hmm...

It's already November and one more month and it's going to be a new year again. This time, I'm really excited about the new year. Actually not just this time, but always. I don't have any regrets over the old year or that I'm getting older. I just like the last 2 months to speed by ( like everything in life!) so something new can start. Sometimes, that affects my 'happy' state because I'm wondering when this is going to end and the next phase - good or bad start. Must change that. That said, I had a pretty good October.

Most of my challenges worked out well. I did figure out how to wear a sari, though wearing a silk sari troubles me to  no end and I'm going to have to practice a lot more for that. I did the festival hopping really well and managed everyone in my family and extended family/friends group rather well. I think I've arrived as a Maami officially.

The cycle has been postponed thanks to reasons like laziness to find parking at the store near home and forgetting there are other stores in the city too. Very valid reasons, you see. Same goes for the license. Reading happened in full swing though!

October seemed to be a month where I either worked, micro-managed some people or went to other people's homes. There wasn't time to do 'my chores' per se. Except of course, a rather hurried 2 day getaway after all the people and work madness. This brought us to sweet November. Sweet because I'm back from a vacation and I'm in that good spot :)

My challenges this month.

1. The license challenge continues. All I need is to go to the RTO.
2. The food blog again. Which I forgot to mention in my 'didn't happen at all' part of the post. 4 posts this month. I have it all written already. Promise.
3. Push myself at work more. I can't reveal my goals here unfortunately, but hope to get going with lots more work.
4. Get through all the bookmarked readings on Instapaper. I love Instapaper like I hate it. It just makes it easy to postpone reading.
5. Plan a girls getaway with a friend. And meet another set of really close girl friends somehow.

Every month teaches me something new. Some of you may wonder how this is helping at all since most of the time I hardly achieve anything. I do achieve something. I do regular pedicures now - it's relaxing if not anything else, my fitness levels have improved thanks to previous challenges and just the fact that I keep thinking that I have these challenges keeps me on my feet. Some of us need a push like this. And I'm doing well with it.

If nothing else, the past two months have shown that I may have taken on too many challenges (because I'm a compulsive list maker!) in the last 2-3 months. So, this month is sober. No major goals, just extremely utilitarian things that need to get done.

So, how is your November looking?

She'd always let him down. She was a firebrand feminist who never listened to him. Never heeded his words. He wasn't always right and she made sure to point that out to him.

Today, she regrets every single time she fought with him. And wants to make amends. Constantly trying, constantly hoping that things work out in such a way that she will get to make amends. That she will do something for him, something that he may remotely want.

Some children don't disappoint. They are the perfect children. She never was one, and never wanted to be one. She was proud she wasn't one, mostly. But today, she wished she had that blind devotion. That blind, searing love to stand up for him.

But because she is a she, she can't be that perfect child. Yet again, so someone else can be a perfect child. And that someone else is always a he. 

That should have actually been my line in September because I achieved nothing. Nothing at all. I ran a bit, but hardly read the books I wanted and didn't do much with the food blog. Total #fail month, September was.

October looks crazy already. I know it hasn't even begun, but so far I have plans for every weekend. Ya. None of it involves relaxation or things for myself, necessarily. I'm going to be running around and catching my breath this month with social obligations.

So, my challenges this month?

1. Get the car license figured out. 
I left home at 19 and never got around to getting a license. I need to get back to driving on Indian roads and figure out license without a bribe, that is.

2. Smile through all the social obligations and visit every aunt, every cousin, every grandmother and every friend's house with aplomb and joy.
It's unbelievable how busy the festival season is, for a married me in my home town. But I came back to India to be close to family, to have fun during all these festivals and get back in touch with long-lost cousins and watch my nieces and nephews grow. And I want to do just that this October!


3. Practice wearing the sari religiously everyday.
I'm ashamed to say I don't know how to wear a sari. I'm going to have to wear a sari in 4 months time without anyone's help since I won't be the bride or the newly-wed or the recently wed anymore.

4. Read everyday for at least 30 mins.


5. Start cycling.


6. Food blog, food blog and food blog. 
This challenge comes from last month. This time, I think I've planned it well in my head. Dishes and photos included.

So, wake me up when October ends and hopefully it will be a dream of a challenge.

P.S.- No, not finished Infinite Jest beyond 20% of the book. Pushed to November. Aim to finish it in 2011.

I just saw a TV show that I don't normally watch. I don't watch TV. For some reason, I watched this show on Sony TV 'Crime Patrol.' According to the premise of the show, the show recreates real life cases/incidents. Thanks to insomnia and because I was already sprawled in the middle of the couch, I decided to watch what it was all about. I thought I could live-tweet a hilarious 'san-sani' serial.

