Karna’s wife – The Outcast’s Queen
Sometimes, when you pick up a book entirely at random, the choice proves to be better than one that you make after much thought and deliberation. When I first came across this book on Flipkart, I thought, “Why not?”. After all, I enjoy reading mythology of any sort. Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni remains one of my favourite retellings of India’s most interesting epic many years after I first read it. I ordered it online almost on an impulse, given that I hadn’t even heard of Kavita Kane before. Better yet, I had no idea that Karna was even married according to the traditional version of the Mahabharata. The premise was interesting.
After reading about 30 pages, I found myself falling in love with Karna, much like Uruvi who marries him against social sanction and becomes his closest friend, confidante and conscience-keeper. The narrative is layered with the several contradictions that characterize Karna. His nobility and goodness is unquestionable as is his unflinching loyalty to Duryodhana. Beyond all this, what sets this narrative apart from all others is that no character, however good or evil is entirely so. Even Duryodhana is portrayed as essentially human, with all the flaws that accompany it. It is refreshing to see Bhanumati, Duryodhana’s wife as a real character of flesh and blood rather than just a name. Each of the minor characters in the traditional version gets an overhaul and becomes so real that their concerns become ours.
I could go on and on about what’s good about the book, but what’s the point? If you are one of those who likes mythology, this book is definitely for you. Kavita Kane has done a great job with this book, but I wonder if she plans to write any more. She will definitely have a reputation to live up to in her books to come!
Discovering a new city
Born and raised in Chennai as I am, I have always looked down a bit on other cities, especially what we may call Tier 2 cities within the state. The only exceptions to this rule were Mumbai and Delhi by virtue of being the biggest metros in the country. Even Kolkata, while being somewhat bigger than Chennai, still retained the characteristics of a small town and was a city I didn’t really consider on par with my beloved Chennai.
Growing up into adolescence, I often wondered why affluent uncles returning to India from,overseas chose to invest in property in Coimbatore as opposed to Chennai, which would have the obvious, and perhaps only choice for me had I been in their place. In my ignorance, I remember asking my mother if Coimbatore had restaurants and places to see that way Chennai did.
This image of Coimbatore as a small town lingered on in my memory into adulthood despite several short-duration visits to visit assorted relatives. When I met S, I realised that I was going to have to adopt Coimbatore as a hometown sooner or later. So attached was he to the place of his birth and childhood that he harboured (still harbours) dreams of going back to Coimbatore in a few years and settling down there.
As our courtship matured into marriage, I began to hear more and more about Coimbatore. During our visits, he would drive around the city showing me all these places he associated with his childhood. The schools in which he studied, PSGCAS, the ubiquitous Annapoorna, the parks, the roads and the roadside bhel puri shop became part of my life too. I slowly, but surely warmed to the idea of Coimbatore and began to consider it a second home. Second. To Chennai.
Circumstances forced me to spend 17 days of August in Coimbatore. Although I found it hard to adjust initially, I began to enjoy the feel of living in the city. I rediscovered the joys of living in an independent house, one that I had forgotten since we moved out of my grandparents’ home in 2002. I enjoyed the morning chores and the chirping of birds. I relished the possibility of picking fresh curry leaves from the plant for my rasam, and picking guavas off the tree for a snack.
In these three week, I find that I am no longer averse to the idea of settling down in Coimbatore. What seemed like a punishment when S first mentioned it two years ago now seems a pleasant thought. Is this what discovering a new city feels like?
Being an only child…
In the past week, I have heard the term “Single Child Syndrome” at least half a dozen times in relation to someone else. It irritates me unfailingly. Every. Single. Time. If you have no clue what I am talking about, you probably belong to the small minority who believes that your birth order does not necessarily dictate your personality and that other factors contribute equally.
To put it simply, the “Single Child Syndrome” or “Little Emperor Syndrome” suggests that children who do not have siblings, biological or adopted, are bratty, arrogant, bossy, selfish and lonely. Despite several studies that show that single children are no different from their peers from multi-child families, this stereotype just doesn’t seem to go away.
