Luckiest Girl Alive

Honestly, I tend to lap up everything that has Mila Kunis in it so, when Netflix gave me the option of watching this new release called Luckiest Girl Alive, I did not waste any time on a perfect Friday evening to see what’s instore for me.

The movie is an adaptation of a novel by Jessica Knoll which was published in 2015 and was a New York Times bestselling mystery novel. I haven’t read the book but, I believe the book version is always better than the movie. A writer narrates a story to YOU directly through a novel. The movies we see are the perception of the story by another person, their understand of the essence of the story, and their take on what the writer wanted to say. So, my review is only of the movie and its not a comment on the novel, the story in the novel or the writer.

Coming back to the movie, best part about watching it was, I had zero clue what it was about and that is a rare thing to happen given the social media influence/interference in our day to day lives. I knew Mila Kunis was promoting a movie, but somehow with the past few weeks being hectic, I never paid much attention to the movie’s storyline.

The movie is a bit sharp around its edges and it’s not all rosy and bright and happy. The initial half of the movie seemed a bit botchy with the past and the present reference of the main character not seamed smoothly. There were moments when I felt the movie was borderline ugly but then, is trauma, anger and grief ever not ugly? As the story unfolded, the “ugliness” that I initially felt made more and more sense. When grief or sadness or human complexities are showcased on screen, more often than not, they are sugarcoated, painted in lovely pastels and seem like a beautiful journey. The reality in fact, is very different. Life isn’t sugarcoated so, why should a raw story be?

I might be biased but Mila’s acting was on point. She always manages to give the characters she portrays a little bit of herself and as an audience, that’s the thing that clicks. Ani FeNelli is flawed, to an extent scary and human. As the movie progressed, I started seeing the pattern behind her chaos, her layers behind the persona she had so diligently created and by the time the movie ends, she became someone I could understand, relate to and empathize with.

Connie Britton did justice to the role given to her. That being said, Ani’s mother’s character could do with a few more layers added to her character resulting in some more depth and insight on the mother-daughter relationship.

I was a bit disappointed on seeing Scoot McNairy so grossly underutilized. I did not know he was a part of this movie so, I was surprised, happy and then disappointed. In that order. An actor of his caliber deserves something more meaty.

Finn Wittrock portrayed the role of Ani’s rich and perfect fiancé, Luke Harrison. The focus in the movie wasn’t on him so, as an actor, Finn couldn’t leave a mark but, in the looks department, he passes with distinction.

The movie touched some very important issues like gun violence in high schools, rape, how society treats the victims, how victims feel about coming out with their truth, how school politics work, how money and social standing plays an important role in forming believable public opinion and how sometimes the closest ones fail to support and be there for the victims. However, the movie could only touch these issues. A little bit more depth and attention to them could have made the movie and the storyline stronger.

It’s a movie I’d remember, for sure. It’s also a movie I wouldn’t watch again. Not because of the heavy subject matter but, because it’s a movie which could have been something brilliant but missed it’s mark. Not a bad movie and not a brilliant one either. Watch it for the sake of watching a story and watching something that borderline nudges you to make you think about the flaws in our society.

Someday, the silence would scream

I work in the social sector. The organisation I work for, works in the field of education for the underprivileged children in the semi-rural outskirts of Jaipur. Apart from training teachers, community interventions, preparing material for teacher trainings, my favourite part is, working with the adolescents, especially, girls.

The community where we have our schools in, most of the children come from households which are not from an affluent section of the society. The area is semi-rural with very blurred lines, not defining where the urban college campus or that posh society ends and the village hamlets with cattle and mud walled houses begin.

The thing about these areas is, you travel 1 km from the core of a hamlet, and you would hit a café or a “meeting joint” for the university kids and see a world in contrast to the world inside these hamlets.

The girls and boys I interact with come from them. They know what WhatsApp is, they know what Facebook is, they see their older cousins especially boys having profiles there, they see TV channels and see dance videos, they KNOW all the dance steps, they see the college and university kids around their areas, they see the girls and boys of these colleges and universities interacting freely, moving around on bikes. They see all of that. And then they realize this parallel world that they see, this freedom that they see is so close and yet so far from their reach.

