A FEMINIST MANIFESTO IN FIFTEEN SUGGESTIONS by CHIMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHIE

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie wrote this book when her sister asked her on how to raise her little girl a feminist. This tiny little book is filled with wisdom of centuries and I (who always believed myself as a feminist) had some very surprising realizations. I think everyone should read this. Along with her other book - We should all be Feminists.

So here is a version of the book abridged by me-

1. The first suggestion is be a full woman. Do not be defined solely as a mother. Or a wife. Or a daughter. Have your own identity. Your child will benefit a lot from it. Do not apologize for working, because you love what you do, and that is a beautiful gift for your child. Maybe you don’t have to love your job, it doesn’t have to be an important job. Just that doing and earning gives you confidence and self reliance and fulfillment, and that makes you a better person, a better parent. Motherhood and work are not mutually exclusive.

2. Do it together. A father is equally important parent as the mother. And a father can do as much as the mother in terms of love and care for the child. Involve him in all activities of care-giving of the child. And have patience when he doesn’t do it right. He is learning and don’t spoil his involvement with your perfectionism.  Share child care equally. You will know it is being shared when you do not feel any resentment. Most importantly, look at the language you are using. You cannot say that your husband is ‘helping’ you with the kids. It implies that he is helping you in 'your job'. It suggests that taking care of kids is only mother’s territory. Imagine how many people would have benefited if only their father was more involved in their care. Never say that your husband is ‘babysitting’ your child. Those who ‘babysit’ are not primarily responsible for the child. But the father is equally responsible for the well being of the child. Do not be a ‘single mother’ unless you really are a single mother. There are so many families where the mother is a ‘single mother,’ taking care of everything herself and slowly filled with resentment.

3. Teach your daughter that gender roles are absolute nonsense. “Because you are a girl” is never the reason for anything. Toys, games, clothes, behavior, actions. The knowledge of cooking doesn’t come pre-installed with a vagina. Domestic skill is something both men and women need in order to live comfortably. Similarly, there is no particular behavior or actions which defines girls. These gender rules are so deeply conditioned into us that we will often follow them even if they are against our true desires, interests and happiness. Question the idea of marriage as a prize for women. It is not something to be aimed at, it is not a goal or end result. Instead of gender roles, teach her self reliance. Teach her how it is important for her to fend for herself and do things herself. Teach her how to fix things when they break. Let her try, even if she fails. Buy her blocks, trains and even dolls if she wants to.

4. Beware of Feminism Lite. This emphasizes conditional feminism. Like ‘he is the head, you are the neck’ kind of talk. Feminism lite says that men are superior but they should ‘treat women well’. This is absolutely not right. A woman’s well being should not depend on man’s benevolence. So next time you hear a man say that he is ‘allowing’ his wife to work - do not accept that language. This allowing means that the man is more powerful. Have you ever heard a woman allowing a man to do something (unless its a mother). Why does one person have to be more powerful than the other, and why is it always the man? Feminism Lite allows this power inequality. Don’t let her believe this.

5. Teach your child to read. And love reading. And she will do it only if you read too. Books will help her understand and question the world, help her express herself and also will enable her to do what she wants to do - be a chef, a singer, a scientist etc. Not school books but real books about real people and ideas. Novels, biographies, histories and many other.

6. Teach her to question language. Do not call her a princess. That word has many assumptions and many are to do with being delicate, and waiting for a prince to rescue her. What you say to her will really matter. Will you say, “ you are old enough to get married” or “ you are old enough to get a job”. Teach fairness. If you criticize X in a woman and do not criticize the same X in a man, then you have a problem with the woman not the X. Teach her to ask questions - what are the things which women cannot do because she is a woman? Show her how actions show the true intent. For example, in an advertisement when a man cooks, the woman claps for him. The ideal thing would be when she doesn’t clap for the fact that he cooks. But she reacts to the food itself and not the action of cooking. She could praise for the food or not, just as he praises for her food or not. Show her how the word “lady mechanic” is wrong. The woman is a mechanic, not a ‘lady mechanic’. Teach her how misogyny can be overt or subtle and how both forms are terrible. Show her that women need not be championed or revered, they just should be treated as equal human beings. Do not ask for chivalry. The premise of chivalry is female weakness.

