Of women, men and relationships

Hey.

Unashamedly, this lockdown, for the literate employed, white-collared people has provided the much required time for oneself. There was time enough to pick up long-forgotten hobbies, games, reading and of course, the most favourite pastime of the urbanites –watching cinema. For those netizens connected to Amazon Prime, Netflix and Hotstar the home turned into ‘home theatre’. It allowed us to watch cinema—guzzle cinema, actually. One cinema that drew immense attention is Thappad. Given the fact that it is ‘feminist’, I was wondering about the euphoria that surrounds it.

                     Feminist films have brought out interesting skeletons from the cupboard of stereotypes, questioning them and breaking them all the way.  Piku-the struggles of a daughter in managing the ever-constipated, cantankerous father; English Vinglish the struggles of a home-maker whose contributions to the family are recognised only when she learns to speak in English; Kahaani, the  wife who claims justice on her own when the system fails her; Chalk and Duster -with an unconventional female lead- the ageing teacher’s fight against a commercialising endeavour of the management that is keen on removing her from the teaching job; Lipstick under my Burkha that explored the sexuality of women-especially an unmarried older woman ‘aunt’ in the family; all this apart from the many interesting biopics-of actresses (Dirty Picture, Mahanati), of professionals (Mary Kom, Neeraja, aami) to name some very popular ones. The fact that many of these cinemas have not been great box-office hits says a lot about the hesitation of people, in general, to look at the mirror, to look at the redundant patterns of attitude and a willingness to discard it. (Understood is the fact the replacement can't be new redundant patriarchal attitudes.) The concern of these and many feminist cinemas is the attempt to show women as people with needs, and requirements of their own and so, disrupt the stereotyped roles they are trapped in. In most of the cinemas, women are aspiring professionals or young women who are more comfortable exploring themselves and do not hesitate to own their failures; their struggles with patriarchal power structures and attitudes at the workplace and their gumption in overcoming these at home and at the workplace are welcoming changes in the representation of women in popular cinema. So, the cinemas depict the public sphere as a challenging habitat for those women who want to be achievers. Some of the cinemas are inspirational; admirable as people achieve their goals despite hurdles. At the same time, there are cinemas where men struggle to negotiate an individualised vision in their workplace or in their personal lives --   remember Ayushman Khurana in Bala or Rajkumar Rao in Stree. The fact is, to be what one wants, is never an easy forte—even for men. Say, a sportsman in Bhag, Milka Bhag, a teacher supporting challenged students in Taare Zameen Par, four adult men trying to live their lives on their terms in Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara etc. But the fact is, what is difficult for men to achieve is doubly difficult for women.

                         Given this lineage of struggling protagonists in popular cinemas, one recognises that Amrita in Thappad is different from her predecessors. For one thing, she does not talk feminism to practice it. She is a woman who believes that dignity is entitled to everyone. This attitude is the ace in the film. Her parents, her mother-in-law, her husband, his colleagues, and even her lawyer, are not very different from people from other feminist cinemas. When she decides to move to her parental home, everyone suggests that ‘she should adjust’, ‘don’t drag it on unnecessarily’, ‘a woman has to learn to keep quiet about certain things’, ‘when it comes to relationships, a lot has to be forgiven.’ But, Amrita does not turn around and argue with people about her ‘right’ to dignity. She is gentle enough to stand her ground and insist on being dignified—to the bitter end, against the advice of her lawyer. (A domestic Violence charge is pressed against Vikarm more to establish peace than to prove a point that women will NOT stand harassment.) It is this gentleness that is endearing and it does not make villains out of people around her who are unable to understand her. Be it her husband or her mother or her younger brother. This reverberates in her concern for her mother-in-law, who is a diabetic. With her standing the ground with a gentle but firm NO to disrespectful behaviour, many lives sort themselves out, very gently-the younger brother learns that it is important to stand by people; her mother-in-law learns to take care of herself, begins to go for a walk every day; Vikram wants to come back to her to be with her; Netra Jaising learns to claim her identity as an independent lawyer and her maid learns to beat her husband back to protect herself. The narrative style ensures that every behaviour and attitude is placed in front of the audience for their responses, to enable a rational response to what is acceptable and what is not. Therein lies the success of the director in delivering the right thappad in the right manner to ensure recognition. 

