Kolkata Book Fair - a potpourri of memories

My association with the Book Fair goes back to the days when I had just started bearing the idea of what books were. I was born in a typical Kolkata family where books are valued and archived. This is one of the many common things which run in the households of my city, the others being a compilation of Tagore’s works, immense love for all culinary delicacies  and an album of Mohiner Ghoraguli.



“Book Fair! So it is an entire fair dedicated to books?”

“Yes, lots of books from home and abroad.”


My father had a rather simple way of explaining the concept of a fair dedicated completely to books to me.

That was many years ago. Since then, many things have changed -“Calcutta” is now called “Kolkata”, the venue of the fair has moved from “Kolkata Maidan” to a much more organised and environment friendly “Milan Mela grounds” and I have outgrown a grey hair or two.

In between all that, the book fair has managed to become something that I look forward to, every year. Not only because it is about one of my favourite things – books, but also about a few of my favourite people.

The Book Fair was not just a matter of a few days; it was months of preparation and hard work for the the organizers as well as the writers. Way back in the late 90s, when Facebook and Twitter were a near future, the writers and translators depended on these fairs as a platform to get known to the world.This annual cultural event is actually potpourri of books, friends, nostalgia, music, food, people and of course, ‘adda’.

My first memories of the book fair relates to buying “Nonte Phonte” comic books or Chinese short story books translated in Bengali while holding my father’s hands. He was the one who introduced me to the world of 'Calcutta' Book Fair. During those days, the fair used to be held at Kolkata Maidan. I was barely six or seven and the mighty gates, huge crowds and the sight of the imposing Victoria Memorial nearby, sketched a picture of molten warmth wrapped Kolkata winter in my mind. Somehow, that is one imagery of Kolkata that has remained with me always.

I used to stare at the huge volumes of “Sarat Rochonaboli” or works of Sunil Gangopadhyay on the racks while my father said – “Ogulo na boroder boi, boro holey porbey, kemon?” (Those are books for grown-ups. You can read them when you are a grown-up too.)

Time, they say, waits for none. While ‘growing up’ I still visited Book fair religiously with my father every year but I also went back several times every year along with my friends. I progressed from Feluda to a more mature Byomkesh or the complex Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot on the ‘detective’ stories front.

My annual trips to book fair also gradually turned out to be ones where I would buy new novels of Suchitra Bhattacharya, get acquainted with the classic works of Jane Austen and Ashapurna Devi.

I was not living anymore in Kolkata when the venue shifted to Milan Mela grounds. As I read the news, my heart longed for the the Benfish stall right in the middle of the fair. Okay, I confess. I ate all of them. Because one should never book-hunt on an empty stomach. Or discriminate between the Coffee House laddoo, the Rollick ice cream, the Fish Fry from Benfish and the Paan from Mantu’s.

I did not attend the fair for many years in between. When I returned to live in Kolkata again, many a fancy new book stores had opened up in the city while the eternal College Street was always there, yet the joy of smelling a bag full of fresh new books bought at the book fair had not waned a bit. Just the way, the ritual of holding hands with your first love and gathering at the book fair to share your story with a set of trusted friends never gets old.

The eternally youthful city the continues to discuss which stall has the biggest queue, which new author is asking the most uncomfortable questions through the pen or just breaks into a new song of hope, every now and then.

Kolkata Book Fair is actually a celebration of our lives, of good old charm of Kolkata, of winter afternoons, of books and old friends and first loves – first loves which were about old Bengali classics and the fragrance of the ‘forbidden’ hidden inside the first read Saratchandra novel.

Today’s Spiritual Insight

Travelling

When this card appears, it indicates the time of movement and change. It may be a physical movement from one way of being to another.

However, whatever the case, this card promises that the going will be easy and will bring the sense of adventure and growth - there is no reason to struggle or plan too much.

Travelling card also reminds us to accept and embrace the new. This attitude of openess and acceptance invites new friends and experiences into our lives.

How does the Tarot work?

The basic idea behind the Tarot is very simple – a deck of Tarot cards is made up of 78 cards, each of which has a specific meaning relating to a particular concept of life, or experience. In a Tarot reading, the cards are shuffled, and then laid out in a ‘spread’ – that is a pattern on a table, where each position represents a particular aspect of life, for instance ‘the recent past’, or ‘current emotions’. The reader then looks at how the meaning of a card corresponds to the position it is in, and tells the client what the spread appears to be saying about their current state of life.

