enviable housewives

I was two years old, or even less, the last time I was home for an entire year. School, college and then office – the waking hours of my life (till Dec 2007) have been 'sacrificed' at these self-imposed altars, as naturally and irrevocably as eggs hatch into chicks, chicks grow into hens, hens lay eggs and the cycle repeats all over again. Silly allegory I agree, but I’m too hungry (it's 10:13 pm and I’m still not done feeling lazy to cook) to think of anything but FOOD. How I loved cooking when I was home. How I'd prepare him his favourite food and wait on him. Ah the noons...how I would torment my friends at work with details of how I stretched and yawned under the noon sun and rubbed Boomer’s (my boy who has a tail and stands on four legs) belly. How I would listen to Nidhi (my neighbour) singing to her 1 year old son and conclude I could have done a better job at nursery rhymes. Then, there was this person who lived some floors above us, who played the violin and I would sit and wonder whether it is a he or a she who's playing. At times I would watch our watchman, Mohan's, daughters playing ‘kitchen-kitchen’ under the tree and get all nostalgic. Mostly I’d take up some novel and let that ambrosial noon nap grow on me. How I had all the time to sit and think. How I would never, almost never, feel tired. How my world revolved around just him. And how he would envy my state of unhurried tranquility – “free from that need to be reaching somewhere, doing something”!

For women, marriage can be a great liberator, you know. “Housewives” are as acceptable as working women, but coming back home to a ‘house-husband’, waiting on you with the eve cuppa, honestly, doesn't invoke a comely picture.

Here's a little, candid confession. Before I submitted to that bracket (housewife, I mean), I would actually despise housewives (housewife girlfriends, hang on, don't take offense immediately). At times it went to the extent of equating some with "parasites", when a few of them would make their 'intentions' very apparent. Hate me for this you may but it took me some experience to see this philosophy is not just politically incorrect but plainly unjust. And I am not saying this just because I have been-there-done-that and reworked my opinion. Perhaps, I am not programmed to bask in the luxury of being one like many of us career-minded breed.

- I feel guilty of not utilizing my potential 

- Feels like a snail in the race, not competing, not learning, not growing enough

- It torments me, the state of being DEPENDENT, especially for money

Nevertheless, I hate waking up in the mornings, hate 'travelling' (never been fortunate enough to avail cab service) to and from work, hate routines, hate being time-bound. I came to Hyderabad last January (2008) and from among all lucrative propositions, I chose the one that bound me to no offices, no early mornings, but an almost unattainable target of 25 articles per month - which never happened and no deductions in my uber grand salary made. Those were the heydays, I tell you. So I was relishing both being a housewife (or rather a wife-who-stays-in-the-house) and also see my bank balance swell. Real "housewifing" happened only after October (2008), the chronicles of which I will never tire prating. And all I wanted at that time was A JOB!!!

Women and Wanderlust!