Perhaps one reason why talk of this gets to me is that I have been personally affected throughout the 30 years of my existence. In school, I was often labelled snobbish and introverted because I was not so comfortable talking to people. As I grew into adolescence, this stereotype only grew worse. People who knew me from childhood couldn’t fathom how the quiet and reticent child suddenly became a confident teen. This change was attributed to the imaginary “pampering” I received at home by virtue of being an only child. At college, my general outgoing nature and confidence was often perceived as snobbishness and arrogance. A teacher would often tell me, with the best intentions, that I would lose some of my arrogance only if my parents got me married into a large and difficult joint family and if I was in some way criticized by my in-laws. “Maamiyaar veetla adi vaangumbodhu thaan budhi varum.”
It’s not easy to survive such constant criticism for something over which I have no control. It was not my choice to be an only child and it’s not fair that I must bear the brunt of this situation. Secondly, being an only child in no way presupposes that one must have a difficult personality. As an only child, I often found myself cornered when people around me made statements implying that the lack of a sibling made me anti-social. Frankly, there is no way I can logically counter that argument because I indeed have no siblings and cannot really put myself in the position of someone who does.
Couples increasingly choose to have just one child. If all single children were bossy, arrogant and selfish, the world would be filled only with selfish people. There is absolutely no evidence that children with siblings are better adjusted socially that single children. Can we please stop judging others because their situation is unfamiliar to us or because we presume that they must have enjoyed a privileged upbringing because they happen to be only children. We have no idea what they have been through and we have no right to judge!
When you begin to say, it’s enough!
This is the first post of 2013 and also the 300th post on this blog. At this juncture, I expected to be writing about something rather more pleasant, but some things need to be said. And now. The whole world and its dog has just exhausted its energy crying itself hoarse about the need for change in anti-rape legislation and justice for the murdered 23-year old physiotherapy student. Demands for justice ranged from the sane and sensible calls for societal change in attitudes and stricter law enforcement to some knee-jerk demands of hanging, chemical castration and even physical castration for the accused. However, what really struck me in this whole drama was that every other protester spoke of how the increasing incidence of sexual violence against women went against Indian culture that respected and worshipped its women since time immemorial.
Now, I do agree that many of those who spoke of an irreproachable Indian culture were young men and women barely out of school. But this just goes to prove how much we are brainwashed into believing that everything Indian and traditional is good and great. We truly believe that the root cause of the increasing rate of crimes against women is western decadence, even if we are too diplomatic to say it in as many words. But really! Enough is enough. Enough of blaming the pub culture, western influence, mini-skirts, Facebook and Bollywood for rape. Let’s face it! Indian culture has traditionally treated its women no better than any other culture.
In case anyone forgets, we are talking about the same Indian culture that shows, covertly or overtly, a distinct preference for sons, that teaches its girls to be submissive, that kills off baby girls for the crime of being…girls. It is the same Indian culture where thousands of young women lose their lives for the crime of not bringing enough dowry. It is also the same culture that refuses to acknowledge a woman’s identity as distinct from that of her husband and where it is still a crime to survive the death of a partner. Rapists and sexual offenders are not made in a day. They grow up with a sense of entitlement and cannot fathom why a woman would say no to them. In fact, they do not even realize that a no really means a NO, simply because they have never been denied a thing. We are talking of an Indian culture where a parent will deny their daughter three full meals a day to fulfill every whim of their son. Just because some of us are lucky enough to grow up in a healthy and gender-equal environment, it doesn’t mean that Indian culture is all good.
If we really want to change things, we need to demand societal change. And, this doesn’t come with amending laws or naming a new anti-rape legislation after the unfortunate 23-year old. It comes from within. Holding candlelight vigils and chanting slogans against misogyny will not help. If we are so concerned about change, we must not hesitate to change ourselves. Let’s stop praying for a male child because that will take us to heaven, stop treating our sons differently from our daughters, refuse to buckle under the societal pressure to kill off our baby girls. Let us also refuse to pay a dowry to secure a “good match” for our daughters and instead look for men who respect them enough to keep them happy. Let’s stop using the B-word to insult women we do not like or worse, call misogynistic men b*****ds. Let’s remember that when we do that, are not insulting them, but their mothers. If we really want things to change, let’s BE the change we so crave to see.
