A Princess I Don’t Envy

Having grown up on an extravagant indulgence of fairytale romances with princesses in distress and knights in shining armor, I have always envied the lives of the royalty across geographies and cultures – the Victorian splendor, the Mughal opulence, the Arabic excesses.

I have read legendary tales of birds in gilded cages but I always felt that in any given period in history, I would rather be a wealthy queen with no freedom than a woman who has to struggle. My argument goes like this - a Victorian princess must have been much more blithe and contented than a woman from, say, the bourgeoisie. Going by that logic, till yesterday, I’d not mind being an Arabic heiress with plenitude and luxury at my beck and call. Ignorance is bliss, they say and I agree. On my mother-in-law’s recommendation, I decided to spend my weekend reading “Princess: A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia” by the American writer, Jean Sasson. The book has been classified as the top 500 books written on women.

The story is a non-fictional heart wrenching autobiography of a princess that takes its readers to the forbidden realms of the royal house in Saudi. The princess, unfortunately, has an indomitable spirit and great courage, both causes of grave threat to a patriarchal society that sees women as only objects of possession. The men in her life – her brother, her father, her husband rule her life and do everything possible to annihilate her chutzpah. Much as the tale is about the harassed weaker sex whose only sin is the missing male organ, it is also a tale of the decadence of the male community who continue to live in the barbarism of the dark ages.

The powerful indictment of Sultana, the pseudonym of the central character of the narrative, made me shudder in first, disbelief, then anger and frustration. The thought of a contemporary undergoing such an arduous and torturous life in this age – yes, Sultana is still living, if her existence can be passed off as that, is abominable. This is not a prehistoric saga but a 21st Century extraordinary account of the ordinary lives of women in a part of the same world that we inhabit. I am inevitably forced to compare our lives. Is my equal status to my husband something I should feel privileged about? Should I be grateful to my dad for having educated me? Am I honored that the society I live in considers polygyny a crime?

A profound sadness shrouds the book, leaving little room for hope even though the Princess tries every trick from open defiance to subtle manipulation. The story ends as it begins, the closest men in her life visiting the mosque, leaving her alone behind. There is this helplessness that is so intricately woven with the unfolding of events that no reader can escape the despair the reading of the book brings. I have little courage to read the other two books as part of the trilogy – Princess Sultana’s Daughters and Princess Sultana’s Circle.
Equality of men and women is debatable in any society, but this blatant denial of basic human rights to women, and relegating them to a status worse than that of animals and slaves, is very disturbing, to say the least.

This is Customer Support – May I help you?

Oh no…please don’t because you cannot!

At some point in our lives, we have all arraigned the services offered by the public and government sectors– Be it the BSNL line man who never turns up to fix your telephone connection (I am really grateful to my dad for being in the Telecom sector and therefore redeeming our lives from this single most infamous and far-flung phenomenon), the electricity bill that always shows the wrong units consumed, the cop and the postman who need to be bribed in order to get your passport on time, the data entry guy at the Income Tax office who never gets your details correct the first time on the PAN card (I remember my date o f birth printed as 1953 in my first PAN card – talk about instant waning!), or the clerk at the University Office who will never be able to trace your roll number should you need another copy of your college degree.

Well, “sarkari kaam hai, der to lagegi” (It’s a government service, therefore bound to be delayed), and so we sniveled, and we huffed and we puffed and we moved on.

Then, came the age of the Tata and Ambanis and numerous other bantam and burly private players who invaded the previously unexploited territories and challenged the monopoly of the so called public sector, offering services that were not only superior but also more customer-focused.
A key player that emerged was Airtel, the Mittal clan’s roseate cherub. Cellular services never seemed so facile; 24x7 customer support was an unheard of marvel.

And, so thwarting my dad’s top-notch attempt at convincing me to go in for a BSNL connection as according to him BSNL was equally competitive and more reliable (my dad was working for BSNL then) for my first mobile phone ever in 2003, I went in for an Airtel. It was cool and red and hip and happening, the unsurpassable medium to “Express Yourself”.

That was then, zooming in to the present – 2009.