7. Never speak of marriage as an achievement. As mentioned earlier, it is not a goal or end result which is to be aspired. This causes terrible imbalance in marriage. Girls grow up preoccupied with marriage. And boys grow up not being preoccupied with marriage. These girls marry these boys. The relationship is automatically imbalanced because the institution means more to one person than the other. No wonder women sacrifice so much more in a marriage, at a loss to themselves. Why is that necessary to change your name after being married? Your name defines you!! and imagine the a relationship which starts with you changing your definition, even if it is just a name. The value which the world places on a woman being married is tremendous. Why should a woman use Mrs. when she gets married but a man doesn’t have to change his Mr. status? Adichie says, changing of name should be a choice of the woman, not a culturally necessary thing. Teach your child that in a truly ideal society, women shouldn’t have to make any marriage-based changes that men are not expected to make.

8. Teach her to reject likeability. Her job is not to make herself likeable. She should learn how to be her full self, her honest self. She doesn’t have to do things to ensure that this unknown entity called ‘people’ should ‘like’ her. We need to be our most authentic self rather than be something which would please people. We all teach girls to be likeable, to be false, but we do not teach the boys to be same. This is dangerous. Many people capitalize on this, and abuse women, who keep quite because they want to be nice. Too many girls are ‘nice’ to those who are hurting them, and harm them. So teach your child to be honest, and kind, instead of being nice. And teach her to be brave. Encourage her to speak her mind, and to speak truthfully. And praise her when she does it. Teach her the importance of being kind. Praise her when she is kind, but also teach her that kindness should not be taken for granted. Tell her that she too deserves kindness. She needs to learn to stand up for herself. When someone takes her toy, without her consent, tell her to take it back, because her consent is important. Tell her that if anything, ever makes her feel uncomfortable, she should speak up, say it, shout. Show her that she does not need to be liked by everyone. More importantly she is not an object to be liked or disliked. She is a subject who can like and dislike. If someone doesn’t like her, tell her that she can choose to not like that person. It will make her teenage years a little better.

9. Give her a sense of identity. It matters. Be deliberate about it. Teach her about your culture. Be specific. Show her the good things about her culture, teach her to reject the parts which are not. Show her the beauty and resilience of her people, teach her to be proud of her lineage, her culture and her people. Teach her about privilege and inequality and the importance to give dignity to anyone who does not harm her - teach her household help is just human, just like her. Teach her to greet the driver. Link these examples to her identity- “in our family, all children greet their elders, no matter what job they do”

10. Be deliberate with how you engage with her and her appearance. Encourage her in sports. Teach her to be physically active. Take walks with her. Swim. Run. Play tennis. Football. All kinds of sports. Any kind of sports. This is beneficial not only because of its health attributes. But it will also help with the body image insecurities which the world thrusts on a girl. Show your daughter the great value in being active. Studies show that girls stop playing sports as puberty arrives. Breasts and self-consciousness gets in the way of sports. Help her through this phase and don’t let her stop sports. If she likes makeup, let her wear it. If she likes fashion, let her dress up. But if she doesn’t like it, let her be. Because you are a feminist doesn’t mean you should reject femininity. Feminism and femininity are not mutually exclusive. Many women have become ashamed and apologetic of the pursuit of feminine things like fashion and makeup. But do you see any men ashamed of pursuing sports or cars? Hence men can dress up in any which way without being worried that assumptions are being made about his intelligence, abilities and seriousness. But women have to be very careful of what they wear, because even a too bright shade of lipstick could make others assume that she was frivolous. There is a danger in linking your daughter’s clothes with morality. Never call a short skirt as ‘immoral’. Make dressing a question of taste and attractiveness rather than morality. Because clothes have nothing to do with morality. Most importantly, remember that she will notice what kind of beauty the world values - fair skinned, long straight hair falling down shoulders. This is what she will see in magazines, films and television. So make sure you create alternatives for her to see. Show her how dark skinned, non-slim women whose hair curls up are also beautiful. Show her that there are many cultures and people who do not find that mainstream - fair, thin, straight hair as beautiful at all. Affirm her own kind of beauty. Protect her from looking at her own reflection with dissatisfaction. Surround her with village of aunties, women who have qualities you would like her to admire. Talk about how much you admire them. Children copy and learn by example. Talk about what you admire in them. Surround your daughter also with uncles. Especially the blustering kind. The truth is she will come across many blustering men in her life. So it is good to have alternatives from very early on. The power of alternatives is very strong. She can counter ideas about static “gender roles if she has been empowered by her familiarity with alternatives. If she knows an uncle who cooks well, and does so with an indifference, then she can smile and brush off the foolishness of somebody who claims that “women must do the cooking”.

