Enter Bhagwaan

It was almost ten 'o clock now. Mummy and Pop (Papa was being called Pop these days) had left for work more than an hour back. The maid had finished her sweeping and cleaning too. Diya lingered over her breakfast today, when on most other days she would gulp it down hurriedly. She sat picking up and nibbling at the remains of the bread in her plate. When even they were over, she resorted to making spirals out of ketchup. Her usual play time was nine thirty but Nani's visit to their house had turned her world slightly topsy turvy. Since morning, which was when Nani arrived, Diya had been finding herself displaced from her usual spots. First Nani had sat on her favourite sofa, then Nani's big brown bag had sat where Diya liked her pretty Barbie kitchen set to be and now Nani had been sitting in the Puja Room for almost an hour.

On another day, by this time Diya would be in the Puja Room with all four of her Barbies. She would've set up the dining table (She dint have a dining table so she used the big book with the red velvet cover that Mummy read to Ramji every morning.) for them and seated them around it. Ramji, from Mummy's Puja also came down to sit and play. Ramji was her favourite doll. Because he had pretty ornaments and also Mummy had often told Diya that Ramji would take care of her. Ramji was her friend and protector while the Barbies were slightly lower in hierarchy in her scheme of things. She herself wanted to join them at the table but she found herself grossly out of proportion with the rest of them so she placed the 'diya' that Mummy lit everyday. Mummy had told her once, 'Beta, your name means this beautiful and sacred little flame that lights up everything around it.' So she used the 'diya' as a placeholder for herself. And then the story took its own different course each day. Sometimes it was a birthday party and sometimes the Barbies fought and Ramji sorted their fights out.

But today Nani was sitting there, taking her own sweet time. Didn't she know that Mummy had already read to Ramji once. She didn't have to do it again. (Anyway's Ramji enjoyed Diya's skits more.) So Diya sat and waited, twiddling her thumbs and planning out the screenplay for today's drama. When Nani was finally done, Diya waited for her to disappear into the bedroom. Then she ran into the Puja Room. She placed the red book on the floor. Today it would be a bed and not a table. She lay Ramji and the Barbies down on it. Then her creativity lost steam. She was trying to weave a tale, debating between a bedtime story competition and a everyone-is-ill story, when suddenly Nani hollered at her from behind. She looked very angry. She held Diya by her ear and made her stand up. Then she placed Ramji back into his usual standing place. Diya had no idea what the problem was. She had played here everyday after Mummy and Pop left. Nani then scolded her saying 'Yeh koi khelne ki jagah nahi hai. Bhagwaan gussa ho jayenge.' Diya tried to mutter something in protest but thought better of it. With tears welling up in her eyes, she collected her Barbies and left. All she remembered was Nani saying 'Bhagwaan gussa ho jayenge', 'Bhagwaan punish karenge'. Nani had pointed at Ramji when she said that but Diya was sure she meant someone else. Ramji only loved and cared for her. He didn't scold or punish her.

At night, after everyone had slept, Diya tiptoed to the Puja Room, careful not to bump into anything in the dark. She quickly picked up Ramji and took him to her room. She placed him next to her on her pillow and covered him with her sheet and said 'I'm sorry Ramji I couldn't rescue you earlier. We will fight whoever this Bhagwaan is and his silly rules. You won't have to stay in the Puja Room anymore if we cant play there. I'll talk to Mummy. I love you and I want you to be near me so that you can love and protect me.' She kissed Ramji's forehead and said goodnight to her favourite doll with shiny ornaments and eyes that never closed.

Feminism? No. Sense? Yes.

Tomorrow is your interview with IIM Calcutta and you haven't touched the black and white printed god in three days. So you wake up a tiny bit earlier than your usual, cut short your long drawn out lazing-in-bed-hating-the-morning ritual and sit down to read TOI (unluckily that's all that's available). And TOI, as always, doesn't disappoint. Wait a minute, it just beats itself. The whole 15 or 20, or however many pages there are, scream out 'happy women's day'. You (you're a girl.(who'll be a woman soon)) yawn, raise your eyebrows (eyebrows are nicely shaped) and say 'oh yeah? Give me a break'. You read on only to find every next thing more ridiculous than the previous. But you read on anyways. You hate this women's day charade, it irritates you that every tiny article in the paper has a refernece to women's day. Sometimes so far-fetched and out of place is the reference that you wonder if the journos and editors at TOI have had an introduction to words like irrelevant, non-sequitur etc. Ok, sample this. Some XYZ woman was released from prison and there was tiny article about it. And instead of writing why she was released, TOI writes something to the effect: XYZ released on the eve of Women's Day! As if, Women's day was what saved her from the dungeons. And look at this: Kingfisher Airlines to operate an all-women flight to Delhi and Bangalore wherein all cabin crew, pilots and passengers will be women. Goodness gracious me! What in this friggin world are they going to get out of that? If they wanted women to benefit, they could make their tickets cheaper. If they wanted to pamper them, they could let them fly free and if they wanted women to celebrate, throw them a party. An all women's flight for god's sake! Thats just ridiculous. Anyways you brush it aside without giving it much thought as you carelessly fold and throw away the paper. Its the next day. You're ready and in position for your group discussion. And they announce the topic. 'Should there be a men's day?'. And this was exactly what you needed (for being able to analyze and articulate why the newspaper yesterday irritated you and for blogging material too). We'll cut out of this scene now and just have an opinion dump.What is Women's day? A celebration of the emancipation of women/ a celebration of womanhood/ a party for women's rights activists/ heyday for commercial nautankis? Probably in its conception it was an encouragement and a commemoration of liberation of women. The concept came to India pretty late and was popularized by the media. By the media. For the media. Of the media. (can't make sense of 'of the media' but for the sake of the phrase, lets allow that). That's why no acts of any consequence or any meaning happen on this day but women get to travel on a flight full of women. Some organizations try to get close to meaningful and hold talk shows. Sadly, nothing except cliches are spoken at such events. Some try to get even closer. Even if you grant them the kindness of believing in their intentions, you can't agree with their ideas. For ex: Some organizations held a walk-in interview day for women job applicants. Are they trying to say that they will hire more women? Or is it just a gimmick and men apply on another ordinary day and the women get the marvelous opportunity to apply on this glorious day? Next point: It is patronizing behaviour. Instead of bringing in the feeling of equality, it is defeating just that. Should there be a men's day? There isn't any need for a women's day either. But if we do have one, why not a men's day as well? Some said that men have anyways always showed their strength and made women accept their greatness. What they don't understand is that voluntary acknowledgment by women or rather the opportunity to voluntarily acknowledge men gives worth to acknowledgement by women which in turn gives them a more equal status. (If more equal is grammatically or semantically correct). Some may say that you are all uppity about it because you are an urban, confident and independent woman but the rural women aren't refusing patronization because they're still facing a lot of gender discrimination. For them: excuse us urban women our snootiness, but reality check, the gibberish about women's day isn't loud enough to reach these backward rural areas. So women's day ain't helping no ablaa naris. People tell you that you're a self-proclaimed feminist. (whatever..) so you should stop ranting now. Last shout of protest. You love being a woman. AND you like men. You just prefer the label 'the fairer sex' to 'the weaker sex'. You rest your case.