D for Donkey.... D for Darkness...

            

The wonder was that it took thousands of miles of journey away from home, almost three decades of one’s life to learn that donkeys are not what we think they are, but something else too… 

There is a saying in Arabic which translates to – ‘seek knowledge even if you have to go as far as China’. Though its origin, meaning and context are debated upon, two things stood out for me. One, the distance one may/can/should travel in quest for knowledge. Two, the very search for knowledge. Meaning, the knowledge readily available at hand with us may or may not be true. And so, it is a constant search for knowledge which includes both learning and unlearning.

Today I am going to tell you a story which highlights the above two points. It is a travel story (distance) and it involves learning and unlearning (knowledge). Was I traveling in search of knowledge? No. I just happened to experience some things, the visuals of which are going to stay for quite a long time with me. And no points for guessing that the story has donkeys and darkness in it. J Remember those early days in your life where you had to repeat A for Apple, B for blah blah…. & D for Donkey… ?!?! I am sure you do.

Since the time I was introduced to a donkey, never heard an adult speak anything but ill of it. I have always heard it being used to refer to (ahem.. to scold) children and adolescents who are lazy, dull and slow; to mock down someone  for his or her donkey-like voice – braying, hee-haw, hee-haw; ‘Parading on a donkey’ is a humiliating and an insulting form of punishment across many cultures. Even in slightly positive sounding expression like ‘I’ve been working like a donkey’ the focus is on the unpleasant, menial, bone breaking hard work for long hours rather than on patience, endurance or for that matter anything remotely positive.

My story dates back to February 2018 (excuse the donkey in me, for procrastinating publishing this post for more than 2 years) during my visit to Petra, Jordan - one of the seven new wonders of the world. For those who can relate it is the very site in which Indiana Jones finds the Holy Grail in the film Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Located in between Red and Dead Seas, this vast red sandstone landscape is half-built and half-carved into the rock. It is surrounded by rocky textured mountains pervaded by passages and gorges (photo).

My husband and I had a flight to catch the next day and so all we were left to explore this vast place was just half a day. Though we were told it takes at least a day to explore important spots and a maximum of 3-4 days to see the place thoroughly, we were determined to tick off yet another wonder of the world and set out to make the most of the half-a-day we had. Reaching there hungry and tired after a 3-hour long drive by road from Amman (Capital of Jordan), we quickly hopped on to horses thinking they will give us a quick parade of the place. Shockingly the horses abandoned us right at the inside entrance beyond which they were not allowed.

After walking for quite a long distance exploring the narrow gorges, carved rocks, a roman theatre, sand art artifacts, temple on a hill and surveying the vast hilly red sandstone landscape, we knew that it was time to go as we were nearing the closing hours. But then, in a desperate attempt to see more in the short span remaining, I inquired from a fellow tourist about the one thing that is worth seeing and should not be missed for anything. He pointed towards a monastery located high up on a hill, the view from which will be breath-taking he said. But there is a caveat here, it usually takes 75 to 90 minutes to hike the hill by foot :/ which we didn’t have.

Just then, two men – Mahmoud and Adil (names changed) approached us claiming to be our saviors and breakers of our dilemma – to head ahead or to head back. They said “believe us .. we can take you up the hill on our donkeys and leave you at the exit in reasonable time”. I was taken over by FOMO (Fear of Missing out) not just the monastery and the view from there but most importantly the donkey ride. I was excited to take my first donkey ride, which was literally going to be a steep up-hill task. My husband was a little hesitant at first to take this long bumpy ride uphill fearing for our backs, fading light and the chances of us getting trapped behind closed doors. Nevertheless, he agreed and there we were on our first donkey rides.

There was a visible strong bond and a deep understanding between Mahmoud and Adil.  They knew each other for years. Mahmoud was more speak-your-heart kind of a person and Adil was let-silence-speak type. Both of them speak English so well. Not only English, they even picked up some Japanese (at least that was what they said they were speaking when they blabbered something in Japanese). The to-journey conversation was mostly trivial touristy talk. 

Thankfully, the donkeys didn’t seem to share such an affiliation for each other (at least at the outset) and so are not disturbed or distracted by their masters’ constant chitter chatter. At times, the masters even let the donkeys loose, we the ‘riders’ were worried especially when the donkeys tend to sway towards the edges of the pathway, by the sides of which were low lying areas. We were amazed by not just the agility with which the donkeys climbed the steps but also the strength of the lungs of the two masters who were all the while walking uphill along side the donkeys.

