what is wrong with (some, well, actually, a lot of) Indian men?

So another girl has been attacked in Kerala, that bastion of tradition and high morality. She was just travelling by train, and this man rapes her. She jumps out of the train to escape him, and she dies. There were other passengers aware of the evil, they kept quiet. A few years ago, another girl was attacked, a nun came to her rescue, and both the girl and the nun were pushed off the train. The nun lost an arm and a leg. In both cases, the men were from other states. Not that Mallu men are saints.
What is wrong with these men? Women and girls of any age cannot walk along Kerala's streets in daytime without being groped and pawed. Even if a male realtive is with a girl, these men feel free to molest the girl. Does this mean we have to cover ourselves up and sit at home behind locked doors? That is not going to happen.

And  in this case, we have to bear in mind that these  unfortunate girls were in the "ladies' compartment". The fact that the ladies need to be seated in a different area itself is suspicious. These same men with their uncontrollable urges behave wonderfully well when they are in other countries. So what is it that gives them the liberty to do whatever they want to, to whomever they want to, whenever they want to, in "God's own country"? Maybe these "literate" males think that www stands for that -- wherever, whenever, whoever -- not unlike many others. Kerala has become the place which looks upon its girls as just objects to toy with. A place where girls have no worth. Of what use is literacy if people cannot acknowledge the basic rights of their fellow beings? Now men from other states come to Kerala to display their perversions. Live and let live, please. It is a proven fact that If a nation's women are not recognized as human, and are not treated equally/ or better, that nation is always going to lag behind in every way. No amount of technological or scientific advances, no social networks, no internet,  nothing is going to bring these nations into the 21st century. Nor will they make these rabid persons human, unless they become human. And for that, education helps, not the textbook kind. But about man and woman. Their rights. The meaning of fairness.

Well, even in so-called civilized countries, it is hard for people to realize that a woman's body is her own. They talk and act as if her biology and her biological clock is everyone else's except her's. It is as if everyone else decides what she should do with her body, when she should have a baby, actually, they are determined that she have a baby. But these are matters which we still have  a choice in, I hope. But in India, everything goes a step further. Girl child is unwanted. She is killed off before she is even born. And what happens to her if and once she is born? Look at this young girl. She is  gone, she  lost her life, after an inhuman horrific ordeal. The distinction between revenge and justice gets blurred in my mind, even when I know that the rot in our culture goes deeper than we allow ourselves to see.
That a woman cannot go about her life without attracting unwanted attention is a violation of her space. I remember once a fellow student at the university countering my argument with "we men get mugged too!"
There was no point in convincing someone who pretended not to understand the basic tenets of civilization and refinement.

And a word to the wise -- that is, those in authority, who are at once proud of our state's culture and tradition, and privately condone the imbecilic treatment of women,-- you better clean up your act. No use parading elephants and pushing houseboats around backwaters -- there won't be any tourists to see it all, if they can't feel safe there. And the modern technology will do something -- it will put an end to secrecy, and coverup, whch is what  till now protected the offenders. We showered the victim with shame and guilt that no one dared to speak out, even when they were hurt badly. But now, it would be like shouting from the rooftops. And these are the kind of things that will blacken our faces, and make us bow our pathetic little heads in shame. We are responsible, our collective inertia, our fear, our selfishness and shame ,and our resistance to change.


I will add more to this piece, once I can breathe properly. It is with a heavy heart that I think of my homeland now. I never thought I will be this glad to be out of that place.

age of self-conscious living-- part 3 or 4?