But, while we are at it, let’s also remember that change does not come easy. It may not even be visible for the next 20 years, but there will come a day when we will be able to turn out a better class of human beings for a better future. This may not be as satisfying as hanging the rapists or castrating them, but will surely be more effective. And this solution will take time. After all, Rome was not built in a day.
Of shame and outrage…
The Delhi gang rape case has brought to the fore so many different issues that I do not know where to start. The incident, which has shocked the collective conscience of the nation, has triggered a wide range of responses, from outrage to blaming. With every minute, the drama gets more sordid, what with protests, violence, teargassing of protesters, water canons, a chief minister who cries on camera, an invertebrate Prime Minister…the list seems endless.
The latest addition to this list seems to be the Andhra Pradesh Congress Committee chief Botla Satyanarayana. In a statement earlier today, he offered his expert assessment of the situation saying, “We say we got freedom at midnight but doesn’t mean we can roam around freely at midnight.” Frankly, I have stopped expecting much more from our politicians, irrespective of political colour. He is simply the latest in the long list of politicians, starting from an ineffectual and spineless Prime Minister who took a whole week to address an outraged and angered nation.
First things first, we need to understand a fundamental truth about crimes against women. Sexual violence against women is never about sex. I have said it before and will say it again. Rape is not a sex crime. It is about power. It is about humiliation and about making a woman feel inferior to the perpetrator. Rape is simply a violent expression of the more general treatment of women’s bodies as a property of others. In the case of “Amanat”, as the 23-year old victim has been identified (not her real name), as in that of millions of other women who are victims of such crimes, the perpetrators considered her fair game simply because she was out on the streets after sunset. The rapists were not looking for pleasure, they were looking for control. It was about feeling good about being able to control another human being, who they consider a lesser mortal because of her gender. More importantly, it is about the knowledge that they will most probably get away with it. And, they would have, had this crime not so shocked the nation due to the sheer bestiality of the act.
Another disappointing facet of this whole issue is the way our politicians, irrespective of political affiliation reacted. For the ruling Congress, it was about saving their skin. Sheila Dixit cried on camera hoping to garner sympathy. The Prime Minister delivered a belated, and extremely unconvincing speech a whole 7 days after the incident. Sushma Swaraj, for all her fiery speeches against the government, spoke of a fate “worse than death” for the victim. And to top it all, the APCC chief tells us we should not expect security if we want to wander about alone at midnight. He tells us that freedom at midnight was won, literally and metaphorically, only for the men.
I have a problem with each of these statements. As a concerned citizen, I expect the Chief Minister of a state to act against the perpetrators of the crime and not just cry on camera in the hope that we will excuse her inaction. We do not want to know how bad you feel about the crime. We want to know what you are doing to bring the perpetrators to book and to prevent this from happening again. We want action Ms. Dixit, not your fake tears. I also expect the Prime Minister to step out of his bullet-proofed car and address the nation when he is needed to. I want him to, for once in his life, do the job he was elected to do. At this point, I feel like telling the APCC chief to take his moralising elsewhere, because we have no need or use of it. It is the business of the government to ensure that I am safe in my city, irrespective of what I am wearing, of whether I drink, of how I dress and who I am with. It is not the government’s business to judge my character. I refuse to allow that. And finally, I have a problem with the assessment that the victim faces a fate worse than death. This implies that what she has lost, her virginity and honour, are more important than life. It is up to her to decide what she wants to do with her life. I hope she recovers well enough to lead a normal life. And even if she does not, we have no right to decide what is good for her. She has the right to do that herself.
And finally, a word about the protesters. I completely agree that as citizens, we must demand action. Action against the perpetrators of a crime too horrendous to describe. But, I do not agree with the demand for capital punishment for the criminals. It is not capital punishment that will act as an effective deterrent against rape. It is the knowledge that they cannot get away with such a crime. It is the certainty of punishment, rather than the quantum that is a more effective deterrent. There is no point in making rape a capital offense if the conviction rate remains as dismal as it is today. There is no point in talking about chemical castration if the courts are going to acquit criminals citing the character of the victim. At this point, we do not need stronger laws. What we need is more effective enforcement.