This is a simple thing to describe, but it does suggest one very major question – how does it work? How do the cards arrange themselves into a ‘meaningful pattern’? Why should some pieces of cardboard with some pretty pictures on them be able to mysteriously rearrange themselves into an order which tells us about our life and experiences in a detail that often exceeds what we are consciously able to observe?

The first and most important thing to realize is – no one knows for sure. However, it works. Interpreting the Tarot takes many years of practice; depending upon the way in which the cards fall or are laid out in a spread has great bearing on their individual meaning.

Obviously you

can ask the tarot what you like, although it is in fact a vehicle for exposing what you already know. Any card drawn in response to an issue is a direct reflection of what you are sometimes unable or unwilling to recognize at this time. And yet it is only through recognition (without judging as right or wrong) from a detached perspective that you can begin to fully experience your height and depth – all the colors of your rainbow being.

Want to know more about the Tarot?  Well, probably the best way is to have a reading.  Or if you'd like to learn how to read the Tarot yourself I do offer some lovely courses.  Alternatively, if you enjoyed what you just read you can read more like it over on my blog.

What are Tarot Cards

In most people's minds, "Tarot card reading" means a woman in flowing robes, leaning over a small table in a candlelit room, foretelling impending doom.

But that's not really what Tarot cards are about. They are the most powerful sources of information come from within; the Tarot aids in coming in contact with one's Higher Self.

Tarot has been in existence for thousands of years, since ancient Egypt or perhaps even before. The first known use of the Tarot in the West was in the Middle Ages. During those turbulent times, the imagery of the Tarot has been used in many ways as a code to transmit the teachings of the medieval mystery schools. Over time, Tarot has been used in many ways – as a tool for predicting the future, a way to gather unseen about various situations.

Tarot is a visual tool that tells you about your conscious and unconcious motivations, influences and feelings through the images. A Tarot Reader is a medium or an interpreter of the images for the person depending on the question and the focus of the reading.

Every time I tell someone I am a Tarot card reader, the first question that they ask me is: “Do Tarot card readings really work?”

While this question does bring a lot of snarky, smart-alec-y answers to my mind, I normally try to explain some things to these people.

Well, the short-and-sweet, one word answer to this question is: “Yes!”

Tarot card readings do work. And when done correctly, the Tarot cards can be a huge source of guidance and help. They can also be a great way for exploring a variety of creative thinking processes, which do deliver out-of-the-box answers that make you think along a line that you may never have thought on before.

Want to know more about the Tarot?  Well, probably the best way is to have a reading.  Or if you'd like to learn how to read the Tarot yourself I do offer some courses.  Alternatively, if you enjoyed what you just read you can read more like it over on my blog

.

A Rosy Tale of Winter

This city has started taking place in my heart. With the green monsoon, here comes the winter!

There comes a day when the early rising Punekar will step out of his house, pause in slight surprise, and try to clear his eyes. When the blurriness remains, the he realizes that the light fog is to blame for the reduced visibility and that winter has arrived on padded feet.

Winter arrives quietly in Pune and is greeted with relief by the city. Pune has always lived, figuratively and literally, in the shadow of a metropolis that makes much of its monsoons. But winter is a season Pune can lay claim to as its own. Unlike the disruptive machismo of the Bombay rains, Pune's winter is gentle in both arrival and tenure, mirroring the  happy and laid-back ways of the place. A trip down the sleek Mumbai-Pune expressway through the misty Western Ghats more than amplifies this difference.

In the Pink The phrase that the locals use to describe the first month of the winter says it all. Punekars bask in “gulaabii thandii”, literally the “rosy cold”. During this time, citizens, in their light woolens, can be seen bearing a light rosiness of both cheek and demeanor.

Since Pune's winters are temperate, especially in comparison with the frigid bitterness of many North Indian towns, they can rouse residents to action rather than cause them to cower behind a thick quilt. Once the indolence of the early cold morning is defeated, a walk in the balmy ambiance is the best way to kick off a day. Given that parts of commercially booming Pune are sometimes be-deviled by smog towards the evenings, the mornings remain the best time to soak up the sun-kissed winter at the 'tekri'.

A favorite‘ tekdi’ or hillock. Pune is blessed with an abundance of these easy-to-climb hillocks, which offer vantage views of the city, especially in the late evenings. Many of these tekdis have a temple at the summit, providing the spiritually-minded with a reward for their exertions. For the more material at heart, tekdis also offer flat summits for exploration and the pleasant company of fellow wanderers.

