Tremors In My Heart

Few seconds of tremors in the capital on Wednesday night made me think how emotional independence was no less important than being financially self-reliant.

I was alone at my rented flat in Delhi, all set to decide which shirt to wear to office the next morning. As I stood before the steel almirah, it started making a shattering sound.

Before I could judge the situation, I heard an electric spark followed by a total blackout in the colony. I groped for a torch and went out in the balcony. People had come out and were discussing the fear they had just witnessed for less than 10 seconds.

I called up my mom but disconnected the phone, thinking it was too late as she might have fallen asleep. A friend called asking if I was fine after the quake.

Staying alone for almost four years now, I thought I was all too brave. But panic struck after I hung up the call. I felt a strange disconnect with the world, none to call and look for strength. Yes, I felt weak. Tears rolling on my cheek, my voice almost choked. I felt I was still dependent on others, betraying my own belief that economic independence freed one from social bondage.

I had been an emotional child, an impulsive teenager till my college days, but became more and more confident as I started working in 2005. I commuted alone in trains and buses from Ghaziabad to Delhi for work, waited for autos at 10 in the night. Facing and killing my fears, I never gave discount to myself on the basis of being a woman.

Lengthy commuting time and odd shifts at work brought me to Delhi in 2007. It wasn’t easy convincing my mother, though.

This was the second time I panicked, last being “intimidated” by a street dog at 11.30 pm some three years ago (at my building’s stairs).

Coincidentally, that was also a second floor apartment with an attached balcony.

Last night’s fear was not of being buried under the debris or harassed by someone at night but the feeling of being alone (without any friends around).

This almost questioned my strength as a woman living in the city alone. Why was I scared? Why couldn’t I lock the door and go downstairs like most other people? Was I waiting for an external help? Who could have saved me from the horror? No one but my inner self could have helped me. But in my fit of emotions, I almost tried to escape the situation and look for support outside.

Had I stood there and told myself that I have to take care of my own, I would have been proud of myself. Instead, I took refuge by speaking at home and became normal (on the surface level), not sure if my brother read the pain in my choked voice.

Friends, not even family, can be with you 24x7. And if we choose a life that demands solitude and introspection, we have to be fearless in all situations.

The tremors taught me a “great lesson” only if I could make it a pillar to carve a story of strength for every woman wanting to be independent. After all, I was not the only one alone in the city.

Wish I Was 22 Again

आज फिर से दिल करता है कि 5 साल पीछे चली जाउं...ऐसा क्या था 5 साल पहले जो अब नहीं है?

पांच साल पहले मैंनें मीडिया में क़दम रखा था. उस वक्त न सिर्फ मुझमें काम के प्रति ज़्यादा उत्साह था बल्कि ज़िंदगी में कामयाब होने की एक ललक थी...उस वक्त एक 'ज़िदंगी' ऑफिस के बाहर भी हुआ करती थी...मुझे याद नहीं कि कभी दफ्तर की कोई टेंशन मैं बाहर लेकर आई.

22 साल की उम्र में 'शादी' जैसा बड़ा फ़ैसला कर लिया था मैंने...पहली नौकरी और पहली रिलेशन्शिप....यह 'पंचनामा' इसलिए क्योंकि एक नई बॉलीवुड फिल्म ने मुझे कॉलेज के तुरंत बाद के दिनों की याद दिला दी...दिल्ली शहर में लाइफ कैसी है...जैसे हम हैं बिल्कुल वैसी. जब हम ख़ुश तो सारा शहर मानो जश्न मनाता हो...और जब हम ग़मज़दा तो जैसे हर कोई अपनी तन्हाई में डूबा हुआ. एक दूसरे का हाल पूछने की किसी को फुरसत ही नहीं. पांच साल में कई दोस्त बने, कई पुराने दोस्त छूट गए.

मग़र आज यह फिल्म देखकर एहसास हुआ कि ‘दोस्ती’ तो निभाई जा सकती है मग़र ‘रिलेशन्शिप्स’...बाप रे बाप...जैसे फिल्म के एक किरदार ने कहा: “Relationship means an end to your own happiness…” वाकई, उस उम्र में तो क्या किसी भी उम्र में रिश्ते निभाना “is a hell of a job”.

प्यार को समझने में ही एक उम्र निकल जाती है...जिसे हम प्यार समझ बैठते हैं वो अकसर एक ज़रुरत होती है...किसी ‘छलावे’ के पीछे हम अपना सब कुछ लुटा देते हैं और फिर कुछ हाथ न लगने पर या तो ख़ुदको कोसते हैं या सामने वाले को...वैसे ख़ुदको ज़िम्मेदार मानने वाले समझदार कम ही होंगे...अपनी बात करुं तो रिलेशन्शिप ख़त्म होने के कई साल तक मैं अपने आपको ही ज़िम्मेदार मानती रही...लेकिन सिर्फ रिलेशन्शिप ओवर होने का उसके असफल होने का  नहीं. अलग होने का फ़ैसला मेरा था लेकिन रिश्ते की नाक़ामयाबी का ठीकरा मैंने उसके सर मढ़ दिया. “मुझे वो ख़ुश नहीं रख पाया...” यही सोचकर में आगे बढ़ गई. मगर इन 5 सालों में शादी के कई प्रस्तावों के बावजूद मैं ख़ुदको किसी से जोड़ नहीं सकी... शायद मैं आगे बढ़ ही नहीं पाई थी.