Finally, we reached a point on the hill beyond which donkeys weren’t allowed and we had to walk for a few minutes to reach the monastery and the viewpoint beyond it. We were the only two walking towards it while the rest of the tourists were heading back. We were hoping to get a good glimpse of the place while there was still some light. We managed to reach just on time panting, took a deep breath and enjoyed the breathtaking view. The cold winds blowing right into our faces swallowed the tiredness and exhaustion caused by the scorching heat of the day.

With a selfie break every now and then, engrossed in sharing our overwhelming joy for having made it this far in no time, we finally met Mahmoud and Adil at the same point where they left us earlier. They seemed cool and relaxed. Neither our delay in returning to the spot nor the fading light made any difference to them. Neither were we worried, as we were still stuck in the state of joyful inertia. 

But no sooner than we reached the foot of the hill, with hardly any light left (no sun, no moon, no street lighting, no mobile torch… ) to guide us through, the elephant in the room – the darkness – became more visible. It engulfed the vast lands of Petra. No longer can one distinguish between a mountain, a gorge, a cave, a rock .. It was all dark. A vast black blanket with no end and no beginning, unfolded in front of our eyes in seconds.

My husband and I switched to our mother tongue trying to give each other hope by assuring one another that these donkey masters must be carrying a small torch, to guide us till the exit. But we spoke too soon. Something very strange happened. Mahmoud hopped on the donkey I was sitting on and Adil on my husband’s. I was confused how to react. Should have waited and watched what happens? (Oh wait… what was there to watch, it was pitch dark) Should have asked him not to sit behind me?  Should have done this or that? But dumbstruck, all I did was, to say to my husband “Lets see where this goes… be ready for the worst”. That was how four blind people on two donkeys wandered the depths of darkness, with at least two of them unsure as to where they were headed.

For Mahmoud and Adil, it seemed like the most natural move, a business-as-usual.  For donkeys it did not make any difference except addition of a little more weight on their backs. You can imagine what all must have crossed the brains of the two strangers of the land. Never was I so blind in my homeland, even on pitch-black nights, for I could see a light of familiarity guiding me through unknown and uncertain circumstances. One thing was clear though, that Mahmoud and Adil were as blind as we both were and that the donkeys were the only torch bearers of the party.

I did not understand whether the donkeys could actually see the way, or they just remembered it ‘blindly’. I was awestruck by the skillfulness with which they were carrying us through the narrow gorges. There were times when my shoe would touch a side wall, and then I  groped with my hand to touch the side walls of the gorge we were passing through. That was it, that was the proof that the donkey truly knew where it was going. Yes, the donkeys were the only ones in that party, who knew the darkness, who saw through the darkness.

Mahmoud was equally talkative during our return journey, but something made him to dive into deep emotional conversations. Maybe it is the physical distance between us or just that the darkness made his invisible mask (which we all wear on our faces and hearts) to disappear. He talked about his family, his struggles, his father’s demise, how it left a vacuum in his heart, how they like sneaking into Petra and party under the moonlight ..so  on and so forth.

Within a few minutes we could literally see the light at the end of the dark tunnel through which we were passing through. As we bid farewell to the two masters and their donkeys at the exit gate, and started walking away, the pieces of puzzle seem to have fallen in place. It seemed as if our unplanned, unintentional travel to distant lands finally found its purpose and meaning. 

Wonders of the world may seem majestic, gigantic, and vast but true wonders lie in the lives of Mahmoud and Adil-likes who epitomized honesty, hard work, smartness, curiosity, compassion, and innocence. The wonder was that it took thousands of miles of journey away from home, almost three decades of one’s life to learn that donkeys are not what we think they are, but something else too… The imprint those donkeys left on me was not that of their screeching sounds, not their laziness, not even their menial mindless work but an impression of a smart ass..! Right now at this very moment, a smart ass might be sitting near you and you may be blind with prejudice to identity him or her… Go find those donkeys who can guide you through your darkness....  

The Ant in the room

Ant to an elephant running towards him: what happened?

Elephant: A hunter is chasing me..

