Beyond human reasoning............

I keep questioning and i'm filled with anger and outrage................... "How is it possible for any human being to just go on a rampage and kill people, that too children between the ages of 6 and 12 who are in school?" It is beyond any reason!! What sort of mindset does it take to march in, aim your guns at kids and just shoot them - point blank????? What kind of conditioning is it that these gunmen din't once think of their actions before pulling out children who were hiding under desks only to kill them????? What sort of a sick mind can claim that the killing of these children meant 'their mission accomplished'????? Which faith says that killing and massacre are the only routes to God?????

And then when i think of the children, of their families, their friends, i feel numb...................I shudder to think of the thoughts that were in the minds of yesterdays victims, did they think of their parents or were they too stunned and was it so sudden that they couldn't even react? The Army School at Peshawar will never ever be a 'school' again, it can never be. It will be a sad, heart wrenching reminder of the annihilation that humans are being subject to by their own species!!!

What kind of a world are we creating for our children? What is the legacy that we are leaving behind? Do we even know that we belong to the same species, the Homo Sapiens??? Even animals spare their own kind, are protective of their own..............and we call ourselves the most progressive and intelligent of the living things??? We harm each other, sorry, harm seems too mild a word at this point.........we kill each other, no, we slaughter each other, we have zero tolerance for each other and we claim to be living in a modern world???

It's as if the word tolerance doesn't exist any more. Be it any place, any aspect of life - tolerance is no longer an option. If somebody tries to overtake while driving, it is about ensuring that he isn't allowed to. If somebody has made a mistake, apologies no longer hold any meaning. If somebody does not get what they want, then anger, verbal abuse, physical abuse, are the only answers. And this is true for every age. When it is children who show such behaviours, we recognize it as stubbornness, having a mind of his/her own. However, it is a form of intolerance.

We are in the so called 21st century. Didn't we assume that this was going to be THE century - with the inventions, the innovations, the new policies, the visionary leaders etc etc........

Instead, what do we have? We have a 21st century which has killings featured everyday, countries still fighting countries, leaders who only promote their own - be it people or beliefs, markets driven by the single largest motto of profits, the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer. The list is endless.

We really don't care any more do we? All that matters is me, my thoughts, my beliefs, my likes, my dislikes and about how can i get everyone to serve me along these lines.

Where does this end? Will it ever? Or will it end when there are no more left to slaughter????

The Danger of a Single Story......my story

I am fortunate to be part of the SEED seminar. It's only just begun, but it's been an interesting journey thus far - it's about mindsets, stereotypes, ideologies, not about the others or the world but about myself. Now, that's interesting isn't it?

Come to think of it; what i see, what i hear, how i react, my actions are all based on what 'i' feel, what 'i' think is right, what 'i' think is the best possible way. I see everything through a lens, my own personal lens. It's mine, so i hold it the way i want to, hold it as far or as close as i want to, hold it for as long as i want to. And what does 'my' lens do? It magnifies the image which 'i' choose to see ten times over. The lens is my own biases which cloud my thinking.

At the last seminar i attended, i had a chance to see this wonderful video, by Chimamanda Adichie. I have read Chimamanda's books and have been fascinated by how her style transports you to her motherland. Post seeing this video, i've come to admire her more.

I'm in the education sector, hence the task given was to write my own single story in this field. This is what i put down....................

“Hi beta!

How are you?

What is that?

Your home work?

Let’s see………..

Hmm……….

Nice!

Do you know what you’ve written?

Or have you just copied?

Can you tell me what this is?”

What makes me entitled to doubting the child?

Doubting if he knows what he has done

Questioning his understanding

Isn’t it because I’m the adult and he the child?

Do i in some deep dark corner consider myself the giver and he the receiver???

But what right do I have to do that, to feel that?

How often in my interactions do I have the ‘holier than thou’ attitude?

Again, who has given me that pedestal?

Is it me, myself???

It is, isn’t it?

Yes i may have been around for fairly long in the organization

Does that mean I know more?

