#MetooIndia

समाज को झकझोरने वाली इस मुहिम ने कई महिलाओं को ‘आवाज़’ दी ।

सबसे बड़ी बात ये, कि औरतों ने, पढ़े-लिखे समाज में सालों से जो ज्यादती महिलाओं के साथ हो रही थी उसे सामने रखा,

कई घटनाएं ऐसी हैं जिनके बारे में लोगों को पता था, कई नाम ऐसे सामने आए जिन्हें बतौर “predators” जाना जाता रहा है, लेकिन आजतक किसी ने आवाज़ उठाने की हिम्मत नहीं की थी। 

मुझे लगता है, अब काफी हद तक न्यूजरुम में, दफ्तरों में और सेट पर आदमी कुछ भी ऐसा करने या बोलने से पहले सोचेंगे

समाज की नींव जब इस कदर बिगड़ी हो, तो उसे ठीक करने के लिए इस तरह के मंथन की जरूरत होती ही है

लड़कियों को हमारे समाज में एक वस्तु माना जाता है, कमअक्ल माना जाता है, डिपेंडेंट की श्रेणी में रखा जाता है, इसलिए खुद को ‘Prove’ करने की होड़ में सालों से ‘Harassment’ सह रही हैं। 

#Metoo इंसाफ पाने का शॉर्ट कट तो साबित नहीं हुआ, लेकिन आवज़ उठी तो सिस्टम सचेत हुआ। कहां लिखा है कि इंसाफ पाने लिए सालों चक्कर काटना और दिमागी परेशानी सहना जरुरी है और ऐसे ममलों में सीधे रास्ते से इंसाफ वैसे भी कम ही मिलता है। 

इस दौरान एक बड़ा सवाल, हर केस के साथ ये उठाया गया की - ये महिलाएं पहले क्यों पुलिस के पास नहीं गईं? 
मुझे इस सवाल पर हैरानी होती है, क्यों की इस रूड़ीवादी, पुरूष प्रधान मान्सिक्ता वाले समाज में ये बताने की जरूरत नहीं होनी चाहिए की देश में आज भी ऐसी घटनाओं को लेकर पुलिस के पास जाना कुंए में कूदने समान है। और यहां लड़कियों को बचपन से ही चुप रहना और सहना सिखाया जाता रहा है। 

-    एक छोटा सा किस्सा -  हम तीन सहेलियां ऑटो में कॉलेज से घर जा रहे थे, रात 10 बजे का वक्त था, हमारे पीछे एक कार लग गई जिसमें कई लड़के थे, वो ऐसी बातें कह रहे थे जिन्हें सुनकर हम सिहर रहे थे, हमने ऑटो वाले अंकल से कहा पुलिस स्टेशन ले चलें, लेकिन उन्होंने साफ इनकार कर दिया और बोले – ‘इधर कुआं है तो उधर खाई, मैं आपको घर छोड़ता हूं, डरो मत।‘

लेकिन ये बात कोई आदमी/लड़का नहीं समझ सकता, खासकर वो जिसको बचपन से ये जताया गया हो कि औरत सिर्फ और सिर्फ तुम्हारी जरूरत की वो चीज है जिस पर तुम हक से कुछ भी कर सकते हो। 

#Metoo का अगला कदम उठ चुका है, कई मामलों में कानून का दरवाजा खटखटाया जा रहा है, पुलिस में FIR दर्ज किए जा रहे है, NCW में बात हो रही है। 

#Metoo  में जो महिलाएं अपनी कहानियों के साथ सामने आ रही हैं वो सिर्फ बड़े शहरों से नहीं हैं वो देश के हर कोने से हैं छोटे-बड़े हर तरह के शहरों से हैं। यहां भी एक और बात है जिसपर गौर फर्माना जरूरी है, छोटे शहरों से आईं लड़कियां किसी भी ऐसी वजह से अपने घर लौट कर किसी अंजान खूटे से बांधे जाने को तैयार नहीं थी। उनहें अपनी तरक्की की राह हर मुशकिल से लड़ कर बनानी थी। इसलिए वो सालों सहती रहीं। ये गलत नहीं है की कई लड़कियों ने सीनीयर आदमियों के साथ हदें पार करने को अपने लिए सीढ़ी बना कर इस्तेमाल भी किया। लेकिन ये किस्से हर जगह इक्का दुक्का हैं और हर लड़की को बुरी निगाहों से देखना औऱ अपनी जागीर समझना आम रहा है। 

#Metoo एक आवाज़ है उस समाज में समानता और सम्मान पाने के लिए जहां सतही तौर ऐसा लगता है कि औरतों को अधिकार हैं

आज भी, इस आंदोलन के बावजूद कई औरतें चुप हैं, जानना चाहेंगे क्यों ?