A favorite variation of this is to walk up the nearest

Winter is also Avian Season for bird watchers. Many lakes in and around Pune receive several varieties of migratory birds. Pune has inspired many as amateur ornithologists.

Since winters in Pune rarely descend into single digit temperatures, the city is never hobbled by the weather. As January ends and the sun becomes less oblique, winter fades away just as gently as it arrived. Each year, the hard-to-impress Pune old-timer will insist that the city was not what it used to be. But come next November, this sentiment will be assuaged by the winters of Pune's content.

Rain in Winter

There were intrepid clouds, heavy nimbus, shades of violet, purple, greys and a peculiar orange circumscribing the skies. Fields of yonder, accustomed to the Sunshine, its dazzle and warmth... Wanted the soothe of the rain drops, the first mirth of the fertility awaiting the green grass and flowers of all colours... The scent of the earth and the song of the air on beats of thunder. And so it rained. It rained, clouds of the South Sky did pour. Drenched Soul.. Soaring spirits. Love, may be in Pune.

....before there was the first inflorescence, colours vanished away from the flower palettes. May be it rained too heavy. May be it din’t rain as much.

Charm, as it is, what goes around comes around...some molten shades, evaporated and amalgamated in the clouds that had decided to pour. They came with the show of glamour, lightening along to keep the Earth mesmerized  And like a magician, the clouds did spellbound the heart and soul, which were more than ever young this season. My dear city, happy with some rains somewhere, hopeful of the clouds that would come and pour unconditionally.

(Unconditional, has a clause yet of having no condition. Expectations seeps in, in form of being formless.)

And we, yearning and learning, passively. Praying some rains, though dismaying the clouds. Nature has its own plan, destiny its own. Dried up earth was soon to be sold.

And then it was to happen. Divinity into action. This time of the celesta, the darkest clouds, thick with hues of gravity, each shade conveying its own virtue. The smoked browns talked of the experiences carried along while floating till this patch of Land, blues talking of the depth the cloud had, the intensity it had, the rains it can cast. Grays telling the stories of the unexpected , the Blacks talking aloud of the ability to engulf, some White here and there telling of the silence that wisdom attains and that glistening violet, the unending enigma! This was it. The rains were to come... it had to pour. The bosom of the Earth had to be damp. It had to be damp to be off the enrapture of being barren . Be off the mirage of clouds. For this time it was real. It was to stay. Forever.

And it rained. There was a melody in the heart of the Earth, there was a poem in the rain drops, there was harmony in nature. A Love Song was born. Perpetual One. 

Dream Job – Made in China

I had the perfect job. The one I always wanted—in an exciting industry, for a big name company, with a title that says I get to do what I love all day long. Except for that—well, I hate it.

It's painful to admit it. My job went from being the greatest job ever to being a horrible job. It took a few months so I didn't completely realize it was happening. And speaking from experience, the grieving and recovery process is quite long.

I know, at some point in your career – maybe at multiple points – you’re probably going to have a bad boss but when that person turns into a real nightmare, it’s explainable. And as it turns out, a terrible boss doesn't just impact the way you work in the office. It affects your entire life.

...And if your peers are women! Forget the sisterhood. Forget smashing a hole through the glass ceiling and throwing a rope ladder down to her younger female colleagues. The Queen Bee is alive and well and — watch out — possibly sitting at the desk next to you.

A Queen Bee is someone who has worked her way up to the top in a male-dominated organisation! Rest I leave it up to you to decide and in my case I had two of them.

I have been witness to people exploiting their positions for their personal gains. These ‘higher authority’s feedback were biased and echoed no work ethic. When the time came for my evaluations, my bosses gave me a 15 min. lecture about how to ‘act’ like the Queen Bees. I guess, such is the way to climb up the ladder in A-grade media houses in India. Shorter your pants, bigger your salary!

"In this economy," we're told, "you should be thankful you have a job at all." Well, yes... But also; no.

Being able to support yourself is important, of course, but anyone who is aware of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs will tell you that once your basic needs are covered, you'll automatically yearn for more. You may have a job, a home, a husband and children, and still wonder, 'Is that all there is?'

If you're young and ambitious, it's not enough to have a job - you have to have the job. There is so much emphasis on a coveted career: a job that doesn't just sound cool, but which gives other people a case of the green-eyed monster. When I was a kid, everyone wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer. These days, we want to be do-it-yourself millionaires, zippy entrepreneurs or wacky internet personalities.