Ant: come hide behind me !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The ant and the elephant duo – be it in the story or in jokes like above – never stops fascinating me. The charm lies not only in the fact that two beings on the extreme ends of size spectrum are brought together but also in the mind-boggling way in which the ant always punches above its weight.  The most underestimated of the two turns out to be the saviour, the hero, the smart and the courageous one.

The duo challenges our stereotypical way of labelling someone strong or weak based on irrelevant attributes like appearance, size, voice, participation, confidence levels, body language etc. I like the fact that this duo is used to disprove the strong connection we tend to establish between what we see, how we perceive what we see and what it is. A closer look will tell us that all three are separate phenomenon.

The elephant in the room needs no introduction. It escapes no eye. Even its silence is heard loud and clear in our minds. On the other hand, a pinch of ant’s presence is felt only after it puts its life itself at risk. Yet we equate ant with slow, weak, tiny and voiceless and nothing compared to an elephant. We do have among us elephants, ants and those personalities who lie between these two extremes. Of course, we may also encounter elephants in the garb of an ant and vice versa.

Children are usually the victims of elephantine elders. They are highly underestimated when it comes to understanding “certain elderly stuff”. They are not meant to be part of certain discussions because the elephants in the room get to decide whether their ant brains are capable enough to grasp or not.  If you had such experiences as a child, you might have heard these expressions a lot “Go out and play .. this doesn’t concern you”; “go inside … right now” …. And fortunately or unfortunately if you happen to have got everything what was happening and opened your mouth, there comes the ultimate weapon – “you are still young.. you are just a child …. You don’t understand …. Keep quiet”.

For parents, no matter how much their children grow, they remain children still. No wonder my mother still says that am too young to understand certain social pressures. Obviously, the age of parents and the experience that comes with it is what is making them feel that they are elephants and ignore the ants in the room. But as the saying goes - what goes around comes around – in the parents-children duo soon role reversal happens over time. The changing times, technology, differences in life styles and many other factors contribute in making the same children elephants and the parents ants.

Children and parents duo is just one example out of thousands of such scenarios across cultures and geographies, where ants in the room are not paid heed to. Small states vs big states, developing vs developed, male vs female, male and female vs lgbtqi, rural vs urban, old vs young, north vs south, east vs west, white vs black, tribal vs non tribal are a few more instances.

Elephants are made elephants because of the huge baggage they carry. That could be because of various factors like physical characteristics, age, experience, knowledge, resources, gender, religion, number, race, caste, colour, economic status, political clout so on and so forth. If we try and remove each of these imaginary layers, may be… may be what will remain in the core of an elephantine personality is no stronger than that of a mere ant. But it is almost next to impossible to convince our own eyes and trick our minds to believe that an elephant could also be an ant and vice versa.

Yet it is not impossible. We just have to change the frame of reference. Why expect an ant to uproot a tree? We have elephants to do that. Ask an ant how to be resourceful and organised. Ask an ant how to plan for the hard times. Learn from an ant how to be part of a team. Listen to its stories from the untraveled lands. Ants are everywhere in large numbers. Find out from them how they cater to huge populations. Learn from them disaster management tactics. They bring a lot to the table. All the while they might be having just the right answers with them.  Ensure to ask the right questions. After all it is equally impossible for an elephant to stoop too low to get ‘an ant’s view’. 

            The elephant in the room is what everyone knows about but not talk about while the ant in the room is what everyone wonders about, but no one knows about. The ant … the one any eye can easily miss, the one whose life is like a tightrope walk, the one which hardly a few stoops down to observe, the one who is usually too engrossed in every day survival struggles, the one who is too busy walking in long queues to gather food, the one who struggled to overcome its weaknesses, the one who strived to leave much bigger a mark behind than its own size … that ant, made it to the room … the same room as the mighty elephant. THE ANT made it to the room. Period. THE ANT made it to THE ROOM. Period. The ant is in the room. And the ant in the room needs to be heard. It has a lot to say….. and we have a lot to learn from the ant in the room ...

  

Two ants in conversation

Ant 1: look !! elephant is approaching.... lets attack

And 2: Uffooo ! forget it…. We outnumber him …

A story of the sea, the shore and shells... (in Telugu)

A story... it could be yours or theirs or ours ... 

But for now, the idea shall reach those who can read and understand telugu..

I promise a translation of the idea into English sometime in the future.. 

Picture and hand writing credits: Aditya 

Can we dare to pause???