When I started working in Digantar 5 years ago, I came in at a time when we were facing severe funding crunch. So, I was teaching, fund raising as well as representing the organization on different forums, traveling for the same, engaged in teacher workshops etc.

The 10^th and 12^th standard girls had their board exams a few months later and I was preparing them for English.

Since our schools are very different from mainstream schools (no punishments, democratic environment, freedom of speech, no competition, etc), I enjoyed my classes with these secondary and senior secondary groups. The girls were initially super curious to know more about me, about how was I “allowed” to wear jeans, about how was I “allowed” to live in a different state than my husband and work, how I was “allowed” to travel so much. They genuinely wanted to know.

Initially, the questions made me uncomfortable and I couldn’t answer them properly but, in a few days, I understood that to them, to these girls, I represented the world that they see every single day and yet, are not a part of.

Slowly, we all opened up to one another. I became their confidant, I became the person who would start music so that they could show me the latest dance moves, I became the person they would discuss their family problems with, I became the person they discussed the latest hairstyles with. But, before all of this, of course, like all teenagers, they tested me. They tested my patience, they tested me by asking me questions, personal ones, about my life, my relationships etc. I obliged and every day after finishing off our work, we would all just sit and talk. They wanted to know, and I wanted to tell them all I could.

Once a girl asked me : Didi, how do I become like you?

She wasn’t talking about my clothes or my behavior or my haircut. She was asking about the freedom that they saw me exercising in my life.

It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts and I told them they could be anything they want if they study hard and are able to stand on their own two feet.

We spent the next 5-6 months studying, discussing music, movies, religions, countries, history, books, college life, boyfriends, beliefs and then, they gave their exams.

One of the happiest moments of my work life is the day when their board results were announced. They all did very well. I was on cloud nine. I did a moonwalk from the computer room where I checked their results to where the rest of the group of teachers were sitting.

At the time when I was teaching them, they were 14-17 year olds. About 70% of these girls were married. They weren’t yet sent to their husband’s house (gauna, in Rajasthan) but they were married.

I remember two girls vividly from that time.

One of them loved to dance. She was in 12^th at the time. She told me her dream was to become a dancer. She was also engaged in her 12^th standard and was to get married right after her last exam. She had dreams. She had planned everything. She had found out there was a college near her in law’s place where she’d be moving post marriage and her fiancé had promised her that he would “allow” her to complete her graduation. For the dancing part, he had convinced her that she could dance all that she wanted to in front of him. She giggled when she spoke about it to me. Her eyes sparkled when she told me about her plans. She seemed full of dreams and her dreams looked reachable to her.

Though I smiled at the time, I knew this would end very differently.

About one year after her sending-off-to-in-law’s ceremony, I met her. Since we as an organisation have a very close relationship with the community, we had gone to a wedding in the community where this girl too, had come. She was in her 3^rd trimester of pregnancy. The husband had told her he would not allow her to study further because his mother didn’t approve of it. I asked her how was she doing. Somehow, I couldn’t see the spark in her eyes anymore. Her eyes didn’t light up at the mention of dance or college. She knew, that ship had sailed. At age 18.

The second girl I remember is for the sheer nightmares that she gave me. This one was a monkey disguised as a human. She climbed trees, played all the time, had attention span of 5 minutes. 7, if she pitied me and was plain brilliant. She remembered things, she did her work in 1/4^th time all of them were given, was very active and chirpy. She was a walking talking energyball. She was in 10^th when I taught her. She had plans to study further.

After exams, about 2 months later, I heard she had gotten married because her elder sister was also of “marriageable age” and so, they both were married to two brothers. I still have a hard time accepting that that bundle of energy got married and had a child within 1 year of her marriage. At age 17.

I never met her again. She got married into a family that doesn’t live in this community, so I don’t come across her in weddings or festivals. I sometimes think it’s good that I haven’t met her again. To see her in a reality very different to what she dreamt of and deserves, is not something I think I would be able to handle.

I often wonder, what went on in both these girls’ minds when their families pressurized them to get married? At what point exactly did they accept that their dreams would never be fulfilled? Have they made peace with this reality? Yet?