I have been exasperated by Airtel customer service. First, it was the prepaid connection that was magnanimously disconnected by some bugger cos my identity and address proof documents had not reached Airtel. Obviously, the fact that I had bought the connection from an Airtel center and had provided the required documents to the Airtel representative, invoked little sympathy from the idiotic and uneducated call center executives. So, after lambasting a few such specimens, I resubmitted my documents only to be told a week later that my account could not be activated on account of non-availability of identity and address proof in the system.
Now, I must admit it’s not very difficult to invoke the wrath of this person called Yuvika Chaube; I am forever ready to axe the first head that blurts illogical hogwash, but this time around I thought I’d burst a vein in my umbrage. Finally, I had to take refuge with my dad who unleashed the TRAI authorities on Airtel (thank god for babudom :)) and I did have the last laugh – not only was my service restored in a couple of hours but somebody from Airtel came to my house to inquire and take whatever proofs!

My blood pressure was seemingly nearing back to normal after this fury that Airtel struck again! This time my DTH TV Cable connection was the prima facio. Now, don’t ask me why I am such a die-hard Airtel fan – I am not. All this happens to be the ill-play of providence. Okay, back to my ranting, so Fate decided one fine Wednesday evening that I do not deserve to watch any of the mainstream channels – Star Plus, Sony, Set Max, Pix etc. I gave Airtel two complete days to resolve the issue but I forget the exact phrase that crudely states the fact that a dog’s tail can never straighten (I am sorry, the flavor is lost in translation). So I metamorphosed into my Maa Kaali avatar, and gave hell (and I really mean it) to two customer care executives and their supervisors.
I used abuses, hurled accusations, threatened, and finally after four and a half days of having waged a bloody, ferocious battle, with inexorable support from my father in law, we were able to coax the much sought after “service engineer” to pay us a visit and fix the problem. For those interested, it was some minor problem with the reception of the dish and was fixed in less than an hour.

Alas, all differences between the private companies and the government sector seem to have been blurred with the passage of time. You can expect exemplary service once-in-a-while from both, but for the majority of the time, tighten your seat belts for the deadliest of rides and the most unpleasant of trysts that begin with the horrific words “Hello this is Customer Service, How may I help you?”, which actually means “You are a fool to have tried this number and immensely lucky that you were able to reach one of us. Now you can go ahead with the formality of telling us about your problem. In all probability we can do nothing so hopefully you believe in God, and that faith might see you through these troubled times.” Amen.

And the Best Debut for the year is...

...Obviously the People's Car - Nano, the latest nipper from Tata Motors.

As Ratan Tata unveils the world's cheapest car, I experience a motley of emotions.

I am excited at this yet another contrivance, unique in its own special way, unleashed onto the overwhelmed masses, that promises to revolutionize the transport scene in India. As Ratan Tata talks about his dream to create an affordable yet safe vehicle for the family, where "the father driving the scooter, his young kid standing in front of him, his wife seated behind him holding a little baby", I am moved and impressed with his inimitable dexterity to combine his compassion for human life, the historic TATA values and his keen entrepreneurial acumen into this tactile product that not only makes a helluva business sense but that also ostentatiously interweaves with it the aspirations of millions.

Here's a car that's the ultimate lower middle class family's fantasy - modestly priced at Rs. 1 Lac (approx 2000 USD), that's a little more than what a good two-wheeler would cost, any day safer than a bike or a scooter, high on fuel efficiency and low on emissions. For a change, we have a car launch sans the steamy skeletal models, a launch that talks about utility and not style and flamboyance, a launch that targets the guy on the road and not the rich brat who has never walked the streets of the city he was born in. I am glad a privileged Indian, though for a profitable advantage, did think of the not-so-privileged one!

For all these reasons, I am enticed to look away from the looming danger this car brings. Unfortunately, our roads in India are not (and will never be) ready for the enormous congestion that the success of this car may wreak. Imagine all the two-wheelers you see metamorphosed into four wheelers - I shudder at the thought!
But then, we Indians are seldom prepared well - things just happen to us and we learn to deal with it...hope this time this magic wand does not start ticking a distant bomb!

Bura na mano…holi hai!