-    क्योंकि उन्हें बचपन से चुप रहना, झगड़ा ना करना सिखाया गया है, ऊंची आवाज़ में बोलना तुम्हे शोभा नहीं देता, ये बताया गया है

-    उन्हें हर कदम पर ये जताया गया है कि तुम कमजोर हो और लड़की हो, इसलिए तुम ज्यादा कुछ नहीं कर सकती

-    कदम कदम पर दफ्तर में, घर में, उन्हें ये कहा गया कि ‘ऐसा तो होता है, भूल जाओ और आगे बढ़ो’

Palaash Ke phool (Flames of Fire )

The School bus is ready to leave, but he is still standing outside waiting for one last look before she crosses the road, reaches the gate of her colony, looks back to say goodbye. He smiles and waves.
The bus conductor shouts "get in or else I will leave you here, this is becoming a daily problem, what are you waiting for, get in." 
The school is closed for a week-long break.

Radha blushes as she gets into her colony. The feeling of love when you are fifteen is sweet, warm, and so soft. The thought of not meeting Raghav for a week wants her to run back to the gate. But she is with friends who are in the same school and live in the same colony.
The zigzag road that runs through the middle of her colony has Gulmohar, Neem and banyan trees on both sides. Radha lives in the third block on the ground floor. The house has two tiny gardens on both sides of the front door. A row of lilies makes the garden look lovely. 
Two-three days pass, lots of work at home had kept Radha busy. On day four, as she opened her school books to finish her revision, her thoughts wandered towards Raghav. She kept thinking about him throughout that evening.
Next day morning around 11 AM after finishing her work she took her cycle passing through her colony on to the main road surrounding it, she reaches the only classy looking bakery in the shopping complex, not for cakes but the phone. The bakery had a PCO (Public telephone booth). Raghav had given her a landline number. She called on that number, it rang, with each ring her heart raced, but no one picked up. She tried again, but no answer. She decided to come back in the evening.
Radha had no luck in the evening too. Two more days passed, and it was time for the school to reopen. 

It's blossom time for the flame of forest tree (Indian name Palaash) it's a native to tropical and subtropical parts of India and Southeast Asia. Radha loves the bright red flowers of this tree; right outside the massive black iron gate of her colony, the tree stands tall and happy, it has been a witness to their love since they were 10. Every morning Raghav would wait for Radha under this tree. They would talk and cross the two-lane road hand in hand to the school gate. 

But today he was not there. Radha crossed the road to school alone. The school building, with its pale red bricks, is right in the middle of this vast landmass with gardens and play areas all around it. There is a big field on the right side of the gate, beautiful gardens on the left, the long walkway to the building is muddy with very little grass on it. Students around are chatting, giggling, but she is quiet.  

Radha climbs up three floors to her class, Hasan is standing at the door of class 10th-B, he looks at her, smiles, coughs and clears his throat. A thin, short but a remarkably swift guy with little spiky hair, is the most trustworthy friend to both Radha and Raghav. 

"Where is Raghav? I tried calling him several times, but no one picked up at his place. Has he come to school yet?" Radha asked in one breath.
"No, I have no clue. I was not in town myself, but you should not worry Raghav will come." Hasan assured Radha.

The long spacious corridors with classrooms, three each on both sides are looking fresh with new paint and lights. Sun rays seep in beautifully from all the uncovered areas. Each class has tall windows on one side, and the door on the opposite wall right beside the blackboard has two tiny windows in it, to see through in the class. Radha sits on the fourth bench, and every time Raghav passed through her class, he would peep in to look at her. A smile lights up her face, and she blushes thinking about it.

The day passed, and Raghav did not come to school. Radha has all sorts of feelings crossing her head, she decides to make a call again. She walks past all the school buses, crosses the road towards her colony and reaches the bakery in the shopping centre. There is a one rupee coin in her pencil box; she uses that, the call connects, it rings, rings and rings but no one picks up.   

