Darshatha- the visible voice : woman

Showing posts with label woman. 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

Sunday, 5 July 2020

wrong

The ‘t-most’ population by Tabassum Nusrat

wearedarshatha 16:00

Let us consider 't-most' as a variable, where 't' is the population of men and ‘most’ are the men who dominates the other gender, abuses them, harasses them, treats them ill and acts superior over them. So t-most represents the men population who do not belong to most. The population which we often forget about when we are aggressively expressing bigotry against men. The population who we overlook, the population that comprises of the men who have stood by the rest of the genders, who has shown love and compassion, who has spoken up against any discrimination. This population comprises of the fathers who have sacrificed their lives over their daughters, the husbands who have worked hard to give the life the wives wished for, the brothers who ignored the pain on their legs so that their sisters could have a comfortable and fun ride, the friends who picked up their phone and listened to the rants of heartbreak and never complained, who took our sides even when we were wrong. We were so blinded by rage that we forgot to be grateful.

We were so busy looking at their flaws that we missed out on the sweet little things done by them. The cheesy romantic gestures, the big gestures, the bringing us food when cranky, to getting us comfortable when on PMS, buying our tampons to rushing us to the doctor, warming us up in the winter. Not that we cannot do all that by ourselves, but they hopped in and did it anyway, and showed their affection in every way they knew how. Oh yes, they get it wrong, so wrong most of the time, in fact some get it wrong every single time, but they try. They put their best foot forward in ways they knew how, from the hints they picked from peers, movies, and our words. There was so much of hatred and blame that we didn't notice their efforts they made on our account. We don't like being generalised, telling us women are "like this", or any such sexist comments. We take no time in standing up against it and with all our might and strength, gang up against those. Then how could we be such hypocrites and just shove blame on all men. Most of them grew up in a Patriarchal society, yet they are willing to be in our shoes and understand the daily frustration and discrimination or sexism we face. We could do the least and be grateful to them and their will to learn, understand and change.

This population of men is so close to us that they usually go out of focus. We can’t completely blame ourselves now, of course. It’s all science, the minimum distance from our eyes to be able to see and all that. But let’s not make out of sight out of mind the reason. Let’s do our bit. Let's not be the female version of chauvinism, instead, let's bring out some real feminism.

Note: This was written keeping in mind the daily experiences. It was keeping in mind my father’s arm around my shoulder, a brother in the public transport who made his sister comfortable on his lap. It was keeping in mind the friends who were there to listen to me ranting all day long. This is for the men who were willing to put their feet in the shoes of a woman, and came a long way in doing so. I understand and respect their emotions and encourage them to not be ashamed of showing them.

Written by: Tabassum Nusrat

Picture by: Clise Etiquette

Published by: Darshatha

Saturday, 30 November 2019

woman

Raw Rage by Tabassum Nasrat

wearedarshatha 20:08

Yet another day, another girl, another victim, another rape. It is a pity, and it is outrageous. When someone says why did the girl not call the police instead. Were you there? Were you in her place? Let me throw a bear at you and let me see you do the right thing instantly. So, because I am a girl I am supposed to behave as per the society asks me to, murder my own choices, be alert every second, watch over my shoulder, not live a life and yet get abused in one way or another?? So a girl is supposed to behave a certain way? Okay. Fair enough!! Which book says that a boy (because they are unworthy of being called a man) can behave however they want? Ruin anyone's life they want? And for what? For some fun. So their fun is more priced than our security and lives? In which world does this make sense at all? You overturn a nation in a day's time. From a state it becomes a union territory, from old notes it become the new ones, over a night!!! And till date no one could educate the male homo sapiens on how to behave. That they have no right over someone's life. No matter what! Candle marches, dead bodies, day to day abuses, filthy eyeing, the songs that objectifies a girl and everyone, I mean everyone, dances to them, weren't those enough to open the eyes? How many more girls have to be raped and killed? How many more lives have to be put in the line? How much more will the girl have to bend to satiate the needs of this patriarchal society? How much more will she have to become invisible so that she is safe? If you say hi to some guy because he said hi to you first, and you are polite human, you don't even realize but you have already become naked for him and characterless to others.