               However, one thought that kept creeping into my mind throughout the cinema is--when is Vikram going to say 'Amu, I am sorry, It just happened' and then, what could be the narrative? But I also understand if he were the kind to say 'sorry' Thappad would not have happened. After all, it is a patriarchal notion that rules Vikram--the same hierarchy that works in his Corporate Office. Interestingly, it is his colleague, who tells Vikram directly that what he did was wrong and that he was drunk. The act was wrong.                 

            At the centre of the narration is an entirely new doting father who supports his daughter in the darkest hour; and one who stands by his-to-be daughter-in-law when the son behaves badly. And, is willing to accept that he now has to encourage his wife in her passion for singing,  accepting that she did have to give up her music as it was not socially acceptable when they got married. Learning never stops!! 

            And the cinema claims the much-damaged relationship between two women-mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. The final monologue of Amrita with her MIL urging her to take care of herself goes a long way in establishing the requisite truce between the so-called traditional rivals at home-saas and bahu. The mothers -Amritat's mother and mother-in-law- try the new makeover of taking charge of their lives. At the end of it all, feminism, instead of breaking the home has created a new home. The making has just begun, it is incomplete, but with a hope that the new home is more democratic, more accommodative and more loving.      

Dear Reader, if you are happy to read this blog, please share👇and hit the follow button 👉and if you want to, share this blog with your friends and like-minded readers. Looking forward to your thoughts. Share your comments directly with me at rekhadatta02@gmail.com or message me @rekhadatta1 on Instagram. I shall send the links to you personally. Thank you for your interest.              

#stay@home #stay safe

Hey. 

The Lockdown for the past two months has opened our eyes to many realities-visible, hidden, altering. There are also changes--some willing and some unwilling-- that are shaping our present and of course, the future. Many of us who refuse to be bogged down by this lockdown due to COVID-19, we talk of how Mother Earth is ‘system re-booting’. There were plenty of discussions about how the rivers and oceans, are now cleaner; fishes which were becoming rare have now revived. The safety of the aquatic animals was ensured with the lockdown of the industries. In fact, people shared photographs of peacocks and other rare birds- sparrows included in this category--on their Instagram / Twitter accounts or shared in on FB. The picture of a rare species of wild wolf spotted on the outskirts of the forest area was welcomed with enthusiasm by everyone who saw the picture. WhatsApp added its own share to the excitement in sharing the revival of nature. Another not scary, 'positive' of the lockdown is how this is an opportunity for the family reunion (not the ‘joint family re-union of the 20^th C) but the parents-children coming together in the same home at the same time, albeit with the laptops/PC's/mobile phones. This is the age of ‘work from home’. The Governments did their bit of service by ensuring that appropriate safety measures were put in place. Firstly, the Central Government and the State Governments ensured that employees continued to receive their salary for the ‘lockdown month’. Secondly, the house Owners were asked not to press for the tenants for rent; online payment of various bills was encouraged. Banks were directed not to press people for repayment of loans. Third, local- small grocery stores that had struggled under the Super Marktes, began to thrive during the lockdown. We all got used to the local products, even though for a short while. The Internet became our friendly neighbour. It had solutions for many problems. For the fitness-conscious ones too there are solutions available. Fitness gurus released several videos which, if followed meticulously, helped people to stay fit. They were encouraged to take 15 days of workout challenges at home. television has for the past three decades decided our time at home. Now, it gave us new addictions. Cookery shows with healthy recipes; repeat telecast of the two epics- just in case We, the people, have moved away from the cultural epistemologies. Regional news channels came up with innovative ways of connecting with people- corporate social responsibility in a new form. People could call the news channels, and share their problems and the reports in that area/region would be alerted about the requirement-medical and food packages, basically. They would be home delivered. Many people benefited from these operations. Medical fraternity and public servants were applauded for their selfless service rendered in the cause of humanity amidst the fear of infection. (We all clapped and blew our conch shells on a Sunday night?) The Paparazzi contributed their share by telling us which celebrity was cooking what and spending time with whose parents and their yoga routine and their enthusiasm to keep the garden clean. The daily newspapers too explored the history of the pandemic and reactions as well as preventive measures in the past giving its readers a literary perspective to the lockdown. Slowly, we all moved towards the ‘Atmanirbharta’ mantra. (It is a different issue that Bapuji talked about in simple terms, of ‘Swadeshi’) In brief, #stay@home#stay@safe. 

