Beyond protests: Questioning the cause of #VAW

( Warning : This entry details some instances of violence against women.Do not read if you find them disturbing.) 

Ukalo…

I wish there were an easier way to upload blog posts. The Dashboard with multiple drop in options, statistics, space used up and free, comments all make it seem as though ‘writing’ is a ceremony of some sorts. It makes it seem as though it is work that I am sitting down to complete than something lighter I would like it to be. I know, I wouldn’t be thinking this way had I been blogging regularly. But once I started receiving ‘In need of original content’ emails I had put my foot down and claim this space!

The last time I thought something had to be written was last Wednesday. The bus was moving downhill from Ukalo and I noticed everything ahead looked red while the other side of the road was lit yellow with vehicles headed the opposite way. It looked beautiful. ‘Kathmandu is cosmopolitan’ was my exact sentiment. An absurd thought I would say because I am sure the road has looked that way ever since buses started running on Ring Road.Even so, I indulged in that absurd thought. It reminded me of Delhi.  And it reminded me of him. Another absurd character.

Wed classes remind me of him. During the first week the memory was weak. The second week it got extremely strong. In the bus, I could clearly visualize his face, the overconfident, proud look on his face and his eyes. He must have had hiccups whatever he was doing in some corner of Delhi. I wondered how by the end of it we were nothing but invisible to one another. He was an empty man. He knew it, I knew it, all of us knew it. But someone had to bell the cat and that was me. And I know he hated my guts for having done it. I appreciated him for his strengths but was equally critical of his baseless claims to know things he had no idea about. For someone who was as highly perceptive as him, I am sure he knew that I knew.

Still, it is Wednesday today and she will remind me of him. They both do the same thing but she does it by knowing what she’s doing. He did it assuming we would never figure out that he didn’t know what he was doing.

P.S It’s ironical how we travel great distances seeking knowledge that shakes our core and come back home to find it. That entire semester wouldn’t amount to a single Wednesday evening class. 

To Delhi, With Love

By the end of this day I will have left this city for good. Delhi, where I lived for the past two years and some more. I wish  I could define my relationship with this place, express in a few lines what this place has been for me but I can’t. It’s a complicated relationship of some sorts. There have been times when I have hated Delhi to extremes. And then in other times I have had nothing but infinite gratitude to this place for what it’s done to me. Delhi was my ‘shock absorber’ when I first landed here.

mindless musings

A week ago I had a sudden surge of development optimism. It happened amidst our class discussions on what is wrong with poverty lines and micro credit. My argument was if the credit market doesn’t exist for people below poverty lines anyway what is wrong with MC creating it? At least some people are benefiting from it aren’t they? I surprised myself by even thinking along those lines. It’s been long since I lost faith in development as is practiced I felt as though I were was going back to the old days of development optimism, the innocent ‘I’ll change the world’ attitude. Yah, it seems so innocent when I think of those early enthusiastic dev days. Now it seems like it was only a fleeting thought.

scribble scribble

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Food

Prescription for Writer’s Block

My prescription for writer’s block is to face the fact that there is no such thing. It’s an invented condition, a literary version of the judicial “abuse excuse.” Writing well is difficult, but one can always write something. And then, with a lot of work, make it better. It’s a question of having enough will and ambition, not of hoping to evade this mysterious hysteria people are always talking about.

THOMAS MALLON

It was about a week ago that the thought of writing something occurred to me in recent times. It was right after I finished watching ‘Julie & Julia’. Julie’s blog was an inspiration. I thought of all the things that could be written throughout the movie. But wrote nothing when it was over and that was that.

Tughlaqabad Fort

View from Tughlaqabad (Pic by Shamima)

For the ones interested in visiting Tuglaqabad Fort in Delhi, it should be clear that it is a fort that once was. It isn’t there anymore. What remains now are the massive walls which will give you more than a hint of what existed in the past. Some people might even say ‘Haan pahad hai’ ( Yah it’s a hill) when you ask about the place. But don’t expect a hike either. Nonetheless, go there.

Situated on the outskirts of Delhi it offers a magnificent view of the city. It is no hill (for a Nepali) but on climbing the ruins you find yourself on an elevated point where you can feel the cool breeze across your face. It’s the USP of the place apart from the ruins. Destruction can indeed look very beautiful at times.Half a part of a wall, an underground passage and the massive fort wall visible from the main road make Tuglaqabad Fort what it is. Across the street lies the mausoleum of Ghiyath al-Din Tughluq.  It is a well-kept unique structure with sloping walls surrounded by green grass.Coming to think of it now the place is ironical in a way. The fort where people once lived is in ruins. The building which houses the tombs of the dead, however, is well maintained. But all of it corresponds to the fact that Delhi is a place which celebrates death. The most beautiful places here are built around tombs like Lodhi garden or tombs themselves like Humayun’s Tomb.

Hope the pictures(below) inspire you to visit the place if the text didn’t.

Where do I go from here?

Where Do we Go from here? , a photo by Zaded on Flickr.

I was just going through my Flickr shots when I came across this. The picture is a perfect portrayal of my state of mind. There is nothing to do here in Delhi apart from experience the unbearable heat. But I feel like the little kid I was back in school who never wanted to go home! For some reason I don’t want to go back to Kathmandu though I must. I think I have grown too accustomed to this ‘Robinson Crusoe’ economy of mine …I don’t want to change the way things are. I don’t think I am ready to come out of this oven and go out in the real world and interact with people. The mere thought of human interactions is bit too much for me to take at the moment. I don’t want to be baked in this Delhi heat but I don’t have the heart for anything else either. I feel like one of those birds in the picture. What should I do? Take a tourist bus to Kathmandu? Air ticket? Train ?