Es tu feministe?!

I often wonder why people (men and women both) shy away from being called feminists, even remotely, as if it's some kind of a plague one can better do without. Mostly, such indifference comes from ignorance. I would request people to READ READ and READ. READ about the struggles, read about the history, don't form your unfounded opinions basing them solely on hearsay. Feminism is not something to be ashamed of, it does not refer to beating up men (that's such a juvenile thought process)..it is about fighting for one's rights. Would you not put up a fight if you were grounded at home, not allowed to play outside or watch TV? Yes you would never find the names of those who sacrificed and died etched or engraved on any tombs, no amar-jawan-jyoti or suchlike, can you count on your fingers and tell me how many feminists do you know of---even feminist writers/ authors/ artistes/ activists would do. But do you know who they are, or even their names? I, unlike a lot of other people i bang into in the walk of life, am proud to be branded a feminist. It gives me a sense of pride, a sense of purpose, and a sense of belonging. You may call them the sub-altern, their stories will never be told, their struggles will vanish with the passage of time, their sacrifices/fights would be forgotten. And despite knowing that, when i come across someone (man and/or woman) who says that s/he is proud to be a fellow feminist (with full knowledge of the term), i have nothing else but sheer respect to offer to him/her.

Pseudo Guy

Bye Bye

You are a pseudo guy

You say you like the rain
But from showers you refrain

You say you have done this and you have done that
But testimony you have not to support your act gone bad

You say you like music, art, culture and all that jazz
But when I discuss genres and forms, you only spaz

You say you loved watching Knopfler’s film on Kurosawa’s book
Now, was I listening to Kafka’s music with my hair on the hook?

You liked me ‘coz I laughed at your joke?
Fool was I to believe you were a suitor bespoke

You say you think intense and progressive
But your act tells a story regressive?

You say you believe in and propound compassion
But you suffer from megalomaniac convulsion

You say you chase away pretense and scandal
But honesty is something you just can’t handle

Words pour out of your mouth
Like a fountain down south

Are these all lies?
Attempting to build future ties?

My dear, they mask the real person

Reason why, you, I must jettison

And so, bye bye
You are but a pseudo guy

Of broken conversations, and coloured perceptions…

The phone rang. It was his sister, Radha. She hollered over: Was the fight worth it?

Sharanya, in her new-found self, replied firmly: “Yes, because it opened my eyes and stopped me short from playing that gamble that I was about to play with my life.”

“Being emotionally inept isn’t a crime,” exclaimed Sharanya, further adding, “but I refuse to put up with such passive behaviour for the rest of my life, he remained unmoved by the news that my best friend was in the ICU. All he said, was an ‘Oh!’, what indifference!! The pile of differences is huge to be reconciled. Are we both willing to overlook our differences and accommodate each other’s priorities in our lives?

I guess not. Compromises and negotiations are the brick and mortar that build a relationship, hasn’t this been oft quoted in those ‘lists of things that make relationships work’?!”

A pause ensued, before Sharanya picked up her threads.

She continued in the same tone. “One day he says he loves me, the next day he says he had a revelation that we are not meant to be. That he is not certain that we would be happy together, so he is calling it off. Uh huh!!... And how many days did we know each other? Not even for a fortnight”.

Sharanya thought aloud: Is he whimsical or IS HE WHIMSICAL?! I mean, he owes me an answer for this. But I will never ask. It, now, hurts my already-wounded feminine pride.

“He can go on being a wall, but I refuse to bang my head against it. He can continue being stubborn, difficult, inexpressive, judgemental, egotistical and high-handed in his approach, or then just plain selfish. I am a selfish Jane too, and would rather be with somebody who makes me laugh and wipes my tears, is at least compassionate and respectful of my feelings”.

“Blah! Why am I ranting?! And how does it even matter now. It’s inconsequential and immaterial. The chapter is closed. And for the better. I would say his loss. Goodbye and good riddance,” said Sharanya to the person she saw in the mirror on the wall facing her.

There was no noise on the other side of the phone. Radha was silent---it was unknown whether she was patiently listening preparing her vitriolic verbal attacks in her head or had switched of­­­f mentally or then kept the white receiver on the table and left the room---Sharanya expected a long nasty retort. But all that Radha could offer was SILENCE!