11. Teach her to question culture’s selective use of biology as “reasons” for social norms. We often use biology to explain the privileges that men have, the most common reason being man’s physical superiority. It is of course true. But if we truly depend on biology as the root of social norms, then children would be identified as their mother’s rather than their father’s because when a child is born, the parent we are biologically certain of is the mother. Then why does the child carry the father’s name and not the mother’s? It is not the name, but children themselves supposedly belong to their fathers. There are women who have left bad marriages but were not ‘allowed’ to take their children or even to see them because the “children belong to their father” We allow biology to explain male promiscuity but not to explain female promiscuity -actually it makes evolutionary sense for women to have more sexual partners - the larger the genetic pool, the greater the chances of bearing offspring who will thrive. But that is not the case. So teach your child that biology is interesting but she should never accept it as justification for any social norms. Social norms are created by human beings, and there is no social norm which cannot be changed.

12. Talk to her about sex and start early. It might be awkward but it is necessary. Often little knowledge acquired through non-authoritative sources could lead her to develop a sense of shame in it, and herself. And it is mostly only girls who feel that shame. Boys don’t. Ensure your daughter never encounters it. With her, don’t pretend that sex is merely a controlled act of reproduction. Or an “only marriage” act. Because that is disingenuous. Tell her that sex can be a beautiful thing and that, apart from the obvious physical consequences (being pregnant), it can have emotional consequences too. Tell her that her body belongs to her only only and she should never feel the need to say yes to something which she doesn’t want or something she feels pressured to do. Teach her that saying no when ‘no’ feels right is something to be proud of. Tell her it is best to wait till she is adult before she has sex. Be prepared that she might not wait, but if she doesn’t wait, you have to make sure she is able to tell you about it. It is not enough to say that you want to raise a daughter who can tell you anything. You have to give her the language to talk to you. Literally. What should she call it? What word should she use? Childhood development experts say it is best to have children call sexual organs with their proper name - vagina, penis,etc. You decide what you want to call it, but what matters is that name cannot be weighed down with shame. To make sure she doesn’t inherit shame from you, you have to free yourself of your own inherited shame. And I know how difficult it is. In every culture female sexuality is about shame. Even cultures that expect women to be sexy. That shame which is attached to female sexuality is about control. Many cultures and religions control women’s bodies in one way or another. If the reason for controlling women’s bodies were themselves - like “women should not wear short skirts because they can get cancer if they do” then it is understandable. Instead the reason for controlling women’s bodies is about men. Women must be “covered up” to protect men. I find this deeply dehumanizing because it reduces women to mere props used to manage the appetites of men. Speaking of shame - never, ever link sexuality and shame. Or nakedness and shame. Do not ever make “virginity” a focus. Every question about virginity becomes a conversation about shame. Teach her to reject the linking of shame and female biology. Why do we speak in low tones about periods? To be filled with shame if our menstrual blood happen to stain our skirts? Periods are nothing to be ashamed of. Periods are normal and natural and human species would not be here if periods did not exist.

13. Romance will happen. So be on board. Make sure you are aware of the romance in her life. Only way you can do that is to start very early to give her the language with which to talk to you - not only about sex but also about love. Do not try to be her friend. But be a mother to whom she can talk about everything. Teach her that love is not only to give but also to take. This is important because we give girls subtle cues about their lives. We teach them that a large component of their ability to love is their ability to sacrifice their selves. We do not teach this to boys. Teach her that to love she must give of herself emotionally but she must also expect to be given. Love is the most important thing in life. It is being greatly valued by anther human being and greatly valuing anther human being. But why do we raise only one half of the world to value this? Take a roomful of young women, and the conversation is always abut men - what terrible things men had done to them, this man cheated, this one lied, etc. But the reverse is not true. Take a roomful of men - they do not talk about women at all. If they do it is in flippant terms, rather than lamentations of life. Why?  