Pause is that which reveals the grey areas, which makes the contrasts more visible, which wakes one up or puts one to sleep. It is a stepping stone for one who wants to rise up and that which holds one from falling down.

Do you remember those days when tape recorders used to have forward, rewind, stop, record, play and pause buttons. Applying these functions to life in this information era it is clear that we no more have control over what we can choose to play, nor stop ourselves from hearing to what is being played around. Neither every rewind gives us the same record nor every prediction of forward times the same. We could record things as they are happening, but no guarantee that they will remain the same the next minute in these dynamically changing times. I think the only control we have in our hands is the “pause” button.

When the months of November or December seem like midyear; or when last weekend just seem like yesterday while tomorrow is the next weekend already; When you feel that your two month baby in no time started going to kindergarten; when your bank account balance suddenly seems too less than you expected it to be; when your birthday this year seems to have come too soon; or when everything seems to be going wrong; or when we don’t seem to have any clue of what are the start and end points of something; each of these is an illusion caused due to lack of enough pauses.

Pause is that which reveals the grey areas, which makes the contrasts more visible, which wakes one up or puts one to sleep. It is a stepping stone for one who wants to rise up and that which holds one from falling down. It is a time for review. It is a time for a new plan. It is the time to see where we came from and the time to decide the direction in which to proceed.  Pause is a time when one should go deaf only to hear one’s self more clearly. It is a moment where one should go blind only to enable oneself to see new things or to see same things differently. Pause is a pause to past regrets and a stop to future regrets.

We might not always need new rules or new laws for old and new problems. What if in the first place we didn’t identify the problems rightly? We need not always run to reach our goal. What if our goal itself is wrong? We need not always follow someone just because there was only one track. What if it doesn’t take us anywhere? What if at any point the only way out is to pause? But I think we humans somehow do not have the skill to pause or at the least the ability to think of pausing. May be no one told us that to pause is an action in itself. Our failure to pause when the time is still ripe might never let us to take a pause even if the situation demands. Does this strike any bell? Don’t you think our problem of pollution and the lack of solutions for it is a consequence of our failure to pause?   

Do you think I am saying that we should put a stop to all the development and go back to the dark ages or that by pausing I mean inaction or idleness? No, not at all. Lighting a candle and then leaving it to fight with the wind before it gets blown off is stupidity. But taking a pause to make arrangements to protect the flame before lighting the candle is wisdom. We all read the ‘the hare and the tortoise’ story and we also know the moral by heart ‘slow and steady wins the race’ yet we almost always follow the hare. I wonder why !!! Should we mistake tortoise’s steadiness to be idleness or we should think that it kept gathering its strength for a longer journey ahead by taking enough pauses?

In a world where uncertainty is the only guarantee, where the unknown unknowns (in the words of Donald Rumsfeld) rule over the known knowns, sometimes a pause is a better solution than any action. As the world is getting smaller and smaller the butterfly effect will be more intense. I can pin point instances from our day to day lives to world politics where a simple pause would have made our personal and universal worlds a better place to live in. But I don’t want to. 

I only want to highlight the fact that a pause could be as small as taking time off a busy schedule to take a deep breath or as striking as questioning something before believing. It could be an effort to break a ritual or a stigma to offer alternative narratives or it could be as big a deal as taking a pause before starting a war. I just want to inculcate the idea of pause, emphasize its need and power. Let us take a pause and see !!!

Draupadi - Devil or a Darling ?

In a society where honour was and is seen as the utmost important thing a woman should live or die for, what wrong is it if Draupadi pulls the string to the extent of a war.

It so happened while driving on busy roads of Delhi that my driver (trainer) mentioned about "women"driving. "It's all because of these women. They drive as they wish, rushing madly through the gaps". Whenever he made this comment, he almost always immediately (came very naturally to him as if it was hardwired in his brain) passed another comment on women, saying - "wars were fought 'for' women and 'because'of women. Many empires fell cause of them. You see, in Ramayana it was Sita and in Mahabharat it was Draupadi." Oh, it didn't shock me as that wasn't the first time I heard such an opinion. It comes naturally to an average Indian mind (both male and female). May be it is in the way in which the stories from epics were told. Or may be it is the most easiest way to understand a situation, conveniently ignoring various nuances in the story.