Why do i just assume that a newcomer doesn’t understand the system?

What gives me the right to state that it is the newcomer who has to learn?

Wow! A newcomer! I’m going to learn so much….

Why doesn’t that cross my mind?

Do i consider my position to be of sole proprietorship?

Does the number of years i’ve been around justify that attitude?

Is it my way of seeking validation?

Or is it a reflection of my insecurity?

We’re trying to make systemic reform

Does that mean only my method is THE way to do it?

I have been able to succeed in the past

My students have done well

But that again is what i think

Do my self- assessments make me qualified to be part of the systemic reform?

Why do i not be more open and look for better methodologies?

What gives me the right to consider what i do to be the one and only route?

Is it that i want to be different?

Or is it that i will feel lost among the many successes???

I wonder……………

Too high a price

July 2013, the phone rings. It's a call telling me that Sta,one of my students is seriously ill. The next one and a half months went by for me really fast. Fast forward to September 2014. The phone rings. It's a call telling me that Sti another one of my students is seriously ill. Since that day, my days are blurred.

Sta's parents tried every possible thing to get her treated. The community they live in does have doctors but one doesn't really know if they truly are doctors. So the family decided not to go to them. The government hospitals in Mumbai are huge, have experienced doctors, the necessary facilities. However, courtesy the mighty huge population of this city, treatment here takes time. So, the parents decided against going to these hospitals. What's left - private hospitals. The parents left no stone unturned to ensure that Sta received the best possible treatment. But what  she was being treated for - the family never really knew. The doctors kept prescribing medications/ treatments/ procedures and the parents kept giving their consent with their thumb print. Hospital bills kept rising, family debts kept increasing, but Sta's situation kept deteriorating. It was a losing battle they were all fighting, most of all Sta, but the sad part is, the family was never ever told that it was a battle. They were just told that every new procedure was a step towards her recovery. And that's exactly what Sta's parents and siblings hung on to - the doctor's assurances that she was improving, that she was responding. Hope is what keeps us humans going. It is hope which tells us to keep fighting on. It is hope which makes us believe that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Only thing, in Sta's case, the hope was given by doctors. Qualified doctors who knew she would never pull through, doctors who knew that the parents did not and would not question because they were illiterate, doctors who knew that the parents believed every single word which they told them because they were nothing short of gods in their eyes, doctors who knew that the family was drowning in lakhs of debts. At my first interaction with the doctors, i was asked to convey to the parents that Sta wouldn't pull through.

How does one communicate to parents one fine day that their 21 year old daughter who was so far 'responding' to medication isn't going to survive? How does one reason with the doctors that they weren't right in keeping the truth from the family? How does one see sanity and any sense of ethics when doctors get parents to give their consent with their thumbprint and then when they're confronted say that they never realized they were from the marginalized community? You just go through the motions, you are helpless, you are numb, you hate the fact that you have been 'appointed' the harbinger of bad news, but you do it. You do it because you have to, because everybody is entitled to know the truth about the situation they are in. Sta passed away on the 10th of August 2013. Again a phone call in the morning from the doctors asking me to reach the hospital asap and convey to the parents that their daughter had passed away.

Sta's going away, the way the case was handled, the manner in which the doctors communicated to the family got me thinking - would it have been any different if her parents were literate? Am sure it would have. Sta would've never pulled through, but the parents would have definitely been kept in the loop, maybe a little better prepared.

It's the same situation i'm in for the last two weeks. Sti is gravely ill. Each time i meet her she seems to have deteriorated further. She was being treated, first by a 'godman' and then by the so called 'doctor' in the community she lives in. This 'doctor' Mishra works out of a dingy little room in the community, has no document whatsoever to prove that he's a doctor, says he practices Unani medicine. He too has been telling Sti's mum that she is responding to medication, that he will cure her. Even though we got Sti admitted to the well equipped General Hospital, the mother got her discharged against medical advice because the doctors over there told her that she'd have to wait and watch for a few days before they could commit to anything. Mishra on the other hand gives her hope that Sti is getting better, hence, the mother considers Mishra to be a better doctor. She has blind faith in him, she fails to understand why i question his approach. Y'day, Mishra admitted Sti into a private nursing home which has qualified, certified doctors. The mother has been told that she will be fine, that the doctor in the hospital will cure her. The doctor categorically tells me today that Sti has no hope. Why? Because Sti hasn't been given the necessary treatment by Mishra.

