Tuesday, March 10, 2009

What it takes to be oneself?



Being Me

A slowly filling
Silence;
Muted by the
Melody;
Of heartbeats
Soft;

Cosseted by wafting
Unspoken words;
Life moves within.

Surging, rushing
Feelings
From within to without...
I give expression to
The Unique Me.

I am a woman
Warm, Worthy
I know!
Holding that key

To Shakthi, and Shanti
I am Janani Jeeva...
I am life...

Procreator,
Not just of life,

But of love

Of just Being.


By Usha Pisharody, 8 March, 2009
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I believe

''Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got.''

Sadly a woman who is the creator of life still finds herself second to her progeny because of gender.

As a woman I only ask for two things: equality and justice. So that in future we don't need a special day to commemorate women.

By Solilo ,8th March 2009

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As long as a woman is made to feel weak BECAUSE she is a woman,as long as she faces hurdles both visible and invisible BECAUSE she is a woman, the scenario in India is unlikely to change.

The day when a woman in India can live on her own without fear ,without the terror that she might be targetted because she is a woman.The day a woman is not to made feel less because she is a woman.

The day a woman in India is treated as an equal not just in word but in spirit. That will be the day a woman will find what it means to simply be a human being.

Nothing more,nothing less.

Our bodies.
Our life.
Our right to decide.

''The thing women have yet to learn is nobody gives you power. You just take it.'' ~Roseanne Barr

By Indyeah, 8th March 2009

***************************

Being me?
A lot of things!

but for now...

Just some random thoughts ….

Being free of conditioning…

Not having to watch women believe they are weaker...

Being able to see that it's not about religion, culture, class …


Of refusing to buy such divides.


Of being able to show no matter what name we call her by,


God does not condone injustice in her name.


Whether it is a Jesme Raphael who risks being declared mad for speaking out,


Or another helpless sister being paraded in the streets of Orrisa,


An Imrana being told to marry her father in law because he raped her,


Or a Bilkis who became statistics...


Girls in Mangalore being taught a lesson just for being girls,


Or women in slums battered every evening because their husbands need no Pubs or Indian culture...


Or some other mothers whose children cannot pray to her god,


Because they married a man who worships another god.


It is never about religion or culture.


Just like rape is not about sex.

And molestation has nothing to do with how provocatively a girl was dressed.



Being me


Would also be a refusal to fall into any divisive traps,


Of how my subjugation is better (or worse) than yours.


Of if I have not worked as a field hand,


Does not mean I can’t see how wrong it is to pay her less because she belongs to another gender.


Being me would also mean I will not put down another woman
no matter how many times I am warned


How unfairly prettier or obscenely successful she is.


Being me would mean being too self assured to allow this devious divisiveness


To make me forget that a trap is just a trap


And every trap is an obstacle in the race against prejudice,


Being me would be going overboard sometimes.


But never forgetting any of this....

By Indian Homemaker, 9th March 2009
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Monday, March 9, 2009

True story of a brave Indian woman - Celebrating Women's Day

You can do almost anything you put your mind to…

You can swim the deepest ocean and climb the highest peak…

Be a Doctor or fly a plane…

You can face adversity and still walk tall.

You are strong, beautiful, and compassionate and much more than words could ever say!

Today is yours, and so is every other day…

Happy Women’s Day!

We are celebrating Women’s Day with this real story of a brave Indian mother shared by a blogger who wants to remain anonymous. The story is posted as is with minor editing.

It is appreciation like this which helps us to go forward with this little initiation we refer to as ‘NO gender inequality’.

Thank you friend for sharing this with us.

Our mother raised us with little support from a dad who was suffering mental depression. In a way it proved to be a blessing in disguise, I guess. We realized that mom was by no means a lady inferior to men; she earned all her life and raised three unbelievably mischievous kids alone almost.

Sold a house in a big city to settle for a smaller and a less expensive town where she was born. She wanted to live in a town where no relatives lived, all had shifted to bigger cities. Far and alone, independent and smart enough to build a bungalow, a property that would give her shelter and shield her and her kids and her husband from the world which even wanted to separate them.

She was the 4th child in her family born at 11 months, born in August a year after the independence, a child not planned, her eldest sister was married by the time she arrived, two brothers, the youngest being 11 years older to her. Due to late birth she was born with a deformity, one hand short that got entangled in the intestines in her mothers womb.

Her sister committed suicide after giving birth to 3 kids who later became friends of their Maasi... almost the same age all of them.