Holi – The celebration of joy and colors has been one of my favorite festivals since childhood. I love the glow of gulal, the mess of the pakka rang, the splashing of pani ke gubbare, the water spouting from the pichkaris, the outrageously risqué lyrics of rang barse, the scrumptious taste of gujiyas, the fun and gossip around the presence and absence of bhang…

Till 2006, I do not remember having not painted the town red on a single instance of holi. As kids, the customary pichkari (my fav being a tank one that could be carried around as a rucksack – amazing storage capacity!) along with the usual dose of the good color (gulal etc), the real bad color (the chemical dyes etc that wouldn’t rub off for days together) and a huge stock of balloons was a must, irrespective of what the health conscious said about hazardous effects of colors and blah and blah!

A typical day would start with all the kids and cooperating adults filling balloons, followed by a reluctant breakfast of puri-aloo with kheer forced down by mom and a simultaneous word of caution from dad to remain “within limits” (that has been his trademark forewarning for anything and everything, since as long as I can remember, and that in itself could be a whole new blog, but I digress). After the almost ritualistic morning feast, we’d wear our old clothes, rub oil on our bodies and hair (to protect hair and skin from damage as much as possible), and then begin the mayhem. We always celebrate holi with the family first, so mom, dad, Priyank and I would mess each other up completely before proceeding with the neighborhood toli.

I most fondly recall my years in Noida as the best holi galas I have ever had. With a tinge of nostalgia, I remember the bonfire on the eve of holi, the craziness of dancing amidst the riot of colors and water to songs from all periods in Indian Cinema - the black and white numbers to the latest ones in technicolor, the feasting without fasting, and the endless laughter and merry making!

After the afternoon’s pandemonium, I used to spend hours scouring the color off using all the options available – mom’s indigenous preparation of ubtan to the latest scrubs and crèmes available in the cosmetic conglomerate – to make myself presentable for school/work the next day. Evenings were marked by the characteristic laziness and siesta of post-holi blues...

This is the third year that I am sorely missing not celebrating holi - 2007 holi was spent in Bangkok, 2008 in LA. This year, though closer to home (@ Chennai), I am ridden by the practical difficulties of Holi being on a week day, no holiday, inability to travel to Delhi cos of work commitments…I am hoping the next year or the one after that I am fortunate enough to relive or atleast recreate the proverbial ‘good old days’!

Till then, I console myself by listening to and humming my personal holi play list; given here just in case somebody is interested.

1. Rang Barse…bheege chunar waali…rang barse (this evergreen Amitabh-Rekha number from Silsila undoubtedly is my holi anthem)
2. Arre jaa re hat natkhat, na chhoo re mera ghoonghat , palat ke doongi aaj aisi gali re…(the rapturous melody by Rafi and Lata; Movie – Navrang)
3. Holi khele raghubeera awadh mein…holi khele raghubeera (the more recent Amitabh number from Baghban)
4. Aaj na chodenge bas humjoli… khelenge hum holi (The mischievous hit from Rajesh Khanna’s Kati Patang)
5. Ang se ang lagaana…sajan humein aise rang lagaana (a raunchy song from the Sunny Deol-SRK-Juhi Chawla starrer Darr)
6. Holi ke din dil khil jaate hain...rangon mein rang mil jaate hain (from Sholay…Big B has a lot of holi songs to his credit)
7. Holi re holi…aayi tere ghar pe maston ki toli (Movie – Paraaya Dhan)
8. More kaanhaa jo aaye palat ke…abke holi main khelungi dat ke (a semi classical number from Sardari Begum)
9. Holi aayee, holi aayee, dekho holi aayee re (thus Kishore Kumar sang in Mashaal)
10. And finally…Jai Jai Shiv Shankar (again a Rajesh Khanna number from Aap ki Kasam…strictly speaking not a holi specific number but nevertheless apt for the occasion)

Wishing everybody a very happy and colorful Holi!

It’s a woman’s world after all…

But I do not trust the hullabaloo around March 8th - International Women’s Day!

To give all that is due to the American and European feminist and socialist movements of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries that fought and campaigned for equal rights for women in politics, social and economic arenas, it was a stalwart battle – well fought and well won (to a great extent).