My fascination with the blurring of boundaries between the real and  the unreal goes hand in hand with my fascination for the age of self-conscious living. This is the third or fourth time I am writing about it. trying to articulate the ideas in my head. Recently I read an article in Time, about Oprah. Now, I admire Oprah, and the writer of this article does too, as he writes about not Oprah in particular, but her new cable channel, OWN -- Oprah Winfrey Network. I do not know where to start! The ideas that ran in my mind as I was reading this article! virtual wild horses waiting to be caught! and tamed! familiar ideas that sounded almost crazy suddenly turned probable and real!
Oprah embodies the spirit and substance of "celebrity". As I said before, we all want to be 'celebrities" in our own ways. The writer of the above article concludes his article thus, "your best self, it turns out, is a self with a show on Oprah's network." What is your "best self'?" We have read and heard a million answers for that. A host of religions attempt to teach you that. But in the present world of democratized media, what constitutes "best self"? To me, that would be a self whose existence has been validated, is being validated. Who validates it? Myself, I could say, like a million self-help books tell me, but i would say it is others. My existence is validated by other selves, the world. And what better way than being in the media? No wonder these reality-tv shows are not going away anytime soon.
And you cannot say that celebrities are just twinkling stars that do just that -- twinkle. it takes a George Clooney to bring Sudan to your attention. It is his idea about the satellite in the sky over that troubled spot that is being put to work right now. His voice is heard, his movements are followed, and there is his power to make things happen. Like Oprah. So the age of self-conscious living , the age of TV living is here as a natural evolutionary force in our existence. I do not know the "real" Oprah. I just know the "virtual" Oprah. And this virtual Oprah changes lives. Inspires others to be life-changing celebrities.yes, your best self is your virtual self!
Now, in this age of self-conscious living, we are all characters in a virtual world. We are heroes -- tragic at times, with one great flaw, comic at other times laughing at ourselves. Movies are made of our thoughts, ideas and what we see. Great or funny music accompanies us, those same thoughts and ideas. We are significant beings whose existences are valid. Valid enough to be seen and heard on a global platform by other valid beings.We are all walking movies, at the same time, we are all moviemakers. We are the "best selves" living in a "self-conscious" world of which we are very aware, a world which has to notice us in turn.

An affair to remember

Having a 13 year old son has its advantages. Apart from the fact that you get to learn a lot about yourself, you also get introduced to a whole new world. The world of video games. It is a completely different culture, a civilization on its own populated by young and the young at heart. They have their own lingo, customs and traditions.

My son has reached that age when let's say, mom, as I was, is no longer needed, badly.  But still he is growing up, which he should, by the way.I watch amusedly, sometimes in exasperation, the disbelieving look that he throws at me at times, -- which, I have to admit, is well-deserved by me --and the overall dissatisfaction at the state of affairs, where he has to follow certain rules around the house, not unlike any typical teenager. But there are times when I feel I am in the circle -- as when I ask him to talk to me about his video games. Then -- boy, can he talk! Out pour all the words. I wonder at the enthusaism, the excitement,  the depth of knowledge, and of feeling.

The other day  I brought to his attention that the VGA - Video Game Awards-was to be aired on TV . Oh, was I the loved mom that evening! We watched it together. I saw something that I would have never seen, if not for him. I enjoyed it, and marvelled at the advance of  technology. Of course it was a young world. But it was exciting, and alive!J knew all the games, the merits, the drawbacks, it was his world.

When I learn that one of his videos on these games that he posted on his channel on youtube, has been watched by over 10,800 viewers, I am spellbound. What is the fascination of these games? Being in control? Being able to interact with the characters? To be a character in the unreal world? He tells me the military finances many of these games.If that is true, this is not just a game anymore. It is going to be a way of life.

Again, my thoughts about that blurring of boundaries between the real and the unreal is being proved to be real. There are commercials being shown now where you can interact with the person. Soon there are going to be movies and TV shows where the viewers play the roles along with the "unreal" characters. 3D participation and time lapse speed would be nothing. Real people living unreal lives. Other lives. Other people's lives. Not just a "second life". The whole world becomes a fantasy world. Which actually it very well maybe. " Maya". We could  defeat death and destruction through a virtual life. Or have perpetual death and destruction, but then like a character in a video game jump right back up to life.

The viewer in the  theatre or before the TV set at home is kind of in love with what is going  on screen. At least as long as s/he watches it, there is a relationship. Once that barrier between the real and the imagined world dissolves through technology, the affair can continue, even stronger. The viewed and the viewer become one.

These days anyone can be an actor, a singer, or writer or anything they choose to be. There are people to see, means to put it all out there. We can make movies, be in them, show them to all. Creativity is flowing all over the net. What was once accessible to just a handful of people is available to all now. Be it knowledge, or creativity. Instead of one genius who seem to know stuff intuitively, there will be a million who can easily clone themselves to be that genius. They can be characters interacting with characters, and the characters themselves. Gradually, new creatures/beings and a new life will form.

As I watch the "unreal" characters speak to the audience, and the overwhelming response  of the admiring audience, these thoughts swirl in my head. I want to clear it, so inspired by a medieval themed game, I yell out, to my husband, waving my tankard, " Inn-keeper!more wine please!" He is not amused. So there is one who doesn't go for role-play! :)

Artisten (The Artist) by Jonas Grimås

It was in 1987 when I was a Literature student at this girls' college back home, that a professor from another university visited us. He read a poem about a train (not his, I remember that) and held up this black and white picture of a train winding up a hill, with trees on either side of the tracks, as he read it. ( We did not have TV)The reading wasn't that rhythmic, but I fell in a trance imagining that train as it chugged its way round the bend, and up the hill, "smoking" all the way. I could see the green of the trees, the blue of the greyish blue of the skies, and above all, hear the rhythm of the train.