I am a girl, a woman. Every rape, every abuse, every day to day questioning and justifying my personality, and changing it, shaping it just so that the society doesn't point a finger, and even then it never being enough, is bone breaking. I want to live. I want to breathe. I want to be frustrated that my food hasn't come on time or that my nails came undone or my hair is not right today. I don't want to be stressing over what my one word, one move of the finger or me just breathing could lead to. I want to equally enjoy late night walks and take a cab back to home late at night when I have gone out alone to have some me time. I want to be able to work out without worrying about people looking at my ass or my cleavage or the transparency of my cloths. I see theirs too. I never make a big deal out of it. Never! I want to be able to go over to male friend's place or have them over at mine just to hang out without being questioned. I want all of that. And yes I am a woman. And I want to be a woman for all the lives to come if there is any. Because being a woman is beautiful. It is courageous. It is bold and it is sexy. No one can ever be what a woman can. She is a rock and she is emotions. She can be soft to you while picking the world's burden on her shoulder. Your food, your health, your needs, your support, she will be all of it. She will bleed and she will not. She will bring life to this world and she will lose life for this world. She will bear the pain and she will still make sure you are okay. That's a woman. It's a shame that we have to advertise slogans like "beti bachao beti padhao". This by now in this world of modern technology should have become a very ordinary, common norm, like drinking water. She is a flower, but she comes with thorns too.

No matter what we do, no matter how many times we scream and yell and write and voice ourselves, we will always be silenced. Nothing will change. We will always be the one who did not do the right thing or missed out on the instructions as per the manual. When a guy says hi I should have not responded and asked him to buzz off. If he gets back at me I should have been polite with him in the first place. When a gang of guys tease me I should have reacted. And when they followed to attack me I should have kept quiet in the first place. When I am attacked by a gang of men I should have taken the manual out and read while they hit me and tore off my clothes. I should have been the one who said something or did something. Maybe called them my brother and they would have stopped. But I didn't. My brother will never abuse a girl.

Just because you can dig it in me doesn't mean I was into it. It simply means I had a hole that you forced yourself into. If I was into it I would have moaned in pleasure not screamed in terror.

Whatever happens we will speak and we will voice the ones who cannot. We will show the world that a woman deserves much more. I have a voice, I am privileged and I will speak till the end.

Story by: Tabassum Nasrat

Art by: David L. Scholes

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Sunday, 2 April 2017

woman

The Superficial Deity by Shristi Nangalia

wearedarshatha 17:00

She woke up two hours early that day

to take a bath even before it was dawn,

The poor woman was worried for her daughter

but leaving her at home, crying, she was gone.

To mend the grief, she was all set

but, ‘that time of the month’ delayed her ploy.

Since, she was to tour the holy house,

had to returned ablaze, wishing she was boy.

The holy house was far away from her place.

Yet, she had an unwavering trust,

on the spirit who had the power that week

to fulfill all her wishes, to kill all her disgust.

Three days later, she was then eligible,

to visit the deity, and take her favours.

For which she took with her- rupee notes,

all that she collected over the years.

She waited in line for her turn,

Got kicked, and touched, and cursed on the way.

But, it was heavenly when she finally got a glimpse

of the divinity which sat there in brown clay.

She was not even finished reciting the hymn

when the rupee notes were snatched from her

she was then quickly pushed aside, and outside

and joining hands, she came back home in ardour.

Her daughter’s condition was worsening with time,

but she choose to wait like any other true follower.

By the time she almost lost her hope,

Her rupee notes had made its way into the minister’s quarter.

With no option left, she took the little one

to the family that she had, long before, made her foe.

The aunt who was a local nurse took charge

And fixed her daughter, not saying a ‘no’.

That day, the poor woman learnt a few lessons

of whom to trust and whom to ask,

of who is the giver and who is the taker

and of who to believe and who to unmask.

Wednesday, 15 February 2017

woman

The Emergency Exit by Shristi Nangalia

wearedarshatha 17:00

I am an 'Interior Design' student. This course in particular, has made me observant. Observant of little details related to buildings, interior decor products, new materials etc. From the skirting on the walls to the false ceiling designs, I keep noticing everything, unintentionally.

The phase of internship exposed me to various sides of Indian society, the prevailing culture and ethical bonds. Some sides which are creative and extravagant but some critical and sensitive to the bone.

I joined an ID firm in Howrah. It is located in the Central Avenue on M.G. Road. The firm is part of an office building, three stories high. The building was previously a residential type, I guessed from the exterior. But now, it is transformed, old, and very old. The huge rusted metal entrance door stands on the footpath. It leads us to a big atrium, covered by a green translucent corrugated sheet, making everything green, dark and dull. Various rooms surround the atrium, some rooms used as a store, some occupied by people but still very under-nourished. The staircase is on the right of the entrance. It runs throughout the height of the building. The lift well is beside the staircase, hollow.