Radha and Raghav are the most active students of their batch; in debate, drama, painting they are a team. Radha is the captain of throwball and kabaddi team and is a fantastic dancer as well. Raghav was absent on the first day after holidays, that is so unlike him, thought Radha. Next day in School, Her eyes are looking for him, but he is nowhere, "What's wrong, I hope everything is ok with him and his family." She thought.

Hasan came and sat next to Radha, "Did he say anything about going out or something." He asked.
"No, Nothing, that's why it's bothering me." They were startled by an announcement; it was Miss Manju, calling all the dance students for practice on stage 2 in block A of the School. A vast rectangle stage open from three sides, covered from the top, with an entry from the corridor via wing styled doors, there are five steps on all three open sides. In front of the stage was an open area surrounded with dense, shady Gulmohar trees. Leaning on one of those trees, Raghav would watch her dance. He would be around as part of the art team involved in stage decoration etc. He was magic with colours and canvas. Whenever he painted, Radha would just watch him mesmerised.   

As Radha and Hasan cross the bridge to reach the block A ground floor, Mathew sir calls out for Hasan and asks "Where is Raghav? Why is he not coming to school?"
"We have no information about him, sir." Mr Mathew is the head of the English department at school and is very fond of Raghav. "There is an interschool debate competition next week, Radha, I want you and Raghav to start preparing for it."
"Yes sir will do, could I see you after the dance practice."
"Sure, Meet me in the staff room before leaving from School today."

Radha met Mathew sir after the last class; she told him that no one is picking up the phone at Raghav's house. Mr Mathew decided to call himself and this time Raghav's mother, who had got back in the morning from their native place, takes the call. She explains to him that Raghav's father has got transferred down south to Chennai and he is with him taking admission in a school there. He will be back to get his Transfer certificate next week.  

As Mathew sir told Radha about this, her heart sank, but she had to stand confident and not show her emotions to the teacher. She took leave from him and walked back home. Radha was not at all prepared for this; she was shocked, she wanted to cry loudly but couldn't. What would she say? Why is she crying? No one would understand that she is in love. Radha belongs to a middle-class family, where falling in love is not an idea that was respected. If anybody in the colony would get to know about it, the news will spread like wildfire, and everyone will question her character, Aunties would notice and comment on everything she does, from clothes to where she goes, who she talks to, everything will be under the scanner. It's a very closed society, and teenage girls who are too friendly with boys are not appreciated. 
The week went by, school is celebrating its Birthday, and there is a cultural event, with dance and drama. 

Radha was nervous; It was time for their final performance, her eyes were still looking for Raghav in the crowd of students. Hasan held her hand, which was freezing, he asked her to calm down; they are the first ones to go on stage. "He is here, Raghav is here," Radha looks at Hasan, who is smiling, "He will see you in the classroom after the performance." 

The performance was rocking, and Radha was like fire on stage. They bowed to the cheering crowd and left. Radha ran from backstage to her classroom. She opened the door; there was no one inside. She took a deep breath, went ahead and sat on the 4^th bench in the row near the window, that's their seat. Their names are engraved on the wooden planks. Radha is a simple girl, slightly chubby, long black hair, a fair round face and lovely expressive eyes; she wears kajal in her eyes because Raghav likes it. She is not one of those thin, stylish girls who could wear short skirts, leave their hair open, walk and talk in style to impress, yet she could make heads turn.

Looking out of the window, waiting for Raghav, thinking what would she say, tell or ask him, Radha was wholly lost in her thoughts. "You were as enchanting as ever in that performance, so graceful" he whispered in her ears, sitting right next to her. She could feel his warm breath close to her, she closed her eyes and turned around. One look at him and a flood of emotions ran through her; her heart was beating faster than ever. His killer smile is making those deadly dimples look more profound than a twister, his beautiful eyes are full of affection. His presence is so commanding that an empty classroom feels filled, with friendship and love. She looked at him, with tears rolling down her chubby pink cheeks. He hugged her tight, and she just cried. 

#Metoo - Why was it needed, How it helped? Who it Helped?

Abuse, Sexual Harassment, finally it's being discussed in open thanks to campaigns like #Metoo which started in the west gained a lot of momentum around Oct 2017 and then again now in Aug/Sept 2018.
Several Facebook posts and stories shared by so many women made me realize that it has been so so so common among women of my age. I think almost 90 % of Girls born in probably 70's and early 80's at least have one such story to tell.
Child Abuse has been there forever in every age, and even now it is prevalent in all the societies, But women born in those two decades are coming out and speaking about it to their friends and peer group. Things that they have never even told their mothers are being discussed, holding back their tears, with choked throats they share their scary, irritating, annoying and most bizarre experiences.

