Gender Insensitivity - Part I ...at IIT from an IITian

So, I graduated from IIT Kharagpur. IITs, you would have heard a lot about the skewed sex ratios and how girls can't make it to this elite institute. Well, that is just starters. Gender bias inside the institute is painful and sad at so many levels. I do not speak for all girls but for a good enough bunch who deserve to be heard. I do not speak against any gender but against this society which proves that education has nothing to do with biases. I speak for myself! And it is important to speak today because these conversations need to be heard beyond hostel rooms, beyond coffee shops, beyond our own ears.

This is going to be a series of posts. Of course, there is so much I can tell about that, that this space isn't sufficient but I am going to make myself heard, today! 4 years after I graduated from KGP when I realize how it has brought out the worst of me, a small town conservative Telugu girl.


First Year

Non-Males:                                                 1st Month
She said, "So, they call us non-males here"
Me: "Oh! That's good na, they think we are equals. We are as good as them, just not males." (Because I thought it was good being like a guy - yeah, traditional grooming.)
She said, "No dumbo, it's not because we are equals but because we are not feminine enough to be called females."

I cringed. What? But why would someone say that?, I thought to myself. Then I saw those T-shirts of how non-beautiful all the girls are in our college and those DC chats with how ugly facchis (first years) were. I heard people talking about one girl's facial hair and so on...

Campus isn't safe!                                      2nd Month

This lovely senior of mine who I adore, came one night to the first year's block. She said, "Soon, you'll have auditions and guys will make advances. If things go beyond control, you see people pushing you to something, inform me. We are here to protect you. Every senior is here to take care of you. Things have happened in past which I won't mention now, but be careful!"

But, but why would someone do something wrong here, this is IIT. I..I shouldn't talk to guys, isn't that what Mom said too. I did not venture out, no society, no roaming in campus. May be I did over-react but it always made me wonder why she said so!

You can't win! You are girls. Girls don't win.             4th Month

"Why you are even working on it, you know girls don't win ILLU!! May you can try Rangoli, that's more a girl thing, you know!", my batchmate said.

"But, but I work hard for it, every night. I want to work for winning, why do you think I can't. I'll show you, I can." A silent gender battle I started within myself, to win against them. And then came Dramatics. So many nights of endless rehearsals. They said, "We had to prove ourselves".

"Why do I have to always prove? May be it will end if I prove this one time." On stage, during the most emotionally sad scene, these bunch of guys laughed. Laughed so hard that everyone laughed, even the judges. I cried. I..I worked hard for this, they can't do this. And, yes they did it only for the girls' hostel! "Come on, you can't win. The laugh might make judges sympathetic and give you a consolation. You shall be thankful", he said. May be, may be he was right. May be we weren't good enough. The next four years, I never told my team we should play to win. I said, we won't, let's just have some fun. 

"Not beautiful, not elected"                           9th Month

"She is not beautiful. Let us choose her, she is beautiful and smart. Guys would give her votes", they said in the hostel. They said, "Let's be practical. We value skills but guys would vote for hotness. Didn't they make her lose last year because she wasn't charming enough?"

But, you are my seniors, I thought. How could you say or think like this. May be you are right. Beauty does matter but I am not pretty. May be, I should become more shady. Shady, so that no one notices. Because notice might bring comments I am not ready to hear. It will bring those chats on DC++ about my body, I don't want to hear that.

"Vigil Team"                            10th Month

"Ladki log aaj bahut badmashi karta hai. Hall day hain na. Pee-paake late jaata, phir humko jaake laana padtha." - said the security didi. The day when everyone gets high at someone's else's hostel. Everyone is allowed to enter every other hostel.

I should, I should come back soon. That would be safe. Then, then I saw them running. What happened I asked. "A batchmate got drunk and they are taking pictures, indecent ones. We got to bring her back." I knew what would follow. Endless pursuit of removing those pictures from DC++, which no matter what, would surface again. 

Thank God I stayed back!

The society has affected us in ways we never realize. IIT KGP was one place where gender insensitivity was ingrained in all genders. It damaged me in ways I couldn't come to terms with.

More to follow.

P.S.  DC++ is a local file sharing hub with chat option.

ILLU is a traditional way of celebrating Diwali at KGP, which involves making giant figures on big structures lighting oil diyas.

Love!

Have you ever loved someone?... Truly loved... Its...its beautiful, so damn beautiful.

 To love the way they smile, to love the way they screw up, to love the way they speak to you..to witness your heart skiping a beat the moment you hear that voice....every single time. To love someone so much that it fills you up, completely. To love the way they surrender and speak their mind, to love to see them being themselves. :)

Love is beautiful. It is such an amazing experience yet I seldom see people speaking about it. Beauty to feel lost in time, to sink in eyes, to hold hands, like those nerves at the centre of the palm have a direct connection to heart, you connect and become one. To have that smile of having some you love. 

Love is effortless. You would be in for a surprize, to know you could love someone so much. You just know that its gonna last, you know it from the very first moment but the reasons take time, the mind takes time. Also, I think you never get over it, you cant. I think, you just stay eternally grateful for the that time, your little forever.

 It's...beautiful... and that's the only word I have for it. Go, love someone today. Even if it means a heartbreak, it would be worth the ride!

Friction

I am so glad to about this awakening generation. A generation where people are not scared anymore to talk about Rapes, Abuse, Harassment,  in public or with parents or with friends...We have become an open minded generation. More rapes are being talked about. It is nice. Supposed to be so.

I am an independent strong women. I have participated in the freedom/independence/billion rising marches with full sincerity. I have argued the right way with the wrong thoughts. Though, only last week, in the solace of my own thoughts I realized how much scared I was than brave. When one of my friend confided in me saying the protests have instilled more fear about safety, stopping her from stepping out after 8 PM. Only then I realized how much scared I was too. So scared, but not willing to accept that I named it a fight, used offence as a defense.