I do not know the answers. I don’t think even they know these answers.

Some of the girls from that batch did go on to do their graduation and then masters. About 4 girls out of 22 did their graduation and 1 is pursuing masters. I meet some of them every now and then either in the community or when they come to meet us in the school.

It’s always a nostalgia, meeting them, talking to them. After all, they were my first batch of students. Though I taught them English, I sometimes wonder how much they taught me about life.

They surprised me with their understanding of things, their clarity of thought, their problem-solving skills, their warmth and later, their painfully loud silence.

Social change and change in mindsets take generations. When my parents started working in this community, the girls were not sent to school post age 9. The first time they went from door to door to ask the families to send their girls to school, my parents kept a condition that they would admit boys only when their sisters would also come to the school. Things are changing. In my 5 years’ experience, from 70% of the girls being married in the 10^th and 12^th class to hardly any girl married that early is what I am seeing. Change is happening, a lot of girls who were stopped from studying are now adamant mothers making sure their daughters get the education they deserve.

Social change doesn’t come from the happy and comfortable section of the society. Be it in context to gender or socio-economic status. Social change comes from the section that faces injustice to the limit where they start questioning the “fate” written for them by the rest of the society. In the larger scheme of things, social change comes when too many dreams shatter silently resulting in one powerful cry of rebellion. I would like to think none of the girls who saw their dreams shatter, saw that happening without any purpose. I would like to believe some day, when it’s their time, they would scratch this wound open and gather the courage to break the cycle. Today, it didn’t make a sound when their dreams shattered but tomorrow, it’d be a part of a deafening cry. I would like to believe that.

I Am Me

Though this monologue is there in my blog posts, I wanted to share the video i made of the same.

If you guys like it, do share!

YouTube link for the same is given below for sharing.

Hope you all like it!

Everyone has their own “normal”

For the longest time ( 2 years to be exact), i have been meaning to write about the unsaid “norms of normal” that make rounds in our society.

After delivering a child, I thought the most frequently asked questions would be something like “how are you?” “How does it feel?” “How’s the little one been doing” etc. But, surprisingly, the most asked questions were two:

1. Was it a normal delivery or a cesarean?

2. Is the baby on breast feed or formula?

Now, the problem here is not asking these questions. The problem lies in trying to judge a new mom on the basis of the answers that she gives.

I had a cesarean delivery. And it was normal for me. All deliveries are normal. Each body reacts differently to pregnancy and my recovery, weight loss and the entire journey was super smooth. So, by the time i hit the 45 day mark post delivery, I was fitting into my regular pre pregnancy jeans without having done any exercises and without starving myself. This was my journey. Its not good or bad. It’s just how my journey has been.

The thing that surprised me was, a lot of people (especially women) judged me for having lost the weight, came to the conclusion that since I have lost my pregnancy weight and I had a cesarean, I definitely am not breast feeding my child and hence, I am a “modern” mother with low parenting values.

This is an unsaid phenomenon in the society and I have faced it many a times be it at social gatherings, friends you bump into, relatives you meet etc.

Another amazing thing that I get is, people questioning my decision to have a single child. To substantiate their intrusive questions, they often end up telling me: but you had the baby through operation, you don’t even know what delivering a child means. So, you can have more kids!

Bravo! What logic. And I get this A LOT. I used to be confused in the beginning but when I finally realised the stupidity of the whole thing, I started answering back in my own way.

A couple of months ago, I was at a party where I met a new mother and I walked upto her and asked how she has been doing and how’s the baby been doing. Well, to tell you the truth, I wanted to tickle the cheeks of the infant (my kid is now 2 and I miss those early months). As we started talking, she shared with me how she has been judged for opting a cesarean and how women judge her for feeding formula to the child to the extent of calling her up and Whatsapping her their kid’s pictures when they were infants just to show how “healthy” they were because they were exclusively breastfed.

I wonder how fair is it to judge a new mother who is figuring things out, is exhausted and probably going through post partum depression or feeling exceptionally low, on the basis of the choices she makes. I wonder how justified it is to judge a woman who has been trying to feed her baby all night, is taking medication to increase the breast milk supply, is super exhausted, has backache from feeding and to take a break decides to give a formula feed to the child. And even if she is not exhausted, she is not having lactation or latching issues, she just needs a break for a while. Who is anyone to judge her?