Today's case was that of abuse within marriage. So commonplace right? Darshan just went back to jail and all is well with my #outrage ridden Twitter world.  This man marries this girl - arranged through matrimonial columns/sites. She meets him several times and then agrees to marry him. Her parents are educated, liberal and rich. They get married. Soon, he asks for a BMW in a very playful tone. She shrugs it off even with warning bells ringing in her head. Soon, his brother tries to molest her. She asks for help and she only receives a 'what's wrong with it?' answer. 6 years into marriage, she is a sex slave for his brothers, his business partners and he, himself abuses her with inhuman sexual activity every night. They are so confident that she won't talk about it that (I found it surprising) she is not locked up or forbidden to talk to anyone. So she talks to people - her family, her sister, her mother. The answer and the belief is that this happens. This happens in every marriage. These are marital conflicts. 'Bedroom ki baatein' as her sister puts it.

How many of us get abused within our homes, our bedrooms? How many of us are willing to talk about it? I remember this friend of mine who I'd forgotten until this show. She got married at 22, all starry eyed. The age isn't the matter here. She got married to someone she knew and fell head over heels in love with him. 2 years later, she wrote to me saying he was going mad or that she was afraid he was going mad and that he abuses her. She was in the US. I asked her to talk to her sisters. She said she did, and they said it will be okay. She wrote to me again. I asked her to come back home on the pretext of a vacation and never go back and take concrete steps. I invited her to stay with me until she sorted things out. She didn't respond. I forgot all about her until I moved to the US and tried living all alone, going mad in an empty house. I contacted her again. This time around, she was happy. Pregnant, perfectly in peace with her world. I didn't know what to make of it. I left it...

Now, as I sit in one corner of my couch, shaking, unable to move in sheer disgust and maybe, even fear, that girl's face flashed in my head. How many of us make such compromises? I thought back to my life. I'm married and it was a very traditional arranged marriage. How did I trust AB like that? How many of us do this and are not leading lives similar to mine?

I thought to myself how lucky I was to have AB as my husband. I go into the bedroom and he smiles and hugs me. He waits to talk to me every night. The conversation you have with your partner lying next to each other. I tweet, he talks. I read about all the problems in the world, he talks to me about his  problems at work. I listen sometimes, I nod once in a while, all the time believing I got lucky with him.

He is not a special guy. He is a normal guy. A normal human being, doing what is expected of him. Why is it then that I'm considered so lucky? Even by my own admission, a lot of the times. Because he is doing the right thing? From when is doing the right thing to be applauded? He is not going above humanity to do something special, right?

Why are we always made to feel grateful for the 'good' things that happen to us? Even if it is our right?

Tonight, I'm on the couch. AB has to wait until I forget this episode like many others to talk about his annual review. I think he can and he should. 

We had only one cassette in our old car. The cassette had only Shammi Kapoor songs. I've listened to those songs from the time I was a year old until I was 17. My dad didn't listen to anything else and we didn't want to listen to anything else. The songs were danced to in the back seat by three girls while the same stories about the Kapoor family were narrated by Amma.

I don't usually write posts on movies or books or celebrities I admire or like. This is a special one. This isn't something I'm going to talk about, or something I expect anyone to read and comment on. This is for me.

This is about Shammi Kapoor. No, I didn't have a crush on him. I wanted to experience the same joy he shows in his cinema. I grew up listening to Bollywood songs. My uncles are the biggest fans of Bollywood and they raved about unknown songs, songs unheard or the not-so-popular songs. It was a matter of pride among us cousins if we could guess the song or the movie ( we had quizzes!) These are the fondest memories I have of many a summer spent in Pati's house eating fruit custard every half hour. And among these memories, Shammi stood out. When we sung his songs, all the competition during Antakshari vanished and everyone'd sing along. We'd sing beyond the first stanza and go on until we'd finished through the list of Shammi songs we knew as kids. One of my uncles disapproves of popular songs and likes only beautiful, but not so popular songs ( we call them ATCs or All Time Classics sarcastically). But with Shammi, he sang every song, including his popular songs. But then, which Shammi Kapoor wasn't popular?

