Showing posts with label foeticide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label foeticide. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Satyameva Jayate and why I refuse to glorify it as the next instrument for change



What makes a mother kill her child before it is born, because ‘it’ happens to be a girl?  What makes a father do the same, especially by causing harm to his wife? Why does the mother remain silent and let him get away with it? Who do a set of loving grandparents completely change their feelings when they come to know they have a granddaughter coming on the way?
What is the reason behind so many female foeticides?

Here comes Satyameva Jayate on Star TV. And also on DD.

The producers of the show did catch everybody’s attention through their marketing campaign. You couldn’t ignore Amir Khan staring at you like a big brother at every metro station, at traffic junctions and malls, in the newspaper you read each morning and in the saas bahu serial that you watch every day, unfailingly.
The format of the show was a little different than what I expected. I thought it would be something like what Shahrukh Khan did in Swades. I thought he would tour through urban and rural parts of the country. I thought he would go to those places with no electricity and no TV (obviously, there’s no electricity) and take up some projects, to actually bring change. If not do that, then at least show or bring people who are contributing to society in such a way. But no, wait, that would have been boring, no? Who would get up early on that precious Sunday morning and watch some random person bring change to the lives of people in some distant ugly village, a place which I don’t identify with or give a damn about? You have to make people cry, you know.

And that’s what Satyameva Jayate did at 11 in the morning and for the next one hour. Women recounted their experiences. I am glad they had the courage to walk out of such a horrid life and make a life of their own with their daughters. I am glad that this brought a change in their lives, to make them strong and independent women who care more for their daughter than society.

But the camera shrewdly continued to rest on women of all ages crying silently in the audience. I am not really bothered about that but at the end, when the song starts (which is like an ode to all the girls who were aborted), two-three little girls run into the studio to their mother and Aamir Khan calls them at his side and lovingly pats them. I am sorry but that was overkill!

It is preachy and seems so fake, at times. Do you remember long lectures given by parents when you were a kid? Did they ever get taken seriously? The rich will continue to do the same as they can get away with it. The poor will continue because, well, who gives a damn about what poor people do anyway?

But I did cry while watching the show. I cried because the issue does concern me in some way or the other. I also realized that somehow, it failed to make me hope for change. The show failed to address the main problem behind female foeticide. The belief that a girl will only be a burden to the family. I only saw the same stereotypes. Primarily, as to how women are birth givers. Where was the message that women are capable of a lot more? I wish Aamir Khan would have said something about how women can do well for themselves, if given equal opportunities. They will no longer remain a burden if taught to be independent. But then that also does not appeal to the audience for whom an independent woman is only a threat and a woman having a career is a joke. An independent women will be a bad example. You can’t risk the womenfolk in your home, stepping out of line, no? You are a girl, you have to know first how to cook. Your work is not supposed to be taken seriously. It’s like a hobby. You don’t need to work once you get married. Your husband will provide for you.

If I want to have a daughter, I want her to be in this world so that she can make a difference by setting an example. I want her to be educated, not because she can get an educated husband, but because she can be independent. If someone ill treats her, I hope that she will be strong enough to stand up against that. I want her to be beautiful, not in the way she looks, but her actions. I want her to not take society so seriously, instead do what she believes is right. I want her to be born in a society which does not vilify people, especially women, when they try to be free of some of its restrictive and regressive norms. I don’t want her to be born in a world where women do not have any qualms propagating negative stereotypes against their own sex. And especially, I don’t want her to be born just so that she can marry a man who does not respect her. Or to marry her to some useless man from someplace where there aren’t any girls to marry anymore.
In that case I would rather have a boy. And teach him to respect women. Treat them as equals. Not put him on a pedestal and make him expect all women to do the same.
My facebook status of asking whether anybody else found the show really fake gathered a lot of comments. A lot of people felt that it will help in some small way. Something is better than nothing. A very respected person told me to count my blessings and say thank you to my parents for giving birth to me and not killing me at the start. Well, with all due respect, they were just being normal parents. Should you put people up on a pedestal for giving birth to a girl child? That sounds similar to some sacrifice made by parents. Is it a sacrifice to have a girl?
Yes, something is better than nothing. But not when that something is the same rhetoric that we have been hearing since so many years. Especially when it hasn’t brought any change. I do hope that the show does some good. What I can hope is that a show like Satyameva Jayate will do is the following:

1. Probably give courage to some women to take the decision to walk out of a life where she is expected to give birth to a male child. Well, I hope it does. 
2. Clear some myths (for eg, that urban woman abort more than rural women) but then if you read a newspaper, you would have known that anyway. There were no new facts that were shown on TV. They have all been coming in the newspapers. Don’t tell me that people living in rural India don’t read newspapers or have any knowledge. That’s just like saying that female foeticide takes place more in rural areas. They may not know the statistics but I am sure they know the depth of a problem.
3.  Gather money for NGOs.
4. Make Aamir Khan richer by Rs. 3 Crore per episode. Not to forget Star TV and the producers of the show. Also, Aircel who gains Re 1 per sms. (Instead of Rs. 3, wow, how noble!)

Sorry for those who loved Satyamev Jayate and think that it is made with the intention of bringing change. It’s only riding on the current wave, where people are dissatisfied with a lot of things. After so many classes of Media Economics (Prof Panda, are you listening?), I no longer take any show on TV seriously. It’s all good programming/ marketing. People learn how to do such stuff in B schools. (Somehow I think Satyameva Jayate is going to come up as a case study in the next term, just like Kolaveri D, as if that wasn't irritating enough.)

Yes, they are trying to spread the message to everybody through online videos, regional telecasts. But that only means more big bucks. More the audience, more the money paid by advertisers.