                       This reminds me of an anecdote my brother had told me. Dr U R Anathamurthy, the Kannada literary giant, was requested to conduct an interview to find an appropriate candidate for a top administrative position in Bangalore. As usual, many people were to be interviewed. Dr Anantha Murthy asked the candidates one common question--‘Look out of the window and describe the scene’. A simple task for the well-qualified and much-experienced officials. They all did. One candidate’s description got him the job—he described the skyscrapers as well as the slum that was seen next to these tall buildings. Dr Anathamurthy seems to have shared his views about it later. ‘Look, the city is a complex and complicated place. It is important for an administrator to first perceive this complexity. Then only the further steps of administration can happen.’

                          And today, in this hour of crisis when it was so important for all of us to stand together, I find that this awareness and consciousness is what is missing- a very simple acknowledgement of people, basic decency. The plight of the migrant labourers is evidence enough to show that the ‘system update’ has not even begun. Their struggle to reach#stay@home#stay@safe is a struggle for existence- not a farfetched dream. No wonder that they choose to walk for 300km and sleep on the railway track, unable to hear the train coming on them – only to be crushed under it. The city is heavily dependent on migrant labourers--for the inexpensive labour they provide as construction workers, housemaids, florists, and golgappa sellers. The expertise they bring with them, and the creativity they display in problem-solving is invaluable. Their contribution to the urban place and to the economic viability is rarely acknowledged. Today, almost everyone talks about the migrant labourer as a burden on the city, ignoring their multi-dimensional contribution to the everyday life of the urbanites.

                              I was net-surfing to read something when I came across Kaifi Azmi's poem Makaan, He is a poet and a popular lyricist for Bollywood. He is also awarded the Sahitya Akademi Award. He was one of the 20th-century poets who were recognized as belonging to the  Progressive Movement group of poets. Their work can't be categorized as 'Propagandist' but it surely is for social justice. It is said that he wrote this poem when he stayed with the construction workers who were building his house. It is written in Hindi; I have attempted a translation of the poem to Kannada. (Maybe because, after all, Kannada is my language of dreams) 

                   

ಈ ರಾತ್ರಿ ಬಿಸಿಗಾಳಿ ಬೀಸುತ್ತಿದೆ, 

           ಈ ರಾತ್ರಿ ಫುಟ್ ಪಾತ್ ನಲ್ಲಿ ನಿದ್ಡೆ ಬರುವುದಿಲ್ಲ,

           ಎಲ್ಲರೂ ಎದ್ಡೇಳಿ, ನಾನೂ ಎದ್ಡಿರುತ್ತೇನೆ, ನೀ್ನೂ ಎದ್ಡಿರು, ನೀನೂ ಎದ್ದಿರು, 

           ಈ ಗೋಡೆಯಲ್ಲೂ ಒಂದು ಕಿಟಕಿ ತೆರೆದುಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತದೆ 

         

          ಈ ಭೂಮಿ ಈ ಮೊದಲೂ ನುಂಗುವುದಕ್ಕೆ ಸಿದ್ದವಾಗಿತ್ತು, 

          ಕಾಲು ಮುರಿದಾಗಲೂ ಕೊಂಬೆಗಳಿಂದ ನಾವು ಇಳಿದಿದ್ದೆವು 

         ಈ ಕಟ್ಟಡಗಳಿಗೂ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ, ಈ ಕಟ್ಟಡದಲ್ಲಿರುವವರಿಗೂ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ

          ನಾವು ಗುಹೆಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಅವಿತು ಕಳೆದ ಆ ದಿನಗಳು 

        

