Morning chime..

Mornings are for walks! Well! Apparently for some people, they are. I happen to be on the other side of the fence. I believe mornings are to sleep. But, there was a phase in my life when I managed to walk the roads with the saffron rays of the Sun glowing on my face.  Pulling myself away from the inviting coziness of the slept-in bed was a struggle but I would be successful in changing into a fresh set of clothes and shoes and off I went. The Sun would still be in its slumber, but I would be wide awake.


The fog in all its whiteness would greet me and I would jog off. The waves lashed at the rocks and water splashed on my face. The last bit of sleep would vanish from my face when this happened. I would finally smile and be happy about the morning. The whole world seemed bright and joyful. The sea on one side seemed happier to see me ( so I felt!!) It would be so welcoming that I felt like diving into it. The Sun would rise lazily, yawning as it rose, like it wanted to go back to sleep and wasn't too keen on rising. The saffron light came first and then shone the tiny curve that engulfed the giant ball of fiery orange.When the first light of the Sun hit us, with the waters of the Bay of Bengal shimmering in the backdrop, my heart would nearly stop. I wished I could capture that moment somewhere, but then the best moments in life can't be captured by the camera. They are stuck in the mind and heart and can be cherished in solitude.



All kinds of people -- old , young, students, men, women were on the streets in the morning. It was a wonderland, as everyone was busy preparing for the day. One old man had the habit of rotating his hands as though they were a swing. I wanted to warn him that his hands might just fall off his body some day -- I didn't. I did try it myself (jut once!) There was this young -fat guy who thought he was moon-walking. He swayed his body to the tunes of the music that was being played in his ear-phones. Another guy was on the road just to show-off his well-sculpted body. There were women too. One, a girl in her mid twenties, jogged   in such style - she almost made the world stop and stare at her as she passed by. She, I later came to know, was a model. Another lady, in her early forties stomped in her black tracks, wishing secretly that she would be noticed. She seemed so conscious of herself, she tripped almost every now and then.


 Kids skated on the roads, each trying to outrun the other. Each one dreaming to go on to win the Olympics. (One little girl from amongst them has gone on to become a National Champion.) There were a few kids who, like me weren't too keen to prove anything to the world. Their parents coaxed them on and they skated like they were doing people a favour by skating. There were some tourists, mainly from Bengal, who were busy shopping while the kids caught on with the horse riding and eating. The Kali temple at the beach road was abuzz with activity early in the morning and the pandit, who knew me would set aside some prasad for me. I would take it and sit by the beach and gaze at the waves. The waves are different in the mornings. They are more like a kid who has just learnt walking and falls every time he/she gets up to walk.



I wouldn't do justice to the walkers club, if I don't mention them. A keen group of enthusiastic people had come together to form this club and would meet at the beach road and have lots of discussions and plans for the city. However, there were a few old men who preferred to sit and stare at everyone that passed by (They stared at everything female!!) There were groups of dancers who practiced their art and there were also some artists who sculpted on sand. The sand- wonders  usually made it to the pages of the newspaper and were well appreciated. The morning would hurry to catch up with the day I would head home. There were people who were still waking up or so I thought. It was actually the fishermen returning after a long night at sea. The sea would be dotted with white sails. Back home, a steaming cup of coffee and the wind chime that sang sweetly in the sea breeze would usher in a new day.

Speak up..

Someone once told me my feet aren't pretty. "In fact they are ugly!" she shrieked. I wanted to turn around and tell her that my feet were prettier than her face. But, I stopped myself. We do these things. We stop ourselves from saying we really want to say. All that, as we want to prevent unnecessary drama in our lives. There are however, some people, mostly relatives, who don't think for a split second of what effect their words would have on the other person. If the people are in-laws, well, words flow. The veil of respect is torn aside and hurting with words becomes a way of life. The hurt is covered with a veil of ‘frankness’ or ‘openness’. But, people term it as acceptable and in turn expect tolerance  from the person who has just come into their lives.

The line between being caring and showing that you care can be defined even by a kid. When a person really cares, they don't need to show the world and when a person doesn't care, he/she tries to show off to the world, for whatever reasons. when people care, they try to make others happy and politely say things that they feel isn't right. But, when there is no concern or respect for the other person, people take to a franker tone of speech. Being frank, (read rude ) is a premeditated act  by people who think they are powerful and the feeling of being powerful comes from being the boy's parents (esp in India). The fact that society approves of the grooms parents as being a notch higher in the society, gives them certain liberties, which they flamboyantly exhibit. This error in judgement by the society has given rise to a dowry-prone, rape-victimised, female- infanticidal, patriarchal society.

Why are people frank with some people and careful with others when Frankness usually ends in someone being hurt. I have encountered many a frank souls in my life who had an opinion about everything I did or was about to do. Walk like this - talk like that - your parents don't know - you are slow - raise your kids like I did - feed them like I did. Comments on everything one does can lead one to a point of snapping. Even to the point of losing one’s mind. We are in a culture that tells its girls to respect elders. So much so that the girl loses track and forgets she is a human being too. A woman doesn't realise when her life gets abusive and disrespectful.

  

What does a woman trapped in such a situation do? Does she just lie back and listen to everything and then commit a crime against herself by hanging herself from a piece of cloth that should've adorned her? Does she complain? or does she just bow out of the marriage and deny herself the little pleasures of a happy family life? It is absolutely important that a girl speaks up for herself and in time. If she speaks up when it’s too late, her pain will not affect anyone. Questions will be raised about the timing of her outburst, as it will be just that – an outburst. All the grief that’s bottled up within her would just blow the lid off one day. And, it’s important that her near and dear ones believe her and take action against the people who belittle her dignity. The society may blame her, as the 'society' needs to talk about things. She however mustn't forget that she is a part of the same society and she needs to change the place and make it better and respectful.

When I was in such a situation, I bore the brunt for twenty years. I did not speak up as the family’s pride had to be kept intact. On the first day after twenty years, I listened to myself and shouted out with all my strength. I was yelled at jeered, taunted, stared at  and then ignored. But, I was finally free..