Yes, they have said that they don’t intend to pass judgements or blame anybody. But that’s only being diplomatic. It would be a big loss to everybody involved in this show if it got banned for making controversial statements. Remember Fanaa?

Aamir Khan is not the new messiah. That’s what irks me about the show, when people put him up on a pedestal. The show is so ordinary and still it is being hailed as the next instrument of change. The truth is, it still fails to confront the core problem (at least with respect to female foeticide, i do not know what will happen in next episode). 
Satyameva Jayate seemed to me more like a show designed to make you feel guilty and do your ‘bit’ for 
society by watching it. And that’s all you’ll do. Watch.

That hits you hard, no? Kill me now. I know you want to.

PS These would be an interesting read:


Friday, May 27, 2011

Killjoy

It was a good morning. I was sitting on a chair in the balcony soaking in some fresh Vitamin D. This chair was my favorite, among all the others in the house. I had fallen in love with it at the Saturday Chor Bazaar near Bhagaltalao. It reminded me of some great times. Grandma used to sit in a chair just like this one. I sipped my tea as I stared at the newspaper in my hand.

TWO YEAR OLD MISSING IN THE CITY

I had only started reading when he called out to me to fetch his towel. Why couldn’t the bastard do his own work? He always forgets to take the towel! But I was a demure, dutiful wife. My six month pregnant body got up clumsily as I rested a hand on the arm of the chair to balance myself. It was always a struggle.

I hate the way he shouts at me when I ‘inadvertently’ add some extra sugar in his tea sometimes. As if his stomach will mysteriously deflate by avoiding sugar. I hate it when he snores at night. It makes me restless and I think bad things. I hate the way he brushes me off when I hold his hand in public. Why am I not allowed to do that when he wants to fuck? I hate how he always forgets my birthday when even the doodhwallah remembers and gives me an extra milk packet on that day. I hate it that he always cuts me off when I try to give a suggestion. I feel like killing him sometimes. But he has every right to live. It’s a man’s world out there.

Sometimes I have bad dreams. They look so real. The room looks like it has been empty from some time. Why is it occupied now? I see a small girl, scruffily dressed, cowering in the corner. “You have no right to live!” yells a dark old man with a stick in his hands. The little girl cries and prays to god. I don’t even know who she is. Though she always looked familiar. But doesn’t she know there is no God? There is no God. Only Irony.

I wish I could kill her too. Relieve her of the misery of it all. But she’s a dream. Just a dream.

I do not know when my mind got twisted. But I realize it has. I should have known. My old man would have laughed if he’d known. But we had a complicated relationship. And my mother? She was so dead. How could she have known? I could say that I didn’t want to do the horrible things that I thought about. But it would be a lie. Because I wanted to. And then I saw her. She looked just like her. That girl in the dream.

She was dressed in a white fluffy dress with a crown on her head. So wise so young, they say do never live long. It was probably her birthday. To die on the day you were born two or maybe three years ago. Ah, what a tragedy! I so loved tragedies. Maybe that’s why Shakespeare had a special place in my heart.

But you can’t blame me. I did try to control myself. I took up all sorts of things to avoid it but everything I did led me to her. And I killed her. The wrong baby. I thought the urge would stop. But it didn’t. What a waste.

What's gone and what's past help
Should be past grief.

I break away from these thoughts as Nikhil slams the door, leaving without saying a word to me. He’s angry with me. And perhaps a little scared. I inadvertently told him what I felt like doing, though in a lighter vein. It was my mistake. What did he know about me? I would have to suffer long silences till he was back to normal. If I managed to control myself for another day. Generally, I took this disease of mine one day at a time.

But something tells me today is the day. I want it to be today. I seem to be remembering too much Shakespeare, for one.

*****

I had only wanted to go to the Supermarket to buy some Rajma. Truly. I swear! Nikhil loves Rajma. I was hoping to pacify him by making some for Dinner, you see. But mysteriously, it seemed like the steering wheel had led the car and me onto the highway. And now it had turned left onto a narrow kutccha road. I hated the fact that I seemed to have lost all control of myself. I parked the car in the field. The scenery looked like one of the few good dreams that I had sometimes. It seemed just a perfect setting for my second and last murder. Or was it the third and the last murder? Actually, it was all second, third and the last, all rolled onto one. Ugh, so much technicality at such a time!

I took the knife out of the front compartment and waited in the car. Should I kill her inside the car? The car would be spoilt. Hah, I’d want to see his face when he sees his beloved velvet seat covers spoiled by blood and human insides. But no, that would make him sad. Sadly, I loved him. Bastard though he is. Lord, what fools these mortals be!

I marveled at myself. I was so unemotional about this all. But then I had been the same when I killed the little girl. I had thrown up afterwards. But I think it had been my pregnancy talking. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror. Did my eyes show fear? I had researched all the ways to kill the child inside me. But to insert something inside me seemed so cruel. I guess this was the easy way. Or else the urge would never cease.

O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die.

Hah, I was no Juliet. In a tiny stroke, I cut a vein on my wrist. I waited for the blood to flow. He was going to be so angry. He would never get to see Aditi or Aditya. But I was sure it was Aditi. I was such a killjoy!

Was I laughing? Or was I crying? I could feel the hotness of the blood now.

To sleep, perchance to dream-
ay, there's the rub

That was not something to worry about. I waited for the blackness to appear once and for all. Black had always been the color in my life. I tried to paint it red. But I forgot that Black can never be masked with any other color, as much as you try. It was always all pervading.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances…

This...was my exit.


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After a long time, something from my pen ! But please don't ask me where this came from. I do not know myself.

P.S. All the bold lines are by Shakespeare, not mine !

P.P.S I think I overdid the Shakespeare ! :-|

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