Posted on by nikita

In Love… 

Neither did I hear any violins in the background nor did I feel any magic in the air. My chiffon dupatta didn’t float in the gentle breeze. But I still experienced love. 

Because my love was different and distinct; it was my love for the word ‘vivacious’. I love the vibration and rhythmic energy the word brings with it when you say ‘vivacious’, true to its meaning. That’s why I instantly fell in love with the word when I first heard it in my Social Studies class in grade 7.

The word belonged to Mrs Mulberry, my SS teacher. For me, she is the OG of the word; I don’t need to look for its Latin, Greek, or French origins. 

While my love for words began unknowingly in my formative years, my love for the violin was stirred by the invisible violins that played in the background of some Shah Rukh Khan movies, inspiring me to take violin lessons in my younger days, without considering the challenges of choosing it over other instruments. For almost 2 years, I learned violin only to give it up; I couldn’t cultivate the patience to take me further beyond the famous bhajan Vaishnav jan to tene kahiye… 

For want of more patience, I soon realised I had good ears for the music that flowed through the violin, sailing like a chiffon dupatta, even if I couldn’t play it myself. Since then, the instrument has stayed with me as a relic of my past, which I recently dislodged from its resting place, hoping to give myself one more chance at playing it. But after almost 25 years, even after changing the strings, all I could produce was a screeching sound when the bow passed across the instrument’s strings. 

I learnt two things: 1. Changing the strings, obviously, cannot change me into a good violinist. 2. I need to change the bow also. 

Wiping the beads of sweat from my forehead with my non-chiffon dupatta, I bowed to my violin; I let it return to the case from whence it came, much like a living being returning to the place it originated from. 

‘Deep indeed’! I told myself, indulging in some self-praise. How else could I develop the ability and panache to praise others? 

Surprised by the depth of my thought, I wonder whether the source of its origin is the ultra-divine atmosphere around me these days — Oh-my-friend Ganesha days, with aartis and bhajans, loud enough for the lady on the 15th floor of the building, almost 150 mts away from my society, just like I hear aartis and bhajans played in her society. And these are played at a given decibel three times a day, presumably prescribed by the OG–Omnipresent Ganesha, I mean.

No one can match the devotion Indians have towards their gods and goddesses. After bidding adieu to Ganesha, preparations will begin to welcome Amba Ma. For nine days,  garba lovers will swirl, dance and make merry; for many, garba practice had already begun on the tarmac at the Vietnam Airport, at the Great Wall of China, and other tourist places. 

Enthusiasts like these proudly carry their immense love for culture wherever they go, even though many perceive them as uncultured. But isn’t appreciating one’s own culture better than misappropriating someone else’s culture?

This time, the case in point is yet another Italian luxury brand, Fendi. The brand used Indian—specifically, Gujarati—artisans’ traditional mirror, bead, and thread-work embroidery for its handbags. The modest embroidered jholas or handbags, that women carry during Navratri, became embroidered baguettes worth 9.5L each without proper credit, except for paying the craftsmen — the unacknowledged OGs. 

The foreign brand’s immense love for traditional Indian craftsmanship, obviously, swiftly gilded like a chiffon dupatta across millions of mobile screens in India; nothing can go unnoticed in the age of social media. Probably, the khaman-dhokla-thepla gang must have been hurt the most, and to avenge Fendi’s cultural appropriation, many would vow to visit famous tourist places in Italy like the Colosseum or the Vatican Museums, and play garba in vibrant chaniya cholis, and kediyas and dhotis embellished with beads, mirrors and embroidery. 

While their dance would reflect Indian culture, the ungrateful faces behind foreign brands like these will be reflected in 475 mirrors, recreating K. Asif’s set design for the memorable song, Jab pyaar kiya to darna kya.

*****

Student: The text states that Vasco da Gama discovered the sea route to India.
SS Teacher: Historical misinformation. 

Source of the image: https://sl1nk.com/gma9dzm


Posted on by nikita

Fill-in-the-gap

people holding puzzle pieces

If filling generation gaps were as simple and easy as filling the gaps in an exam question paper! 

The inspiration for this analogy emerged from an interesting discussion among ‘pupils’ from different generations – Baby Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, and Gen Z. 

I say ‘pupil’ because everyone engaged in the discussion learned one new thing about a generation distinct from their own. It seemed so. A new perspective. A different thought, encompassing topics such as social constructs, parenting, lifestyle, life partners, marriage, and religion.

