The side effects of Mitu

When did it start? Where did it start? Why did it start? My few seconds of research leads me to believe I have found the answer to the question that nobody is asking. No, it was not a movement started by the woman whose face is circulating in all posts and when you look at her, the first thought is #couldntpossiblybemetoo (sorry dear, no pun, only fun intended). I believe it goes back to the ancient times. Long long ago there was a place called Rome. The place is still there, but not the witnesses to the inception. In the kingdom of Rome, lot of people did and still do as Romans did, they fought. There was in the beginning, bro-mance between the then emperor, Mr Caesar, (a green fit fellow who also invented a salad on the side, popularly known as Caesar’s Salad.) and his die-hard friend Mr Brutus. As buddies go, they went hand in hand, except that My Brutus’s hidden hand held a dagger and brutally (Oh, so that is the genesis of the word Brute-ally), assassinated Mr Julius. Just before Mr Caesar ceased to be, he exclaimed “Et tu, Brute”. And that my friends, as per my twisted theory, when he said #youtoo, the stars shifted, cosmos heard him and, it was sealed on that day in the Ides of March, that in the twenty first century, #metoo war cry would thus cause empires to topple.

The aura and coverage of #metoo has not only caused rifts in unsuspecting households either way, from “my husband is better than your husband because he got more metoos” to “Thank your stars, I married you, you didn’t get a single metoo”, there are a lot of side effects that #meandyou can feel for real. From the girl asking, “He checks me out, should I cry metoo?” Whether the tap on the shoulder or the “you have lost weight and are looking good” be me too or not to me too. I actually feel quite discriminated, why not he too?

The biggest single side effect is the typecasting. Now #metoo is mapped to #sexualharassment and these days there is no way to use it with a different connotation. Just a few days back some of us friends decided to get ice cream and my friend shouted across the street, who all want a particular flavour. Along with the rest of us, I shouted loud and strong, “Me too”. And the world stopped. Twenty people turned and looked suspiciously at me. I never knew this would turn into my 20 seconds of fame. I could almost feel, people were ready to take out their mobiles and start recording, and I was going to be viral across TV and the online world. I half expected the salt toothpaste lady to jump out and thrust her mike at me and ask “Kya aapke paas #metoo hain?”( are you also a victim of #metoo?) . Like everything that glitters cannot be gold, not every me too is #metoo.

The second side effect is for (do I mean against?) the government. And I am not talking about the toppling giants. See, the government has gone out of the way to make things simple for Indiankind. The elimination of #377 and adultery as a crime, is opening up a world of possibilities for the amorous genre, and while they were ecstatically figuring out how to use it to their advantage, suddenly dropped the #metoo ball. Now the same folks are scrambling to tunnel a way out, maybe a prior agreement between the screwee and the screwer (that post on the agreement was hilarious) is the way out, if the trolls are to be believed.  To screw or not to screw, is the question, bluntly put, that is trending. This movement is putting further locks on the closet, forget coming out. So, what I am trying to say, in a roundabout way, is #metoo is decidedly anti-government because it is hell bent on undoing what the government did. So, if you are part of the mass screwed by the government, can you shout “Me too”?

This Mr Mitoo is simultaneously kicking up a storm in Bollywood. All those who are not new and in news, all they have to do to become happening all over again is #metoo. So if your Na Na to Nana went unheeded, or you could not adjust your sanskaar as per the God of light, you need to find the fault in your own vault, so what if he did assault? Why didn’t you let Mr Anu be the master (Malik), or Jatin be the slave (Das), and how dare you refuse Mr Housefull (1,2 or 3 and 4). You can’t revolt, so you must withhold. BTW, what happened to the 300 (what was the number again?) encounters of the Munna? None of them is vocal so far…he went so far, yet..

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The blouse that saves

Tone change. Jokes apart. Unless I do that, I will be forever exiled from society of pious women and thrown into shameful drudgery.

Somebody recently asked me, what do you think about #metoo. I am a woman, what is there to think? I am one of the millions who has survived her own encounters and fought her demons. It took me 25 years to speak up, after encounters at the tender age of 15. It needs courage, a lot of it, it needs you to have the confidence that nobody can point fingers at you, and if they do, you can handle it. It makes me so happy that women feel empowered to speak up. Being able to look at people in the eyes and finally blurt it out, take the load off the chest.

Adultery is no longer a crime. But using power to abuse people, physically or mentally, those who don’t have a voice, be it a woman or a man, exploiting a weakness is despicable. Consent is the key that unlocks the door of the heaven that people desire. I just hope that this movement brings around a real change. It is not about being anti Romeo, but it is about upholding our dignity and being treated as an equal. And every romantic, mildly flirting glance is not a reason to start the war cry. Let us not trivialise it. There is a clear demarcation between good natured flirting and hard-core assault. Let the Romeos survive, else Juliets will have a tougher time. And remember to say No, if you don’t want it.

Nevertheless, #metoo has created #toomuch #funtoo.

Disclaimer: No woman was harmed during the writing of this blog. Any reference to anyone living or dead is purely intended for harmless fun.