There is a romance about trains, and the people who travel on those, and no wonder they have been used in movies and songs and commercials and fashion shoots. Murders take on more mystery, forbidden love gets spicier -- all in that rarefied ambience of trains. Be it the Murder on the Orient Express, or that Vogue shoot with an exotic Diddy and his lady, or the latest Chanel ad with Audrey Tatou, trains and train stations thrill us. And it is the same for me.

Artisten

But add to that, my fatal fascination with the blurring of boundaries -- between realities, the real and the unreal, between genres, between art and life -- I will get hooked. That is what I felt when I saw this short movie named  Artisten, by Jonas Grimås made in 1987. What I saw in my classroom back then, and what I see now in this movie, I should say it has been a gradual journey that has reached a particular culmination. The journey won't end here, surely.  Obviously I am sure much has been written about this brilliant, award winning movie by many and much better qualified people than me. But these are my thoughts.

The Artist is about the blurring of boundaries. In a way, it is  a metamovie, a movie which explores the making of a movie.The synchronous art of the foley artist-hero, and the movie he was showing, is captivating.The final explosion in the movie within the movie, and in the theatre fittingly tops it. This movie is layered and the themes are so many that it makes you think on so many different levels -- an embarrassment of riches, as they say. It is a big, short movie. I cannot get that artist out of my mind, the passion, and the belief. Nothing is beyond bounds for him. Not at all worried about going overboard! He does it with panache. Nor can I forget the would-be artist. There is a sadness and a humor in both the persons that touch one. Do I imagine that sadness? Am I coloring it with my feelings?In moments of self-doubt, which are many, by the way, I think I am that person. Of course I want to be the hero, but will I ever?They are pathetic and heroic at the same time, like us. Maybe I am way off mark in my understanding of the film, but I guess the movie is in the mind of the viewer now.
see the film here : http://vimeo.com/17857824

may 17  2011 update : there seems to be something to the name? another "Artist" is making waves in Cannes! I think i should call myself "The Artist" -- maybe that would help! ;)

career opportunities for medics in airports!!!!

To think that one of these days when i am  trying to catch a plane, my suspicious looking ovary can be looked upon just like that -- suspiciously!
The arrival of full body scanners in airports seem to cause no worry among the general public. at least most of the people i talked to seemed to think it was something inevitable, say, like death. or as if i was making too much of a fuss about silly stuff as usual. fear of privacy invasion has been overridden by that other great fear -- that of terrorrism. obviously pre-emptive attack efforts didn't work well enough. Now the big bro wants to see the average person naked. i did wonder why no one seems to be bothered that much that their B&Bs will be out there for all to see. apparently, i wasn't thinking!

Imagine the pros of such a situation! actually it could prove to be a wonderful opportunity to improve the quality of the nation's health care. For instance, while they are looking at your body, they could let you know your BMI, which would help a lot of people. They could hand out flyers explaining the significance of that number along with their bags. Now, what if a lady tried to hide a weapon of mass destruction in her tampon deployed inside her? What if someone swallowed the same and the wmd is lying peacefully in his stomach?
or lower? well, soon there will be more than x-rays at the security check. CT scanners and MRIs too will
arrive.

Now think of the possibilities! If they had radiologists and pathologists at hand, -- they should, because otherwise someone might think my suspicious looking ovary, with its cysts and scars, is a WMD, and what about someone else's fibroids -- these specialists can read the scans and let the people concerned know. In no time, there will be surgeons too at the airport, and, won't that be convenient? Sometimes we do not know what all disease- ridden things are hidden in our bodies, and the new airport checks would be a godsend then. Mammograms and colonoscopies can be easily done here, not to speak of cosmetic/plastic surgery. If found lacking in any area, implants may be provided.  and if there is an excess, of course, the necessary adjustments can be done.  Ah, dentists too will be in great demand, for things could be concealed under crowns and bridges.