Surely, the answers to the questions raised weren’t as easy and definitive as the responses to fill-in-the-blanks. We either fill in the blank with a correct answer or a wrong one. True for subjects that are based on logic and facts. For example, math, science, geography, civics, and so on. 

Those were fun exercises; easy-to-copy questions in exams, like other objective-type questions. What was true for my friend was also true for me. 

But we can’t be certain when the question involves filling a generational gap, since each generation has different options to consider. The probability of having a definitive answer is negligible. It’s more like literature, history (a blend of objectivity and subjectivity), art, and music that are subjective. These subjects require interpretive, analytical, and evaluative skills, which are also vital for understanding the communication gaps between people across generations. 

On second thought, a lack of communication is also evident between people belonging to the same generation. And sometimes the result is violent and gory — a recent Meghalaya honeymoon murder case.

In some cases, despite the language of communication being the same, people fail to understand each other; in others, language itself becomes a battleground. For instance, a brawl between an auto driver and a commuter in Bengaluru over language use — the driver demanding to speak in Kannada and the commuter speaking in Hindi and English. 

Wasn’t it unnecessary for both parties to fight over language? 

When the rickshawala knew English (as shown in the viral video), he could have replied to the commuter in English. At the same time, if the commuter were a migrant, one would expect her to know the regional language. At least the basics.

And now that we already have AI to fill the language gap, why clash over languages? Use a Google translator and keep moving. What’s the big deal? Why create a ruckus over the language preference of the natives and non-natives? Instead, why can’t we respect and celebrate the diversity of languages? Isn’t India known for its ‘Unity in Diversity’? 

However, in today’s braver India, the slogan could be tweaked to ‘Unity in Adversity’, considering national unanimity during Operation Sindoor. Only if the still-young Gandhi doesn’t take any offence, much like he did with the EAM’s particular remark regarding Operation Sindoor. Mr. Gandhi claimed that Mr. S. Jaishankar had informed the Pakistani defence about the military operation ‘at the start’ of the attack. But anyway, most Indians already realize that filling the cognitive gap in Mr. Gandhi’s political and linguistic understanding is a tough task.  

In all probability, such a lack of understanding in an adult could be one of the reasons why the government insists on mandating multilingualism in the school syllabus, which enhances an individual’s cognitive abilities. The government would want kids to grow up into smarter adults for a progressive India. 

But, of course, like any other issue, the language issue is also politicized in India, particularly in the states of Maharashtra, Karnataka, and Tamil Nadu. Apart from daily skirmishes over the means of communication, which sometimes become fatal, the leaders in these states are engaged in a battle with the Centre over the three-language policy. 

Sometimes I wonder — Where do these people get so much energy from? Don’t they get tired of quarrelling over everything? Even if it’s their job to oppose, still, it must be stressful to fill in the unanswered blank by the government with sensible arguments every time. 

*****
Friend: Seems I need to stop binge-eating.
Me: Fill the gap in your belly applying the ‘Jordan Formula’. New gyan. 




Posted on by nikita

Sacred Saffron: The smell, the sight, the scare.

“Kesar joiye che biju?” 

The word kesar immediately conjured up images of kesari dhwaja everywhere in the city. Coincidentally, I was preparing mithai on 22nd January 2024. And my mom had called me to ask if I needed more saffron for my mithai preparation. 

January 2024 was the month of saffron. Saffron was omnipresent. And now, it seems, it is omnipotent too. The demand for saffron flags had skyrocketed, generating earning opportunities for the seasonal hawkers. Suddenly, roadside hawkers, who make a cameo appearance before the 15th of August, 26th of January, and 25th of December, selling miniature Indian national flags and Christmas caps, showed up out of thin air even this time. There was a surge in saffron flags and banners of varied sizes with the image of the deity, His devotee, and His controversial abode. Huge saffron banners covering the length of high-rise buildings were also put up to remind people of their culture and religion. 

Is it just the colour people need to remember, or even the associated conduct? 

I completely respect people’s love for their religion. After all, India is known for its varied range of religions. But what confuses me is the frenzy attached to religion. And for that matter any religion. As the date of consecration ceremony was approaching near, I felt more apprehensive.

What if such a show of a particular religious belief led to some unforeseen disorder and disturbance?