For the people stuck in this trap, the appearance of the job matters more than the reality. But why slave away to impress people you don't even like?

But , imagine you’re “living the dream,” as you told your proud parents and envious friends upon receiving the offer letter. When you walk through those fancy doors to your fairy-tale

job every day with Katy Perry’s “Firework” blasting in your head, all you can think is: “The perks! The title! The bragging rights!” Who cares that you’re working 90 hours a week and your boss is a borderline psychopath? You’ve “made it,” and there’s no looking back!

With time I figured out, I was spending most of my effort each day trying to take on the persona I needed for the position I wanted—a persona that just didn’t come naturally to me. It was exhausting, and no matter how hard I tried to force it to be a fit, it just wasn’t.

My admission came when I got off of work exhausted and bullied by my bosses, yet again, raced to the nearest pub to meet my girlfriends, and burst into tears when they asked how my day was. (Of course, while sobbing, I swore up and down, “I’m really happy though, guys!” until they held a compact mirror in my face and asked, “Oh, really? Is that what happiness looks like?” (Touché.)

I struggled to get past the feeling that I was giving up the perfect opportunity—the opportunity I’d been wanting for so long, one that “most people would kill for.” And one day, I decided to throw my resignation letter up on my boss’s face who’s nothing but a faff. And I did just that.

It took a while for me to recover from such a trauma. My fiancé who’s my husband now, were very supportive. At times, it’s very important to have a partner who understands your needs even before you say. Yes, here comes the best part of this job – I got married. And like a knight in armour (pun intended) R flew me in his (well...Indigo’s) jet and I went from a world of meetings and suits where people listened to my opinion to being a nobody writing a book in a cafe.

Kolkata Kaleidoscope

From Personal Achives

In the modern day of urbanization, most of the modern cities in India love to call themselves cosmopolitan and not just mere cities thriving around the periphery of an Indian state. Tell someone who lives in Mumbai that he lives in a Maharastrian city; he will immediately correct you as being a cosmopolitan. The same goes with people living in other parts of the country.

 Not the case with Calcutta. The city is essentially Bengali and leaves no stones unturned to preserve the Bengali culture. Surprisingly, people living in Bengal are proud about the fact that Calcutta hasn’t lost its old world charm. If you delve deep into it, you’ll find that the city’s weaknesses and strengths that echo a unique Bengali character.

From Personal Achives

The city has its own drawbacks, from the sudden bouts of passion through cheerful pandemonium to fiery reaction to a smallest provocation.  However, these flaws are strengths in disguise.  Calcutta incarnates the Bangalee love in the name of culture, the triumph of intellectualism over avarice, the warmth among people, disdain with which hypocrisy and insincerity are treated and the supremacy of emotion over all other aspects.

This gives ‘the city of joy’ uniqueness and it is not meant for everyone. You want your city green and clean; go to Delhi. You want your city to be impersonal and rich, stick to Mumbai. You want your city to be hi-tech – Bangalore is the answer. But you want a city which has soul – come to Kolkata.

Calcutta grows on you.  It’s just not the lush Maidan, the grandeur of Victoria Memorial, the hustle-bustle of Burrabazar or the brilliance of second Hoogly Bridge. It is more than the usual bricks and mortars; it’s about the ‘people’. And no one can replicate the essence of the city’s dwellers.

From Personal Achives

Calcutta is about subtle emotions, art, culture, passion and ideas. Here, people don’t talk about stock market, but about the latest political gossip reported on a newspaper. They talk about Robi Thakur and Mamata Banerjee with the same exuberance. Each evening,  a true-blood Bengali will want fish on his table, his children will be encouraged to take up a new form of art, he will appreciate good book – something that still bind every Bangalee with his culture. For him, religion and culture will be in inextricably bound together.

From Personal Achives

Talking about religion, tell anyone about Pujo in Kolkata and they’ll scoff. Puja is religious they’ll say. Contrary to the belief, the world-famous Durga puja is just not about chanting hymns or worshipping the Goddess. It’s about the varied emotions of the city – like a grand carnival. It has little to do with meaningless ritual or sinister political activity. The essence of Puja is that all the passions of Bengal converge: emotion, culture, the love of life, the warmth of being together, the joy of celebration, the pride inartistic expression and yes, the cult of the goddess. There’s no place you’ll find where children cry on Dashimi as Maa Durga bids farewell to the lesser mortals. Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so much about food and pandal hopping?