From playing second fiddle to the patriarch to becoming world leaders and successful professionals, women have come a long way. However, there are still parts of the world where women continue to be paid lesser wages for the same labor as put in by their male counterparts and where girls are unwanted and killed at birth or in the womb. And, the so called Women’s Day makes no difference to the lives of these women.

I believe, in the initial years when the concept was institutionalized, the day was marked by protests, strikes and other events that aimed at focusing the world and media attention on issues that continue to plague the fairer sex. However, in today’s times, Women’s Day is confined to the elite celebration of the Page 3. The outrageous cocktail parties of the opulent, the extravagant sales and promotions by the retail giants, the scholarly didactic seminars and workshops by the UN and the likes - all target the woman that has already arrived or is well aware of her rights and what she can do legally or otherwise to fight for them.
But what happens to the woman in remote districts of the globe with no access to Internet or media, the woman who is abused by her husband day in and day or out, the woman who is forced to abort her female fetus, the infant who is buried because she was born with a different arrangement of chromosomes? Is this really an opportunity for them to realize their plight and do something about it? Do they see this as an occasion to revel in their womanhood? I wonder if they have heard of Women’s Day or even if they have, what it really means to them.

On a lighter note, I also feel that this whole abstraction of Women’s Day is not only overrated but also highly patronizing. I mean we have a global Women’s day to jubilate the manifold accomplishments of women but why don’t we have an International Men’s day? Surely, we have a few men as well that can boast of some exploits! Is it because all 365 days anyway belong to them and are spent in virile revelry? If yes, well my dear, I refuse to make do with one measly day – I want an equal share of the remaining 364 days as well.

In the past, especially during college days, I have recoiled at men wishing me ‘Happy Women’s Day’, but having matured over the years (or so I choose to believe) I understand that most don’t give it too much thought – for them it’s as good as another Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day to pamper the women in their lives – I am okay with the exchanging of gifts and the elaborate dinners provided they don’t spend the rest of the year treating their wives and mothers as door mats!
As for women who make a big pomp and show of the day, I truly hope that they are happy because I strongly believe that though we have miles to go, it is a woman’s world after all :).

Jai Ho...all the way to LA and back!

What a scintillating performance at the Oscars by the Slumdog Millionaire! I personally enjoyed the movie and loved the songs...all of them...Ringa Ringa, Paper Planes...but undoubtedly Jai Ho being the most euphonious.

Following the Oscar ceremony from work today was exciting and the sensational win of Slumdog in eight categories including Best Picture, Best Director and the two for Rehman, ensured a very jubilant atmosphere at work.

I have been following Big B and the likes of him who are of the opinion that the movie portrays the impoverished India and thus not a befitting image for the Oscars. Yes, the movie is about the slumsdogs, but it does not exaggerate the deprivation; it tries to show that silver lining around the cloud which many have chosen not to see. No, am not defending the movie. However, you have to give it to Danny Boyle, an out and out British director, for capturing the Indian sensitivity and spirit so aptly. It's a real movie and reality is often disheartening - not the best movie about India, I agree, but not the worst either.

No words can do justice to the virtuoso that is A. R. Rehman. An ardent fan of Rehman's music myself, his victory does make me proud. For all the copy cats in Bollywood ranging from the Anu Maliks to the Pritams, we have atleast one true genius to boast of. Honestly, I feel there are some other numbers of Rehman that I thought are way better than Jai Ho, but I guess none of them got the kind of publicity and audience that the latter got. Nevertheless, well deserved Rehman.
Jai Ho!

This day...that year

Yes, it has been two years since we tied the knot. It's been a roller coaster really. Many of my friends comment that I am now "well married"; I wonder what they mean but somehow I still feel I am not "married enough" :).

It would take me an eternity to recap these two years that just flew by. The memories of February 19 2007 are so vivid in my mind. The whole wedding paraphernalia, the grandeur of the day, the intermingling of the joy of anticipation of a brand new phase and the sorrow of physically moving away from the family that is at the core of my being. Gosh, the big fat Indian wedding is no trivial task. It requires solid stamina, emotional support, meticulous planning and most importantly immense patience (the constant flow of curious relatives and friends, and what not).

