EVERY GIRL IS MY GIRL! #CauseAChatter

Every girl that is born here, in spite being unwelcome mostly

Every girl that fights for equal nutrition, equal education

Every girl who doesn't bow down to bullying or harassment

Every girl who claims her body as it is and doesn't take labels

Every girl who says clearly "menstruation" and owes it

Every girl who decides what her life would be

professionally and personally

Every girl who knows her reproductive choices and exercises them without guilt

Every girl who becomes an every woman with agency

Every girl who shuns glorification of motherhood

Every girl who speaks her mind whatever the price be

and with blood and sweat pays the way for girls to be

Every other person who identifies herself as SHE

is

THE BRAVEST GIRL I KNOW!

Image via: Blogchatter

Written for #CauseAChatter' 

Period Pride with Papa

I grew up in small town India in the 80s, and in the 90s during my teenage years PERIODS was considered one of the dirtiest words ever. There were horrendous incidents of my friends spotting their school skirts and then walking (yes walking, we lived in a hill station) with great difficulty to home covering the spot with a sweater or a blazer, the school’s small infirmary didn’t have any ready to use sanitary pads back then and most mothers and older sisters still living in their time wrap to even talk about it. At homes those four-five days meant isolation and untouchability (girls were considered impure during periods.)

I was almost 13 plus and awaiting my periods to begin still when my father (yes you read it right) my father- papa sat me down to talk to me about periods. He first asked me what I knew about my body and anatomy and the changes happening to me as a young girl. I told him my sketchy know-how garnered from biology chapters and library books and even a sanitary pad company sponsored workshop in school about periods but I also told him about my fears about periods and how most of my friends use what they called “rough cloth” and how it kept them discomforted those 4-5 days.






He talked to me in a very technical and non- evasive way about periods, asked me what I would prefer using the new belted sanitary napkins that were the norm then or we can make our own disposable ones using cotton gauze and cotton, because he didn’t want me to use “rough cloth” like the other girls.






I loved making things with my engineer dad so I said okay let’s make our own, and that’s how I was taught to made my first disposable cotton gauze sanitary napkins by my father. A few months later I also got used to sometimes using the commercial ones and then came another major hurdle- I had a major leg surgery for which one of my full legs was in plaster. Two days later I got my periods. Lying straight in a bed with a wet pad wasn’t a good feeling at all, that’s when my father in the pre-internet days did some research and found about tampons. He bought me some and not only advised me to use those but helped me change them too, I was 15.







That one parent-child moment changed my perception of body image, sexuality, menstruation and gender forever. I passed on my new-found knowledge, confidence and ease about periods to many friends though both me and my father got labelled as "strange" as a result most of the time.



Ever since I was always eloquent about menstruation awareness and related issues and now that my father is no more and I am myself a parent to a pre-teen girl I realize in that one moment my father gave me that voice and that confidence.






He never allowed anyone in the family including my religious mother to put any menstruation related restrictions on me regarding going to the temple/kitchen in the house or touching the pickle. I could tell him I am having menstrual cramps and he would make the best hot chocolate ever and give me a hot water bag to place on my tummy.








Yes I was so blessed to have such an evolved parent who moved beyond the pre-defined boundaries of "masculinity", fatherhood and motherhood and dis all he could to raise a strong, confident, feminist-humanist who is committed for life to keep using her voice and agency to pass on the favor to as many young girls as I can.

My late father with my daughter

Kadam Chhota, Change Bada!


Every change begins with a small step, whether it’s a change within your family, or the whole country!

On 11th May, is the digital premiere of India’s Hero, Padman, on ZEE5. Don’t miss this inspiring true-life story, only on ZEE5. Download the app and subscribe now. For every subscription, ZEE5 will donate Rs. 5 towards the personal hygiene needs of underprivileged women.

The Body of a Woman

I tell my toes to let go

of the circles they drew in sand

across several beaches

and the soles to remember

the sinking as the waves

withdrew their love

I tell my legs to let go

all memories of the difficult walks

the calves to remember 

the fatigues of love

and the thighs the longing 

to relax and spread

without fear or shame

I tell the vagina

to let go of the cliches

and know its name

to remember the pleasures

and the pain

and own the mystery

of the feminine mytsique

I tell the belly

to let go of the hungers

of the body and soul

and remember the stretch marks

are medals of honour

from time and sometimes motherhood

very few in the world have the privilge

of being home to another

I tell the breasts

to let go of fears, of stares

and remember only the caresses

of a lover's gaze

or that fuzzy feeling

of being a woman, whenever

someone seeks your warmth and comfort

I tell the heart

to let go the beating

when life gets too much

and remember those that fight all life

also have a right to fall

to go quiet in their invisibility

and not complain at all

I tell the lips

to let go of words, mere words

and instead remember to have a voice

that will say each word

as the heart prompts 

and whenever say LOVE mean it

I tell the eyes to let go

dust and roughness of time

and wash yourself regularly

with your secret saline waterfalls

to see the smiles in other eyes

and to close the lids

self-hypnotize

I tell the mind

(if its still there)

to let go of control

and listen to these individuals 

that give it the throne

and remember that the soul must go

onward to never return.