Every song, every movie filled us with joy. In fact, that's the only word that comes to my mind.- joy. Be it the popular 'Tumse Accha Kaun Hai' with Shammi in a sack or the absolutely fantastic 'Aaj Kal tere Mere Pyaar' with Mumtaz. The enthusiasm, the crazy dance steps, the grin, the mischief - no one, not a single person before or after Shammi displayed that kind of attitude. 17 years of Shammi Kapoor and I didn't realize what a fan he had in me. Today, I woke up early thanks to my in laws staying with us and didn't get online as always. AB switched on the TV and casually said, "Oh, Shammi Kapoor is no more." I didn't realize that I had tears in my eyes.

To date, when I sit in the car, I like to start off with his songs. In the interest of keeping my marriage alive, I move on to other songs. Shammi did that to me. I'm a really bad writer when it comes to tributes, even during my journalism days, and today is no better. Shammi Kapoor, in many ways., I dance like you. I tried to be as bindass as you during college. I don't know if it's because of you, but I'd like to think so. Thank you.

I saw Supreeth's post on Twitter and figured I needed a challenge too. You should totally read his post to see what he's taken up as challenges. I have several things to take up including some of my resolutions this year that I haven't even started working on.

I love TED Talks and a lot of them have highly influenced my life. Matt Cutts' TED talk is one of them. However, as lazy as I am, it took a post by Supreeth to get me going.  Here are my list of challenges.

1. Like Supreeth, I'd like to move to hankies too.
I actually already did. I went and bought myself a packet (they sell 4 dainty ones - so pretty!) the other day from the 4th Block Jayanagar shopping complex. In the area I live (Whitefield), I'm guessing I will get designer ones or none! However, since I bought them I've been afflicted with the most horrible cold ever. Only, I forgot how bad my colds are. I'm known to have finished an entire tissue box in my Google days thanks to my cold.

So, obviously these dainty hankies are only meant for dainty aunties and not me! I need those large white handkerchiefs used by men. I should raid Appa's cupboard for those.

2. Running
I try to run everyday and so far, it's happening with breaks in between. I want to be able to run continuously for all the 30 days just to make it a habit.

3. Gymming
I go on and off. Now, all the 30 days.

4. Sweep and mop the house 2 days a week myself.
 I don't have a maid. I think maids in this area change exorbitantly and extremely rude. While I'm usually generous, their rudeness and 'taking me for granted' ness put me off. So, no maids. I live in an area where dust accumulates at home. I aim to sweep, mop and dust the house every 2-3 days for this month. That makes it twice a week and 8 times a month. I think it's perfectly do-able.

5. Learning to say no.
 I kept the most important challenge for the end. You know how people say that while they miss India a lot while living abroad, they'd any day live away from family and all that. That's not true of AB or me. Okay, maybe AB to a certain extent since he's anti social. I'm very social and I came back to India only because I missed India, the noisiness of family around us. Basically, I wanted to meet all my nieces and nephews, all my cousins when they fly in to meet their parents from different parts of the world. And what better place than India!

However, I under-estimated my need for space in India. It's very different when you are single and living with friends. It's almost as if you have permission to have fun and do what you want and skip family gatherings or functions. Life is not the same when you're married. AB and I haven't had a weekend to ourselves. I have myself to blame for that. I have way too many friends, way too many familial obligations and way too many social niceties to adhere to.  So, as a couple, we've decided to put our foot down. We will still be active socially (I will die if I don't see anyone but AB) but prioritize us over anything or anyone else. And do more fun stuff. Like use the badminton rackets bought 2 weeks ago for a start.

People who know me or have been following me on this blog know that the last 3 years were rocky for me. For us, sometimes. I went into hiding, literally, with my GTalk. I couldn't have thanked Google enough for creating the option of being 'invisible' on GTalk. I remained invisible for 3 full years choosing who I talk to, and when I talk to them. Some of you may find it stupid. In my defence, I was upset and didn't want to answer any questions, even the innocent, truly concerned ones. A lot of you I have actually chatted with are lucky ;)

So, big decision was that from yesterday, I decided to go visible. No more hiding. If I don't want to talk to you or can't talk to you, I'm going to tell you. As it is. I'm not going to not respond unless I'm not at the computer. And that is going to be the first step in saying no.

What are your challenges for the next 30 days? Tell me in your comments.

P.S. I may just use Twitter(@nandiniv) to update everyone on my progress. The hashtag will be #my30days. 