         ಮತ್ತೆ ಕೈ ಎರಕದ ಅಚ್ಛಾಗಿದೆ  ನಮಗೆ ಸುಸ್ತಾಗುವುದು ಹೇಗೆ 

        ಒಂದು ನಕ್ಷೆಯಾದ ಮೇಲೆ ಮತ್ತೊಂದು ಹೊಸ ರೂಪದ ನಕಾಶೆ 

        ಈ ಗೋಡೆಗಳನ್ನು ಭದ್ರ, ಮತ್ತಷ್ಟು ಭದ್ರ, ಮತ್ತಷ್ಟು ಭದ್ರಗೊಳಿಸಿ,

        ಮೇಲ್ಚಾವಣಿಯನ್ನು ಮತ್ತಷ್ಟುಸುಂದರಗೊಳಿಸಿ, ಬಾಗಿಲುದ್ವಾರವನ್ನು ಮತ್ತಷ್ಟು
        ಬಲಗೊಳಿಸಿ 

       ಹಚ್ಚಿದ ಹಣತೆಯನ್ನು ಗಾಳಿಸೋಲಿಸುತಿತ್ತು ಸುಲಭವಾಗಿ

       ಅದಕ್ಕೆ ವಿದ್ಯುತ್ ದೀಪಗಳನ್ನು ನಕ್ಷತ್ರಗಳನ್ನಾಗಿಸಿದೆವು 

      ಮತ್ತೂ ಏನಾದರು ಕಡಿಮೆ ಎನ್ನಿಸಿದ್ದರೆ, ಕಾವಲಿಗೆ ಬೇರೊಬ್ಬನ್ನನ್ನು ಕೂರಿಸಿದ್ಡೇವೆ 

       ಈ ದುಷ್ಕ್ರುತ್ಯ ಮಾಡಿ, ಈ ಅ-ಸಹ್ಯವಾದ ನಿದ್ಡೆಯನ್ನು ಹೊದ್ದು ಮಲಗಿದ್ದೇವೆ

      ನಮ್ಮ ನರ-ನರಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ದುಡಿತದ ಸುಸ್ತಿನ ಅಶಕ್ತತೆ, 

      ಮುಚ್ಗಿದ ಕಣ್ಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಅದೇ ಅರಮನೆಗಳ ಚಿತ್ರಣ, 

      ಇನ್ನೂ ದಿನ ಕರಗುತ್ತದೆ ಹೀಗೇ, 

      ಕತ್ತಲಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಬಾಣಗಳು ಚುಚ್ಚುತ್ತಲಿವೆ ನಿದ್ದೆಬಾರದ ಕಣ್ಗಳಲ್ಲಿ 

      ಈ ರಾತ್ರಿ ಬಿಸಿಗಾಳಿ ಬೀಸುತ್ತಿದೆ,

      ಈ ರಾತ್ರಿ ಫುಟ್ ಪಾತ್ ನಲ್ಲಿ ನಿದ್ಡೆ ಬರುವುದಿಲ್ಲ, 

     ಎಲ್ಲರೂ ಎದ್ಡೇಳಿ, ನಾನೂ ಎದ್ಡಿರುತ್ತೇನೆ, ನೀ್ನೂ ಎದ್ಡಿರು, ನೀನೂ ಎದ್ದಿರು, 

     ಇದೇ ಗೋಡೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಒಂದು ಕಿಟಕಿ ತೆರೆದುಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತದೆ

My First Blog Post

 Hey.

I am Dr. Rekha Datta, an Associate Professor, a compulsive reader, and a novice blogger. This is my first adventure, my journey with omniscient reader/s. Lots of butterflies in the stomach. Karma catching up, I suppose. Some two and a half decades ago, I started my career in my alma mater, Maharani’s Arts College for Women, Mysore. On the very first day, I spent an extremely uncomfortable morning in the Department of English with my teachers who affectionately welcomed me as a colleague. They tried their best to make me feel comfortable sitting with them. I spent a miserable morning, took my first class in the afternoon and I reached home in the evening. I had just about entered the home, and my mother popped the question “Were you not afraid in the class, teaching?” Cockishly, I had said ‘No!! Why should I be?” Now, even as I am trying to write my first blog post, I know what my mother was trying to ask and I had thought I would never go through this thing of self-doubt!! I have this axiom which I always flaunt ‘Some fear is good for you to perform well!!’ Well, I am all sympathy for my learners who were going through this, and now, for myself, as I publish this post.