We have no right to judge anyone for their choices. Why I had a cesarean is nobody’s business. How I take care of my child is nobody’s business, how many kids i choose to have is nobody’s business.

To strike a conversation and ask questions or to just suggest something or share experiences is normal and that’s how I have learned a lot of things in my initial days of being a mother. Frankly, I have come across some amazing women from all across the globe and have one of the best gang of girls who give very realistic and practical information and advices. But, a lot of people and women to be specific, try to get information for the sole purpose of judging a person and demeaning them by devaluing their choices, an act that is morally and ethically wrong

As women we go through a lot physically and mentally when we have a baby. It’s a roller coaster journey and each woman has her own journey and circumstances and choices. We need to be more inclusive and less intolerant about women who don’t fit a particular mould of a mother. I joined back work in 6 months post delivery and a lot of women judged me for having gone back to work “so soon”. There are so many judgements and so little compassion around the choices a woman makes that its a bit disheartening, to say the least.

What a person is going through, we don’t know. How much the person is trying, we dont know. Who has what medical conditions, we don’t know. Who is going through mental health issues like post-partum depression, we do not know. So, stop judging people by just looking at them. In fact, we should stop judging people completely. To each to it’s own, right? Lets respect people and their choices even if they don’t fit a particular social mould.

Guilty: Review

On a cosy evening, with the weather just perfect, I snuggled in my comforter and started watching a crime thriller on Netflix.  10 minutes in, I saw a notification ping saying “Guilty” was now streaming on Netflix.

I had seen its ads and had probably marked it hence, the notification. I switched to watching Guilty and the next 120 minutes had me hooked onto it.

Guilty is a story of a woman, it’s a story of womankind, it’s a story of humanity, it’s a story screaming why boys need to be raised right, it’s a story of how acceptable victim shaming is, it’s a story of how insensitive we all are as a society.

To review the movie, it’s a very upbeat, young movie with a deep rooted message to which a lot of college kids and youth would identify with as well as the older generation. Based on the #MeToo movement, it’s an extremely urban story. Its so urban that one of the characters in the movie when asked questions about his whereabouts, says “I want to plead the fifth”!. The section of society that has grown up on watching American TV series and Hollywood movies find it eye opening to know 911 isn’t an Indian emergency number and, pleading the fifth is in the American constitution and not in the Indian and this vibe is captured perfectly in the movie. The acting of most of the actors is convincing and the supporting cast is an ensemble of seasoned actors like Dilip Tahir and Niki Aneja Walia. The story of the movie is so powerful that the acting and the actors don’t outshine the story track. You’d remember the cast of this movie by their screen names and not their real-life names and that is a huge accomplishment for any creative team.

What the movie does to the you, is a separate story all together. Like I said earlier, it’s a movie on society, sexuality, gender bias, victim shaming, and the list could go on and on.

What surprises me is, its 2020 and we are still fighting for basic human dignity of a particular gender. Since ages there has been content around this issue. In every century, the story is probably the same. Its just the narration that changes. Watching this movie, I remembered a Hollywood movie I saw as a kid starring Jodie Foster, “The Accused”. The Accused was released in 1988. Guilty is released in 2020. The issue and the insensitivity of the society, the attitude that if a woman is drinking, wearing skimpy clothes, flirting with a man,  is asking for it, is the same. Victim shaming and the victim blaming is the same. The entitlement of men in thinking they have the right to decide who “asks for it” and who doesn’t, is the same and this similarity is what we all as a society should be collectively ashamed of.

In the movie, a girl who accuses the college heartthrob of rape, with whom she had been flirting and wanting to sleep with, wore skimpy clothes and minced no words when said “yes, I wanted to be with him, yes, I flirted with him, yes I wanted to be his girlfriend and yes, I wanted to sleep with him BUT NOT IN FRONT OF HIS FRIENDS” is a statement that probably a lot of people would not even understand because of the expert raising techniques that we practice in our societies.