Namelessness of the one with a thousand names

“Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day.”

― Simone de Beauvoir

I wash everything

I scrub it clean

along with the vessels

the vegetables

my consciousness

of any sense of me

I peel the skin

delicately

potatoes can also

look like hearts

to mad women

like me

Time looks like

a fine stainless steel grater

I grate my ego

fine, finer

so that all

my questions die

your love sharp

like a shining knife

I chop, chop,chop

my self in to

smaller pieces

so that of my "I"

remains no sign

Now I knead

mix it, dissolve it

add more water

that will bind it fast

to make a stiff dough

of tradition

against which I punch

my knuckles

till they hurt,never bleed

the oil heats like

my simmering soul

In the wok of your

grand celebration

I deep fry

the remains of 

my hard work, pride

self-worth and name

The festive feast 

for your Devi

Venerate, celebrate her

who isn't nameless like me but  

who has a thousand names* !

* Durga- the Hindu deity is believed to have a thousand names

Why Complain?

There is an iron mold

hard, stiff and cold

they all have to fit in

goddess, bitch, 

wife or whore

each in their own frame

and why complain?

they have the pedestals

the whore-houses

homes and tombs

what good is empowerment

 without a man

work for him ,birth progeny

provide pleasure

take his name

why complain?

Feminism is only

for the mad single women

who waste their lives

asking questions

in vain

you the good women

must be seen not heard

you the "devi"

the maa and the behan**

why complain?

*mother, ** sister but here used together to indicate sexist abuses in Hindi

Yes I have a Vagina ! #KanganaRanaut #AIB

Recently AIB launched a parody video featuring Kangana Ranaut is not only probably her personal stance about sexism and nepotism in Bollywood but to extend the metaphor is also a reflection of the conventional cliches that dictate most of Indian men-women relationships at large as well.

She outdoes her Aap ki Adalat interview here taking a satirical and musical dig at what is wrong with the Indian ideal male hood.
At the onset the heroine is asked- Who are you? , a question that haunts most women in a traditional setup where largely still even their last names are not a choice but denote them “belonging” to father/husband’s family. At best they only get recognized as “love interest” of the hero in films and as wife/girlfriend/spouse of a certain so and so.

The lady being a physicist/scientist or any other professional is of little interest and while her opinion is dismissed as just a “cute” whim the same opinion from a male is THE WORD, and widely accepted as intelligent speak.

Women must be seen not heard is still like the default brief in Indian patriarchal psyche whether it’s the hero, director( symbolically other men/women in authority) , just titillate and look good, no need to use your mind or voice. As one of her female co-star says in the video, “….don't say anything just smile and dance.”


The woman asserts- I have self-respect, yes like most “modern” women would and not just remained confined to “smoke a cigarette and abuse brand of modern womanhood”, and that becomes the point of conflict in most relationships.

In a satirical vein the lady touches lots of raw veins that still hurt a lot of women in real life too – social approval for older man/younger woman relationship (even if it’s almost pedophilia kind of an age difference) but older woman/younger man and she becomes the cradle snatcher. Older heroines pushed to the margin selling detergents/soaps just like women are after marriage/motherhood while men can still be Casanovas and male leads.

The lady also talks about cleavage being used to sell products, no carbs to have perfect bodies to be objectified because we have a vagina.

The glass ceiling in getting better opportunities, in getting better pay for same work, in men having entitlement to call the shots is not just a Bollywood thing but an everyday reality for most women. 

Their work pre-defined to reduce themselves to being showpieces and remaining lesser than and/or dependent on men , though symbolically putting the name first in the casting or “giving” them progressive roles in homes and outside seems to be the favor men are doing.

The mansplaining throughout is so real in everyday situations and relationships and the last nail is how when a woman speaks she is not even “allowed” to own her bad-ass card but labelled as playing the victim card.

More voice to every girl who doesn't mince her words !! 
Yes We have a Vagina !!