And then, let's imagine the states of mind of the persons who see our naked bodies. I don't know about anyone, but I know Mallus and other Indians. If such a thing as a full body scanner landed in our airport, the guys there will have the time of their lives. Boy! would they now!!! A perpetual hum and frisson of excitement will pervade the whole city. A surge in the number of job applications from guys to man the scanners. Soon the web will be flooded with our pics. One would be posted right in the middle of the town square! Everyone gets to be famous! As an added bonus, disgruntled/rejected boyfriends/girlfriends can have their revenge easily. just get a copy of the pic and send it to the would-be bridegroom's address. or make  a poster and stick it in the middle of the town. Students can wage wars against teachers, friends turned enemies can find comfortable weapons of destruction in these highly colorful images. Of course, the women would be found at fault! duh! how dare they are naked under their underclothes!!! serves them right for being so daring!!

oh, and  I hear that the Police will have the full body scanner in their cars! that is going to be more fun! we, the public are going to be taken care of so well! nothing like the up close and  personal touch.

PS : update --  a protest is being planned around Thanksgiving day, I hear. Thank Goodness! :)

latest update May 31, 2013 - They're gone! TSA has removed the offensive , intrusive machines - http://www.cnn.com/2013/05/29/travel/tsa-backscatter

update: Feb 10  2014 Wrong! they are still here.
http://www.cnn.com/video/data/2.0/video/bestoftv/2014/02/01/tsr-pkg-marsh-body-scans.cnn.html

I have seen agents sitting behind computer screens looking at the bodies, get up and look at the person's face -- to connect the body with the face -- more fun! so much for respect, privacy, dignity,  promised anonymity etc. for the passengers, and  maturity and integrity on the part of the agents.

new adventures of old asha or Omphaloskepsis

there is nothing much to do. maybe because it's all been done. either by myself, or by others. actually, much more .... and more... by others. but then that is all right, since we are one.
believe it or not, i haven't really tried to pick lint off my navel. i hear it is an art worth cultivating.
sadly, even if i wanted to try it now, it won't be feasible. there is this gooseberry- sized gauze ball stuffed tight in my navel. yep. and there is a band -aid over it. i look at it longingly. curious to see what's happening underneath . but i am not supposed to pry. obviously, privacy concerns. so, the contemplation of my navel has to be put off for now.

in any case, i have other things to do. or not do. when i get off bed, i am not allowed to sit right up. no sudden jumps and all that. but i notice that i am prone to do that -- just like my dad. but then, since i do not want a lotus, or something akin to it,  to rise out of my navel, i try to remember to roll over to my side, slowly bring my feet down, and sit up. i tell all this to my relatives who havent been very impressed with me lately, and have written me off the "going places" list. Here is my chance to grab that elusive 15 seconds of fame, among them. Of course once they hear it is laparoscopic, every one of them is pretty dismissive like seasoned surgeons. But ... but there are incisions! 4 of them! on me!! come on! thats not simple! and other stuff that was done inside me!
well, anyways,

i am asked to support my tummy when i lie down. i support it so much it hurts. someone in charge here asks me, " you always have to take that one extra step, dont you?" "Do I?" , I wonder. hmm. something else to think about. maybe i do! i think of all the friendships, and would-be friendships that I had lost on the way, probably because of this overdoing business? or, that may have happened because of other stuff, like them being mountains and i being a teeny tiny ant.ants are mighty envious of mountains, btw.

ok- back to contemplation of my navel -- i touch it, does it hurt? not really. but after a while, i feel a twinge. does it feel colder than the other areas? oh NO! it feels wet! it is infected! no, no. it is fine, really. i imagined it.

all the do's and don'ts! i am fed up. i can't run, i can't do situps or crunches, i can't climb stairs, omg! how am i going to take it!! actually it is only for a couple of days. but you don't know that! my six-pack (fl)abs is going to be a thing of the past. and my dream of world domination  in the next Olympics, or at least CWG, is out the window. and, SACRILEGE! i cant have sex for 2 weeks! for 2 whole weeks! now that is a hit on my
(r)aging libido. at the end of the said 2 weeks, watch out, you studs between 23- 29! ;) to add insult to injury,  i shouldn't get pregnant for the next 5 years! that is unthinkable! how can i bear that!!!not that i have been making babies nonstop all these years. it is the principle of the thing. (after the 5th year, it's all right, since the question doesn't arise, and the Holy Ghost has gone on to newer pastures).

as i lie there, i remember that heavenly feeling or not-feeling while i was under general anaesthesia. whoever invented that has to be hugged and kissed forever. I did not feel a thing! I do not remember a thing! for 3 hours I was totally unaware! dead to the world! to me that is unbelievable. to not worry if i talked too much, or too little, to not think , or remember, to not know that i am breathing!! 3 hours of my life -- a big mystery.
back to navel-gazing. i am not supposed to look at  my navel. that would count as an almost-crunch. i give up, i have to take a peek. just let me get this band aid off first.
:)