What shall I burn today?
Where do I find the prejudice to judge Ravan?
He is sitting here beside me, bereft of his symbolic value.
Like an old friend. Betrayed by his God. Betrayed by himself.
Where do I find the Ram who has the answers.
Where do I lose the Ram who has been appropriated by murderers.
They say I descended from Him.
So did you.
Who wins when good fights good?
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Ah! Ok!
I get it. They've made a nasty jungle gym of a society for women. It's their favourite sport to watch. If a woman makes it through somewhat, they even get together and give her astitva awards for achievements and such. What fun. But what if I don't feel like playing today? What if I catch them cheating? Can I take my life and leave the field? Is there another place?Where it is not an act of courage for a woman to answer her calling?
Demand draft
Women should be allowed to define what makes a man. At least they should be allowed to define what makes a woman.
Monday, September 22, 2008
The Real Helpline- in many parts
I was driving through Dharavi late tonight and my car fell into a ditch. Hurt, shaken and afraid I called a close friend. He was unavailable- figuring out his finances for the break he needs to write a book on the problems in Dharavi. Another close friend was working on projecting an AV for a play on the filth in Mumbai. I called man 1 in life right now then. He was heading to a meeting to engage in some pro bono activity for an arts foundation. He suggested I call the tow truck. A crowd of people was beginning to collect around the second car. I toyed with the idea of calling man 2. He would have come. No matter what. He would have told me not to worry. He would make it all ok. But I hadn't called him in days. I had vanished from his life without an explanation, again. The anticipated aftermath of guilt and more gratitude was already to much to bear. (man1 is there in my life to prevent me from believing man2 will remain the messiah he is once i put him on the throne)I stopped short, trepid, teary and looked at the faces I have learnt to fear and loathe breathing down the glass windows. In the teary haze I read the frantic gestures. 10 odd men were bent forward lifting the car and the rest were egging me on to steer behind. Before I knew it I was out. They let out a loud cheer and dispersed without raping or looting me. I drove the rest of the way wondering why I had not taught myself to fear the right things.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Durga is coming
Durga is coming. Clay idols are imagining her. Conch shells, Dhaak, Dhuno and vermilion are being brought out to create a worthy haze of magic for her welcome. Soon mantras will evoke the devotee to bow in surrender. Women will have their potential dolled up in pandals on every street corner.
To make a man worship a woman, she needs to bring out a goddess from within. It is not altogether difficult either. Every woman has a goddess. Feel superior, externalise focussed power, ooze confidence, command attention, destroy his ego, take over,protect, overwhelm.
But what if she did not want any of that. What if she wanted to be one with the earth; flow quietly with water,dissolve in the mist? Can she be honoured still or only petted? What is the logic of male emotion? More pertinently does it mirror God's own? Is He really a man?
To make a man worship a woman, she needs to bring out a goddess from within. It is not altogether difficult either. Every woman has a goddess. Feel superior, externalise focussed power, ooze confidence, command attention, destroy his ego, take over,protect, overwhelm.
But what if she did not want any of that. What if she wanted to be one with the earth; flow quietly with water,dissolve in the mist? Can she be honoured still or only petted? What is the logic of male emotion? More pertinently does it mirror God's own? Is He really a man?
When a Man loved a Woman
We stood on a rampart once. You were overwhelmed by the possibilities of that vision. I was overcome with how much we could share of that moment. You knew perfectly when to steel your heart and switch off. I suffered until suffering was over. You worked hard at acquiring means to make a difference. I only wanted to make a difference. You spoke squarely with destiny. I avoided its gaze. You harnessed your charm in a well rehearsed unabashed way. I barely let it slip, and even so it was never guilt-free. You are always hoarding the future. I am always fearful of its power. For you the past is dead. I am still dodging its pellets. You met important people with ease. I lolled around familiar zones. You never had time to celebrate success. I could hardly believe it. You barely ever questioned certitudes of your desire. I could hardly comprehend mine. You wanted me. I needed you. You played romantic like a sportsman. I let it shape my identity.You loved me with passion and impulse. I took time to savour a surging feeling. You know you are done with us. I know I have only just started to make sense of it, and with poetry at that. You are a man. I am a woman. What Gods willed us to be together?
Letters Unmarked (for I know where you live, but not where to reach you)
I will step on you
And stop each time
You lie between
This place and a perfect world.