::: For my Travel column in the Horizon, The Assam Tribune
::: Published: 29March, 2008
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Angling in the countryside on a summer afternoon, with a pint of beer, smoke and John Denver’s classics for company, is something I can never do. Not because I would sip a glass of Mojitos instead, but because I am a woman. At home (being the only child), in the school, college and later during my years at work, I was quite convinced of the privileges of being born into the female form, till I was stung by the travel bug. Doses of Feminism (thanks to Delhi University) and a little digging into the Da Vinci Code further cemented a logic that we, women, are superior creatures, but physically not as strong and hence, subdued. Male readers may lower your spears – discussing the “war of sexes” is the last thing I would do on a weekend column. I was only brooding over those countless instances when my travel plans got shredded or had to be accommodated with dummy fellow travellers – just because it is “not safe” for me - a woman - to travel to such and such place, alone! Will the world ever change? Travelling solo, therefore, grew on me more out of necessity than of choice and I would very often by-pass advises, never tell my parents (I hope they miss this one) and venture alone just where I want . But to tell you the truth, there have been so many instances when I thought I would be punished for "disobedience" by being sold off to some one-eyed badmash across the border.
I almost gave up travelling and decided to concentrate on parenting Boomer (my 2 month old lab) instead, when I heard of Sumitra Senapaty’s WOW (Women on Wanderlust) Club. It is an exclusive travel club that hosts all-women tours across the globe. It seemed godsent! No, it is not a travel agency. The Club is what is called the “one-stop-shop” that arranges for everything right from your Visa, insurance, air/train tickets to hotel bookings et al – just what travel agencies do. But unlike contemporary travel agencies, they do not charge you the 60-70% extra just because you are without a partner (now you know why they always promote trips for two!). Sumitra analyses the profiles herself and places like-minded duos together. Which means you are not only saved the hassle of travelling solo as a backpacker, but you get a ready-made, like minded travel buddy. Though tagged a Club, it does not have any membership filtering and all you need to join a tour is stand upon your itchy feet and load your wallet a little.
Are you ransacking your brains where did you last heard “Sumitra”? You must have read some travelogue about kayaking in South China Sea, camping at African jungles, or snorkelling at the Great Barrier Reef in the travel sections of Times of India, Verve, Marie Claire or Femina and found a “By Sumitra Senapaty” bolded and highlighted. Simply put, Sumitra is a travel writer and after years of globe-trotting, she finally decided to start her own travel club. Whether it was a realisation of the limitations as women travellers or just the need to share her travel experiences, that inspired WOW, I can’t say, but her concept was a revolution of sorts. The WOW dashboard has trips ready for the year and it reads: Best of Egypt (14th Feb), Turkish Delights (19th April), Best of Italy (13th May), 3 country tour of Czech Republic, Hungary & Poland (9th June) and Leh Ladakh Tour (14th June and 15th August). The departures, however, are mostly from Delhi and Mumbai. The list was wanting in trips within India and Sumitra explained how women travellers with WOW prefer overseas destinations to those in India, because the latter mostly has families or friends to accompany them. Her WOW Club has one traveller from Guwahati so far and sounded enthusiastic when I declared my lineage.
Feel an itch under your feet already? You can reach Sumita at me@wowsumitra.com or 09891655054/080-26658025 for detailed itineraries, tour cost and departures. A warm voice awaits you at the other end, ready with her ‘wow’ ideas to inspire you to live your dreams, and this time, more so because you are a woman!
Next time your boyfriend/husband or your friends yawn at your travel gusto, you know who to call! And for your regular travel queries, you know who to mail (yours truly, that is!).
Post Script: On behalf of my Kolongporiya bodhu xokol, I thank you for your mails. Must say, you readers are amazing! For those who are wondering what I am talking about – a group of NRAs (non-Residential Assamese) from Nagaon, have volunteered to career counsel the aspiring lot in the fields of Travel Writing (me), Engineering (Amar Saikia, Gaurav Dey). Reach us at: kolongporiya@gmail.com.
WOW UPDATES:
1. Trip to Bhutan ((5 Nights, 6 days) :
> Takes off on 7th September 2008, ex Kolkatta.
> Total package cost: RS 39,500 per person on twin share / Single Occupancy – RS 10, 000 extra
>>> Contact Sumitra for Package inclusions and further details

Understanding 'Pride & Prejudice'..

It took me some 25 years to understand Jane Austen’s Victorian classic Pride & Prejudice.

Preface….

As a teenager, mostly fed with Tinkles, Nancy Drews, Sidney Sheldons and the likes, Pride & Prejudice, honestly, wasn’t one of the books I considered shifting to my little book shelf (made of shoe-cartons) from MaPa’s huge one. Nevertheless, Kamala Das’ Life Story, and this other novel called The Song of my Heart, did sit there (in my shelf) like misfits. My love for “Life Story” is that old. And the other novel qualified to be there just because it had pages (that I dog-eared) I was not supposed to read at that age.

Pride & Prejudice appeared again during early twenties, and this time, it was a part of my curriculum. Impromptu it disappeared from MaPa’s book-shelf and got shoved into mine (a metal shelf this time), amongst Kafkas and Coelhos, and other books of my curriculum. P & P was digested and excreted (read done away with) at the examination hall, without an ounce of affection. In fact, it was George Eliot’s Mill on the Floss’ Maggie (her identity crisis and later, self-discovery) and Tagore’s Home & the World’s Bimala (her feminism), that enamored me completely.

Pride & Prejudice – My take

I was really amused, when at 25, one fine day I looked back at life and found it so resembling the crux of that much-ignored, never dog-eared, Pride & Prejudice. The novel, as you know, centers on the theme of marriage in a Victorian society, illustrated finely through the parable of a family with four marriageable daughters and the urgency to get them married.
And whether Gurinder Chaddha’s Indian take, Bride & Prejudice, was released or not, I can vouch that an average Indian woman of my situation, i.e. one who has read the book, belongs to a middle class family, is of marriageable age and unengaged, and at home, will be able to relate to it in someway or the other, if not completely.