To understand Calcutta, you need to understand the very essence of Bangla.  It’s not easy, but as time goes by you start falling in love with the city. And after a while, you’ll realise that the city has stolen your soul. Wherever you go, you’ll carry a bit of the ‘city of joy’ with you. Such is the essence of Calcutta – a feeling that never fades away!

The Joy of Flying

Incredible. Amazing. Exhilarating. Uplifting. Intoxicative. Electric. Soul stirring.  Exalting. Inspiring... or quite simply Out of the world. Running out of adjectives to describe my first experience of paragliding.

It was such a wonderful experience that I’m hooked for life and I intend going back to do the beginners course. The joy of free flight really is hard to describe. It is something I always wanted to do and I finally did it.

From Personal Achives

As we started running on our tracks, I felt myself being lifted into the air and drifting further and further from land. In a matter of seconds, we were flying high above the valley. From my vantage point, I feasted on endless corn fields, green plains and clusters of dark green forests, all sprawled over undulating valleys and hills. I shouted in excitement as I looked down and saw tiny figures of people looking straight up towards me. I could hear people cheering me up. I looked straight ahead and could see the farthest parts of Deolo, all beautiful.

I was flying high above the slopes of Kalimpong on a paraglide with Rishi – my instructor. He told this would give the best view of Deolo, and indeed, they were right. We took off into the sky and glided over acres upon acres of pine forests and running streams. Once in the sky, I drank in views of nature which stands high on a cliff overlooking the lake. Fringed by beautiful stoned paths and emerald mountains, the magical setting resembled scenes from a fairy tale. I pinched myself, to see if I was dreaming.

From Personal Achives

As I floated there, in the sky, with the birds, and with everything hundreds of feet below me, the sense of peace and joy I felt was invigorating. I’ve always looked up towards the sky and seen birds flying and imagined what it would be like for them. I actually for the first time in my life, while I was paragliding, looked down and saw the birds flying, below me! That sight is etched in my memory forever.

The scenery was breath-taking with the hills and valleys surrounding the entire area and the pristine blue of the sky…  I was speechless.  I wasn’t scared anymore! I was completely enamoured with the moment and the once in a lifetime experience I was participating in. A smile did not leave my face!

As my feet landed safely on the ground, I felt full of gratitude and was on a total adrenaline HIGH.  I was thrilled that I had set out to do something that truly scared me and it ended up being the single most exhilarating experience of my entire life.  There was pure JOY in conquering that FEAR!

Pic: Random

There are many experiences in life that make you feel that you are truly alive. This is definitely one of them.

P.S.: The flying machines will take off from Deolo, 5km from Kalimpong, and descend into various spots nearby. The football ground of Dr Graham’s Homes, barely a kilometre away, and Relli, some 10km away, are some of the landing points. The gliders will touch down at Pudung, close to Relli, too.

The funny bone of Indian Politics

A few days back, I was reading an interesting book on political satire called Unreal Elections – which digs into the Indian political satire amidst the clamour of heated debates. Surprisingly, as I delved deeper into this new genre of writings, I figured out that the internet is full of such political sarcasms.  Thanks to technology, a barrage of political spoofs on the internet and TV ensures that every Indian politician is cut down to size.

For a country where everyone takes politics very seriously and in the rural areas where many aspire to be a politician, it is surprising to find Indians laughing their way to the elections. Thanks to the new age satirists, a generous dose of political humour doing rounds in every nook and corner of the tech world using rhetorical campaigns.

Pic: Random

The genre is not something new in India – it was always there in diverse forms of cartoons in newspapers, it’s just the appetite has increased.  

No doubt, humour should be integrated in politics. For example, there seems to be a lot more humour in the presidential elections of the USA than you’ll find in India.  Indians have a tendency of taking things seriously. Sarcastic comments by Narendra Modi often receive a very blistering response from political opponents for using the term "Shahzada" for Rahul Gandhi frequently. I find it quite funny and of course, a brilliant tactic. But instead of taking it sportingly, opposition leaders have taken offence to it and responded in a different tone altogether.

The moment you open any social networking sites, you’ll be flooded with varied jokes and graphics based on Indian politicians and politics. The current trend of such satires are inevitably based on the top notch political parties and their supremoes like, Congress, AAP, BJP and who can deny the constant jokes on our home-grown party, TMC.

As I browsed the internet, came across a very interesting take on Indian politics by Irfan – the new breed of cartoonists who gained popularity for his catchy graphics based on similar theme. If you think that it needs acute finesse to capture the funny bone of politics, you’re wrong. Many amateur artists and writers have also taken such steps and later became internet sensation. 