Scared that my heart skips a beat when I enter an empty road even during broad daylight. So scared that I put my GPS on even in a private travels bus. So scared that I checked a hotel booked by company ten times in google/just dial/make my trip wherever I could find information to ensure that it was not fake one.Scared enough that I do not have much arguments for my parents against the eternal "don't go alone". With so many writing about it, I can feel all the stares in room, more groping than before. Before, when I would just take it as way of life and ignore.

Yes, I am scared. Because I know those rapists have committed the brutal most crime and escaped. Previously they just escaped but now they escapevand everyone knows about it. Everyone knows that it is easy. Everyone knows that no one can be caught, that the ministers will always think Sita did wrong and that public speech dies. Scared because I know in front of that one thought, I would be helpless.

Also because for this generation, in a subtle way, gender sensitiveness has become funnier issue. Guys would make gender insensitive jokes like before. But now they would quote unquote with all the hand gestures, 'sorry we made a "gender sensitive" joke. Please don't mind'. Yes, that makes it so much better, thanks for the alms. It looks so much cool to talk about the issue without actually thinking about it or acting on it.  Now, I am tired. No, I did not fight any battle at Jantar Mantar, but I am tired of this mental circus. Tired of the men around, tired of wanting to escape but only falling back in depressing web of justifying men and their actions and women and their importance, tired of being tagged feminist, tired of fighting the useless battle. Dear Men, grow up.  We are not another specie but pretty much like you, only more human!

Any change has always created friction. If the cost of this change which promises to bring a better society is this friction then I am ready to face more. With a mere hope that in generations to come, humans would be treated as human and not categories. I gear myself for more challenges ahead.

Saraswati

Conversations

When the eyes answers and questions

more than words do

When that curve on lips tell

a bigger story

When your fingers within mine

are the best reassurance

And the mere touch of toes

is enough to cause the tingle

A gentle caress on the head

shows all the care

And that hug, that hug 

seems the safest place

When silence is a thousand conversations

And a naughty nudge marks the end of all the fights

Love,as you taught

Love, as we lived!

Saraswati 

And Still we hear it...

As promised, I have the saaga of the Caste System, for us.

Its been two days here and it has left me high and dry. I am not drawing any conclusions here about our country but merely sharing an experience, just an exxperience..

                                                 

Not that we were never aware of this problem before but seeing it being practiced hard to the core is wonder and amazement in itself. Our first encounter. A degree college Brahmin "professor". His analogy"Just like each there are good and bad varieties of seeds of rice , so are humans". Wonder what is he teaching at his college.

The small village of Barpar is divided into four sects separated by wide roads,crossroads, the muslim area, the harijans, the SC/STs and the Brahmins. While Gorakhpur as a city sees so much of development, women wearing jeans and shorts, Barpar have Muslim women who havent crossed there area of their tribe ,forget going beyond barpar. If brahmins, they havent crossed the boundaries of their homes, thanks to our very old Pardas System.THEY ARE LIVING IN A RADIUS OF 200 M. 

Hell yeah! the good part is the Sarpanch tenure is rotated among these SC/ST/RELIGIONS/TRIBES. It has it's own pros and cons. Too late to get in that debate for the it keeps the people in harmony and secularism. That's what we are, aren't we, a secular state.

Saraswati

Not 60 Years Back!

A series of posts, for you and for me. My experiences at one of the smallest and oldest villages of India, Barpar, an India away from India, in the corner of Uttar Pradesh, tells it's own story. A living history of the country. Something I thought ceased to exist is in life and form, Barpar.

  In parts. here is the first one-

Ah! the Saaga of Caste System. Yes, there is a lot to write on this but a small part of this brutal system, which deserves a special mention. A story that shook away the pride of everything.

Moosahar -heard the name before?!. It is a tribe of people who kill the rats -which gather in the rice field after harvesting- to eat them. Yes it is true! And there are 10 lakh of such people in India. One such village was were we had been to today. Till an year back they hadnt heard of electricity ..Not that they had very frequent power cuts.. no no..THEY HADNT HEARD OF POWER AT HOMES..Reason-they are the untouchables of the village, not to be talked to.

Thanks to an OLD couple who adopted that part of the country, opened a school there. The couple say "till last year students from higher caste wont sit with them, share lunch box/eat beside them nor play with them. But now with education, the divide is decreasing. They go to each other's place and play. This recieved a wide criticism from the higher communities around. They said if you educate them who will do the labour job, but we were persitent and we see the change.  It is little but it is there." 

This community is known for making beautiful woven baskets, which are sold in cities at prices much higher than they are bought at. Poverty struck them so hard that a father charged money from her daughter to drop to her hospital for tuberclosis treatment.

She died! Because she couldnt visit the doctor the next time! Because

she didnt pay him the last time and he didnt take her the next time! They exist! They all do. Very much in our own world having a world of their own!

Saraswati

Disappear!

I want to be a magician. Be a magician and bring a smile, create a thunder and disappear.  Disappear in to thin air and no one knows what I do, ever. What they know is only that smile. I want to be a part of that exclamation, of that one moment and disappear. Disappear in such thin air that even I don't feel myself. Become a part of that illusion that eludes people forever. Illusion that tricks, brings a smile but doesn't stay along. I want to be a magician where only I know my tricks. Tricks discovered in deep solace and isolation.

And when God shall come, I ll trick him too. Trick him so that he never tricks me, to heaven or to another life. I ll leave him puzzled but with a smile, shall tell him how magic rules life, no age, no class, all genders aside.. Shall ask him to make me a magician forever. Dissolve me as person, let magic reside. 

Saraswati