Life's moved on, smooth sails and rough ones too, high tides and low tides but then life is always what you make it!

Love is in the air...

...or so we hope :).

Naah, I am no ardent St. Valentine believer or follower but I don't mind the usual stir around Valentine's Day...the stupendously priced roses, the overkill of red and pink on newspapers, card and gift galleries and all magazine covers, and ofcourse the silly, yet extravagant dinner and luncheon buffets organized everywhere - from your local restaurant to the five-stars.

I don't disagree that the day of lovers is nothing but a commercially fueled phenomenon; add to that the peer pressure of outdoing each other in making your loved one feel special - the perfect recipe for boost of sales of any retail enterprise. But, you know what- it's cute as well.
Young school and college students holding hands and sharing the same icecream with the so called love of their life - most of these loves don't even last through the semester. Then, ofcourse are the more serious types, the extremists and all that. Yawn, I'll let them pass - don't want to lambaste them today.

My personal experience with the fourteenth day of February has not been very noteworthy. In school, all instances were spent giggling and linking friends to everyone possible. College years were spent trashing all these giddy and lovey-dovey theater smooching couples (for the uninitiated, these are the couples that are at their intimate best only in the darkness of the movie halls); by the way, one of the Valentine's was spent writing the CAT (MBA entrance). And then another one working.

And then, love happened - the last two years before my wedding were spent in exchanging adorable tokens of affection. The best one has been the music composition that Vish created for me. I think it was most unique and romantic.

This is my second Valentine after marriage and as we laze around teasing each other how unlike the "before" years, we are not running helter-skelter to surprise each other, and would rather best the spend the day relaxing, eating good food and catching a couple of movies, we realize that Valentine's day is much-ado about nothing - blown out of proportion, not only by the youngsters and bollywood, but also by the likes of Ram Sena. Today Valentine's day is all about the pink-chaddi campaign, the hug-karo and pub-bharo andolans and media-hype. My advice to those smitten by the love bug (never mind if it's for real or not), just chill, sit back and enjoy, do what you what to do - and for those who are averse to it, the rebels without a cause - please get a life or atleast a "real" cause...

Happy Valentine's Day!

Goons and moral policing

It has happened so many times, in so many places: Delhi, Meerut, Bangalore, Mangalore. The self-proclaimed moral police pick up broomsticks to clean the society.
And, this cleaning involves physical violence, lathi charges and indiscriminate abuse perpetrated against the "wrong-doers", the "immoral" souls and the "westernized" thought-bearers, who are primarily between the ages of 17-30; choose to club-hop, take a stroll on the beach with their friend, engage in some sort of intimacy in the public parks away from the prying eyes of their families, get a little over-mushy at the idea of Valentine's Day, sit a little too close in the theater playing the recent romantic flick, date in Mc Donald's and Cafe' Coffee Day and most importantly are normal human beings who get attracted to other human beings of the opposite sex (or the same sex) and want to be with them.

The images of the frenzied brutality by the likes of RSS, Bajrang Dal, BJP, Shiv Sena flashed on all the news channels for the past fortnight have left me aghast. In the name of Indian culture, the country is breeding a pedigree of barbarous goons. These ruffians slap a girl who is walking with her boyfriend but have the most number of illicit affairs possible. They proclaim on national media that a woman and a man should hold hands only if they are married but pretend blissful ignorance of what their kids are upto in the very same dating places. They want women to wear Indian clothes as any western outfit is the hallmark of a characterless woman, but they secretly lust after sleazily dressed women in all the C and D grade movies. Frustrated with themselves, perverted to the core and vicious in mind and spirit, they threaten to change the face of the modern India.

What is the difference between these law breakers and the much terrified Taliban? Both equal in mindless cruelty, total disregard for respect of the other, desecration of social, communal and national ethos and complete religious aberration. I don't care what party or god they belong to or beleive in; they surely do not deserve to be treated as human beings and the law enforcers of this country need to ensure they get the worst possible punishment.