14. In teaching her about oppression be care not to turn the oppressed into saints. People who are unkind and dishonest are still human and still deserve dignity. Women need not have to be good and angelic to be allowed their property rights. Sometimes in feminism you would hear that women are supposed to be morally “better” than men. They are not. Women are as human as men are. Female goodness is as normal as female evil. There are many women who do not like other women. Female misogynists are many.\

15. Teach her about difference. Make difference ordinary. Make difference normal. Teach her not attach value to difference. The reason for this is not to be fair or to be nice, but merely to be human and practical. Because difference is the reality of our world. By teaching her about difference, you are equipping her to survive in a diverse world. She must know and understand that people walk different paths in the world, and as long as those paths do not harm to others, they are valid paths that she must respect. Teach her that we do not and cannot know everything about life. Both religion and science have spaces for things which we do not know, and it is enough to make peace with that. Teach her never to universalize her own standards or experiences. Teach her that her standards are for her alone and not for other people.This is the only necessary form of humility - the realization that difference is normal. Teach her that some people are gay and some are not. Tell her that people follow different religions and some don’t worship at all, because that is just the way it is for some people. You like something which someone else doesn’t. Why? Its just the way the world is. I am not suggesting you to raise her “non-judgemental”. She should be full of opinions and her opinions will come from an informed, humane and broad-minded place. 

SECOND CHANCE

Aditi sinked into her favorite couch. She had just put her kids to sleep, which was an achievement. The toddler is quite gregarious and bedtimes are not an easy affair. But now it was done, and she had some time to herself before sleep invites her into its arms. She scanned through the notifications on her phone, a quick glance at her whatsapp.  

There were updates from her youngest cousin. They conversed for a few minutes about his master’s thesis, and the upcoming campus interviews at his college. These conversations stirred something within her. Aditi had always been a good student at school. She did quite well in academics which came quite easy to her. She did very well in anything which required thinking, like public speaking, debates or quizzes. But she couldn’t say the same for college. While she had worked very hard to ensure entry to a good undergraduate school and program, she couldn’t keep up the good marks once there. Every year, her grade point came down. Aditi tried to recall why wasn’t she keen on doing well, as she had evidently done all her schooling. It is true that every one of her classmates was the best from schools all around. So competition was tough. And the program wasn’t really a cake walk like academics in school was. But the fact remains, that she didn’t give her best. She bunked classes for gossip sessions with friends, assignments done without much interest and submitted at the last moments, chilled out with friends at food and game outlets and just lived those years by. The low point of those years was an exam, where she was prepared with just half of the syllabus, knowing that would be enough to get qualifying marks. Aditi couldn’t remember any defining moment from those years. Neither did she remember them as being super fun times. In fact those years were tough because she was always fighting between being herself and a version which her friends liked. A midst all this, she didn’t pay much attention to studying. Not everyone was like her. Two of her closest friends never lost focus on their academics despite having a ball of a time.

Aditi sighed. She thought of her mentor at work and how he got her thinking about giving your best in everything you do. When he heard about her grades from graduate school he looked disappointed. It was as if he expected her to be at the top but found out otherwise. “But that grade puts you just about at the middle of your class”, he had said, shaking his head softly. She knew what he meant. At that point it hit her. She knew that she could have done so much better. Grade point didn't matter to her. She has a decent understanding of the world and has worked for long enough to know that grades do not matter much in real life. But, when you are a student, they are important. As a student your primary job is to learn. You are there to learn knowledge, critical and analytic thinking and trades which prepare you for the adult world. Whether or not, this learning is really useful in adult life is a different matter - something you do not know as a student and only realize in the adult working world. The thing is, if as a student your primary job is learning, and grade points are an indicator of how well you are doing your job, then a low grade point means you are not doing your job well. It is not really about intellect but rather about effort. It means you are not giving your best. And Aditi didn’t like that part. The fact that she didn’t give her best in her college days.

She is not the same now. Now she is very diligent with her tasks and takes her jobs very seriously. Of course when your major job involves take care and being responsible for the lives of two small and completely dependent human beings, there is no other way. But often at nights like this, when it is all quite and calm, she gets this desire to go back to college and learn. She often wishes she just pick up a program of her choice and go to college and be a student again. This time she wouldn’t waste the opportunity and would really do her best. She would study well, do some actually learning and make herself proud.

