Red. Hot. RAGE.

So I wasn't very vocal with the incident that happened in Delhi on the 16th of December. Everyone seemed to have something to say, I tried my best to avoid most of it. The FB rantings, newspaper reports of what happened in gruesome details, opinions from Abhijit Mukherjee to Asaram Bapu.

I was seething inside. But I stayed away. Till today.

I went to a friends place a couple of weeks back. He cracked a joke, giving a disclaimer that it's distasteful. "After the Delhi gangrape Mayawati and Sushma Swaraj board buses in Delhi every night, feeling hopeful." It twisted my gut. And yet I was quiet. Then yesterday as I sat in the car waiting for my sister to come out of a shop, my doors locked to be safe I heard some asshole on the radio say "veera aur uska saathi khoon mein latpath road pe nange pade rahe"...the tone of voice, sensationalising it all...it just broke something within.

I am struck by this blinding red rage. I feel like calling out to every man passing by and saying How Dare You??? How dare you crack a joke like that? It's not distasteful, it's as good as you being on that bus, being one of them. How dare you sensationalise something that you can't even begin to imagine? How dare you say you respect women when you tell your wife she doesn't need to work because your career is more important and then tell her she doesn't deserve your money because all she is doing is washing clothes, cooking and keeping home!

For every woman, at least every Indian woman, the fact that she may at any time at any place and by anyone be touched, molested or raped is a hard reality. I know that I have always carried it in me. There is always a part of the brain, no matter how big or small, that knows you are never completely safe. Within the home or outside.

I remember being told as a young girl to be "careful" every time we had male relatives visiting. I never understood what it meant. These were my uncles, brothers. They were fun people. What was I supposed to be careful about? No one told me that. They just said you'll know when to be careful. A shroud of mystery around the whispered words.

As I grew and started understanding, too early, what the words rape and molestation meant I always wondered how I would react in the situation. I would sit and imagine it in detail, in my innocence thinking it would be better if I gave in just so that I could come out alive. And maybe if I gave in I could ask HIM to put on a condom, maybe clean up and being pleased at my acquiescence not hit me. Then once I was out I would report him. Never in all those thoughts did iron rods and sharp knives up the vagina feature. Never did I think another human being could be so barbaric.

It fills me with anger and frustration that I had to think that, plan it out in such minute detail. It makes me livid that no man has ever had to think that. He's never had to wonder when he steps out whether today that man rubbing up against him in a DTC bus will stop with a stony stare or will attack him and violate him, his body, his spirit, in the most violent way. Maybe that's why you'll hear a man crack rape jokes and never a woman.

I'm not usually the ball-buster type. But today I am. I am filled with an all consuming anger. Outrage which is pouring out of my molecules. And it runs deep as it always does when bottled up over time.

I want to tell all women, let's march out naked. Let's ask them to bring on their worst. How many of us will they rape, how many of us will they murder? How long will we sit quiet and do what our father, brother and husband say?

I've gone for enough talks on feminism, patriarchy, the male gaze and all of that. I want to know why we sit on our ass and intellectually masturbate. I want to ask men...WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? What entitles you to be this way? Why don't you have the balls to respect a woman, a strong, intelligent woman? Why do your mothers, girlfriends and wives always have to be subservient? If you're such a "Man" come on out. Hit the streets and tell us what you think, what words like patriarchy and the male gaze mean to you. I want to know and I have a right to know!

I'm mothering a son, and I know it is my responsibility to make sure he grows into a sensitive, respectful adult who sees men and women as equals. I call out to all mothers and say, do the same for your sons.

Till then, all you idiots with your heads shoved up your backside, NO we won't disappear, we will wear short skirts, we'll go out with whichever guy we want and very well have sex before during and after our marriage when and with whom we please, we will study and work, we will party late and hard, we will say no to whomever and whatever we want. You cannot not stop us. Not now, not ever.

And if you're so terrified for our safety and so respectful of us, don't stop us from going out after dark, make sure every male who goes out after dark is accompanied by a woman. You'll be surprised at the sudden drop in crimes against women.

Get your men in control. Cos we women have had enough. 

On being a single mother

Hula-hoops, dolls, kitchen sets, kumon classes...this is my reality. It was my reality when my son was born 2 and 1/2 years back but I never knew I would have to do it all alone.

Well OK I kinda knew. My ex wasn't exactly the responsible dad variety. But good lord it is overwhelming. And living in India doesn't make it any easier. There are no Divorce Anonymous or Single Parents Together support groups. My friends and family, god bless them, have been great but few people understand what getting divorced and being a single parent means unless they go through it.

Then of course there is the omnipresent 'Society' in India. I'm 30, divorced and birther of a male child. Whatever do I want now? My life is complete. "Beta, ab toh tumhara bacha hi sab kuch hai, uske sahare zindagi bita do". I don't need to work, I shouldn't socialise and God Forbid I might want another MAN! Now my life should be just about my son, his happiness, bringing him up.

What when he's grown up? What when he has his own friends, his life, college, partners? Should I then clutch on to him for dear life and be the quintessential over-bearing Indian Mother? Have his partner hate me? Have a child who wants to be rid of me but can't say so?

So I choose to take another path. To be ME. To struggle professionally and make my way, as a freelance writer/photographer or whatever else comes my way. I choose to socialise, with my lovely friends and others I may meet. I choose to raise my standards and wait for another man. One who can take on the challenge of a strong, independent woman. Who can love me for me, look beyond my acne-d skin and my body weight.

My son is the center of my universe, my life. And today all my decisions revolve around him. But one day they won't. And I will be happier that he was the most important part of my life, but still a part. There are other parts which will be mine, always, even when he is no longer my little boy.