The film treads on the bold territory of domestic rape, wearing plunging necklines, the coexistence of the possibility of flirting and having the right to say NO, the stark difference in the perception people have of a woman who seeks attention and of a man who seeks attention and, of course, the dirty world of legal politics.

Why the #MeToo movement caught such a momentum worldwide is no rocket science. The logic is simple. There cannot be a woman in the world who has never ever faced any kind of physical abuse. It may be in the form of rape, eve teasing, bottom pinching, slut shaming etc but, it has happened. And all of it falls under one umbrella: treating women as objects.

How hard is it to understand what No means. How have we all raised the boys who went on to become the kind of men that think cleavage, alcohol, short dresses and flirting is a certified indication of “asking for it”?

I remember when I was in college, a bunch of boys used to eve tease us every single day. The police station was walking distance from my college so myself along with two more friends of mine went to the police station to complain. The police officer there took one look at us and told us to wear full sleeved clothes and wear salwar kameez instead of jeans and the “boy problem” would soon vanish.

When would we start holding men accountable for their actions? Why do women have to be cautious for themselves as well as for men? Why is the onus of not provoking men on women?

It takes a village to raise a child and looks like since centuries we have been raising boys in the wrong kind of village.

I am Me

I am a child.

The one who was supposed to play hide n seek but could never play without worrying my mother sick and making her almost paranoid for my safety.

I am a teenager.

The one Who wanted to wear camisoles but never could because i didnt know how to avoid the lecherous gaze of men who made me uncomfortable with my own growing and changing body.

I am a young woman.

The one who wanted to go clubbing and pubbing and enjoy and partywith my new found monetary independence but never could because nights are not safe for women to venture out.

I am a bride

The one who wanted to be a little more than a Mrs, the one who wanted to work, pursue her career but couldn’t because a woman going out to work is against your family values.

I am a house wife

The one who wanted her name to be outside the house, right next to yours on that name plate because this is where i would be living for the rest of my life but never saw my name there ir anywhere else because for you, apparently its the men who are the true representatives of a house. Of your house.

I am a female

The one who wanted to wear shorts and pajamas at home, the one who wanted to wear jeans and dresses but never could because its against your family’s tradition and culture.

I am a mother

The one who wanted to give my daughter the chance to be a hell of an independent woman, the chance that i never got but could never give to her too because she bears your surname, your family name and even after carrying her within me, even after giving birth to her, even after spending hundreds of nights being awake with her, she doesnt have my surname and so, dhas to carry forward your family’s traditions.

I am a woman

The one who wanted to just talk about periods , the one who just wanted to step out in peace and buy the pads and tampons and menstrual cups and decide which ones to choose from but never could because periods are made to be something to be ashamed of and even going out alone and unaccompanied is against your idea of freedom.

I am a lady

The one who wanted desperately to be understood during the time i was undergoing menopause but never could be understood because a woman’s fluctuating hormones are not something to be addressed or cared for especially by the husband.

I am a middle aged mother

The one who after raising my children wanted to find myself, wanted to do something different, wanted to be what i felt i was meant to be, wanted to step out of the house, make friends, have my own social circle but never could because now, my son thinks woman of the house should behave in a certain manner and my stepping out seems to disrupt his peace of mind and the peace of the house.

I am a grandmother

The one who wanted to be seen other than being the wife of, the mother of, the grandmother of… but never could because building my individuality and identity was never even considered a thing and every step that i took towards it was met with displeasure and discouragement, making it something to be guilty of.

I am a spirit.

Finally i am not your daughter, i am not your wife, i am not your bahu, i am not your mother, i am not your grandmother, i am not your sabhyata, i am not your sanskriti, i am not your izzat, not your

Finally, i am me.

Please don’t tell me what my feminism should look like

When I say I don’t agree with a person’s views, I am saying I don’t agree with their views. Period. I am not saying I have a problem with the person or am in any manner attacking the person on a personal level. It’s the idea that I am referring to.

Now that i am done with the disclaimer, let me come straight to the point.