Sti reached out a number of times y'day and today asking me to save her from dying. How do you respond to a request like that from a 21 year old? What do you do? What do you say? It's only been a day in hospital and the family is already in debt.

It was the hope given that made Sti's mum turn to a quack. It is the hope given that isn't stopping the mother from taking loans to pay the private nursing home bills.

Would it have been any different if Sti's mum was literate. Most definitely yes - she wouldn't have turned to a quack, a godman. Sti wouldn't be suffering the way she is today.

Illiteracy...........................It's just too high a price that's being paid because of it.

You just go on...........no matter what

There was an eerie sense of calm, where i reside, on the 14th of August 2013 . And the same eerie sense of calm was there y'day. Do i know any of those who lost their lives? No, i don't. But it's a deep sense of loss, of tragedy, of helplessness.

It's a feeling of numbness when i watch the news channels broadcasting about the INS Sindhuratna tragedy. They're debating, they're questioning, they're assuming, they're wondering, they're thrashing, they're praising, they're blaming.....................but for the men in uniform across the three glorious services - The Indian Navy, The Indian Army and The Indian Air Force, the show must go on, no matter how angry they are, no matter how hurt they are.................and, for us the families of these brave and fiercely patriotic men, the show too must go on.

I feel numb because hearing all what is said, reading all what is written, is like the world screaming at your face all that you have maybe known, maybe felt all along, but have kept quiet. You feel good that voices are being raised, questions being asked and then you feel numb because, does it take the losing of lives for these voices and questions? It was the same sense of numbness when our soldiers were beheaded by the neighbouring country.

I am proud that i have the privilege and honour of being born to a uniformed man, of being married to a uniformed man, of being a sister to a uniformed man, of being a daughter-in-law to a uniformed man! Through all these roles the one thing i have learnt is that you just go on, you do not complain, you do not cry yourself hoarse, you just do what you have to do NO MATTER WHAT, because that's what you're meant to do.

Where do we really belong? Honestly, we belong to wherever we are sent to! Yes, we live in nice gated cantonments, with our very  own, but we never complain about the place. We just adapt, we feel right at home from day one. We are at home when we live in cities, we are at home when we live in towns and we are equally at home when we are in places which are even smaller than towns. The men in green and their families more often than not search for the location of the place they're posted to either on the net and even in the atlas. Do we ever think about shopping facilities, multiplexes, malls, theme parks - no we don't. They just don't cross our mind. Do we know if we'll be walking into a house? No, we do not - and yet, we move lock, stock and barrel! Do we know how big our house is going to be? No, we do not. Our husbands might be authorized different types of houses based on their years of service, but we live wherever a roof is provided - it could be a one- room house to a six-room house. Do the seepages, cracks in the wall, caked yellow distempered walls make us whine? No, they do not. Do we even pay a second glance to how the flooring is? No, we do not.  Do we decide whether we will/will not live in a particular house because it is big, it is airy, it has a 24 hour water supply, it has good flooring. No we do not BECAUSE it just doesn't matter, we fit into it, we settle into it and we make it yet another beautiful 'fauji' home! Can we contemplate enrolling our children to fancy schools, the IB schools, the International schools? No, we cannot. For one, we cannot afford them and secondly, we do not know how long we'll be living in a place - it could be for as less as a year. But our 'fauji' schools are no less! They accept our children any time of the year, in which ever class they may be - and we as parents are happy with what they receive in 'our' schools! Do we ever feel that our children have lost out - no, we never! Our children have a sense of adaptability, a sense of acceptance, a sense of confidence which few in their age group exhibit.