Oh, preen my love
This beauty befits you
My songs will not detonate
From my suitcase.My love
Will not terrorise your glorious borders.
Anticipation cajoles no poem
Prayer no sighting
We live in a world
Of cross purposes.
Wild sharp reeds of
Common unshapely desire
Will not sprout here.
Peacocks will glide
Over surreal green carpets
The sky will bring its best
The sun, its brightest.
To perpetuate the old
Myths of love and beauty.
I leap in your garden
For my place in the sky
A moment of hope.
You are the window in my room.
You will always be there.
You measure your steps.
I measure mine
We etch the tantra
Of forever longing.
I cannot see your face
Do your eyes reflect the logic of pain
Do you know why it rains?
There is darkness that lurks
Behind the magic lights
It is your abscence in a room
Overwhelmed by your perfume.
I seek you like never before
In every sound and shadow
Lock my eyes, cross my path
Wash my burden ashore.
When you walk out
Of my thoughts again, stay.
My soul is drenched.
My eye is parched.
I know this pain. It will
Pass with the Possession
That is hissing poetry.
My eyes are frantic
My heart inconsolable
Will Pink Gin ever taste the same again?
And stop each time
You lie between
This place and a perfect world.
Oh, preen my love
This beauty befits you
My songs will not detonate
From my suitcase.My love
Will not terrorise your glorious borders.
Anticipation cajoles no poem
Prayer no sighting
We live in a world
Of cross purposes.
Wild sharp reeds of
Common unshapely desire
Will not sprout here.
Peacocks will glide
Over surreal green carpets
The sky will bring its best
The sun, its brightest.
To perpetuate the old
Myths of love and beauty.
I leap in your garden
For my place in the sky
A moment of hope.
You are the window in my room.
You will always be there.
You measure your steps.
I measure mine
We etch the tantra
Of forever longing.
I cannot see your face
Do your eyes reflect the logic of pain
Do you know why it rains?
There is darkness that lurks
Behind the magic lights
It is your abscence in a room
Overwhelmed by your perfume.
I seek you like never before
In every sound and shadow
Lock my eyes, cross my path
Wash my burden ashore.
When you walk out
Of my thoughts again, stay.
My soul is drenched.
My eye is parched.
I know this pain. It will
Pass with the Possession
That is hissing poetry.
My eyes are frantic
My heart inconsolable
Will Pink Gin ever taste the same again?
Why Do I Need A Helpline- in many parts
i sit and write.
about the woman forced into prostitution.
the kashmiri pundits who lost their homes.
the activist who was stoned to death.
the playwright who is not anti-dalit.
the filmmaker who was not selling india.
the filmmaker who is selling spain and is proud.
i have written well. i have greater plans for tomorrow. i could have called it a day.
instead i make myself a drink and let in my demon lover of yore who has been wanting to "catch up" for a while.
the inevitable happens. he catches up.
why. why. why.
can i not be satisfied living lives of others behind the insurance cover of my laptop screen.
why must i have my own?
about the woman forced into prostitution.
the kashmiri pundits who lost their homes.
the activist who was stoned to death.
the playwright who is not anti-dalit.
the filmmaker who was not selling india.
the filmmaker who is selling spain and is proud.
i have written well. i have greater plans for tomorrow. i could have called it a day.
instead i make myself a drink and let in my demon lover of yore who has been wanting to "catch up" for a while.
the inevitable happens. he catches up.
why. why. why.
can i not be satisfied living lives of others behind the insurance cover of my laptop screen.
why must i have my own?
The Real Help Line
...none knows so well as i.
