Darshatha- the visible voice : girls

Showing posts with label girls. Show all posts

Friday, 8 July 2022

How to get attention? by Juhi Meshram

If you ask people how to get attention, they mostly say why do you want it? Why would somebody want attention? There are a thousand explanations but a simple answer that they wish to feel wanted, we all do. We want people to remember us, miss us, value us or want us in different ways and there is nothing immature about it. But the big question is how do you get attention?

Well, you don't get it by simply asking for it, because we humans find hidden answers in simple things. You are considered desperate for trying hard and ignorant for keeping it casual. So when a friend asked me this question and I had nothing to say to her, I decided to Google "how to get attention from a man?". And as expected I found so many articles but not a single one had the answer for that. Instead, the articles said so much about how to impress your man, how to understand signs from a man or how to keep him interested in you. There was not one sensitive answer for a woman who might be looking for one, who might be looking to be considered important. It got me thinking, is it too off-stream to demand attention?

So I asked myself why would I, a 29 year old woman, ask Google about what a woman wants. So I stormed into my inner woman for an answer and I realized that there's no direct answer for it since I don't know how a man's mind work and it is not my place to guess or tell a man how to make a woman feel more attended. But there is one thing that is in my place to do and that is what I am going to do here.

I am going to tell you one very obvious thing that we all know but avoid confronting and that is our true emotion. The reason being, whenever we have tried it in the past, we have been heartbroken. Be it in our past relationships, our social lives or our professional lives. If I speak for majority of women, we have been taken for granted by our men, we have tried too hard to fit into society and we have definitely been questioned for making it big in our careers. It has been empowering to fight the odds but it has always been tough for our mental well being. Is it easy to understand now that why a woman seeks attention?

There might be a similar story for men but I would leave it for a man to tell. As for a woman, being a woman, all I can say is that we all have someone special in our lives and those special ones need our time, attention and emotion from time to time. And for you, no matter how many people you have in your life, you want that one person to be attentive to you. Now, this one special person might change multiple times in your life but till the time you have that one person, give them all the attention you can. And if you think it's too tough for you to provide them with that, then be upfront and tell them. Lets just be realistic and accept that there can be different special ones in different point of our lives or more than one special-ones at same point of our lives. Yes! I am considering the casual relationships we have and even then we are entitled to value all our 'casually-special' ones. I am a woman and I want attention and so does your woman. And instead of thinking why does anybody want attention, just think that a little attention may soothe a fragile mind struggling to sail through the day.

written by:

Juhi Meshram

on cover:

Nibedita Upadhyai

Thursday, 23 February 2017

superstitions

The Girl I See Today by Juhi Meshram

wearedarshatha 17:00

I looked around the room to find my place; on the left side of the door was a supplanted centre table full of baggage, next to it was a maroon polished almirah that touched the other wall, attached to which was the floral carved wooden double bed full with sleepers and next to that was my sister sitting on the floor stitching her blouse. There was an old computer table on my right that now served as another baggage counter. I found myself in middle of nowhere. Middle! That clicked me and I settled on the floor near the almirah.

Somewhere I felt middle-class to be a social name for poverty, I realised this when I glanced the room for the last time before I took a deep breath to start. And the moment I took out the nail clipper to cut my nails a sharp but curious voice held me in between, “you can’t cut nails at night.” And I faced up to see my cousin on the bed. How did I overlook her while observing the room? I thought... and then I overlooked her one more time. “You DON’T cut nails at night.” she was restless this time. “Yes you don’t”, a voice with more authority came this time; it was my sister’s.

I continued cutting my long dirty nails and asked them the reason for not doing so at that hour of the night. And for no surprise they were ready with the answers.

Cousin: one loses money if they cut nails at night.

Me: whose money?

Cousin: areyy! Your money, you fool.

Me: who told you this?

Cousin: I know.

Me: how?

Sister: you would have known it too if you listen to our elders... you are a girl...

There is a time you know you need to take the blame and call off the conversation because; if you stretch it anymore it can get deadly. It was that time. I nodded and ignored them at the same time.