Our men are on call 24X7, 365 days of the year. Which is to say that when duty calls, nothing comes in the way - not a Sunday/holiday, not your entitled leave, not your ill family members, not your aging parents. It's a given that you got to go and that is something the spouses and the children are aware of and never complain about. Do we the wives or the children complain when the father's/husbands  aren't there for birthdays, anniversaries, new years, Diwali, Christmas, Id during illness, during school annual days, during board exams, during the birth of a child? No, we do not. We know and we proudly accept that the first responsibility of our uniformed men is to their uniform, so all these become not so significant, all so important days. We wives have been made independent enough to take decisions, to carry out the so called 'men' jobs. We renew vehicle insurances, we get vehicles serviced, we get vehicle dents repaired, we will get our refrigerators/ ACs/ microwaves repaired, we can shift houses, we can organize workforce whenever needed, we will drive ourselves to the hospital when we're not well, we'll organize the transporter for our luggage to be moved to another city..............and we will do it without once batting an eyelid or questioning why our husbands are not around. We know that our husbands have made their wills, we know that when our husbands have gone out of station on work/duty, we will not hear from them for days on end. We know that they will not be able to even call us or we get in touch with them even though we might live in this hi-tech world. We know that they are not supposed to tell us where they are going, or when they are returning...............so, we do not ask them where they are going or when they are returning. We cannot even guess when they will return based on their packing because they carry only their uniforms and two sets of clothes to sleep in. We know that the only emergency the establishment will accept for the husband/father to rush to the families side is when the wife or the child is dying.

Do we question? Yes, we do. Do we get upset about the apathy of the political and bureaucratic circles? Yes, we do. Do we want more acknowledgement, more understanding from all outside quarters? Yes, we do. But, do we cry out loud, hold protest marches, engage in mud slinging, complain, blame? No, we do not.

We do feel hurt when we hear people say 'what are the armed forces doing? there's no war'. Ever think what might happen if even for a few minutes every single soldier in uniform decides, let's just all take a break on a particular day, at a particular time! We sleep in peace, i write this piece in peace because i know i'm safe, because i know there are these absolutely selfless yet nameless men guarding our frontiers day in and day out. We do feel hurt when we hear people say 'the men in the forces live off the tax payers money'. We also pay our taxes, our taxes are deducted at source. Probably, we're the most honest tax payers because we cannot split our gross pay (not that it's much) under various brackets to avoid taxes.

 Most uniformed men and their families have never voted. Why? They're never in a place long enough to be registered. Often, they register for a Voter ID and by the time it's elections they're given movement orders. The men in uniform are sworn to secrecy in many ways. So much so that even their spouses aren't aware of what they actually do, where they go, when they go, when they'll return. The men in uniform cannot speak to any media agency, the men in uniform cannot protest, the men in uniform cannot form unions, the men in uniform cannot disclose their locations on social platforms, the men in uniform cannot post selfies in uniform. And since the families too are an integral part of the system, the same apply to the spouses and the children too. Do we ever think that it is infringing on our rights? No, we do not. Probably because duty comes way way above rights in the 'fauji' world.

Yet..............
These courageous men in uniform, go on, no matter what. Is it because they're made of steel? No, it's because they know this is what they have to do, this is what they live to do, this is what they've chosen to do.........and they do it with pride, with dignity and with a whole lot of fortitude. Nothing can sum up the attitude the men in uniform possess than Alfred Lord Tennyson's lines, "Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do and die"

Would i want my child to be a uniformed man - Most definitely yes! Just the thought makes me feel proud!!!

Jai Hind

LGBT

Just read a very interesting blog written by a good friend and immediately thought about my first knowledge of LGBT. Before I begin, Rohit's blog is http://rohit05kumar.blogspot.in/2013/02/classroom-stories-iii.html.

I moved into a university hostel while doing my graduation. The hostel campus itself was huge. We were close to 1500 girls living in the 4 girls hostels within the campus.