But is that really possible? Now that she has a job and a family to take care of, can she really indulge in being a student. Suppose she takes the plunge, would she be able to do really do well in her course? Back when she was a young girl, she didn’t have any responsibilities. But now, Aditi wondered, would it be possible to do well in her studies considering all the other important and primary responsibilities she has? Shaking her head, Aditi dragged herself out of the couch. These were all far fetched questions. All she wants is a second chance as being a college student and redoing that part of her life to her satisfaction. But that is just a dream. The reality she faces is an early night, so that she could get some rest and gear up for another busy day of office work, housework, kids and a zillion other things which every woman of her generation faces every day. By the time her head hits the pillow, she has already forgotten about college, having pushed it way way back of her mind. Second chance? Really? Huh.

GETTING BACK

So its been a long long time since I have paid any attention to this blog. A baby, another bout of PPD, a shift to a new country and everyday struggles of bringing up two kids - this is what happened to me. Meanwhile life has been good. Being busy and happy does not really inspire me to write (I doubt it ever inspires anyone to write)

Let me see, I have always gotten to writing when I have

       Been very upset
Lots of thoughts through my mind - writing works to clear it all
New experiences
Read some inspiring/interesting things
So bored, that writing gives me something to do
Improve my writing skills - so that when I do write well, I would get compliments from my friends (who doesnt like a compliment)

Hmm, so the past year or so, I have not experienced any of the above (not to count having a second baby - that changes the family emotional/financial/time/attention scenario very much). Hence the hiatus in blogging.

Did I mention that I moved to another country? Yes, we would be spending the next few months in the United States of America, and I am so excited with the new kind of living I see here. So I guess you would be reading a lot about that here from now!! Will keep posting, you guys keep commenting (only encouraging ones please!!)

WHY DO WE HAVE KIDS?

Why do we have children? No, its not an exasperated question asked at the end of a long and tiresome day..Neither do I mean to question the scientific or psychological reasons here. Not trying to dig deep but asking a simple, uncomplicated question - what makes us decide to give birth to little persons? I guess its because we want to bring more happiness and love in our life These tiny people fill up our days with beautiful wonder and sweet love. We want to add this experience to our lives - voluntarily!!! Then why does parenting seem like a chore to most of us on a daily basis? I hear parents constantly complaining about their children and reprimanding them through the day.

Dont get me wrong. I am no different. Most days go by with the usual running around, giving them instructions, scoldings, threats and cajoling them to do just one thing the way I want. When I am not rushing my little ones through their meals, baths, games and homework, I ignore them, wanting a little peace of mind. Add to that my often unsuccessful and sometimes harsh methods to discipline them or get them to behave. 

My biggest anxiety on any given day is that I get to finish my work before one of them demands me. Which means I too, am rushing through things all the time. Even while writing this!! The stress of it all!!! And in the few minutes I get to myself, I would rather browse my phone as a distraction to my brain rather than play with them. I have seen many parents just like me. And I am beginning to wonder, how does this attitude match up with the purpose of having children? If I wanted to have children shouldn't I be enjoying my time with them, instead of going through it like a chore which needs to be done:

A. Feed - check

B. Bath - check

C. Homework - check

D. Get ready for school/bed - check

E. Take them to park - check….

Amidst all this there is barely any time when we all just sit and cuddle or talk to each other!!! Of course there are moments of love - kisses, hugs and praises I shower on them. But shouldn't it be the other way around? More love and attention, and just a few moments of disciplining and serious talks?

In my defense, (and every parent) I have to say that parenting is exhausting and you do get overwhelmed with the little one’s demands, whining, crying and all that noise. There is just so much they need from you all the time. I do not know any blessed parents whose children play on their own, eat on their own, clean up on their own! (thank god that my kids haven't yet reached the age where their education becomes a primary concern).

They say you do not know the value of some things when you have it. Right now, my kids are in the age where they still love to hug, kiss and play with me. Pretty soon they would move on to friends an other people. Maybe then I would realise how much I would miss their dependence on me which I get so irritated with right now.

I write this more to remind a busy and tired and overwhelmed ‘me’, to remember the reason behind these kids in my life. Might keep things in perspective!!!!

HOLIDAY!!!