I had a sleep. NOT GOOD. NOT SWEET-DREAMY. JUST- SLEEP. It was so because I got to sleep amid various snoring as our tiny middle-class home had no soundproof rooms or in better terms... the doors didn’t close due to seepage.

Tujhko uda kar ke!

Tujhko uda kar ke le jaaenge badri ki dulhaniya...

I woke up confused to whether I was dreaming of an item song. But! It was television. Drawing room and my bedroom, which was not exclusively mine, were happened to be planned diagonally opposite, separated by a small dining. And slowly as I gained conscience the song was accompanied by other background scores...

Nani: roti banao jaldi jaldi tiffin bharna hai.

Ma- aai thamb! Ban rahi roti, tu bas.

Mami- kab jate hai chinu aor saha kam par...

And it went on. It was not every day that we had this many people in our house but Chinu’s birthday was some occasion for them to reunite. It was pleasing to meet all, it always was. But to SLEEP, to HEAR, to RESIDE, it was always clumsy.

I waited for ten long minutes to use the tommilet. And yes! It takes a lot of effort to wait... for toilet ... in the morning. Then I brushed my teeth with cousin Dinky, Parrot Chikki and one other at the backyard.

I stepped into the 7x4 feet kitchen to find three women working in team; one rolling the flour dough balls, other was making parathas and the last one, was cooking sabzi. The moment, yes the moment I took a spoon of boiled egg in my mouth, my nani turned to me, “pehle nahana chaiye tujhe!”

I kept the plate back in the platform sighed and raised my voice against it. I said, “why?” and next, maa gave me an angry look that was enough for me to leave the kitchen that very moment.

I ate my breakfast hearing advices, hopes, stories and what not. But mainly advices... DON’T BE LATE, YOU GIRLS SHOULD COME HOME BEFORE DARK, EAT LITTLE MORE YOU LOOK THIN, WHY DON’T YOU CARE FOR YOU FACE YOU LOOK HORRIBLE, STOP WASTING SO MUCH TIME ON FITNESS YOU ARE NOT FAT BUT WORRY FOR YOUR FACE YOU HAVE TO GET MARRIED.

Maa’s continuous hold on you through her 'KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT' look let go the moment and you successfully clear that level according to her when you put a smile at your face and node a yes... all the time. And it was an escape.

And when you think that everything in your life from now on would be better, you just miss the fact that you have a boss for whom you work.

With a hell hectic day of two urgent assignments that day, I was blessed to have a senior female employee who was always ready to give me a detailed speech on the fact that I was a girl and I should be safe.

HER LECTURE:

You should take care of yourself, that worker was staring at you.... I think you work well only when boss pays attention on you.... you should not get emotionally attached to boss; he has a flirty nature... take care of what you wear... I am concerned for you, otherwise I wouldn’t have told you all this... you are like my daughter... I am just advising you... you are grown up, but it’s my duty...

I heard everyone. Instead of disagreeing, I ignored every single word that was told to me. I am done hearing you. Now HEAR ME, HEAR ME. YES I AM A GIRL AND I KNOW IT. I KNOW HOW TO BREATHE, HOW TO DRIVE, HOW TO EAT, HOW TO SIT, WHAT TO WEAR, WHERE TO GO AND WITH WHOM, HOW TO BEHAVE AT THE WORK PLACE, HOW TO WORK, HOW TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF AND HOW TO BE SURE ABOUT MY SAFETY.. AND EVEN IF I DON’T KNOW THESE THINGS, IT IS MY PROBLEM NOT YOURS, ALL I KNOW IS I AM A GIRL AND NOT A MACHINE WHO WILL ACT YOUR WAY JUST BECAUSE YOU WANT ME THAT WAY.

But this time the reason that kept me shut was just being tired of hearing those things and because it was not bothering my work.