The firm I joined is on the second floor. A long curved corridor surrounds the atrium on all floors. The railings are not at all reliable. They squeak and sway even when the wind blows. All the rooms on the second floor are occupied by other firms- an insurance company, an offset printers and a doctor's clinic. It was when I looked around from the staircase to find my firm, when I noticed the emergency exit, right on the opposite corner. It was locked. Who locks an emergency exit?

As I walked towards my firm, I stumbled on a big piece of wood which extruded from the railing of the corridor, making me loose balance. What a start to the new day! I was placed on a table beside the window, which opened into the corridor. I was disappointed about the infrastructure of the firm but my boss was a really humble and fatherly person. From my seat, I could see the doors to other offices, the emergency exit and the extruded piece of wood from my seat.

Not many people visited the insurance company and the printers, but there was a constant flow of patients to the doctor's clinic. Dr. Ray is a very renowned physician of the area, my boss says. He even owns this building. I saw local Bengali families with their children, women from north-eastern India and old people with sticks come on a regular basis.

After about 2 weeks of my internship, I got a welcome party from my boss at office, chai and club kachori. I was enjoying the feast on my seat when I saw something familiar. There was a woman cleaning the corridor. She was Tibetan, I guessed from her face. She was not dressed like a maid. She wore a skirt and a top, clean and tidy. That was not a usual thing to see. Boss declared a holiday that day, after lunch.

The next day, I was working on my desktop when I heard a loud thud outside the window. A cute guy, about my age, stumbled and fell on the floor due to the extruding piece of wood. That is when I noticed, the emergency door was lighted from inside, and it was not locked. It bought a sense of satisfaction because it should not have been locked earlier. An emergency exit is very useful at the time of... emergencies obviously. And about the cute guy, I wished he was working on the same floor as mine!

A few days later, my boss was out to Sealdah to a site. I was roaming about in the building during lunch time. There are offices in the first floor too. I saw the Tibetan woman climbing down the staircase from the first to the ground floor. I was climbing down too, just behind her. She wore the same skirt and top, but they were untidy and loose now. I thought of talking to her but I am the shy type. I saw her unlocking one of the rooms on the ground floor and closing the door being her.

I went out of the building to a nearby book stall that I always wanted to visit since I was in Howrah. There were not many books of my type. I bought a newspaper instead and returned back. I spent the rest of my day making an estimate for a client. I hated those calculations!

The next day I was late to office. I accidentally hit a big guy while climbing the staircase in a hurry. He was a fat guy with a big face. He had a briefcase in his hand and a stethoscope round his neck. He must be Dr. Ray. I felt as if he was staring at me as I ran past him. I carefully dodged the extruded wood piece, without stumbling. My boss never complained when I was late.

That day, I noticed something weird. I saw around lunch time, Dr. Ray came out of his clinic, opened the locks of the emergency exit door, went inside and switched the lights on. After 5 minutes or so, the lights went off but Dr. Ray did not come out. I was shocked to see the sweeper, the Tibetan woman, walking slowly towards the emergency exit. She went in and my knees started trembling. I watched, waited. After about an hour, Dr. Ray came out. The lights were still off. While pulling out the handkerchief from his pocket, he went into his clinic.

I did not see the woman again that day. I kept wondering about her. About THEM.

I was back onto my seat in office the next day. I had nothing to do. Boss was out of station again. I opened my cabinet to find my internship diary but I found the newspaper that I bought the other day. I carelessly started reading the headlines. But one did catch my attention-

Nepal Earthquake: More than 160 trafficked Nepalese rescued by India in aftermath of quake

Activists said risks were much higher after the quakes when traffickers or 'brokers' duped devastated families who had lost their homes and breadwinners to hand over themselves and their children with the promise of a monthly salary and a good job in India.

Yet the reality is very different: girls and women not recruited into prostitution are sold as domestic slaves in India and other countries, while boys are taken into forced bonded labor.

My heart sank after reading the news article. I was shivering. Something hit my head. I ran to the ground floor to talk to the Tibetan woman. She was not there in her room. I started searching, her cupboard, the table drawers, and her bag. Her bag! I found what I needed. It was a voter ID card. It read-

Name- Saili Gurung

Federal Republic of Nepal

After a few days, I bought the newspaper again, from the same stall. This time I was reading the headlines with a smile.

Two persons held for human trafficking; two girls and a woman rescued

A doctor and his wife were arrested for alleged human trafficking for bonded prostitution and labour. The two girls were found at their residence and the woman was found at their office building. The three are rescued and sent to protection home, police said.

A few days later, I was back on my table beside the window. I glanced out. The doctor’s clinic was closed in locks and the emergency exit wasn’t. Perfect!