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Equally Unsafe

One of the best things about the family I was born in, was that there was no gender discrimination of any sort. In fact, I only realised after studying class 8 Anatomy that boys and girls are supposed to be different. Call me dumb, but that is the way it was. But soon after that, in the next two years or so, I suddenly grew up. In fact I was forced to grow up and realise the world is not as beautiful as it looked before the apple. There were many people around who looked at this young bubbly chirpy tomboy girl as an object of desire and pawing and who just left a feeling of loathing in my mind.

When you are 13-14, with all the hormonal changes in the body,  girls are already struggling. Dealing with studies, teenage issues, boys, parents and lechs. I was travelling in a train, sleeper class with Maa. It was an overnight journey and we both had lower berths. Maa fell asleep on one and so did I. I was 13 years old, wearing a frock, covered with a thin sheet.

In the middle of the night, I woke up feeling spiders crawling over my legs. I grew wide awake and saw a guy sitting near my feet and his hands moving over my legs. Though nobody had really told me about good touch and bad touch, instinctively, I knew this was not right. I sat up suddenly and moved to the other end of the berth. The guy reassured me, don’t worry, all is well, lie down and go back to sleep. But I could not. I was wide awake, trembling and sitting with my arms wrapped around myself curled up near the window. I thought of waking up Maa but my mind told me not to, no, don’t wake her up, she may think it is your fault. (She wasn’t like that, but the mind of a 13 year old can play tricks, maybe it was the 70’s Bollywood effect, who knows). So I sat through the night, wide awake, at the corner of the berth, sometimes falling asleep, but waking myself up the next instant. The guy became tired after waiting for a while, and finally left. But I could not sleep again. Since then I have ensured I always book the upper berth and cover myself head to toe with a sheet, safely tucked under me from all sides, or not travel by train at all.

In the same year, there was another incident as I was staying with my extended family. One would assume that a young girl would be very safe with family, brothers, cousins and uncles. But in the repressed Indian households, that is seldom the case. Summer holidays, too many people in the house, you did not get individual rooms to sleep, all growing up “kids” slept in a giant drawing room, brothers and sisters and young unmarried uncles one after the other. I have come to the conclusion that night’s wake up the animal in boys who are not yet mature enough to be called men. And I woke up again with hands pawing me. Talk about being despo. 20 people sleeping one after the other and this guy is pawing his cousin sister who has just entered puberty. Woke up, removed the hands once, tried to go off to sleep again, hoping he would get the hint, but it insisted on coming back again and again. At that age, girls don’t like creating a scene, they don’t want all eyes on them and looking at them as if they have done something wrong by growing up. I warded off the hands a number of times, but they always returned back so finally I woke up another cousin and told him what was happening. And then the fellow got beaten up surreptitiously but squarely, without the rest of the family being aware of the fact. And the guy had the audacity to claim because my knees touched his once in an overfilled car on a bumpy road, he assumed I was leading him on.

Those two years were the most troublesome for me as a lot of people around thought I was too young to resist, an easy prey. I feel so sad for the girls who have succumbed to the carnal desires of the men with no sense of right and wrong. This guy had come to Jodhpur to “see” a girl, for marriage prospects, a standard Indian practise along with his foreign returned brother. Being a distant relative, they stayed at our home. This was a school day but for some reason, I had not gone to school, maybe I was sick or something. Maa had gone to her school and Dad had gone out to the market for something. Hence, it so happened that for about an hour I was alone at home with the foreign (returned) brother who believed Indian girls were as easy. I was reading a book sitting on the sofa and this guy came and sat next to me suddenly and started talking. I hardly remember what he said, but I remember every detail of what he tried to do, how he tried to touch me, how I tried to move away, how he came closer and closer and tried to manoeuvre himself in a way that he could touch me anywhere and everywhere. I was sick, I was stuck, I was alone at home. I told him I will shout, he said, there is nobody here. I was in real trouble.

Finally I had a brainwave. I got up and walked out to our roof and went and sat at the parapet edge, which was visible from the street and the shops. The guy followed me and started insisting I come inside. I refused and said, if you try anything I will jump. By that time the people from the street had started looking up. They could see a young girl sitting on the edge and a man standing behind. Now this guy could really not do much, so after some futile attempts at persuasion, he went back inside and I stayed there, on the edge, in the harsh sun, till Baba came back home. I told Maa this story later, once the guy had gone back and though she was very upset, at the end she did nothing, nobody told the guy what he did was wrong, nobody slapped him or kicked him. I continued with my life and he with his.

It is not that my life has been shattered because of these incidents, or I sit every day and curse these people. No, we move on. But the mind of a young teenage girl, changes. She grows up, her childhood is suddenly over. And what if more had happened? What if I had been raped, scarred for life? I was “lucky” enough not to be. It is really ironical that I consider myself lucky because though I was pawed, molested, but I was not raped. But, if there is me, there are thousands who are not so “lucky”. This blog is for all those girls, telling them to be careful, don’t trust people blindly, you have the freedom to decide who is allowed to touch you, keep your presence of mind, find your way out of tricky situations, raise hell if you have to. On this independence day, I wish the world to be free from perverts and dirty minds, I wish for a hassle free life for women, I wish for us to be equally safe.