It’s always nerve-wracking to read a close friend’s writing – and especially so when it is writing that has just been published.
Fortunately with Piyusha Vir’s “Just Another Day”, I needn’t have worried at all. This collection of three short stories, Vir’s debut book, is available on Kindle, and did not disappoint.Continue reading “Book Review: Just Another Day”
To the monsters that broke her body:
what twisted state of mind begets
belief of your claim to innocent flesh
in the house of your God, no less?
Was there an ounce of shame lingering
somewhere within your thirst for blood?
Or did you feel powerful when
you shredded her dignity and
squashed the life of a little girl
perhaps too innocent to
believe in an evil and
cowardice such as yours?
Did you feel proud that it took six
of you to tear her apart,
spirit and soul, bones and skin?
What is this darkness without
remorse where human life is cheaper
than a depraved gluttonous hunger
for power over an 8 year-old?
There are no words to articulate,
no torture or torment great enough
to make you feel what she felt
There is only our own self-disgust
and a growing number of
involuntary martyrs,
that bleed pain, despair and hopelessness.
Vengeance will never be painful
enough, to crush this disease that
breeds within our minds.
********************************************
This does not seem like nearly enough to address the horror of what happened to Asifa, but it is all I have. I don’t know whether to be angry or heartbroken – both seem equally useless against this sickness that plagues our society. How many brutalized bodies will it take us to change? It doesn’t look like that’s anywhere close to happening unfortunately. They gangraped her in a temple and then murdered her, because that’s how cheap human life has become. And there are people who defend the rapists like there is any justification for doing this to anyone, let alone an 8 year old girl. Whatever we are doing it is not enough. I am still reeling from this and I don’t know what else to say except we need to fix this, break off the root of it and crush it forever.
A few weeks ago, a woman named Shilpi A. Singh messaged me, as she was doing a piece on acroyoga (a blend of acrobatics, yoga and Thai massage) and wanted to speak to some practitioners and members of the community. Those of you who know me, know that I have practiced this on and off for a few years. Last year I became, what they called a jambassador, with the goal of promoting and facilitating jams, and helping build a community. Continue reading “Accepting Our Blind Spots”
I’m taking a break from Kerala posts but just for today 🙂
Last night, I found myself pulled into a debate about the Aziz Ansari episode, as a friend of mine related a personal anecdote of mine on a group forum.
“Why didn’t she just do x?” “Why didn’t she just do y?” “Why didn’t she just say no?” The ladies on the thread wondered, questioning the legitimacy of my experience: one that many women have had.
So I took it upon myself to get on the thread and explain. I didn’t accuse, I didn’t get angry, I didn’t hurl around labels. At the end, the ladies came around and understood. It is sadly one of the only times that has ever happened to me.
The problem with labels we use today is that they’re loaded. Rapist, abuser, sexual predator: all these are very powerful and heavy-handed words. Continue reading “The Counter-productivity of Labels”
It’s a four hour drive to Kumarakom, a sleepy little town by the backwaters, dominated by resorts. Kottayam is a short distance away, and there is apparently some sightseeing to be done there.
The roads of Kottayam remind me of Goa, low-rise colourful houses, with wide fields lined with rice patties, and peppered with clumps of coconut and palm trees. Gates are flat, as security is not a concern here.
There are small eateries lining marketplaces, with mom and pop shops of all varieties.
I hear a lot about a Thekkady-based joint called Grandma’s Cafe, so on my second (and last) evening there, I finally decide to give it a try.
This place is an institution, and is known for it’s mix of Continental, non-Kerala Indian, and Kerala cuisine, and being a favourite of travellers. I found it in my Lonely Planet guide book and on Tripadvisor, where there seemed to be a rather lively debate on whether they serve beer.
The kalaripayattu performance that follows the kathakali is nothing short of spectacular. The practitioners move like dancers, their bodies a combination of ridiculous strength and flexibility.
Kalaripayattu is an ancient martial art that originated in Kerala, with roots that date back to the Sangam period literature (3rd century BC – 2nd century AD). Every soldier during this period received regular military training. It takes elements from yoga, dance and performing arts, which are visible in today’s performance.Continue reading “The Wonders of Kalaripayattu”
Although I had originally planned to see the Kathakali performance in Kumarakom, I find out that it’s difficult to organise, or at least my hotel says so. Fortunately I have the evening free in Thekkady, so I decide that I might as well.
I glance in my guide book, and it recommends the Mudra Cultural Centre. I type in the URL and check – the show timings are still 5pm and 7:15 for Kathakali, and 6pm and 7:15 for kalarippayat, the traditional Kerala martial art. Continue reading “Discovering Kathakali”
The Thekkady tribal dance performance takes place in a small auditorium, not far from the Periyar Reserve bus stand, across from the Bamboo Grove.
I walk into a dusty darkened room, with a few rows of wooden chairs. The door is open, and people are either fanning themselves or swatting at mosquitoes, or in some cases both. A red light glows behind the curtain. Continue reading “Learnings from the Mannan Tribe”
I arrive at the ecotourism office just before 1:30 pm, much to the chagrin of my driver, who makes it clear that he disapproves of my sightseeing priorities.
It has been a bumpy morning for us, as I have taken to ignoring his destination suggestions. A short while later he tells me that the two British friends who had come sightseeing with me the day before, were not allowed in the car. Nobody was allowed in the car except me.
I have realized by this point, that my driver is somewhat controlling, and while there may be such a rule, he is exaggerating it.
In response, I get on the phone and loudly tell my travel agent that if nobody else is allowed in the car I may cancel the cab early. This silences him for the moment.Continue reading “Wilderness Fever Dreams”
