whats wrong with India?

warning: this is a reactionary rant post venting frustration at everything thats bad about this beautiful country. I think it is like it is today because we women suck. Way too much. If you cant stand my truth, you are welcome to cherish yours...

Us – women.

Excuse me for saying this but how many of us can say with absolute confidence sitting there reading this that our son or brother or husband is not one of those who is right now stealing, oppressing, repressing, sucking this country dry?

can we deny that we did not teach our boy to be kind. that we forgot to tell our boy that it is mandatory and manly  to treat the weak with charity and courtesy? did we  teach our boy to wait to check everyone has  got their share at the table before he requests for the second helping? do we  even see our little boy desperately looking UPTO US  expecting the whole bloody world and getting only shallow shit from us? because we  neglected to educate ourselves or grow with the times or allowed ourselves to be fully human or even woman.

do we  realize we  are the whole world to those two men in our life –  the mate and the little boy that comes home to us every afternoon from school? and what do we  do for them that a servant would not have anyway?

we  say we  cook for them,  we  serve them hands and foot – but who taught them to expect us to be their slave in the first place? another woman.

if  we  slave, who would do the rearing? who would shape his mind,  fill it with tender thoughts , passion for creative ideas  and action?

do we  ever check what his school is teaching him? do we understand what it takes to be a good citizen? a good human being? do we ever tell him it is ok to do badly in lessons as long as he is good and kind to everyone around him? do we give him a hug when he has been truthful or right and good despite gaining nothing but getting hurt in the process? do we really, really love our baby boy and WANT him to grow up into a nice humane do-gooder  or do we merely wish to see him become a money spinning machine that ensures all my luxurious habits are taken care of,  free  (of labour) ? are we willing to work hard for that? is ability to raise a good kid enough food for our little silly souls?

look at how we   live – engrossed in our new sari,  our jewellery,  our shopping,  our writing, our fucking little jobs that mean nothing but a source of additional income that buys more things, our little world of stupid silly empty nothingness that  we  sell  ourselves for  each  night. o you say we are married. that’s just a term didn’t you know? I mean try this simple test : do we  have the wifely right to teach our child what  we  would really like him to learn and not fall in with the father’s expectations? o do you? great! you are one exclusive wife then. congratulations!

so then, the other day when you saw that woman being insulted by the rickshaw driver, did you protest?  did you even think of speaking up?  have you ever read about any of the great Indian women? have you read  Anandamath? and about  women who fought alongside men for their rights?

did we do anything at all to deserve what we have or get? did we teach our girls to be good mothers and value sound good principles? do we ever extend a hand of solidarity towards women that want to stand up for their rights? for instance that woman in our neighborhood that lives alone, do we  ever go say halo to her? or ever offer to help her or be a good citizen towards her?

what are we scared to lose?  our  four square meals a day? what then?  we  are scared and we are fat and lazy. and we are ashamed of ourselves because we  know we  ought to be. but instead of doing something about it we cover that up with more junk make up and smile harder and quarrel louder, pull down each other as fast as it takes to say piss and expose an inch more of  our cleavage.

what are we,  woman?  sex machines?  cows that have to milk and breed? the servant of the house? the dominatrix head servant that has to manage other servants of the house? well, what exactly?

tell me one thing about our character that makes us beautiful. for instance, do we have the tolerance in us  to love the writer of this post  even after we read this rant?

woman, do we have a heart that is still attached to our spirit?

Advertisements

meet Buluda an oldtime Mohiner Ghonra

Odzer Priyank this is for you – Tag2

Erstwhile Mohiner Ghonraguli Buluda

Erstwhile Mohiner Ghonraguli Buluda holding up Gautam Chattopadhyay, his brother's picture

this was my fifth picture in the album frm the time I started blogging.

that is Buluda one of the pioneering team that went by the name of Mohiner Ghonraguli. he is now probably out of the country. that time he was in Kolkata and I had caught him at a special function which was organized by the friends and family of Gautam Chattopadhyay (on his death or birth anniversary I think – cant remember now) at Nandan 2. he went up on stage and shared his recollections about his legendary older brother and their stage shows.

he played percussion sounds with his mouth and later when I had met him at the La Martiniere campus I had taken interview of him with another Mohin abraham Mojumdar.

would publish that if I can find the doc at home in Kolkata.

buuluda left the counrty when the band disbanded due to lack of funds and when they realized that to ensure square meals for self and family they had to do something other than music. their music didnt sell – it was too new, lightyears ahead of their time.

he was the all rounder of the team, could play almost any instrument Abraham had told me. and this band was another of those rare ones apart from the Krosswindz (which has the husband wife and brother all together in it) that was comprised of family members – little baby son of Gautam,  Gabu included. Gabu is now the front man of the band Lokkhichhara and is the drummer.

hope Odzer and Priyank I have been able to do justice to your tag requirements – 5th pic, history, where it was. sorry for the delay guys. thanks for the tag  enjoyed the revisit.

Tagging  Terri,  since Mahendra is back,  him, Vagabond, Dust Unsettled and Smithbarney of OS (is that allowed?), Midlife Crisis, Sunny and Anil. wd post the links later. too tired and slepy now. thanks for the chance to do this Pri and Odzer – it was kind of nice revisiting.

slow and melodious

Dust Unsettled tagged me to do a post on my favorite slow melodies and here it is – the first Tag post of my blog-life.

The first that comes to mind off handedly is “Bachpan ke woh din bhula na dena” . This never fails to inspire nostalgia in me. It transport me to those days of carefree moonlit nights when we sat on the terrace in the dark after dinner around our grand mother and sang and listened to tales from far away lands. The dream like trips were never forgotten.

The second one that haunts me when am walking down the streets is a song from the old classic Mackena’s Gold Ol Turkey Buzzard, the opening song that sets the mood of the film transporting you to another world far away, I find that very romantic :

Ole’ Turkey Buzzaarddd…
flaa-yin’, flyin’ hii—ghh

Watin’ for someone down below to die
Ole’ buzzard knows that he can wait
for every mother’s sons’s got a date
with him…

gold gold gold
people are dyin’ for
gold gold gold
people are fighting (killing) and dying for gold

The other songs I love listening to is Yara Sili Sili , Kesariya Balma and Qatra Qatra Jeeney Do
Qatra Qatra Miltee Hain,
Zindagi Hain, Bahney Do,
Pyasi Hoon Main, Pyasi Rahney Do Na

before going to work and on the way back home.

And then Babooji Dheerey Chalna/ Pyar Mein Zara Samhalna (tread carefully Sir, while you are in love…) on moonlit nights on the terrace with the kids, cousins and family contentedly lying on the mattresses around yaking through the night and that song playing followed by Faza bhi hain jawan jawan from the film Nikaah which makes me remember Andamans and the foaming sea waves and blue skies and then Tu Fiza Hain from the film Fiza.

I like to wake up to the sound of a Rabindra sangeet, Subhro Probhatey and going to sleep with Leonard Cohen’s “Dance Me to the End of Love” or Pink Floyd’s “Wish you were here .

When am tired, I like Ay Dilein Nadan from the film Raziya Sultana which addresses the heart of a lovelorn young lady asking her what dilemma overcast that pensive mind….

am basically a wanderer at heart and all of these songs give me wings, take me away to some place else – I love the trips because the old familiar seems lovelier with every instance of coming back…..I go away so I can come back I guess, nothing is sweeter than the journey back home even if that ‘home’ only be an idea in your mind