A holiday trip to the sea. An excited toddler. Me busy with preparations. Hubby worried about the long, long drive. Endless packing. Clothes. Blankets. Sheets for the sand. Cushions for the drive. Toys and buckets to build sand castles. Towels. Sunscreen. Hats. Music for the road. And food. Lots of food. Fruits. Chips. Biscuits. Cereal. Juice. Water.

Loading the car. Takes five trips from the house. One suitcase, two backpacks, two picnic baskets, lots of water bottles. And child’s scooter. Leave an hour late. Everyone excited. Crossing the jungle on the way. Saw wild elephants. Screams of joy and tiny eyes filled with wonder.  She is unusually hungry. Constantly demanding something to eat. I am happy. This is a rare demand. One question on repeat mode – When will we reach there?. Stopped at a small motel for the night. She drops off to sleep without her usual story book and songs. Tired.

On the road early next day. She is up early. Doesn’t want me to drive. We snuggle in the back seat. Munching chips. All three of us wear sun shade goggles. She competes with the music with her rhymes. We all sing along. I get back to driving. Papa tells her funny stories at the back. Sounds of endless giggles and questions. I smile. The drive doesn’t seem so long now.

Reach the hotel. We unpack the car. Change and go to the sea. Face filled with pure joy. Can’t keep her off the water. She wants to go deep. I curse myself. Forgot to get her floats. She is wet through. All towels and dry clothes are in the hotel. I curse myself again. But her face is filled with amazement. She feels cold. Finally out of sea. But into the sand. Busy building sand castles. Digging with spoons. Toys. Nails. Sand everywhere. Eyes, ears, nose, hair. It is perfect. Sunset. Sand. Sea. Waves crashing. Warm wind. She is happy. We are happy. Away from the busy bustling days. We are here. Just here. But the moment ends soon. She doesn’t want to go back to the hotel. Bawls till we promise her treats back at the hotel.

Trip to famous church next day. She is cranky. Has stopped eating. I am angry. Very few food options to feed her. I thank god for coconut water and juices. Click lots of pictures. Crying and impatient toddler. Back to the beach. This time with change of clothes and towels and hats. Screams of joy. Jumping in the waves. Makes us smile. Her pure joy. Quickly we are through all change of clothes and towels. I opt for parasailing. She bawls her eyes out. She wants to come. Hugs me tight when I am back. Happy again. My eyes fill up. Her love is without bounds. We all hold hands. A long quite walk along the water. 

A trip to the local spice farm. She is irritated and cranky. "Why are we not at the beach?". Hasn’t eaten anything whole day. So we are back at the beach. While she plays, we feed her. It is better than the TV distraction back home at dinner times. Papa figures out the secret. Sand and water. Her favorites. Can’t keep her off them for long.

Time to go back. Me worried she would cry. But she doesn't. Wants to go home. Misses the beach. But home is waiting. The drive back is as fun as the first one. We stop at the forest for an elephant ride. Squeals of joy. This time she gets to touch the elephant. Watches with wonder how much they eat. She promises to eat well. Falls asleep before we reach home. A smile on her face. A smile on ours.

HOPE

The pen glittered in the sun. Shiny and smooth, it was just beautiful. Maithri could not take her eyes off it. The brown body perfectly accentuated by the golden cap and slightest of the bulge in the centre gave the pen a curve which looked classic and elegant. It sat snugly in Neha’s palms as she showed her latest possession. “Isn’t this beautiful?  My dad got me this pen from Mumbai. It writes beautifully. Let me show you” said Neha. She took out her notebook, and opened the cap of the pen to reveal the exquisite nib. Maithri had never seen a fountain pen with such a small and delicate nib, it was almost not there. But when Neha scribbled on her notebook, she saw that the pen was not really fragile. It was strong and smooth.

“Can I please write with it for a while” asked Maithri. Before Neha could answer, the bell announced the end of recess and their teacher flew into the room. Everyone rushed back to their benches and within seconds a respectful silence had set in the class of fifth grade. Maithri looked at best friend with the new pen and sighed.  Neha was the prettiest in the class with her marble white skin and shiny short hair. She also had the best of things - her bag, pencil box, shoes; even her school uniform looked classier than others. Everyone in class was jealous of her. Everyone, except Maithri.