And then, the next month was the month of red. Suddenly, we see a sea of red across the city. A display of red clothing and lingerie in shop-fronts. Gift shops display paraphernalia related to Valentine’s Day – all lovely reds. I am not sure if even today this day is celebrated with the same fervour as in the days of Archie’s card. I remember seeing huge cards in gift shops with poetic messages for loved ones: even red and pink teddy bears and soft heart-shaped cushions. I was blessed enough to see them, but not enough to receive any.

With time, the idea of cards and gifts seems to have changed just as the understanding of the meaning of valentine. During my time, the celebration was limited between lovers: a boy and a girl; a husband and a wife. Oh! The romantic charm of yesteryear’s tokens! Today, not many people would want to make an effort to go out and shop for their loved ones. BTW, love is not just a feeling; it’s an effort. Now gift items like flowers, chocolates, jewellery, and so on are just a click and a doorbell away. So, no more the moral Sang(h) and Rang to worry about. No more worries about saff-run (to your houses). Love is still in the air. 

You must be thinking why am I celebrating vasi uttarayan now? Because even today when I sit back and think about these events, I ponder – Do we need religious tokens in excess to establish our religiosity? Do we need to make a show of it? Do we need ostentatious religious rituals to prove that we are religious? And nationalists as well? 

*****

Of course, we do need tokens of love. Even if hearts fly across the screen.

Friend: Maryada Purushottam Ram is a vyavahar (demeanour).
Me: Agreed. It’s not a vyapar (business).

Posted on by nikita

From a Hush to a Hash

Gone are the days of indistinct murmurs, funny gesticulation, and coded language. It seems so after 2018. The year when the Padman made an attempt to break the taboo around menstruation.

The recent debate in the parliament tells us that it is no longer a hush-hush subject of discussion. It is no longer smothered within the four walls of several households. And such open acknowledgment of their emotional and physical pain might have brought a sigh of relief – a hash –  to many menstruating women and girls. 

No. By no means do I want to argue in this blog about whether the Indian parliament should pass any law on ‘paid period leave’ at workspaces or not. What about those homemakers who have to cook (because their culture or religion allows them)? 

I am happy with the idea of people talking about periods, even though the conversations are through paid period leaves. Acknowledging the fact that periods are exhausting in every way and immensely painful for many. (At least for me.) And it’s not simply periods, more than that the rules and prohibitions that come along in many cultures in the name of religion. Again, I don’t want to delve into any discussion about whether gods passed any such law that women shouldn’t do certain things and not be in certain places while they are menstruating. He must have had more pressing issues to be addressed in His discourses. 

Sorry, but I have not been able to put this thought out of my mind for a long time. You can also ponder over it. 

Just imagine God sitting on the highest pedestal or the divine peak of some heavenly mountain sermonizing a vast assemblage of His followers. Patriarchy at its peak? Would He talk about menses or values like honesty, kindness, compassion, forgiveness, truth, love, non-violence, and so on? Is it that He must have instructed the women gathered there, “Please don’t come to me when you are in pain? Menstrual pain. I can’t help it. It’s your biology, your problem”. Or, do you think He must have said, “Hark, fair ladies! Thou hast sinn’d and transgressed, hence thou art destined to be women”! What if a woman dared to respond, “Thou, Heavenly Father, art born of a woman”.

Anyway, the point here is about having a dialogue. Even if it’s in the name of equal rights for women at workplaces or any other hidden political agenda, MP Manoj Kumar, without covering his face with his hand, debated on the topic of paid menstrual leave with the bahu of BJP in the parliament. 

Seems like we are progressing, even if it’s at a slower pace.

Because even today there are families who don’t talk about menstruation openly. Recently, a friend of mine called me. I asked him about the absence of his wife at a particular event. He said, “Enathi avai evu nahi hatu. Aaram hato”. Even when I was growing up, people in my family and friends used to talk in coded language. Personalized euphemism to make it sound polite. Phrases like ‘wicket padi gai’ or ‘out of order’ and gesticulations like tapping the head or a thumbs down were used to send the message that the woman was menstruating. The fun part was, and is, that the absence of the lady of the house at family functions, or festivals would indirectly send the message to all the relatives that she was going through the three painful days of the month. So, something that was supposed to be a hush-hush was out in the public. The amusing paradox of a woman’s life ha! 

Friend – What’s your take on ‘paid period leave’?
Me – Pondering. Period.

Happy Progressive New Year