I saw this video on Facebook and immediately started laughing and crying at the same time. My dad had a Premier Padmini for most of his life. His first car. A second hand car :) My dad has always known to drive and has been a fantastic driver. Such a good driver that as kids we used to sit at the back and yell out of the window as we passed vehicle after vehicle without any worries. We made sure Amma never drove because she wasn't as good as Appa. So much that when AB drove me first, I measured him against Appa's driving. I may disagree all I want with Appa, but I will never fault his driving or direction sense. Because he was fast and good. We've had our share of accidents and Appa's mellowed down a lot since then. But this video brought back such fantastic memories that totally make me the person I am. In many ways, love and admire Appa more than ever before. I fought with Appa last week and it hurts a lot though we don't agree on anything. My idealism is a joke to him and his ways of life are that of a cynical previous generation who don't know the power of youth, according to me. So be it. But I can't but thank my dad for the wonderful memories I have of growing up as his daughter who had umpteen rides in his car, of a daughter who saw him take random risks.

I still remember the time we fit in 11 people - all my athais, my cousins on a Golu-seeing round. Golu is a 'doll exhibition' sorta thing South Indians do during Navaratri. Women are invited home to see the dolls and eat some sundal. Of course, women do other things during this time. Like torture young girls like me to sing. Or, gossip about the person whose house they've just been to. Or, compare the size and grandeur of the dolls or the 'exhibition' per se. Every occasion to meet in a Tamil household is an occasion for gossip. This one occasion, all my cousins had come home and we went around Bangalore to see different people's dolls. That trip was unforgettable. After every stop where we stuffed ourselves with food, it'd be a pain to fit into the car :) Appa was the lone man driving us from house to house. Such fun!

The other time I remember with the car was how we used to make random trips to Tirupati in the car. Those days, you didn't need hajaar tickets and hajaar agents to make one trip. It was the time when Appa'd come home, have dinner late at night and Pati'd randomly crib about how Godless we were and how we haven't visited Tirupati. Then, Appa'd snap his fingers and we'd be on our way to Tirupati. 2 AM, 3 AM - you name it. And we'd be there really fast because Appa drove super fast. Those hair pin bends are fondly and scarily remembered now. And every single time the car would stop at a hairpin bend and we'd have to get down and push. Pushing the car was a matter of shame but at the same we wouldn't let go of our car. And why would we? Who else had a purple coloured car? :D

Now, as AB and I are trying to lead a 'slow' life with the jobs we aim to have, with the life we want to lead, with the children we want to raise, I wish I had that car. I wish I had a car that didn't look the 100 other ones on the street, a car that stopped and made so much noise that people turned to look at it, a car which accommodated 11 people and more, a car in which 3 kids grew up, puked and spill and do everything one doesn't do with a car, a car we pushed everywhere, a car which has seen us eat umpteen Akki Rotis at VV Puram, a car from which we listened to old Shammi hits, a car we were so ashamed of and yet so proud of. A car that allowed us to be different.

We sold the car sometime back. Maybe gave it away, even (not out of any generosity, but no one'd buy it!) We got ourselves a Wagon R and Appa struggled with it because there was no need to put any effort into driving with Wagon R. There was no aggressive pulling of the gear. There was no need to manually pull at the handle to bring up the window glass, a dire need to be careful because it was new and expensive. In many ways, I realise as I write this post, I'm like that. I moved from the US for many reasons. One of them, I think was because it was too convenient and there was no challenge. Not that I love the traffic here or the fact that I need to wash my own dishes here ;), but like Appa'd say, it's the challenge of it all that pushes me on. You may not get it. I didn't either for a long, long time.

Yes, I'm in India. At home. And I don't think I want to be anywhere else in the world.

Recently, someone tweeted about an airline passenger refusing to fly in an airplane piloted by a woman. I didn't react. I no longer do. These things are 'chindi,' for me nowadays. The earlier Nandini would have written letters to the Editor, written an emotional post, vented on Facebook, said 'Fuck you' to every man in her line of vision and vented it all on her husband. Now, Nandini has become like everyone else. Reads news, cribs and moves on. Until a couple of days later, a girl who still seems to have faith in me pinged me the link. I didn't respond for 2 mins. I didn't even have to read the news ( didn't read it from the tweet, either) I just knew it. A man refuses to acknowledge a woman. Simple. The reason for feminism. The girl who pinged me? She's a feminist and isn't ashamed to admit it, thankfully. I owed her a response. Unlike everyone else who in the name of feminism either burn bras or act like they are not feminists just so they are not made fun of, by the boys. As I typed out my response on chat to her, I wondered what made me this blase. What made me this apathetic to the cause I lived for, a couple of years ago? Personal situation? No. I didn't have an answer. Just sheer shame, I confess. Again, just like every Indian who treats a bomb blast casually unlike the Americans for whom lives changed after 9/11, I forgot about the article. Until I read this. I cried.