What stands out in these stories is that the girls are at risk not from the outsiders, but the insiders, its the men in the family the ones who might have their daughters may be of same age or younger or a little older doesn't matter. These men in their late 40's and 50's don't even think twice before Molesting a girl in the family because that's the safest. Why Safest? Ah! That's because the girl will never tell her parents, girls in India are fed more with values than food. The point that she is a girl and doesn't have many rights is rubbed in knowingly and unknowingly with actions and words. She should not speak loudly, should Respect elders, Relations have to be maintained. 
And then the rules which have always been for the girls only - you should sit adequately, legs always folded, No short clothes (I am talking about our times) they don't look decent , No late nights, No Parties with friends outside home - Values, Values, Values - Which by the way did nothing but made a lot of us weak , fragile and confused.
The stories that I have heard in these past few days are so similar A Mausa, A Mama, An Uncle, A close friend of Parents - they kept Molesting us till we ourselves figured a way out of it.
The most Horrid part of it is that we still meet these relatives and even act as if nothing happened. WHY? Ah! VALUES!
Strangely these men don't seem to remember what they did, or maybe it was just so easy and a 'MAN' thing for them, they never felt it was wrong, it never occurred to them that they are violating somebody's right to say 'NO.'

That's the reason why campaigns like ''Metoo" are needed. They might open a Pandora's box for some, but they surely give confidence to all and make us feel a lot lighter. Being able to talk, write or discuss the horrors of our life with like-minded people helps one to come out of the closet and speak.

Now we have a #MeetooIndia which has taken the movement to the next level.

BOY MEETS GIRL

This story is of the time when the first dot com boom had just begun in India. More parents were now allowing their girl's to study beyond graduation. However, the average age of girls getting married was still 19 to 21 with metro cities being an exception, where it got extended to 23. 

Just a few months after my younger sister got married, my mother took me to a professional photographer. My portfolio on these new appearing dot coms for matchmaking needed a matrimonial picture. Relatives in other cities were requested to look for a prospective groom for me. It was all done on a war footing just because I was running in 24.  

Age is not the only problem of the matchmaking system.The mindset in our society is a bigger issue. The ideas about the girl they want to take home are materialistic and only mirror the male chauvenistic society we live in. Everyone wants a slim, tall, fair some would even specify sharp features and convent educated girl for whatever type of groom.   

I was fair but plum, just about ok height but no sharp features, educated but not from a convent school. A girl with a round face, well-rounded features and working as News Reporter did not fit in any of the matrimonial descriptions. This is my story, born and brought up in Delhi, I did my post-graduate course from Mumbai. These two cities with their polls apart style and culture can empower girls with a lot of confidence, attitude, and strength to take on the world.

The day I was dreading came sooner than expected, "ladke wale, aa rahe hain' (boy's family is coming). I'm not too fond of this culture of the boy and his family coming to see the girl, then the girl's family would wait for their message. I had seen this very closely while staying with my cousin during my PG. I had some bitter memories of the process, but there was no way my parents would listen to me.

I will call him Mr Businessman, the first boy who came to see me at my home with his family. He was slightly overweight, and his height was just about ok, fair, wearing a red colour shirt, with top three buttons open so that his thick gold chain is visible. He had a thick black mobile phone in one hand, only people who earned well could afford a mobile in those days. Both the parents sat in the drawing-room, I served tea with off-course samosas, which I did not make. Mr Businessman and I sat in the dining room to have a chat. He started telling me about his routine – How he wakes up at 8 am takes a bath goes to the temple, have his breakfast and leaves for the factory at 10:30 am, comes back home for lunch, takes a nap till 4 pm, leaves again after tea, to be back around 8 pm. For a moment I thought "How Boring," but to each his own. He asked me about my routine, which I did not have except for the fact that I woke up at 6 am to go for my aerobics session, and I had to leave for office by 8 am, after that its new day every day. I told him there are days when I come back home after midnight, to which he said, "No issues after marriage things change", I frankly did not get him. We had nothing in common and were sitting quit when his father from the other end of drawing-room shouted "areee kya beta achhi lagi toh abhi hi saath le chalen." (if you like it so much should we take her along now). I could see my mom's expression change with the way and tone that his father said what he did. Well, they with all the respect and grace that was needed, we bid them goodbye. I took the opportunity and declared that I am not in for this 'Tamasha'. We mutually decided that I will meet the guy first, and only if I like him will thing move ahead.

