VDay : Until the Violence Stops!

VDay apparently is not only another hue of feminism but also the dead end of feminism. A survey conducted by a feminist writer depicts that girl students cannot buy the word ‘feminism’ as it implies hating men and indulging in male-bashing which is grossly ERRONEOUS. Feminism in reality connotes ‘equality of sexes’ and ‘empowerment of women’. VDay is the new entrant into the world of phenomenon that seeks to create a safe and peaceful environment for women over the world.

The concept of VDay is inspired by Eve Enslers play “Vagina Monologues” that hit the famous Broadway theatre in the late 90s to showcase violence suffered by women across the world. In India the play has already been staged twice and now it made a comeback with VDay 2009, to stop assault against women. The play is directed by Mahabano Mody Kotwal of ‘Kumars at Number 42’ fame. That’s how I know her. I first watched her in that comedy soap opera on Star World, when I was in higher secondary. It was a witty show with wry humor. Sadly, it’s not on air anymore. I wish she made a comeback with that show as well. Eve Ensler spoke to about 200 women across the world and wrote this play, that portrays violence on women in the 90s. The very title of the play has shock value and one ponders why it had been named so? Vagina comes into play in most of the experiences of a woman’s life. It could be love, sex, menstruation, birth, orgasm or simply a physical aspect of the body.

As you can see, it is a monologue and not a dialogue. A monologue is when a person speaks to oneself. The other characters in the play cannot hear the initiated character but the audience can. It is a monologue because society compels a woman to push these experiences under the carpet, stuff meant to be locked in a closet and not to be uttered aloud! As a literature student, I’m drawn and inclined to theatre because Drama is a literary genre. People often confuse Shakespeare to a writer or novelist but he is first a playwright and all his plays were written to be performed and staged. Drama is a powerful tool: a voice for change and a call to action. Every monologue in the play is associated with Vagina. I have not watched the play but as a literature enthusiast read the same. One monologue goes “my vagina was my village”, which chronicles the witnesses of women put in rape camps, in Bosnia. The play keeps adding new monologues every year with more and more women being upfront and outspoken about the violence meted out to them.

‘Progressive’, is the apt word in todays global context; with the coming of age of science and technology but unfortunately violence against women never stops. There are stray instances of a Swapna who died of acid attack recently, of Rehanna, the popstar who was beaten black and blue by her boyfriend, of a school girl molested by a bus conductor and nevertheless the Mangalore pub attack on women. They might be strangers but they are bounded by a common thread of violence. Why? Because they are the fairer sex and can be taken for granted? Its time we say enough is enough and make the elusive goal of eve emancipation a reality!

Tryst with Terror

Mumbai, the commercial city of India is currently reeling under the after math of history’s worst terror attacks. The city was under siege by gun-toting murderers, well-trained terrorists loaded with arms and ammunition: grenades, pistols, AK 47. 6 with 8 to 9 magazines, explosives etc. Any country’s worst nightmare has come true.

Mumbai has suddenly captured the minds and imagination of the world. It became international news and followed up closely across countries. The world has expressed solidarity with Mumbai and we Indians, grieved along with Mumbai and partook in its moments of grief. I was engaged with my Semester-III exams, had oodles of portion to finish and yet I could not take my eyes off the dramatic footages of the News Channels: NDTV and CNN IBN. Images of people running helter and skelter, cowering and ducking behind walls for protection, lying helplessly on roads, I had seen a man crawling on the road. None of us, or at least I could reconcile myself to this brutal reality staring in my face for sometime. It looked like a Mani Shankar or Ram Gopal Verma’s action movies. It is touted to be India’s 9/11 because of the magnitude of the collateral damage it caused. In this year alone, as far as I can remember, there have been not less than 5 terrorist attacks (bomb blasts) and the country was helpless and hopeless. The smug belief that we are ‘safe’ is finally shattered. Our sense of security appears bleak and the façade is indeed broken! Malls, Parks, Markets and now Five Star Hotels and Restaurants, Residential complexes – none of it is spared! I see the terrorists attacking the Nariman house, a complex housed by Jewish ilk and I’m afraid that tomorrow, the complex that I live in, might be under attack by terrorists or any miscreants, more so because my apartment is on the main road. I couldn’t help but place myself in the situation. If it can happen in Mumbai, it can happen anywhere in India. You go to a restaurant to have dinner, a shopping mall, market and not sure if you will come back home alive.The turbulent time has declared its hegemony over us. I crouch at the thought of waking up to a morning where I have to run for my life. Being gunned by terrorists at a Railway Station is the last thing on every travellers mind. The instance actually manifested on 27 Nov, 08 at the Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus. I was there, two years ago, boarding a train to Hyderabad from Mumbai. Deserted and vacant roads are the last thing, one will find in Mumbai. The crowd was bursting at seams in the railway station. I loved that hustle bustle, typical of a railway station. Passengers, coolies, channa battani hawkers and everybody going about their business. The empty CST was staring at me stupefied from the TV footage that was playing.