and then there is another scenario. you live in mumbai. you have reached a point where your perfect life is threatening to make no sense. and you want a hasty exit. you have often made do with leaving the city for a day or two but now the city follows you everywhere. it screams in your ears when ure alone in the hills or in ure once upon a time quaint hometown. you want to see if it will help to leave the physical body and draw your kitchen knife out of the cockroached drawer. then you remember the drinking session youre supposed to have in mondegar later and wonder if you should let ure childhood friend know you wont make it atleast not in ure own body..because time is real money and you shouldnt waste your best friends money just coz u have to leave now. the thought of this friend melts your heart. you suddenly want to do more than call off the programme. you want him/her to talk you out of this or comfort you into it perhaps. you dial the number and it rings out. 5 times. you call the other childhood friend. the cellphone is unavailable. you call another not so close friend. his phone is available but he is doing his final edit and just cannot talk. you call the other not so close friend. she answers and is available bt not emotionally. she has a screen test this evening and must get the part. you tell her youre upset. she perfunctorily asks whats wrong. you suddenly feel like you must say something really big is wrong for taking so much of her time and ruining her optimism for the day. but you dont know if your the last straw that is currently breaking your back is big enough and the rest of the pile you cannot exactly unravel so you say nothing much make some polite coversation and hang up. you call up your parents. they must understand they should. but you hear the hello and the gap stares you in the face stronger than your will to end it all. there is nothing to say. the first childhood friend whose phone rang ot 5 times calls from a bad reception area. by the time he has heard you right you begin to have doubts. he sounds awefully preoccupied. he has a 5 pm deadline and a new editor. you ask yourself are you sure you will really do it this time coz otherwise you should really not call this guy over from town. he will give up on you and the day you really do want to do it he wont turn up. the answer is clear from within. today is the day. you have to go today. you tell him that but its too late. the last 3 times you had threatened but stayed back have taken their toll. he wont come. he wont even worry. he will just say hmm and sigh once or twice. add take care. he is writing a piece on dalit woes. they have overwhelmed his emotional space. he hangs up.
look. youre still sitting right beside your body. go back in. youre too tired. you spotjogged.
deliver the knife back to the bugs. you have no more use for it. you have died enough for a day.
and then there is another scenario. you live in mumbai. you have reached a point where your perfect life is threatening to make no sense. and you want a hasty exit. you have often made do with leaving the city for a day or two but now the city follows you everywhere. it screams in your ears when ure alone in the hills or in ure once upon a time quaint hometown. you want to see if it will help to leave the physical body and draw your kitchen knife out of the cockroached drawer. then you remember the drinking session youre supposed to have in mondegar later and wonder if you should let ure childhood friend know you wont make it atleast not in ure own body..because time is real money and you shouldnt waste your best friends money just coz u have to leave now. the thought of this friend melts your heart. you suddenly want to do more than call off the programme. you want him/her to talk you out of this or comfort you into it perhaps. you dial the number and it rings out. 5 times. you call the other childhood friend. the cellphone is unavailable. you call another not so close friend. his phone is available but he is doing his final edit and just cannot talk. you call the other not so close friend. she answers and is available bt not emotionally. she has a screen test this evening and must get the part. you tell her youre upset. she perfunctorily asks whats wrong. you suddenly feel like you must say something really big is wrong for taking so much of her time and ruining her optimism for the day. but you dont know if your the last straw that is currently breaking your back is big enough and the rest of the pile you cannot exactly unravel so you say nothing much make some polite coversation and hang up. you call up your parents. they must understand they should. but you hear the hello and the gap stares you in the face stronger than your will to end it all. there is nothing to say. the first childhood friend whose phone rang ot 5 times calls from a bad reception area. by the time he has heard you right you begin to have doubts. he sounds awefully preoccupied. he has a 5 pm deadline and a new editor. you ask yourself are you sure you will really do it this time coz otherwise you should really not call this guy over from town. he will give up on you and the day you really do want to do it he wont turn up. the answer is clear from within. today is the day. you have to go today. you tell him that but its too late. the last 3 times you had threatened but stayed back have taken their toll. he wont come. he wont even worry. he will just say hmm and sigh once or twice. add take care. he is writing a piece on dalit woes. they have overwhelmed his emotional space. he hangs up.
look. youre still sitting right beside your body. go back in. youre too tired. you spotjogged.
deliver the knife back to the bugs. you have no more use for it. you have died enough for a day.
HELP LINED- by Rishi Majumder
HELP LINED…
And all the woe that moved him so
That he gave that bitter cry,
And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats,
None knew so well as I:
For he who lives more lives than one
More deaths than one must die.
- From The Ballad Of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde.
Mumbai (or Mumbai’s media) has been continually registering an alarming increase in suicides. The best thing for a potential suicide victim to do at the nth second, they say, is call a helpline. Some months ago, when this disturbing trend was pointed out by experts, I was asked to write an article on the same. What better place to look for real life case studies, than the helplines, I thought. On getting a few bizarre reactions as journalist, I decided to call up them up as a suicide victim instead, thinking this would incur more kindness.
