to wear pink, we're limiting his choices.

Two, it reinforces that idea that traditional feminine characteristics are inferior, and not something to aspire towards. Taking care of children is not aspirational. Cooking and cleaning and stitching are not aspirational. Displaying your emotions is not aspirational. Pink is not aspirational. Being like a girl is not aspirational.

I remember watching a video a while ago, where a man talks about his interaction with young boys, who were asked how they'd feel if their coach said they play like girls. Their response: "It would kill me".

I guess it was these notions that the man in my college wearing a sari was daring us to question.

*********

PS: The reason 'male traits' and 'female traits' and similar terms are put in quotations is to reflect that these are terms that are traditionally used to signify the difference between the male and the female, and not because I subscribe to that difference.

On the bright side, here are some related posts on the topic:

On judgment [Lunarbaboom comic]
On solidarity [News article]
On patriarchy and stereotypes [self promo ]
On choice [self promo 2 - vatodo...writer's gotta write]