मैं बिना किसी रिलेशन्शिप के भी वैसी ही थी जैसे रिलेशन्शिप के दौरान...तब समझ में आया कि ख़ुदको ख़ुश रखने की ज़िम्मेदारी हमारी अपनी है...फिल्म में हीरो जब कहता है कि “इन लड़कियों को कोई ख़ुश नहीं रख सकता...” तब लगा कि अगर हर लड़का इसी मानसिकता से पीड़ित रहेगा तो न तो कभी ख़ुद ख़ुश रहेगा और न लड़की को ख़ुश रख सकेगा...एक बात है औरतें ‘ख़ुश करने’ की मंशा से कोई काम नहीं करती...वो बस वही करती हैं जो उन्हें सही लगता है.. हां मगर सही-गलत का फ़ैसला उनका अपना होता है...और सारी ‘प्रॉब्लम’ ही यहीं से शुरु होती हैं...

मुझे अपने अलग होने के फ़ैसले पर कोई अफसोस नहीं मगर दिल करता है कि एक बार फिर 22 की हो जाउं और 'ज़िदंगी' फिर से शुरु करुं...इस बार किसी छलावे में नहीं बल्कि होश और समता में जीवन को सही ढंग से जीने के लिए...

A Man Who Couldn’t Work And A Woman Who Couldn't Cook!

"Women can't cook to save their lives." Controversial British celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay said once in an interview to BBC that more men were learning what to do in the kitchen, while women were more likely to be able to mix a cocktail than cook.

It’s my third year of living in Delhi. When I first shifted to the capital in September 2007, I had no experience buying vegetables. And my cooking skills included boiling eggs and making tea. Thats about it. I lived alone in a small flat in Amar Colony surviving the heat and cold alike for more than a year. I never thought of getting a cook for myself.

Reasons:

1. Food was just a formality to show others I was human :)

2. Night Shifts —  Spoiled my face value and eating habits alike.

3. Money was definately a constraint.

4. And, the most important of all– I had to prove my family (specially my Mom, that I could cook!)

Every girl in almost all parts of this country is expected to be an average cook by the time she completes college. And here I was, didn’t know how to cook daal-chawal (Cooked rice and pulses) even after my PG and 2 years of job. I learned to cook only after living alone. I remember the half cooked rice and half-baked rotis I made initially. My mother was most concerned when I left home. She always asked–”So, what did you eat today? Momos!” After all, half of the hostelers in South Delhi thrive on them.

Now, I cook and cook quite okay. But the truth remains that I do not enjoy cooking. It’s an art, that I can only try to imitate but can’t enjoy. It can be a mechanical job if you don’t enjoy doing it. I am my sister’s biggest fan [for she is a food enthusiast and a great cook. Hope she's reading :D ] She has always been pushing me to learn cooking before I found a pit to fall (oops! I mean marriage). But I always declared, that I would either marry a guy who was less fond of eating at home or would help me in the cumbersome process. Mom always said: Where would you get such a guy?

And I always wondered that even as the biggest chefs in this country are males, the concept of ‘cooking’ at home is strictly associated with the female of the house. Women who either remain slow or incompetent after their marriages in this feat are considered lowly and not-that-great wives! I have inferred this over the years. But why are cooking skills a prerequisite for being a woman, specially when you are married. Can’t you be an average cook and still be a good wife. All you need is an understanding husband, who is not judgmental about your nature. After all, cooking is an art and anyone trying to do that may not reach the A+ level.

Many of my colleagues@work never brought their lunch from home, for their mothers/wives couldn’t get up early to cook. (My mother being the opposite kind. I never saw her missing the tiffin as long as I lived with her, except in extreme conditions ). But that’s normal. Isn’t it? I have heard people making fun and cracking jokes on women who can’t cook, at workplaces. What bothered me was the comparison between their mothers and wives. Every woman, working or housewife, is expected to cook and cook really well. Why? I ask? One of my school friend’s mother didn’t cook good. And that was the reason, she never called me for lunch. Amazing hun! :)

I observed this with many of my friends. They were embarrassed to admit: Their mothers couldn’t cook! We, the makers of this society, have made this the rule. If you are a woman. You ought to cook! If you can’t…you are lacking as a woman. :D

When it comes to men. Their life is no easy.

They can do if they can’t cook. Infact, there are men who shy away from sharing if they do. There’s a strange innuendo of machoism in saying that I can’t cook. (The picture has changed in the metros and to an extent in Tier II cities but most males want their better halves to cook). The picture is different when he’s around his female colleagues. And you know why! :)

For a man, it’s more essential to be working and being the bread earner of the family. A man, however benevolent he might be, earns no respect from the society if he has no money. Again, it’s the gender-biased society that has made these things so very acceptable. I remember my early days spent in Uttar Pradesh’s Ghaziabad district. Our then landlady’s eldest son used to stay in a separate room cut off from the large house and was deprived of all the comforts, available to his younger brothers. His children never played with him and neither was he seen at family functions. I was too young to know the reasons.

Recently realised, it was because he did not earn for the family. His kids were raised by the owner of the house, his mother. He was an irreverent man for everyone. He was just one among several like him in the Indian middle classes, where his manliness is directly associated with his ability to earn. What if a man didn’t want to work? Does that make him pansy? I find it hard to understand…

Everyone on this earth needs to eat, for which he/she/LGBT should cook. For cooking one needs money, that comes after hours of hardwork. So why to divide the roles as Cooking for Woman and Earning for The Man. Let there be a role reversal, let the person decide whether a woman cooks for fun or for family and a man earns due to compassion or compulsion. :) :)

  

I am waiting for some brickbats after this NERVE-WRECKING post!  :P… With Lots of  Love… From My Inner Voice

Originally posted on: http://palsinnervoice.wordpress.com/2010/07/02/a-man-who-couldn’t-work-and-a-woman-who-could not cook/