                    My tryst with writing is no less chequered. As a researcher, writing my thesis was traumatic for me (it must have been so my research guide as well, I’m sure). My research supervisor, with immense affectionate patience, told me ‘Be careful of those long winding sentences, Rekha.’ But little did I understand that my writing was of the most informal type for the dissertation. I did realize just that when I was proofreading it to be sent to the printer. I hurriedly called my supervisor and rattled ‘Ma’am, my writing!!  It’s un-understandable!! It’s in a conversational style!!’ ‘Don’t touch it!’ hissed my Ma’am, ‘that’s your strength’. Well, she is the master and I was like okay. Then came the time for research publications and Ma’am said in her bass tone, ‘Rekha, you have to learn to write formally. Publications demand that’. I tried to change my style; tried to get into the highly stylized, recommended Western style of writing. It was like getting the well-rounded South Indian woman into the hourglass short skirt-impossible. The result of the endeavour was highly dissatisfactory--I had so many things to say about so many things in the world, All that could not be fitted into academic writing. However, I tried sometimes I managed, but mostly managed to fail miserably. By now, I saw that many of my esteemed colleagues and friends were writing in Newspapers, getting scholarly publications done and of course, some are writing books. I realized- proud as I am about being well-rounded, this formal writing setup had its cutting edges. Now, why don’t I find a fabric that will suit me and which will allow me to shape it!! And then, blogging appeared to be my saviour, my salvation fabric that is to flow with me, shape me up and be shaped by me. I could see immense opportunities for me to write, to express what I want to say and share. That was an exciting, liberating thought. No formats, no style guides, no plagiarism checks (not that I require it, but then . . .) and of course, no restless waiting, no acceptance-rejection letters.  

I jumped up and said ‘Eureka’, start it!! Google solved my first problem- it suggested several hosts that would give me free access to publish my blog. Then I found myself stumbling at the old threshold of what to write and how to write. My nemesis-there are formats prescribed by well-known bloggers here too! It said, first introduce yourself, who are you as a person, as a professional, as a blogger? What is the objective of your blog? Have a friendly write-up if you want people to connect with you on a deep level and the most hated part, your readers do not like to read from an incognito writer-put your photograph!! By god, this wasn’t what I was prepared for or what I wanted!!  That’s unfair!! But, we all are used to it—we settle down to that which we protest the most against.  And then, I understood that I had to go through this test by fire. In that case, I said, now isn’t it better that I narrate rather than describe myself. That’s something I love to do-narrate a story. And, thus the writing of the first blog post-in its idiosyncrasy, happened. 

                Now, there is only one thing I need to share with my readers, what would they get from my posts? What am I sharing with my readers? My perception of stories, Film reviews, translations, experiences, poems, songs, responses . . . like Tom Hanks in the role of Richards says ‘. . . and anything human is mentionable, anything mentionable is manageable’.

                 But, in all the confused excitement, the title had to happen--yet to happen. The academician-writer in me prompted exotic names-creaturbanability.com!! Pleisurely.com!! citibytes.com!!! I was putting all kinds of nouns, adjectives and verbs in quirky combinations, enjoying the theoretical conceptual framework reflected in the blog's name. My children, my first critics, LOLed. They told me "Amma, think inside of the box' if this is how you are going wild!" Talk of Karma catching up again!! Wasn't this exactly what I was trying to get away from?! But exploring the inner box turned out to be interesting. I realized I was looking back instead of looking ahead!! and thus 'talespin' happened. But, the blogger said, not available. But then, the bee had begun to buzz and I turned to talespindle.com. And that is me--a tale Spindler, believing in indigenous epistemology and cultural memory. Talespindle was all this put together in an 'easy on the tongue' name. 

Dear Reader, I have tried to narrate myself and what my Blogspot endeavours to do. I hope I haven't made an entirely poor attempt at it. . . and I do sincerely hope to share some interesting posts that are of interest to both of us . . . 

Do send in your comments/responses/criticisms. . . 

 Please share your comments directly with me at rekhadatta02@gmail.com or message me @rekhadatta1 on Instagram. I shall send the links to you personally. Thanks for your patience.