And to "Society"...with all due respect, Screw You! You can no longer make me feel guilty for enjoying myself, for acknowledging that sometimes I resent my son for all that he demands from me even though it never overshadows the love, for wanting a partner even though you think I never need to have sex again, and for being me. Imperfect, troubled, hopeful, ambitious...so many things at the same time.

I am a single mother. But I am also a woman.

And so it begins...

King Theoden says these words in The Lord of the Rings, right before the Battle of Middle Earth. For some reason they resonate with how I feel.

New Chapters

Every now and then my conscience pipes up and tells me I haven't written anything for the pure pleasure of it in a while. So today when someone liked my fb status and I had to tell them it was copied I felt shamed into returning to my blog.

Life has been overwhelming to say the least. My marriage is now my ex-marriage. I've broken away from an extremely inappropriate relationship. My 2 yr old has gone back to school. And I'm starting my new business: teaching photography to kids.

Phew! All this sent my already fragile self into a tizzy. Between working, crying and getting drunk I decided it was time to really look at myself and I wasn't happy with what I saw. An unhealthy, overweight, emotionally dependent girl looked back at me. It was time for things to change. and honestly I don't think things could have gone anywhere but up!

To my son as he turns 1 and a 1/2

Dear Son,

I sit and sip my second hazelnut delight. I have run away from home for a while because you were driving me insane. I feel like a horrible mother. But there are things I need you to know.

I am going to try my damnedest, hardest best to do right by you. To give you a stable, secure present and future. To give you love and understanding. To be a friend and a mother. To teach you the right things. To help you achieve your immense potential.

I will always try to keep you happy. And I will always, always no matter what, love you. You need to know and remember that.

But there will be times when I will fail you. I may not be there when you need me. I may not be there in the way you need me to be. I may shout at you. I may not understand you. I may hurt your feelings. I may be more mother and less friend.

Those times my son, my love, be patient with me. Know that I may be your mother but I am also fallible.

I am overwhelmed at times by the responsibility I have undertaken. I don't know whether I can give you everything I want to, everything you deserve. Sometimes I want to run away. To not have to worry about you every moment of every day.

But I can't. I won't. You are a part of me sweetheart, as no one else ever will be. You make me a better person. You push me to be my best. You make me who I am.

So let's take this journey together baby. Let's lean on each other and be the best we can be.

I wish you happiness, love and peace. You are my truest love, my life.

Always, always yours

Mamma

A letter to my husband

Our son played 'our' song on my mobile today morning. As I heard Kailash Kher sing I realized I hadn't thought about you in a while.

It's been more than a month since you left. I had thought it'll be terribly difficult but it isn't. My world hasn't stopped. I still go out. I still eat. I still work. I function. I don't need you anymore. And that scares me. I'm used to needing you. I'm used to my life being incomplete without you. But it isn't. Where does that leave us?

I thought I would miss you terribly. Pine away counting the days to your return as I did every other time, even when I knew you were with someone else. But I don't miss you anymore. I don't think of you every time I watch a romantic movie. I don't think of you when I need a hug. I don't picture you when I envision my future. So, where does that leave us?

I always thought of us. I planned for us. But I don't anymore. I think of me. I plan for me. So is there still an us?

I have no answers and I'm not looking anymore for the answers to that question.

I want to know about me now. Who I am. Where I'm going. What makes me happy.

I am learning to take care of myself. To say that I have a right to be happy. I'm not just a wife. I'm a woman. An intelligent, generous, kind, confused one. I'm working my ass off to earn my freedom.

It's overwhelming. And I feel alone. I often feel like a bad mother. But I'll figure it out. I know I have it within me. I will carry on and I will do it with panache.

So, I release you. Thank you for teaching me, touching me, changing me. Some of who I am today is because of you. Go in peace and happiness. I hope you find love, for yourself and another. And I hope the same for myself.

Goodbye my husband.

I wouldn't mind being rich

I come from humble roots. My great-grandfather was a station master. The future generations mostly civil servants. I grew up being told that money didn't matter, happiness was important. There was a big premium on being a good person. A good person being defined as someone who thought of others, did more for others than for themselves etc etc. To the extent that we were told not to fraternise with the "business community" because they had no scruples or values.

I married a 'baniya'. Now any Indian worth his salt knows this community doesn't part easily with money. So the facts that clothes don't matter, we must rough it out on trips, expensive restaurants are a waste of money and gifts are unnecessary were reinforced for me.

So I lived thinking that the 'good' people or the 'cool' people didn't bother with money. It was a tool of the devil.

Today I went for my first spa/massage experience. Driving there in my not-so-new UVA, which requires much coaxing to get into first gear I thought of a friend who recently told me of his family's newly acquired Mercedes. It apparently has individual butt-warmers in each seat. It seemed an outrageous luxury when I first heard of it but sitting there humming my muchly loved Bollywood songs it didn't seem like such a bad idea. And then I reached the spa.

This had to be a contender for the top five experiences of my life slot. It was pure luxury. The massage in itself was excellent but I just loved the steam and multiple jet shower in the room. I felt like a princess! I was in heaven. I never wanted it to stop.

As I drove back I calculated how often I would be able to afford this and suddenly I realised that this would not be the kind of expense my family would approve of. And I realised that I didn't care. I loved it. I loved eating good food at fancy restaurants. I wanted to visit exotic foreign locales. And hell ya I wanted to wear funky clothes! Throw in a good car to boot.

Happiness may be a lot better than money, but my friends money goes a long way in making you happy! So cheers to the moolah coming my way.