Bits and pieces is what I have. I have never tried to comprehend the whole of myself at once.I know it will take time. In my journey towards self realization- be a witness and share your thoughts.
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I know there will be a lot of cynics out there who will doubt the intent– of both the creators and the host – of the show,’Satyamev Jayate’. But let us not focus on the froth (presentation), but on the essence (content) of the show.
A lot of movie stars get paid in crores per episode for judging Reality talent shows, there is no harm in that. But when a film star appears in a show with relevant social issues, we feel uncomfortable. Some bloggers have even used the term, ’social pornography’ for daring to share the stories of women who have fought against social prejudice and injustice to survive and protect their girl child. Of course, we feel disgusted. The moment when we heard about the mother-in-law, who kicked the baby cot with her granddaughter in it, we wanted to close our eyes and shut our ears to the horrors that our imagination can't even fathom. But someone had lived through it; someone who felt that she should have empowered herself before and that could have saved her. It is not that educated women are not victimized. According to the surveys cited in the episode, fetal gender determination and consequent female feticides are more rampant in urban, educated homes.
The issue is nothing novel, we have been reading about these atrocities in newspapers since we were kids. But it is not every day a show makes an attempt and it trends in everyday conversations. The proof of the pudding is in the eating. I am looking forward to the next episode, and though I can’t change your perception about a show or its host, I can implore you to judge it for the message it is trying to convey, and not for the conveyor. And I hope that the truth shall prevail.
Twitter trends on May 6,2012 . India vs San Francisco
This a tribute to the countless adventure stories I read as a kid. My apologies in advance to those who can't read Bengali, but I felt the need to write it in my mother tongue first. I might translate it upon completion.
ডাক নাম রশ্মি । বয়স পনেরো কি ষোলো । সবে ICSE দিয়ে গ্রীষ্মের ছুটি কাটাতে কিছু দিন মামা বাড়ি যাবে বলে ঠিক হয়েছে , তাই মনে খুব আনন্দ । মামার বাড়ি মানেই আম গাছ, লিচু গাছ, পেয়ারা গাছ । দুপুর বেলা পাখির ডাক শুনতে শুনতে গাছে ঝুলে ঝুলে ফল পেড়ে খাওয়া - কেও মানা করবে না ।
মা ও তখন পড়ার জন্যে জোর করেন না । আর আসে পাশে সমবয়েসী অনেক প্রতিবেশী আছে, আর আছে মাম - রশ্মির প্রিয় বান্ধবী । শুভদা, সোনাদাদা - এরাও আছে যারা স্কুল মাঠে ক্রিকেট খেলে; আর মা আম কুচি বানিয়ে দিলে সব হর হর করে চলে আসে । সেই মামার বাড়িতেই যে এত কান্ড হবে সে কে জানত ?
পরীক্ষা শেষ হলো পর ঠিক হলো যে মা আর রশ্মি আগে চলে যাবে, বাবা কিছু দিন বাড়ি থেকে অফিস করে এরপর ওদের ফেরার সময় হলে গিয়ে এক দিন নিয়ে আসবেন ।
It is the nth time when a group of aestheticians rounded up on me and said how fortunate I was to never need augmentation for certain body part(s). I told them I was not too happy. Honestly, I am worried what age will do to them. Not that I was very comfortable with them in the beginning either. In my early teens, small protuberances appeared on my hitherto proud flat chest and I tried to counter their attempts at gaining acknowledgment by walking with a forward stoop. I felt the whole world knew something was wrong with my body. My mother noticed me one day and asked me why I was walking weird. One of the most wonderful things that make a mother is that she understands her child’s problems-most of the times-without explicitness. She tried to reason in an old- fashioned way about the 'ornaments' of womankind and that I should bear them with pride. Ornaments or not, I understood that for better or for worse, they were there to stay.