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When I was 6-8 years old, I once saw papa slapping mom, I didn't know the reason and next morning mom prepared papa's breakfast and mine.
When I was 6-8 years old, I once saw papa slapping mom, I didn’t know the reason and next morning mom prepared papa’s breakfast and mine.
Mom even spoke to papa. I was astonished by the fact that after being slapped by papa she didn’t weep nor got enraged. How could she be like that? This was the only question which exasperated me all the time in school.
After school, I ask the same question to mom that why she was not angry with papa? She said, “Beta, why would I get angry with him?” I replied, “Because he slapped you at night, I saw and when you slap me, I weep, I get angry at you. Then why didn’t you get angry with papa?
Mom’s spirit got low and her voice became unsettled as if she was not expecting that question from me. At last she said, “Because I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, and they…” I didn’t let her complete her sentence and yelled at her “No! No! our science teacher taught us that living beings can cry, love, hate, talk, see, hear, walk. But non-living things being just things without life, can’t do all this. And you are a living being.”
Mom looked at me as she got a new name, a new identity. She renewed “herself” or as if I had put a mirror in front of her and said, “This is you, a living being.”
Now, I am 18 years old and we both live in our house as “living beings not things.” Its been so much important for us as women to be a daughter, wife, mother, sister, or an aunt. We do this, we do that, but what about us being ourselves?
Ask this question to you and then you may realize ‘who’ you are? Rather than ‘what’ you are?
In writing, trying to find myself. In reading, exploring the world. read more...
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Darlings makes some excellent points about domestic violence . For such a movie to not follow through with a resolution that won't be problematic, is disappointing.
I watched Darlings last weekend, staying on top of its release on Netflix. It was a long-awaited respite from the recent flicks. I wanted badly to jump into its praise and will praise it, for something has to be said for the powerhouse performances it is packed with. But I will not be able to in a way that I really had wanted to.
I wanted to say that this is a must-watch on domestic violence that I stand behind and a needed and nuanced social portrayal. But unfortunately, I can’t. For I found Darlings to be deeply problematic when it comes to the portrayal of domestic violence and how that should be dealt with.
Before we rush to the ‘you must be having a problem because a man was hit’ or ‘much worse happens to women’ conclusions, that is not what my issue is. I have seen the praises and criticisms, and the criticisms of criticisms. I know, from having had close associations with non-profits and activists who fight domestic violence not just in India but globally, that much worse happens to women. I have written a book with case studies and statistics on that. Neither do I have any moral qualms around violence getting tackled with violence (that will be another post some day).
Gender stereotypes, though a by-product of the patriarchal society that we have always lived in, are now so intricately woven into our conditioning that despite our progressive thinking, we are unable to break free from them.
Repeatedly crossing, while on my morning walk ̶ a sticky, vine-coloured patch on the walkway, painted by jamuns that have fallen from the jamun tree, crushed by the impact of their fall, and perhaps, inadvertently trampled upon by walkers, awakens memories of the mulberry tree that stood in my parents’ house when I was growing up. Right at the entrance of the house, the tree caused a similar red and violet chaos on the floor, which greeted us each time we entered the gate.
Today, as I walked by this red-violet patch, I was reminded of an incident that my mother had narrated to me several times. It had taken place shortly after her marriage and her arrival in this house from her hometown.