Two things to note here are - one,  tales from epic like Mahabharat tuned our opinions in a particular way. Two, it almost always taken for certain that an alternative view cannot exist. But what surprises me is neither of the two. Though Draupadi did fight to uphold her honour and avenge injustice, how the society managed to propagate the wrong message for centuries. Instead of appreciating her character for giving a tough fight, she has been accused as being the main driving force for the war. 

In a society where honour was and is seen as the utmost important thing a woman should live or die for, what wrong is it if Draupadi pulls the string to the extent of a war. Also, it is not that simple. There were multiple characters, varied vested interests, power struggles, ego clashes, fight for name and fame, etc which played a role in the final war. Why did we give a clean chit to all other characters?

Why is that the greatest warrior of the times, and the man of his word, Bhishm usually not accused to have let many misdeeds happen right under his nose. In the guise of guarding his vow, to protect the throne of Hastinapur, or for reasons unknown he never stood by Draupadi. What message is Acharya Drona giving us, who spent more than half his life avenging against King Drupad. May be he is telling us how ego should be pursued at any cost. The writer of the epic himself, Vyasa, seemed to have lost the plot somewhere as he failed to convey the message that the insult hurled at Draupadi is unacceptable. The blind king, Drutarashtra, is the culprit behind power and money struggles in many of the Indian families till date. He should be blamed to have not accepted his fate and for not being just with his brother's sons.

Why don't an average Indian naturally tend to accuse Karna for being a mute spectator during Draupadi vastraharan, and during Abhimanyu's death in the Padmavyuh? We only remember him for his loyalty, selflessness and sacrifice. Most importantly Pandavas themselves are not usually accused for their faults. Yudhistir, Dharam Raj, should have been ideally blamed for setting a trend for all those drunkards, gamblers and wife beaters (They might be honest to the core when sober). And his brothers, are more known to be loyal followers of elder brother rather than as those who forgone their wife's honour and self respect. Finally, the Lord Shri Krishn, a very close friend of Draupadi, portrayed as the sole protector of her, also tried to pacify Draupadi at various stages in order to convince her to cool down.

As we get into the nitty gritties of the story, there is no end to this blame game. No character is perfect. The so called Lord Himself, Shri Krishn, should have been notorious for cheating in the war. I might have sounded so far as if Draupadi has got nothing to be blamed for. Wrong. She too has enough on her plate. She insulted Karna in her swayamvar, she laughed at Dhuryodhan when he slipped into an illusive water fountain in her Maya Sabha and never apologised for any of her deeds. She was known for her arrogance and stubbornness. She has both negatives and positives in her, just like any other character in the story. However, her character seems to have been made the victim of her own blemishes. I also believe that Kunti and Gandhari should also be accused of not standing by their daughter-in-law. They symbolise all those women who consciously or subconsciously are responsible for perpetuating patriarchy in the society.

While on the one hand, Draupadi's honour was at stake and on the other none in her close circles seem to be understanding her plait. I don't see what other options she had other than fighting all alone and by vowing a revenge. I personally experienced this phenomenon in many Indian families, where mothers discourage their daughters to let their hair loose, as it is believed that they bring in disgrace, dishonour and bad luck to the family (just as Draupadi did, when she vowed to let her hair loose till she avenges her insult). We should instead appreciate her for fighting in a male dominated society in many a ways. She was the only female character in the entire story, who has a male friend (Shri Krishn). She was the only one, again, to have dared to reveal her feelings for another male (towards Karna). She was far ahead of her times, in not just accepting polyandry (fivehusbands) but for striving to be what she really is, free and honest, in a cage like society.

My aim is not to find faults with each of the characters, no doubt they are all great in their own ways. My idea is two fold, one I am just trying to highlight how one sided, how biased our story telling has been. Just to enable the readers to appreciate my point better, I would like to draw parallels between Mahabharat story telling in our country and a recent phenomemon, an epic like series Game of Thrones. Almost every character in it is shown from more than one angle. It would let the audience think in various dimensions. Two, how stories heard and told over centuries, impact our every day life. This is just one story, there might be many more stories and characters propagating misconceptions in the society.  Just imagine where our society would have headed had Mahabharat started on the note - 'There lived a Princess Draupadi, stunned the world by being born unexpectedly in a yagna, but later realised to have born for a cause. Born to beat the stereotype in the society and to wage war against injustice'. We would never know ! 

am in Andaman !!!