Eight at night, in a busy main road, I was driving my scooty when I heard some boys yelling and abusing badly, they were behind me on their bike... Like advised I didn’t turn and kept going. When I heard a female voice loud, I sank in fear, but I gained my courage to turn for another girl and I saw a scooty fallen on the road. The yelling boys were nowhere to be found. There were two girls on the road. One of them told me that those boys were following them from sometime, they were drunk and were asking them to stop and when they didn’t, one of the boys kicked the girl on the back seat and drove off. The girl was not injured physically but mentally, she was not saying anything and was only breathing heavily.

The girls had worn scarf covering their whole face, neck, chest and even stomach, just their eyes were visible. They were fully dressed with jeans and top on. I helped them clean the dust and asked them to complain, to which they said, “Nai baba! Bach gaye na, bas. Marna thode hai complain kar ke”

For the first time in the whole day I regretted something, regretted not turning at the correct time. I could have caught them or at least I could have seen the number plate on their bike. And it also made me think that- you say what you want to say to a person and go off but don’t realise what impact it makes on that person. The way those girls responded, I realised, they were not fainthearted but they too were a victim of hearing things that girls SHOULD NOT DO and were the obedient Indian females- who didn’t complain.

Thursday, 12 January 2017

youth

Refine Your Soul by Juhi Meshram

wearedarshatha 17:00

“Okay! Comment on the YOUNG INDIA take by the minister”

“What is there to talk about? After all that we hear every day, how can this generation be trusted.”

“Yes, you are right. We surely have most of young people in our country, but not the whole generation is

sane.”

“And that creates a huge difference.”

That day I heard a group of people discussing young generation as I walked back home. The last night had exhausted me really bad. But my mind was alert to everything which was happening around me. I had inherited this from my experiences. My past had positively prepared my mind and body to work in every condition.

The time I unlocked my flat I instantly walked into the kitchen, gulped the whole bottle of water in a go and I lay on bed. As I was trying to sleep, the words I had just heard struck me. How can this generation be trusted? How can anyone be trusted? Trust? What is trust?

I woke up to a call. “Asha, I am going to meet the Commissioner. I will call you after that; we have to discuss that village issue.” I hung up and walked lazily to the washroom. It wasn’t my daily routine. Actually I didn’t really have a routine, I never had one. Every day for me was a new day, every morning was a new place and every night was a pain. I kept my mind busy because even a pinch of my past was enough to weaken me to the cores.

I walked downstairs to buy milk packet. had a super market opposite our colony. I use to visit the store so often. The owner was in his late twenties. He was not there all the time. Whenever we had met in the past was a refreshing time as we used to exchange our work experience. And it was rare for me to meet people outside my work.

That day when I visited the store I didn’t find him. But I met a new girl.

“Hi, do you guys have olives?”

“Hain?”, her response told me she didn’t know English.

“Beta, yaha olives hai? Jaitoon?”

“Ma’am she is new here. She doesn’t know anything”, a regular worker told me.

“Oh, no problem. Do you have olives? I am not able to spot.” I asked again.

“Yes ma’am, this way, I will bring it to you.” he was polite as usual.

I was in the billing counter when saw the girl again in the corner. She was gazing the road continuously with a blank but expecting face.

“Who is she?” I asked the girl in the counter.

“She is Abhay sir’s cousin, Meera. She lives in village; is here for on vacation.

“That’s great. You look nervous, is it your first time away from home?”

She did not reply.

I left for home but her face was flashing before my eyes. People feel discomfort in new places but her! She was doomed, as if she wanted to escape something. She actually reminded me of my own childhood, her face resembled my teen age.

I saw Ramesh at the other end. I paid to the auto driver and crossed road. We greeted and without delay, we headed to cafe for exchanging our research.

“I got this final list of girls.” He said.

“Only girls?”

“Yeah just girls, we have a list of twenty one girls; sixteen of them have been trafficked as domestic helps in different cities. They are yet to be located. There are five girls that police claims have been sold as a sex worker”, he explained.

I was stunned. I couldn’t say a word. It wasn’t that we had confronted such issue for the first time. All these years that had passed working for children who accidentally or forcefully fall into trafficking, these stories were so common for us. People called us activist but what if this trafficking had not existed. Then we could live a normal life, and then maybe I too had slept peacefully at night.