I have seen terror attacks; the ruthless bomb blasts at Bangalore, Ahmedabad, Delhi (twice) and we perhaps have become immune to terror. Every other day, you get to read a bomb blast and it soon became a common phenomenon. But the one that happened in Mumbai, which caused large scale damage, had beaten the breath out of me. My anxiety stems from the fact that Mumbai is one place that is close to my heart. My dalliance with Mumbai can be harked back to Jan 2007, when I had alighted in this HUGE city for a seminar, along with my history mam and one of my close friend’s Joyce. Mumbai evokes happy and proud memories as I was representing my college from Hyderabad at Mumbai. We spent three full days and two nights there. The moment I stepped out of the railway station, the first thing that caught me was the sight of the taxis. A city that I saw till yesterday on the TV had become a reality at that moment. The tangible factor, the very infrastructure corroborates the fact that it is a metropolitan city. Wide roads, tall buildings, huge bill boards greet you. We attended the seminar at Sophia college on Bulabai Desai road and the building just opposite to the to the college fascinated me. It resembled the Empire State Building at New York. It also sometimes referred to as mini New York by few. The sprawling city of Mumbai for me is a symbol of DREAMS and FREEDOM. Joyce and I were far from being nostalgic about Hyderabad. We were so in love with the city that we did not wanted to return when the time for departure had come. I had actually asked my mam to leave us here. But jokes apart, I was smitten by the city. I’m a true Hyderabadi to the core. Having said that, when I was in Bombay, Hyderabad appeared as a small town. Though my brought up was from the main stream city, I felt like a small town girl at Mumbai. We hired taxis to travel from college to shopping and from shopping to the convent. I sat next to the driver in the front seat while mam and Joyce perched at the back seat. I was in awe of the huge buildings as almost all buildings comprised floors that ranged from 15 to 20 on an average. The amusing part was that I began to count the number of the floors, when the taxi halted in the traffic and I got a panoramic view as I was sitting in the front. The driver along with Joyce and mam were in splits. It tickles my funny bone even at this moment as I’m narrating this event. I was very naughty and mam and Joyce had a tough time in keeping pace with my energy levels. My visit to Mumbai is rife with some pleasant experiences. The people were hospitable and so were the taxi drivers. There was not even a hint of deception and an effort made to take us for a ride as we were new. My mam strictly ordered Joyce and me to not to speak in Telugu, our native language. But it was obvious that anyone could figure out that we were new by the way we were moping about places. We visited places like Dhadar, Wadi, Crawford Street, Gandhi mart, Church gate etc. However, we couldn’t cover all places as there was barely any time left and we had pre-booked our tickets. Mumbai will always remain one of my favourite places though its image is now tarnished by terrorists. They might have tarnished the image but it is not irreparable. I always wanted to visit Mumbai again as I had not seen all the places and I will surely visit Mumbai again. Despite all this chaos, confusion, fear of terror, violence and loss, my love for the place will take me to the place. Mumbai will continue to be the happening metropolis and the commercial city of India.

Thus we fall, we rise and life goes on until we are shaken by another attack and this seems like a never ending vicious cycle. We are a population of one billion and I want to see how many will the terrorists suceed in killing? Damage done to property will be repairable but the wounds and trauma of the victims will never heal; it will leave them scarred forever. My deep condolences and commiserations to the sons of the soil: Cops and NGS Commando’s who gave their lives for country’s sake and three cheers to the NGG Commando’s for their painstaking efforts that reaped success in the operations executed against the terrorists.