I read 'Aruna's story' by Pinki Virani when I was 19 years old. Those were the days I read India Today avidly and saw a book review on Bitter Chocolate. That book was by Pinki again, but on incest. #Samedifference no? Both issues don't exist and if they do, it's because of the girl. As a feminist out to prove a point and as a Women's Studies student, that book had to be read. I doubted everyone after reading that book, all the men - family and friends. I cried for all those kids. I wondered what I would do if it happened to me. I also saw on the back cover that Pinki Virani wrote 'Aruna's story.' I didn't find that book in the book store, so it was forgotten. Then, I finally found it for Rs 50. I bought it from a roadside bookseller. The cover was red and black. Symbolic, I thought.

Those days, I read the book I bought immediately. I started one evening and couldn't control my tears by the time I finished the first chapter. I stopped. I had classes. I had other stuff to do. I was the practical know-it-all. I came back to it when we discussed Rape in class. I wasn't in class. I was busy doing theater because education through academics wasn't important for me. Reinforced more and more when I read books. It didn't matter. Academic discussion of what rape was and whether it was because of social conditioning we accept it or whether a man's power is assumed in the power equation. Who cared? Aruna had been raped. Brutally. And the man was free.

I went back to the book to figure out if I could use it for an assignment. After missing my classes, I wanted my assignment to be really good and based on current events so I score extra points. Yes, current events. Aruna was raped in 1973 by a ward boy who couldn't take it that a woman caught him stealing and pointed out that it was wrong. I finished the book that night. I cried at every page. I couldn't believe that it was possible. Not in a democracy like my India? Not in a country where there are people like me fighting? Surely no, right? To date, I see the book and tears well up. I haven't been moved anything like the way Aruna's story has moved me. I've not had sleepless nights over anything else but thinking what Aruna must be doing. Pinki Virani, in the book talks of Aruna being alive. This was in 2001. The book was written in 1998. I hoped and assumed she'd be dead by now. She was a painful reminder in many ways of what I was, who I was. Painful in more ways than one.

After reading that book, I've constantly imagined situations where I'm in danger of being raped and prepared myself for it. I told myself I'd not let anyone do that with me, I'd fight back. I fought back when that guy ruffled my hair on a bus in the middle of the night. I fought back when the other guy pinched this woman's butt in front of me. I fight back every time someone laughs at me for being a feminist. Like Aruna. She is 64 years old today and still fighting. The Supreme Court is trying to decide euthanasia laws in India. She wants to die. Obviously. We haven't done much for her, have we?

The rapist was free after 6 years of being in jail. He was jailed long after the rape, of course. And not for rape. But, for attempted murder. Why? Oh, if you are a woman over 18, YOU have to prove that the bastard raped you. And if there is no penetration, it is not rape. So, it's okay if a guy pinches you, if he gropes you, if he treats you like an animal or if he leers at you or if he spits at you and drives away, if he rips your clothes apart, if he insults you. It's okay. You are a person with a fuckable vagina. With breasts. They are meant to be used. Get over it. This is the message our laws give us, our mothers prepare us all our lives for, our grandmothers cry for this reason when we are born and the reason we are killed when we are born.

Walmik probably got married to a pretty and innocent woman. He probably has grown up kids now. He probably led a life. He must have taken his wife out to the movies. Seen umpteen 'mujhe bachao scenes' and not felt anything. Why would he? He only tried to kill a female superior who showed attitude. In his defense, she didn't die. She still lives. Rather exists on a hospital bed. Screaming in terror every time she heard a male voice- from outside her window or on the radio. Eating through tubes. She was declared blind and was brain dead because the bastard used a dog chain to choke her and it cut off oxygen supply to her brain.

I've lost all the control I seemed to have mastered with my views on men a couple of paragraphs back. And I've lost all sense of balance that a well-written post is supposed to have. She does that to me. That Aruna has haunted me. I thought she was gone. But, no. She doesn't haunt the guy who raped her. She doesn't haunt the Indian justice system. She haunts women like me. Because I cannot do anything for her. Fuck, I cannot do anything for myself.

My whole week is ruined now. Good I'm absent minded. Good I'm a bloody Indian. Good I'm socially conditioned to adjust. Good I'm an Indian woman. I will forgive, forget and crib only the next time Aruna is in the news again. Hopefully, in the obituary pages. Then she can really haunt me and only for a short while. Because she belongs to the women we've forgotten.