Ramesh nudged me away from my thoughts. When I gained my senses again, we were set to apart to different destinations. Just then, I got a call from the police. Next ten minutes I saw Ramesh’s anxiety growing as my reactions worsened. I couldn’t keep it for long, “six of the girls have been recognized, and they have been trafficked to our city Ramesh. Police have successfully traced the dealers and they are on their way to raid.” I continued in single breathe, “They have called us to take the data, and then we can start chasing the places that have been traced.”

“Yeah, yeah! Sure! Let’s go.”

We had taken the same way for according to the latest update. On our way towards the police station we were hoping to find the six girls. We prepared new strategies, talked and talked, and then reached the station.

Everyone in the station was in rush. Few of them were calling other work stations to circulate the details, fax machines were getting used for the same; few teams had already been sent to raid and then there was head inspector who was waiting for us.

We were given the details of the six girls. We were studying the details when the inspector got a call. As soon as he hung we were informed to trace a new target. The information had details of a human trafficker.

“These people have been accused and inquired in past about human trafficking. We did not get enough evidence to file a case then but their actions and work is questionable.” And he started going into the details for each one of them.

He listed one by one and we recorded the key points as we had to visit each of them to search. Every time there was a case of human trafficking in the city, we used to help police by all the ways possible. It was our job and it basically wasn’t a help but we felt it to be our responsibility.

“Abhay Pratap Singh. He is a twenty eight years old businessman who belongs to a nearby village. He owns total of 8 shops in the city including 2 rice go-downs and 6 general stores. He had been accused for supplying girls from her village to the dealers and had also been arrested twice for keeping drugs in his go-downs...” he was yet to complete when I interrupted.

“I know this man” I yelled.

“what?” was the reaction from all the men out there.

“Yes. He runs a supermarket opposite my building, I have met him several times but I never felt anything wrong about his profile.”

“He might be innocent. We have no strong evidence.”

“no! no no no!” I panicked this time.

All were asking me what, why, how and so many other questions as I started checking profiles of the six girls again, and again.

“No it is not her” I relaxed. “Is it possible that we have more of the trafficked girls in the city?” I queried again.

“Yes. We have no clue about nine girls yet.” said the police.

“I think we got one” I announced bluntly.

We reached the store but the girl wasn’t there. I inquired the workers about her to which they replied, “Abhay sir had come, he took her back, she didn’t seem happy here... He said he will be back after few days... He would be off to village by now”

Police searched Abhay for next few days. All his properties were seized. We kept on working and got nine girls instead six. Three were sent as domestic helps to high-society villas. Two of them, we saved from getting married. And the other four were to be sent abroad, were saved and sent to their respective homes.

But I got relief only when Meera was found. I didn’t even know her real name; neither did I get the chance to see her again. Abhay was imprisoned. Meera disclosed more names which helped us reach 8 more girls who were sent to different cities. I would have regretted all my life for not recognizing the culprit and the victim even after confronting them... if we couldn’t have found her.

The thing that pinched me the most was that Meera had been sold by her parents. We were alike. This whole issue pushed me back to the memories of my own childhood. Fifteen years had been passed. But there was no change in the lives. I was once sold by my mother in the exchange of money. I worked as a household servant for years, and then I was pushed to be a sex worker. I thank God who helped me escape all that, and gifted me a new purpose of life. But after all these years, even today, I hear the same stories time and again.

That night I couldn’t sleep as the questions kept tumbling my mind. How many years would it take to end this trafficking? What else should we do to get through it? Who were the origins of this crime? We had done everything to save humans till date, but we could never stop them to be trafficked. I had no answers but every question was generating a new question.

I woke up next morning lazily. I checked my cell phone, had no meeting lined up. I opened my news app. ANOTHER HUMAN TRAFFICKING RACKET HAS BEEN UNVEILED WITH THE HELP OF YOUNG ACTIVISTS, it read. My neighbors would be happy with this generation, I thought... just then I read another headline, THOUSANDS OF GIRLS MOLESTED BY THE MOB DURING A CONCERT IN A METROPOLITAN CITY.