            Sometimes the resistance from within to leave a place for another, can be so high that we tend to speak and think of only the negative things that might end up happening. Now I get the word, it is "inertia". I was in that state before leaving for Andaman and Nicobar for navy attachment (part of my training). Not that I don't like travelling it was just that the pull factors were more intense than push ones.

First three days are gone in "trying" to learn something and "trying" to find places and moments of joy just to keep myself going. High moments of the day used to be less than normal - which included some learning regarding Indian Navy, playing in the beach, a food for thought from a book etc. Just when my boredom was about to overtake me completely, my patience started to pay back. Everything has its own time and place. How could I even think of living those moments whose time hasn't come. On the last day of my visit, in retrospect I could definitely say I had my share of take aways from the Island.

First  such moment was on Havelock Island. There, Radhanagar Beach was one of the most beautiful and finest beaches I have ever been to. The sand is so smooth that one can run on it only to feel the cushion underneath one's feet. The water was so clear with a marvelous mix of shades of green with thin white foam. The waves though huge are soothing and melodious. There was no sign of a single stone or a rock on the site. At 12 in the noon there were hardly anyone else playing in the beach, but there were a couple of foreigners, sitting in the shade and enjoying the view.

My second high of the trip turned out to be the biggest learning I had through out it. This was when we visited an island called 'Baara Tanga' on the way to which one can get a chance to see a few Jarawas. Though it was not in our tour plan, I insisted that we should visit the place, to find first hand answers to many questions which have been lingering in my mind for so long. Since, my days in Kalahandi, where I worked closely with a few tribes, such questions frequented my mind, like - what is the ideal way to deal with the tribals and their development?, What is tribal "development" in the first place?, Is it "good" for tribals to be integrated into so called "main stream"? Who should be "responsible" and "accountable" for act effecting tribals in any way? .. so on.. and so forth...  This particular tussle in my mind deserves a new post (sooner, asap may be)

Till then, I can share my little experience during my passage through Jarawas Reserve Territory (JRT). We started off from Port Blair at 4:30 am in the morning in order to reach Jirkatang, a panchayat in southern Andaman. This itself was pricking my heart every now and then during the journey, as we "planned" for it.. planned to see co-humans living in their natural habitat, leading their lives as normally (more naturally than any of us from so called civilized society) as any of us. Is it that they live in a world different from mine or that they live differently in the same world I live in - cant say for sure what made me go there. From Jirkatang, a convoy with police in the front started as per scheduled time. Before setting off for this journey I did not expect anything nor imagine anything as to how the experience is going to be. But as the convoy started my imagination started going wild. This was mostly because we were told that Jarawas would be seen on both sides of the road we ride on, who come out of their houses. The convoy started and like a child moving his head along a with the motion of a moving pendulum, to and fro, I started moving my head left and right, left and right trying to "spot" Jarawas. 

I am not very proud of using the word "spot", but yes that was precisely what was happening there. Soon our driver said "there, on ur left, behind, one is sitting"..., I quickly turned but missed him. As we moved on, since the driver was not allowed to slow down his vehicle, he used to quickly tell us "there, there a bunch of them sitting" and when I turned slowly to my left.. there, they sat a family. A man, a woman and a child, the couple sitting with their backs leaned onto a slab and the child in between them. In that quick pass, I could see them for only a few seconds. In those few seconds, my eyes picked up three things - a greyish ash like colour smudged on pure black (their skin tone), a small piece of red cloth covering the essential body parts and the look in their eyes. 

The look in their eyes and the posture in which they sat, hinted a kind of "indifference and duty". I didn't understand why would any one sit like that as if in leisure on the side of a road with fast moving cars, with thick jungle on both the sides. My guilt has gone deeper and my curiosity higher by then. My curiosity was not to "spot" more but to know why why why, why would they come and sit there like that. As the car moved on, I kept my head still on left side alone and soon, a little inside behind a tree, there sat another group of men. This time, they were a little far off, but something unique I saw. A man in regular clothing and a different complexion, a non jarawa, was standing next to the jarawas group. Oh oh oh !!! There the chain of questions went on and on in my mind.. and instigated many thoughts in me. I do not know much neither about the jarawas nor the issues concerning them. Hope to update myself by my next post on the topic. 