What an author wrote about feminism:

“However, fueled by the rising feminist movements across the globe, there is also another track the media has used to showcase empowered women. This kind of depiction tries to portray an empowered woman as one who can wear racy outfits, consume alcohol at the drop of a hat and engage in casual sex.

A classic example of it could be the Amazon Prime series, Four More Shots Please. This kind of show often ends up making many uncomfortable with the idea of feminism. Depicting western notions of feminism wrapped in their culture serve the purpose of entertainment, but it raises many questions too. Feminism is about equality, freedom and empowerment of women but isn’t it that with freedom comes the responsibility to be progressive, yet stand steadfast around our values? These desperate innuendos do not represent modern and empowered Indian women. If it does, then it’s probably a minority!”

I, as a female, have serious issues with this idea of feminism given by the author Farah here.

If the media sometimes depicts an empowered woman as one who wears racy outfits, who sees no problems in casual consensual sex, smokes and drinks, what exactly is the problem there? Are we questioning women’s choices here? Are we considering women who wear revealing outfits, women who drink and women who engage in casual consensual sex as lesser beings?

Farah further adds the Amazon Prime series Four More Shots Please and its depiction of women makes a lot of people “uncomfortable “.

My opinion: Isn’t it against the very notion of feminism to question another woman’s choice and judge her? Also, isn’t it taking too much interest in other’s lives when we say the life of a person disturbs us? I mean, why should it? If you agree with that idea, fine! If not, it’s not your place to make a decision for others.

Four More Shots Please is a web series revolving around the lives of four women. Four fiercely independent women. In my opinion, the women are cultured, have good values and are very sensitive in life. As a woman talking about feminism, isn’t it rather harsh judging other women because they consume alcohol and enjoy doing that, because they aren’t in a relationship but indulge in sex? ( consensual sex. The women here aren’t raping anyone nor promoting adulterous behaviour neither cheating) Isn’t this the exact mentality that women have been fighting against since centuries? The notion that women’s choices can be questioned because someone else feels “uncomfortable” with the way they are living their lives is exactly what feminists have been fighting against.

When Farah says “with freedom comes the responsibility to be progressive yet stand steadfast around our values?” , I dont really know how anyone can dictate what values other people should stick by in their lives. I have grown up in a household where I have seen my mother, my aunts, my great aunts all enjoying family dinners, evening conversations with a glass of wine or gin. Also, what exactly are racy outfits? Shorts? Bikinis? Dresses? To be honest, even my mother and my aunts wear these things! I am a mother to a 21month old baby girl and I love wearing my shorts, dresses or bikinis. Furthermore, I have never questioned women who claim to be progressive and also choose to dress conservatively. How is it my problem if someone has a problem with this culture of my family, the values this open minded environment imparts? Is it saying that the women in my family aren’t cultured or are not having enough values?

There have been a lot of debates around women covering their heads with scarves or chunnis or hijabs. Almost everywhere the decision is always left on the woman. To wear or not to wear should be a woman’s own free will. So why is this free will questioned in case of racy outfits and alcohol?

Feminism and women empowerment is all about the freedom of choice that a woman has. By questioning that freedom, by putting a boundary on the freedom of other beings, by respecting only a section’s choices and rejecting other’s , we are taking away centuries of struggle and hard work women have put in to make the right of choice for women a thing in this world.

The last line of the two paragraph summary is what makes this whole idea of feminism by Farah very dangerous. She writes:

“these desperate innuendos do not represent modern Indian women and if it does, it’s probably a minority!”

When women’s fight for voting rights began, it was started by a small group, a minority of women who had problems with the “culture” and “values” of those times. It was a small group of women who fought for university admissions to be made open for women in America. It was another fight where a small group of black women rebelled for their equal rights in education. All these struggles were started by a group of people who were at that point, a minority.

An idea doesn’t lose it’s merit because of being a minority belief nor does it hold true because it’s a majoritarian view.

Some women enjoy a glass of wine and some enjoy orange juice while some prefer plain water. Some feel comfortable in jeans, some feel at home in shorts while others feel good and confident in salwar kameez or sarees. Some enjoy sex, some explore their sexuality while some think of sex as a sacred act. These are all choices.

Lets be free and let others be themselves.