It was in 1948, her birth year her dad started a business which went on to become so successful that in those days they became the richest.

Her mother didn’t want her to continue college after school but the eldest brother, a bit of a rebel fought the family and got her into college in nearby city and even an admission in hostel.

In her days in college is when she realized her true self... that she existed.... that she had a life....

When she graduated, this girl, daughter of a multi millionaire family had to be married off... she didn’t want to marry but when the eldest brother talked her into it she agreed.

She knew since she didn’t have a hand, an alliance wasn’t going to come so soon and if it would come it would be coz of her family not her. Still it was this brother who fought for her, she felt she had to listen to him. The younger brother wanted her to not marry but the elder brother too strong, too dominant and too much respected wanted her to.

She did have a few emotions for a couple of guys in college but her handicap would ensure she would never feel comfortable or at ease with them.

Alliance and alliance would go by nothing would work because of her deformity. She was sure she wouldn’t marry someone who was marrying her for her money or family status. Eventually my dad a poor man lived in a hut literally agreed. He was impressed by her snooty attitude that mom used to put on to put off guys. Eventually Mom realized he was too poor to take care of her.

When she questioned it was told that her parents would buy her a flat, everything she needed and dad would be helped. He was a young commercial designer from a big city college, qualified but poor.

Eventually the marriage took place; the flat was bought for them in a suburb near to the eldest brother's house far from where dad lived. Despite dad not wanting it they wanted to protect the sister from dad's 2 younger brothers who were also in the same poor boat, qualified but poor they would use the house if they stayed in the same vicinity.

Soon they had a son, although the mother and the father both had longed for a girl even thought of a name. A boy was born and their aspirations of a daughter led to two more boys.

For a while things were ok. Her mother in law was a very good lady however she didn’t like the idea of staying with the son in his wife's house so often would go back to the hut of the two younger brothers. Dad was mighty attached with his mom and he didn’t like this. This all was affecting him slowly. Dad separated from his friends, who would also taunt him about marrying a very rich girl, about toeing her.

All this humiliation was tough on him. He couldn’t work, couldn’t identify, would fight with mom, got violent a couple of times, left the eldest kid at a bus-stop in a bit city, miraculously he was found. He was even sent to a mental asylum...electric Shocks.... and what not....

It was at this stage a relative, an uncle of mum, told her to get out of the big city, away from the relatives, the eldest brother agreed. She with three kids in a week’s time when she was not sure what to do and what not she left for a small town for a job in a hostel run by that uncle for the communities girls... Mom was BA. Bed.

She went away, her husband not knowing where the kids and his wife were. For four years she lived in tatters although the girls in the hostel were to become her best friends. She always was not sure what was happening. Finally one day, Dad found her out and came to meet us. This was when the youngest of us three brothers just once spelt out, Mom can't we all stay together. I cursed my brother for that because I hated Dad and felt sorry for Mom. Eventually Dad would again lose it.

But Mom somehow gathered the courage and put her foot down for the first time over her elder brother and told him that Dad was staying with us. She decided to go back to her home town where no one knew of our past, about dad's past most importantly. She thought she could revive everything.

Once in the small town she sold her big city flat and built a bungalow. Probably living 4 years away from the influence of relatives had made her think, independently at that. This time she was clear in her mind. She started tuitions as she didn’t want to leave the house to dad. She stayed home, did tuitions from 7 in the morning at our house to 11, cooked and would again get back to tuitions from 2 to 7 in the evening again cook. The three kids would keep eating piles of rotis and this lady with one hand would cook and make rotis for everyone including her husband.

Dad mellowed down but was never able to work. He would assist in the kitchen and in the tuitions but he would have a spell or too when he would lose once in a while in a year or so. Eventually the three sons graduated, Mom exhausted all her savings of the flat of big city in raising these kids. In the nick of time I started contributing and so followed the two little ones a few years later.

In my life there is no great hero. I have the greatest heroine.... It is my Mother. For us three kids it was always Mom... and nobody else....

If this wouldn’t teach me that a woman is equal or even stronger then I don’t know what would.

I don’t know why I am writing this to you guys. I actually am a little weepy at the moment but anyways, just wanted to tell you girls that what you have started is a wonderful thing. Strangely this just kept getting longer and longer...

I just hope people will understand, realize that women and men are two different sexes and nothing more. There is nothing better or superior or inferior involved in this. Most still don't understand but unless efforts like yours are made, they never will.