Pic: Random

Gone are the days when Jawaharlal Nehru who had a great sense of humour, once told cartoonist Shankar, "Don't spare me".  It was also reported that once Laura Bush comically teased her husband George W Bush during the White House Correspondent’s Dinner of his inability to pronounce “nuclear”, his poor reading habits and even his bedtime activities. Can you imagine this in India?

“Ooh there you go again”, says future anonymous commenter “bootlicking the West.” I never get this logic. What is the problem in imbibing the good things of the West—their rationality, their work culture and their sense of humour?

The dawn of A Nation Without Women

‘All women actually want is you to fuck the shit out of them.’

‘Women have always felt lust for rapists. It’s a fact that is easy to back up.’

‘Is it possible to rape a girl in a respectful way?’

Pic: Behance

These are just some of the shockingly vile statements I've seen online this week, as I delved into the world of so-called Men’s Rights forums, where young male users come from across the world. The horrifyingly aggressive face of modern misogyny, which appears to have taken root among our young men and boys, and the fact the internet not only provides a forum for such deep-seated loathing but increases the likelihood of it spilling over into real life.

Before I even attempted to look at these vile sites, I needed a crash course in a language that was entirely new to me. For starters, the ‘manosphere’ refers to the blogs, message boards and various sites where men specifically go to vent their resentment against women and/or learn how to successfully attract them or ‘pick them up’.

Like the latest smartphone or designer sunglasses, sex is increasingly viewed on these sites as yet another commodity there for the taking. In this warped world, young men believe themselves entitled to have sex with whomever they choose. The objectification of females is such that a girl who’s ‘up for sex’ with one person is necessarily ‘up for it’ with everyone. The sexual liberation of women has become distorted into something terribly dangerous.

My daily chores starts with reading newspaper and shockingly, there’s always something or the other about violence against women all throughout the globe. Even in the wake of 21^st Century, it’s the women who face the maximum outrage from the society. The actions of some of my fellow 'men' makes me sick.

Pic: Google Images

Whether she is a college student travelling in some train, a working woman returning home or a housewife walking on a road, from a child of tender years to a lady 65 years of age, no one is safe. My personal experience as an independent working woman staying in a different city seals the fact more. We talk about women liberalization, independence, equality et al. but one of the main reasons of violence against women is the mentality which deems women inferior of men and merely limits their importance to the maintenance of the household, the upbringing of children and pleasing their husbands and serving other members of the family. Every woman you meet, know or related to has been a victim of gender inequality – be its home, workplace, transport or just, anything! You will say not everyone feels the same. Yes, time has changed, yet attitude towards women have never been changed. To understand better, one has to get to the root cause of the problem. It has all started ages ago, where men are thought to be gods and powerful and women to be just like slaves for household works.

Everyone asks me to carry a pepper spray, some even suggested to take some martial art classes and others simply instructed me to carry knives in my bag. My question is why? Why do I have to carry so many things to remain safe in MY country where I pay my taxes and adhere to other norms just like any other MEN? Why I can’t smoke in a public place but a man can pee on the roads in a broad day light? Why can’t I wear shorts and go to my local grocer’s shop and not a single man will look at my legs salaciously? Why can’t I go for a walk late in the evening? Why should women or feminists have to fight this battle? This isn't a feminist battle this a battle of HUMANITY. Granted, it is women who are being humiliated, but in essence their tormentors are both, men and women. Carried out by men, but assisted by other women's silence and acceptance. The depravity is nauseating. As for “boys will be boys”, it sums up the prevailing attitude towards females.

Pic: Behance

Police don't care, bureaucrats are indifferent, politicians find women seductive — it's the entire regime. Every time, I read some attacks on women I think thank God! It’s not me. I often ask myself, am I safe in my own country? Why do I need to extra careful while dressing up, walking across the streets or lighting up my cigarette? Is it really an offence to be a woman? No. I AM a woman and proud to be one! But those myriad questions still haunt me whenever I step out of my house and read about obnoxious attitude towards us. Enough of Women’s Day and all that jazz. Give women what they need the most – respect, love and equality.

The actual need of the hour is a revolutionary change in the mindsets and conscience of every men around the world and just not in India, so that they stop seeing women as objects of sexual pleasure. Don't teach you daughters what not to wear, rather teach your sons how to respect women of all ages.