My sis-in-law was a few years senior to me in college, so by default I was included in her circle of friends. They welcomed me with open arms, were very protective of me as I was straight out of school and, really cared for me. That's how I got introduced to Aradhana (name changed). Aradhana was almost 9 years my senior, but we hit it off instantaneously. She had decided to study further and was now pursuing Archaeology. She was the first person who introduced me to the Gujarati word 'dikra' which roughly means my child. There was a certain comfort level I felt while with Aradhana. I was her 'dikra'. My free time would mean me going to her room and chatting with her, hearing about excavations and new findings.

A couple of weeks into knowing her and one day when I went to her room, she took out a cigarette!!! I'll never forget the look she gave me while she was lighting it! She said nothing, just took it out, lit it, all the while looking at me through her flicks, with her head tilted to the right. Somehow, I just accepted it! Was it because she made no big deal about it? Was it because she didn't take me aside and share it as a secret with me in advance? Maybe. Maybe, that's why I wasn't scandalized. For a small town girl like me in the late 80's a female smoking was not even a thought!! Now, when I think about it, A made it seem so normal, so natural, so 'her'. Guess that's why I wasn't uncomfortable.

A was involved in an excavation project in the Kutch region of Gujarat. There were some fellows from Britain who were also involved. This meant that she would be away for months and also that she made new friends from the other country. She particularly hit it off with a particular student.

It was sometime in 1991 that A took called me into her room and said she wanted to share something with me. It's then that she told me, through the cigarette smoke, as always addressing me as dikra,  about her orientation and that she and the fellow student were in a serious relationship. She had already introduced me to her girlfriend, so I knew who the person was. For me, it was a big blow. In fact, a mighty huge blow. I was numb, I couldn't react. I felt cheated, I felt let down. I didn't say a word then and for a few months after that. I would just not take any path which would mean me bumping into her. A in her classic style of protecting me her dikra,  just let me be. If she did see me she would just smile, the warm genuine smile. It's during those few months that I realized that I wasn't upset about whom she loved, about the sex of the person. I was upset and hurt because I hadn't known  about this part of her for so long, that she had shared so so much with me but not this. And when that realization dawned, I just ran straight back to her.

Did A's sexual orientation change anything about the way she felt for me or I felt for her? No. it didn't. She was the same A to me, I the same dikra. Did A's sexuality really matter in the bond that we shared? No, it didn't. Certain things are very personal and so is sexuality. Who am I to comment or pass any judgement on that????

Those three years of hostel life 1989- 1992,  were the first big learning years of my life -  of independent learning.

Independent because, I was alone, met many people, heard many stories, experienced many cultures from within the country and other countries. My thoughts, my opinions, my reactions were based on my judgement, not about what my parents or my teachers thought. I treasure those days cause I think that's where I first learnt the importance of being objective when I am dealing with people. It's where I first learnt that I have to look at a person not through my glasses but just as a person who has her own way of living, likes and dislikes and.........her own orientations. I have to respect a person because she is a human being just like me. I should not expect people around me to do things the way I do. And, more importantly are my actions right??????? This is more from the perspective of people who are my friends. They are my friends because there is something about them which makes me comfortable, makes me want to talk to them, to spend time with them. And that's what should matter to me. If for some reason I just do not agree with a person, if we both cannot like respectful human beings 'agree to disagree', then, it is for me to decide to take an alternate route, rather than create more bad blood.

Nirbhay - a collective for our soldiers

The word 'nirbhayi' is the new word in town. It's become very popular because of a heinous and barbaric act by a group of callous, twisted men. Nirbhayi was the reason, India reacted, India fumed, in many ways she was the reason India woke up. There were violent protests, there were peaceful protests, there were demonstrations, there were candlelight prayers and marches. There were reactions of all kinds across many sections of the country - the students, the politicians, the common man, the women's groups. People were agitated, people were scared, people were insecure, people were rattled to their very core. It was as if the gruesome rape and horrendous attack thereafter had happened right in their homes, to one of their very own.

