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It's almost October... This time used to be the best to shop for new clothes, given that Durga pujo is just a week away. But this year, it's been starkly different. Not even the pandemic could dull festivities,  as the R.G.Kar incident has. Tilottama still waits for justice. So do scores or rape/molestation/abuse victims suffering in silence in our country. We are shaken, shattered, in no mood to celebrate.  Yet.....and yes, there's a yet. For several small craftspeople, artisans, weavers, designers, this is the time they do maximum business every year. To sit and mourn is not something they can afford.  There is a Banglar Tanter Haat on in Boi Mela grounds, Korunamoyee, Salt Lake, for the past two weeks. Business has been abysmal, say the artisans sadly, yet resignedly. They too are hoping Tilottama gets justice.  But they have families to feed. When they don't have even a single sale in a day, they know they can't buy that trinket for their daughter back home. The...

At some point of our lives, we need to ask ourselves - what is more important? To raise one's voice against what's wrong. or to just let things be and get on with our regular lives? Be immune to something - since it hasn't happened to me, or stand up and protest - because it can some day? Come September-October, and there's a festive feel in the air in our country. Ganesh puja, followed by Navratri and Durga Puja, then Deepavali, are the mega festivals we wait for all year.  To Celebrate What? But festivals are enjoyable only when civic systems are in good health and the society is healthy. If there is glaring rot in society, no festival or celebration can cheer us up.  People in power dangle the carrots of religious festivities, along with the pet drugs of Bollywood, celebrity weddings and IPL, to distract public attention from actual problems plaguing our society. Maslow had explained the hierarchy of needs about a century back. Unless the basic requirements of safety...

Farah Bashir's Rumours of Spring recounts her own experiences as a girl growing up in turbulent Kashmir. The book is semi-autobiographical and recalls the horrors of insurgency in Kashmir, particularly it's devastating effects on the lives of ordinary people. Each part of the book describes a particular phase in her life. Growing up in the 90s, when terrorism besieged Kashmir, she recounts how her family - living in a large mansion in downtown Srinagar, bears the brunt of losses in family business, snatching way of personal freedoms, simple pleasures and mostly, the liberty to live the life they want.  The language is intimate, drawing you within, as if you are a fly on the wall in her drawing room, observing things. She paints images through her words and descriptions. Of a shuttered window, of an abandoned attic, of closed cinema halls, and barbed wires, marching boots and flashing searchlights.  She focuses on the impact that army clampdowns and constant policing had on ord...

The recent horrifying, stomach-churning incident in Kolkata is not a one-time aberration. It keeps occuring in our country. And we women are also responsible for this stinking rot in society. Ask yourself these uncomfortable questions. How many of you protest when a girl wearing "revealing clothes" is cat-called?  Did you show your support for our wrestlers protesting against a habitual offender? Did your blood boil when you saw pictures of our sisters in Manipur paraded naked?  When rapists are released from prison or routinely escape punishment, do you raise your voice? How many of you have tolerated violence or even casual sexism in your own home? Do you turn the other way when transgenders are leered at? Do you grin and bear it when the men in your family crack obscene jokes? Do Kathua and Hathras ring a bell? And lastly, how many of you thronged cinema halls to make misogynistic horrors like Animal and Kabir Singh blockbusters? I have asked myself and am distinctly feeli...

My beloved country India is at the threshold of completing 77 years of independence. Its certainly a joyous occasion, one that needs to be cherished and celebrated.  Then why am I not feeling like celebrating? Why does my spirit dampen like the dark clouds? Why am I not proud of what my country has become? Why does a heavy sadness weigh on my heart? Because I am aware of what is around me. For one, inequality is at a historic high. While an appalling number of people are still sleeping hungry, without a roof over their head, we hear of never-seen before monstrous wedding celebrations. We learn that 2% Indians are worth more than 80% Indians' collective net wroth. We see open flouting of norms, rules, standards to manipulate the market and secure profits. We know ballots are being tampered. We hear judges being threatened, we see the police serving the powerful.  Students burning the midnight oil to clear unbelievably tough competitive exams are being cheated of a fair chance o...

Its an open secret that the education system in India is in a mess. Examinations are still considered the touchstone of a student's worth. Relentless suicides and the running away of young children from home under academic pressure, have not been able to dent our obsession with marks. The IITs and IIMs are still Meccas for the middle class, and getting into them means enrolling their child in coaching factories in Kota. Doesn't matter whether they can cope or opt to tie a noose around their neck. How does a otherwise good student deal with this pressure to excel, particularly when her performance has not been to her satisfaction? How does parental scrutiny and censure hit a young vulnerable mind? This excerpt from my story will give an idea: Excerpt from Can I Wash Off the Shame? Ma and Dad were making such a big deal about the ICSE results, she was really worried. She – their only child, the sole flagbearer of their ambitions, what if she didn’t perform that well and did just ...

Writing isn't easy or immediately rewarding, but still I love to write. Maybe because I have so many things to share, so many anecdotes to tell, so many lives to vicariously live. Would you like to know about my second book, and why I wrote it? A glance at Fragrance of Dried Flowers My second book, Fragrance of Dried Flowers , as the name suggests, deals with the paradox of dried flowers having their own fragrance, a rare kind of beauty. It is the imperfect people who create happiness, build relationships with love, and seek solace within themselves. If we, as parents, can contribute our bit by being less critical, less judgmental, and more forgiving, the world would truly be a happier place. Parents, particularly mothers, have a strong role in shaping the lives of their children. A mother’s unconditional love is critical in the life of a child. She can bolster her child’s self-esteem with her kind words and constant support, or break it with her rejection. In the story, “ Ca...