It was not without a pinch of salt (add pepper and chilies) that I gulped down MaPa’s ‘landing’ me to the Marriage Market. Well, a ‘market’ it has to be, because there the unmarried (men and women alike), get ‘commodified’ and their chances of getting a good mate (consumer) depends on certain definite and defined attributes. For men, it is profession and education, while for women, it is her face and character. This might sound too generalized and narrow, to say, very Victorian, but ironically that is how it is. Try peeking into the matrimonial advertisements and you will know what I mean.

Ma, like Mrs. Bennet, picked this famous one-liner: “Eir karoney eta bhal lora sabo soon dei” (Please search a good groom for my daughter), and gave it to relatives, acquaintances, you name it. I either grow red with anger or blue with embarrassment, but who cares! Was it not declaring to the whole world that her daughter has been incapable of finding herself a good match – I would often ponder!

Having brought up in an atmosphere that saw not a trace of patriarchic misgivings or gender bias, the recent developments at home were a ‘shock’ through and through. Every dictum had an underlying ‘this is what a lady is supposed to do’ and no action escaped scrutiny. I was even served a home-arrest of 6 months before I really got married, so that I could be groomed to be a ‘good wife’ (reminds me of the ‘accomplishments’ Lady Catherine defined that an ideal lady should possess). My outings were restricted. Maa’s advising to grow my hair long, left me slack-jawed, because ‘boys-cut’ was all I was allowed till I gathered the guts to revolt. Tresses, academic degrees, certificates and what not – all seemed ornamental accomplishments, that would decide my ‘value’ in the ‘Marriage Market’.

I could understand what made Lydia elope with that unworthy Wickham. The pressure boils down to a mental state that ‘escape’ is all you can think of, be it through marriage or elopement. How I hated being the Jane Bennet, at the receiving end, waiting to be ‘whisked away’, not ‘deciding’ but ‘accepting’ what others decide fit for her. The penultimate decision seemingly lies with the girl, but when ‘it’ is arranged between families and all factors (families, charkas etc.) seem compatible, the girl (sensitive and under ‘pressure’), has very little to ‘choose’, you see. Besides, the mind gets conditioned to the threaten - ‘aru bhal lora napaba’ (you will not get a better guy, if not this one) and like Charlotte Lucas you tend to ‘hold on’ to what seems ‘best’ your situation could afford.

Whether Marriages are made in Heaven, by Ma-Pa or by me, it hurts my self-respect to just ‘stay there’ waiting to be ‘selected’. Are living this ‘Victorian past’ and arranged marriages an assurance that you will live ‘happily ever after’? Is it right to groom daughters into believing they are ‘equal’, only to expect them to conform to ‘patriarchy’ in the end? For example, docile and unambitious women are preferred over ambitious and career-centric ones, and the parents do not raise a brow if that becomes a condition for marriage. Resembles Mr. Collins’ preferences, don’t they?

My situation, resembling a Jane Bennet best, with occasional impulses of a Lydia, depressions of a Charlotte, weird takes of a Mary (minus the snake dances, though), is an anti-thesis to everything my ‘accomplishments’ has made of me.

Transported to and caged in Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice, Elizabeth seems the only role ‘livable’ and the hope of finding a Darcy in good time, the only respite.

Dated..2nd December:

Darcy made it in good time.......wonder which novel it is going to be like next....till now Erich Seagal's Love Story is all I can think of..but I'll have to find another one soon..the heroine dies young, if you remember ;)

changinG m00ds of a w0maN @ 25 something

That bundle of old cards (preserved since god knows when) was finally shown the green dustbin. In fact during the last few days, or rather months, many of those material possessions I once termed NOSTALGIA, met the same fate. The street children (who dig at our garbage) must be amused to discover that purple purse, that payal, pair of gloves, an embroidered belt, the box of bangles, a mini chess-board - all in good condition.

Yes, I have been vacating my wardrobe, my suitcase, my shelves, my room, my life..everything of UNNECESSARY items - gifts, cards, letters, photographs, people..the list is endless!

Call it a value for QUALITY over QUANTITY or becoming UNATTACHED by the day... Has anybody actually coined a term for this phase? Me being such a simple, ordinary girl, I am sure I share an universal fraternity in this.

A typical Cancerian to the core, right from the chocolate wrappers to the pages of my school note-book where my friends scribbled things, stamps to songs, my Colosseum publications to my journals that date back to Class V - I would preserve them all. It was blasphemy to throw anything that meant 'memory'.

And look at me today........

Memories
Nostalgia
Mementos
Pricelessness
Everything is passe..

....becoming an 'alien' to everything I was
..........'everything I was' looks alien to me!

To Yesterdays I show my green-dustbin...
And for Tomorrows I don't care........

Living todays....as if this is my last day alive..

(man i can't even write poetries anymore :(