After trying endless numbers listed online and hearing a "This number does not exist" or "Please check the number you have dialed" one gets through to the Good Samaritans. The conversation goes thus:
Caller (C): Hello, Samaritans?
Operator (O): Haan bolo?
C: I want to commit suicide.
O: Saab nahin hai. Baad mein.
C: Arre, lekin mujhein abhi karna hai. Kisise baat kar sakta hoon?
O: Paanch baje ke baad.
C: Lekin, kya ye khudkushi ka helpline nahin hai?
O: Nahin ye clinic hai.
C: Aur helpline?
O: Kya?
C: Agar suicide karna hai aur kisi se baat karna hai to?
O: Baad mein karo baad mein...
One then tries the Just Dial Services for a suicide counselor, or helpline that’ll work:
C: I want the number of suicide helplines.
O: I'm sorry sir?
C: Suicide. I want to commit suicide. I want a helpline to talk to so that they'll counsel me.
O: What kind of business are they into sir?
C: No business! Dude, suicide! You know, whom do I call if I want to commit suicide and need to talk to someone?
O: If you like I can give you the name of some counsellors sir.
C: Suicide counsellors?
O: Yes sir suicide counsellors and helplines. You’ll be receiving an instant sms for this information, and an instant email for the same.
On calling these numbers too, the first few ring out, then a few don't connect. Finally:
C: Hello, is this a suicide helpline?
O: Kya?
C: Aatma hatya, khudkushi, suicide karna hai... to yahaan pe baat kar sakte hain?
O: Humein samajh mein nahin aa raaha hai aap kya keh rahe hain... ek minute...
(Sound of things being shifted around)
O: Yes please?
C: Hi. Is this a suicide helpline?
O: No, sir. This is a diagnostic centre.
Another call:
C: Hello, is this a suicide helpline?
O: I'm sorry?
C: If I want to commit suicide and I need counseling, can you help me?
O: Tell me?
C: You'll counsel me for suicide???
O: Yes, sure. One minute... say?
C: See, I want to commit suicide... and...
O:
C: Umm, I'm in
O: Oh! Sorry, we only provide counseling for the
C: What?
O: Further studies? You want counseling on further studies in the
C: No I want to commit suicide!
O: Oh! You don't want to study further at all?
C: Well, I guess not!
O: I'm sorry, we only provide counseling for further studies to the
One notices other numbers, sent through the Just Dial messages and email, listed under 'Training'. One presumes a suicide helpline wouldn't advertise itself such. So one calls Just Dial again:
C: I just called here and asked for suicide helplines. I didn't get suicide helplines. I got trainers, career counselors... ring outs… dead ends...
O: Suicide helplines. What kind of business are they into sir?
C: They're NGOs probably man...
O: One minute sir, you're looking for suicide counselors? You’ll be receiving an instant sms for this information, and an instant email for the same.
C: But I've gotten your email. You're numbers are wrong! I want to commit suicide and have no one to talk to!!!
O: Just a minute sir. What business did you say they were into?
C: Forget it.
O: Sir, please could I inform you about our special offer today?
C: Huh?
O: Only for today special, we have an offer. Registration on Just Dial is totally free.
C: Dude, I want to commit suicide. Why would I want to be registered on Just Dial?
O: It's totally free sir. Only for today. Offer ends tommorrow.
C: SUICIDE! BOSS, IF I DIE WHY WILL A FREE OFFER MATTER?
O: Then you’ll have to tell me what business they’re into sir…
What's narrated so far is fact. Let’s imagine that the following conversation took place:
C: I'm into suicide. Could you list that?
O: Suicide sir? What this means exactly sir?
C: It's a business by which we manage suicides for a living. Please take the number down.
O: Okay, sir, one minute. Yes sir, we’re listing you as ‘suicide management’. What is the location of your office sir?
C: Just take down the number
O: Okay sir...
Imagine further:
C: I want the numbers of suicide helplines.
O: Sure sir, one minute. Yes sir one has just recently been listed with us. Would you like the number sir? You’ll be receiving an instant sms for this information, and an instant email for the same.
A new article:
Mumbai (or Mumbai’s media) has been continually registering an alarming increase in suicides…
(this article originally appears in www.wekeptourappointment.blogpot.com and is written by rishi majumder)
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