 

Mr General Manager was the second boy I met. I chose Neurulas in Connaught Place, Delhi and Reached five minutes before time. It is a very journalist thing to do, helps you settle and observe. I took the seat beside the window, a comfortable place for two.

It was like officially going on an almost blind date. I confess I was nervous, much more than I was at home. Mr General Manager was a little late. As he walked towards me, I realised he looked better in person than in the picture. Not very tall, slightly plum but fit, whitish skin tone, neat clean-shaven face, Short well-trimmed hair, and a decent warm smile. I guess the training in the hospitality industry made him look groomed because even before he took his seat, he said, "I never thought I would marry a journalist."

His sentence brought me back to the real world. My instant reply was, "It is just our first meeting." I asked him about his family, and he said, "Why do you want to know about my family, I want my wife to mind her own business and me to mind my own." I asked him what he expects from his wife, to which he said, "I want my wife to look good beside me. I can say you will do a good job there." All these replies were enough for me to decide against going any further with this man.

 

Just FYI, all these meetings were happening after matching our horoscopes. So as per lords, all was well to go ahead and get married. I met this third guy Mr MBA, who was a family reference, at Birla Mandir in Delhi. Since he was coming with his parents, I took my parents along. As our Parents settled in the Temple Varanda, we went for a walk. Like a typical corporate fellow came dressed in a suit, maybe took time out of some busy schedule of his. Fair with little bit curly hair, a round face with specs, not unfit but not too fit either, courteous, polite and chivalrous. We spoke about a lot of things. When we went back to our parents, he admitted and told my mother, "your daughter loves her job, and I am getting married to get a wife who can take care of my parents at home, as I am getting busy by the day." So he rejected me, with which my mothers fear that its tough for journalists to get married started taking shape. I was a reporter and the first one in my mass communication batch to land up a job in a National News Channel. I wasn't ready to give it up for anything at that time.

 

To meet the 4th guy Mr IIT my mother made me travel to Lucknow. A city where meeting a boy outside was not possible. We met at one of my cousin's house. He was an average looking IIT engineer, working for Volkswagen in Germany drenched in his awe. We were left alone to talk, but since we were at home, my mom and massi, just courtesy sake came to say hello to him. Massi being from Lucknow asked him a few things, and they left. The moment they left poped the sentence, "I hope they do not think it's final between us, the moment parents see an IIT engineer they just want to marry their daughter off with him." I was shocked beyond word for a while, but I gathered my self and politely yet firmly told him, "Listen, degrees don't impress me, I am looking for a human to get married to."

 

Meanwhile, my career was moving ahead. I got an opportunity to be part of the founding team of a new Hindi News Channel, in Mumbai. I also thought that moving to Mumbai would put a stop to this process of #IndianMatchMaking.

 

I had just about settled in Mumbai when my mother called and told me that she has fixed up this meeting. Mr NRI, a breed that's perpetually in a hurry to do everything. This guy landed in Mumbai, with a list of girls from the matrimonial site to meet. He had two months to get married and leave. We decided to meet at a Barista cafe. He was handsome and charming, yes if looks would have been my only consideration he would have walked away with me. To my surprise, he came with his Bhabhi Ji, and I ended up chatting more with her than him, before eventually, she figured out that it is Me and Mr NRI, who should be talking. She made some excuse and left, leaving us smiling at each other, thinking of what to say. To break the ice, he asked - what are your expectations from marriage? I was not prepared for this one, had not yet jotted down anything, so playing smart; I threw the question back at him, saying it's not so simple so he should go first. He said, "oh! I am truly clear about it. I want two beautiful daughters from my marriage. I thought wow, excellent clarity, and all this while I was wondering marriage is about looking for a life partner, a friend etc. We finished our coffee and said bye for good.

These experiences and more such things associated with marriage and matchmaking in our society took me to a point where I was sure that there is no need to get married. Probably I would not have, if cupid wouldn't have struck me. I am not too sure how much of it has changed, though I know girls are now putting their foot down and boys are changing. Yet, I know so many parents who only want an IAS or a Defense officer as the son in law. At the same time, even today, a girl is qualified for marriage, only if she can cook. The problem is our upbringing and even today unknowingly parents do, say and practice so many things that create a divide in boys and girls. We have to treat everybody as a human and break these boundaries, restrictions and stereotypes.