The third moment was yet an other world, like my second one. Truly natural world, the marine life in the sea, when I got an opportunity to do open sea diving, close to North Bay Island. The experience was too good to be true. It was like finding oneself in the middle of colourful marine life in the movie Finding Nemo. Just that this time it was too good to be true. The site of beautiful small fishes, schools of large fish, live corals gives one not only an eye treat but also shows in a small way that we know nothing or very little about "other worlds". I feel incapable to put in words that amazing beauty which gave me immense inexplicable joy. One should experience it for oneself... 

So, it wasn't as bad after all? May be. It did leave me with questions, thoughts, feelings, ideas and what not... ! 

"NOTHING" EMPOWERS WOMEN

For years, these women have been someone's daughters, someone's sisters, someone's wives or someone's mothers. In the old age, suddenly they find themselves to be not under the care of or care about any of them. They are nothing now.

What do you call this - a delayed empowerment or a mere desperation? 

For the past eight to nine months, during my visits to various villages in Kalahandi district in Odisha, I observed an interesting phenomenon regarding elderly women. Be it in a group or individually, they seem to be more vocal about their 'rights and entitlements'. They are fearless, less apprehensive, outspoken and more 'rational'. The transformation from 'purely traditional' to 'somewhat rational' over time, might have been facilitated by a multitude of factors - both external and internal. 

I feel that the main reason behind this 'delayed empowerment' in elderly women is 'NOTHING'. Yes, "Nothing" empowers women. For years, these women have been someone's daughters, someone's sisters, someone's wives or someone's mothers. In the old age, suddenly they find themselves to be not under the care of or care about any of them. They are nothing now. They are forced to stand up and speak for themselves. If they don't, survival gets more and more tougher for them.

Firstly,  in that old age, lack of regular income, and inability to earn their living, force them to a 'desperation' to fight back. Secondly, the apprehension that haunted them through out their lives, as to what the society, their male counterparts would think or say seems to have disappeared in their final phase. Lastly, the fear of being socially stigmatized seems to have vanished totally in front of the old age desperation and the new-found strength in having no strings attached.  In the absence of all those who relied on them for "honour", I think these women are able to put traditions aside and act rationally. 

Around June 2014, in a huge block level gathering to review MNREGA scheme, I witnessed this woman, slowly yet steadily and boldly climbing onto the dais and dared to question the Block Development Officer (BDO) regarding some entitlement she was due to receive. 

In an another incident around September 2014, I attended a cluster level meeting where in representatives from various self help groups in that area were present. Even when a few young and middle aged women were shy and fearful to even say their names, an elderly woman sitting at the back was exceptionally overreaching. She seemed to have answers to all our questions and solutions to all the problems. 

Very recently in April 2015, we conducted a gram panchayat level meeting, to find out about people's grievances. It was headed by Sub Collector of our district. Firstly, there were hardly any women attending that meeting. Secondly, even the young woman Sarpanch, did not speak a word. Then these two women walked in confidently and told the Sub Collector that they were not receiving pensions regularly. It might seem as a very small and trivial act for us. But when one tries to put oneself in their shoes, the context will be more clear. It is a big deal for the tribal women who would have hardly done such a thing before. It might be like a kindergarten child going to speak in front of an audience, for the first time.

What do you call this - a delayed empowerment or a mere desperation? I say, it is the both. They seem to be telling the society "We do not care for you and your stigmas anymore. We are free". And it is not a coincidence that all the cases I quoted are of widows and mostly from single women households. Yes, they are nothing. And I think - "Nothing empowers these women". This phenomenon finds further support in how the solar grandmothers are making the Barefoot College, Tilonia's efforts in solar energy training successful (Details here). You might have as well observed in your own grand mothers also, how liberal and rational they can get.

Skip this para if you are not a Game of Thrones follower :)

[To convey my point on "Nothing" more effectively I am borrowing an incident and a quote from George R R Martin's Game of Thrones. Samwell Tarly, a night's watch member, a coward at heart manages to kill a white walker and when inquired how he could do so, he replies - "I had to do something other wise Gilly (woman he was trying to save) and her baby would have been killed" (desperation). He further says - "I wasn't myself. I was nothing then. Nor son of someone or a friend of someone. When you are nothing, there is nothing to be afraid of" (Empowerment).]

This phenomenon shows how much the society is holding back women with unnecessary attachments, rules, conditions, restrictions and all the chains that do not let women take that much needed first step. Those who are able to break these shackles early, are able to stand up for themselves much in advance. Few of the rest do so much delayed at the fag end of their lives. The rest go unheard.