But that is true isn't it? The word rape sends shivers down everybody's spine, men and women alike. Women because there is the deep fear and the dark and dreadful thought that it could've been one of us or one of our dearest. Men because it could've been their mother, daughter, sister, wife, close friend. That's how close rape is to us.

What is 'nirbhay'? It is a Sanskrit word which means dauntless/fearless. Nirbhayi was indeed a fearless girl, she fought till the very end for her life, she fought trauma when she gave her statement, she fought to the very end of her life. Nirbhayi thus has become a collective for the many women who suffer, who have been abused, who have been hurt, who have been scarred by some inhumane men who don't deserve to be called human beings!!! 

Recently, two of our soldiers too met with a brutal end in the hands of our neighbours from Pakistan. What was done to them was barbaric and heinous too. But sadly India reacted but mildly, India fumed, but only individuals, India didn't wake up, it continued to slumber. There were next to no protests, no prayer meetings no candlelight vigils. There were reactions but not across many sections of society. A very small percentage of population was agitated, scared, insecure, rattled. After all, this could never happen in our homes, it could not happen to the nearest and dearest of the majority of our population.

This also is true isn't it? The death, killing, torture of a soldier does not send shivers down many spines. After all, they are soldiers, it's their job, it's what they are paid to do.

When every Indian Army officer joins the defence service he takes an oath, a very solemn oath. It's a credo which says, ' The safety, honour and welfare of your country comes first, always and every time; The honour, welfare and comfort of the men you command come next; Your own ease, comfort and safety come last, always and every time'. Each time I remember these lines I get goose bumps!

I doubt if I need to go further into explaining why I consider 'Nirbhay' to be a collective for our soldiers. The credo says it all. These men continue to do whatever they are asked to do, in the most difficult of terrains, with their families miles away, with salaries which are a far cry from what they actually deserve.......and they do it dauntless, they do it fearless.

Where I stand

I had to interview a few post graduates today for a particular post in the organization I work in. Have interviewed many people to date. My experiences have been varied but very interesting. Every person is so very different, no matter what the age, what the background, what the education. Each person is so unique in their own special way. There is always something to learn while talking to candidates.

Come to think of it, there is so little time for a person to interact with you, share their thoughts, opinions, ideas and experiences with you! However, in most of the the interviews I have been amazed by the depth of reasoning, the thought, the honesty, which is so evident! Invariably my thoughts are that the younger generation is most definitely so much more aware of themselves, of what they want to do, of where they stand, of where they want to go. It is almost like crystal clear clarity!!!

When I compare where I was when I was their age (close to 20 years back!), the distance seems like light years away. At their age, I wasn't so aware about the various options, about the systems and processes, about the governmental agencies, their role. In fact I doubt if I knew what being analytical  meant!! It truly was a carefree life as far as I was concerned. I studied, had a whole lot of fun and never ever did I even think about what I visualized the future to be. It was more as if I was flowing in the stream and that my life would but naturally take the course it had to!! I don't remember ever wondering or questioning what I'd do, where I'd work, how much I'd earn, what my leave entitlement would be, whether I'd need to sign a contract, what the growth opportunities would be, what the induction would cover, whether I was entitled to travel reimbursement. And yet............. I worked, did well, earned reasonably well and above all enjoyed whatever I did. Was it pure luck? I don't know. What I definitely do know is that if the interviews were anything like what they are today, I doubt if I'd ever have gotten a job!

That brings me to another thought which often crosses my mind........did I miss out on anything, do I lack in any way. Well, I am happy just the way I am. I am thrilled that I enjoyed my youth to the hilt. I'm privileged that I was oblivious to the rat-race. I'm content with what I am, with where I've worked and with what I've done. Every place I've been in has been a learning ground and I've enjoyed every moment of my 'professional' life thus far!

As I prepare to move to another city after having worked in an organization for close to 7 years in various capacities, do I know what I'm going to do? No, I don't. Will I work there? I don't know. What I do know is that I'll be happy and content wherever I am - be it at work or at home!