What a woman or man drinks, wears, watches and with whom he/she goes out with or sleeps in with, as long as done with one's own individual freedom of choice is nobody's business. We are a free, sovereign country and we are adults; we can manage our liberty. We do not need moral policing by a set of b@#$%^&s with unenviable criminal records. Spare us please; do not fetter our freedom, our spirits.

In the name of the father...

I chanced upon this article in the Sunday Times supplement of The Times of India today that talked about the different schools of thought around a girl changing her name (or second name) after marriage.
This discussion has gained prominence in the world of journalistic deliberation primarily because of Munnabhai's (that's Sanjay Dutt...just in case...) highly provocative statement about his sister Priya Dutt who retains her dad's surname after marriage and I quote Mr. Dutt here, "Priya should have changed her name after marriage and taken responsibility of the new family". For those out of touch, this is all in the context of the siblings tiff in the Indian political arena post their father, Sunil Dutt's demise.

Sanjay Dutt has obviously not taken his Wren & Martin lessons in English grammar very seriously in school. Changing name after marriage and taking on family responsibility are two disjoint ideas and therefore cannot be combined to make a single sentence. There is no relation between the first and second clause. Unfortunately, in our predominantly patriarchal social mindset, many people end up making this mistake.

Marriage is one of the most complex institutions in modern day society. And with too many conflicting notions that surround, I cannot even list all of them in one breath. Therefore, I will stick to only one...a girl's changing her name after marriage.
First, contrary to popular belief, this is not a pan-Indian or global phenomenon. Families in many parts of southern India and the world, for that matter, and those hailing from matriarchal societies in Kerala and Goa, retain their maiden name.
Second, there is no evidence of religious enforcement of this name changing ritual in any of our ancient texts (and I mean ancient texts of all religions) and it is absolutely not a legal mandate.

I am not sure how this naming changing business really came into practice. On some introspection, I feel it could be a practical arrangement between the husband and wife that maybe makes the day-to-day life simpler. I mean if you have the same second name as your spouse, the receptionist at the hotel you are checking in will not cast a suspicious glance, joint loans, property agreements and insurance claims are easier to negotiate, hospital formalities become a wee bit simpler et al. As decades passed by, I think, like most other pragmatic compacts, this became a societal norm and then a regulation.

The minute you begin imposing, somebody is bound to rebel and a revolution happens. And this issue inflamed most feminist movements as they equated the name change (and rightly so in cases where this is coerced) with a brand acquisition, you overtake a name and brandish it with yours to make it your own. I believe many families compelled, and still compel women to change not only their last name but also their first name. This, I perceive, as the height of commodification of women.
Thus, heralded the Hillary-Rodham-Clintons and Aishwarya-Rai-Bachhans. A safe technique to keep your cultural identity and yet mould yourself into the societal expectations of a married lady. Not bad, I'd say, only not very practical. I mean so Ash's daughter should be Ash2 Rai Bachhan, she marries a kapoor and becomes Ash2 Rai Bachhan Kapoor and imagine the plight of the third generation!

The simplistic solution some women have come up with is not to change their name at all. This is a quite feasible option but does not have the undeniable advantages of the first and second alternatives, and also particularly problematic once the kids come along. I mean, how insecure can I get about my "identity"...is my identity only my name?

So what do? Well those confused, join the gang. I continue to use my maiden name for all formal, legal and practical purposes. No, I am not a die-hard feminist who finds this as the means to get back at the male dominance and I hate it when people cast me as one. I use Yuvika Chaube for three reasons - the emotional one being that I like the way Yuvika Chaube sounds. The more formidable one being the amount of paper work involved in changing the name; I cringe at the thought of filling out long forms, going to sad government offices, court rounds etc.

Some years down the line, I plan to give this name change business a serious thought. I might be transformed into Yuvika Chaube Vishwanath..naah that's too long...I myself get breathless by the end of it, maybe just Yuvika Vishwanath or maybe Yuvika C Vishwanath...Sometimes I wonder if Yuvika would serve the purpose :).
For others, I would say go by your gut feel. Do what you feel is the best and would suit you the most.

Fortunately, there is no right or wrong to choose from here. Your name has nothing to do with how good a wife, daughter-in-law or mom you are!