Maithri and Neha were best friends. By looks there made quite the unlikely pair. Tall and dark, Maithri had unruly hair which had been tamed with oil and forced into a braid by her mother. The differences between the, ended there. Both of them were soft spoken, loved to read books and watch movies, an interest cultivated by their respective fathers. This ensured that they always had many things to talk about, unlike the other girls and boys of their age. Maithri was always happy in the company of Neha. Hence, she never felt jealous of the things Neha had. Up Till now; when that fated pen arrived.

Maithri couldn’t stop thinking about the pen. She looked down at her own plastic fountain pen. It suddenly looked ugly and fat with a hideous protrusion of nib. It didn’t very write well. It leaked and blotched and spewed ink all over her notebook. Her school insisted on use of fountain pens for fifth graders, and she had to wait for a couple of years to graduate to the more sophisticated ball point pen. ‘If I had a pen like Neha’s, I wouldn’t mind having to write with a fountain pen my whole life’ thought Maithri. Neha caught her looking at the pen again and again. ‘’Here why don’t you use my pen to write in this class” said Neha as she passed it on to Maithri. Maithri was ecstatic as she took that lovely thing in her hand and wrote a few words. The pen was not just pretty, it worked very well too. Writing with it was like gliding your hands on satin.

“It is a lovely pen. You are so lucky to have it” said Maithri, handing over the prized thing to Neha. As the school day progressed, Maithri became more and more quiet. She was working on strategies to convince her parents to get her a similar pen. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. She had learnt quite early that her parents could not afford to buy many things. She had everything which was required – school bag, uniform, shoes and a pen – but they had a sturdy quality to them –they would last for a really long time but are not really beautiful to look at, sometimes downright ugly.  She had learnt not to protest for luxurious or expensive things because it would make her father sad, and mother angry. But this pen was different. She wanted it badly, wanted it with all her might. As she walked on home, she revised on all her tactics to convince Mother; for it was she who made all the important decisions.

Mother was busy cleaning the house when Maithri reached home. The two room set where they lived was right next to a busy street. It was forever dusty, despite all Mother’s efforts to keep it clean. But it didn’t dissuade her, and she took on attacking the dirt with fresh gusto every day. Maithri often felt that Mother was obsessed with cleaning, but she dare not voice her thoughts on this matter. She also knew not to disturb her when she was at her obsession, she would wait for the right opportunity. In the evening, to please her, Maithri came back early from play and opened her school books to study. Mother was genuinely surprised. “This is the first time you have come back from your games, without me having to ask you to! I didn’t even have to push you to study! What is the matter? Is there a test tomorrow in school?” she asked with concern. “No Ma, I just wanted to prepare early for the upcoming examinations” said Maithri. Mother just nodded with a smile and went to the kitchen to make dinner.  Maithri followed her and stood at the door watching her for a few minutes. Then she said, “Ma, the pen I have leaks when I write. It spoils the paper and my hands and everything I touch. Can you please buy me a new pen?” Mother didn’t stop what she was doing, but said “Maithri, you just got a new pen last month after you broke the last one. Ask you father to check on it, if it has any fault. I am sure he will make it stop leaking.” Maithri knew that the first attempt will not work. Then she tried something else. “Father might make it stop spewing ink, but he cannot make it smoother. This pen is so rough; it is quite difficult for me to write. I have to write quickly in the tests, there is never enough time. How can I score good marks if my concentration is on the pen rather than the test?” said Maithri.

This time she caught Mother’s attention; but in the wrong way. “Young lady, do not make the excuse of a pen for your low scores. Students are marked on their answers, not on the pen they are using. What you need to do is practice writing with this pen at home. Go back to your books and copy down today’s entire class notes into your practice book” said Mother. Maithri was crestfallen. She didn’t expect this and was quite upset with the unexpected penalty. Not able to stop herself further she spurted, “Mother you have to see Neha’s new pen. It is just wonderful; it writes so smoothly, that I can finish an entire essay in half the time required. It is very strong too, will not be damaged like my pen if it falls down. That pen would last for years. Please get me this one pen, and I will never ask for anything else”. But her pleading had no effect on Mother. “Maithri, you know we cannot afford to buy things like Neha’s parents. We have talked about this quite enough; I do not want to go over it again. The pen you are talking about must cost hundreds. Your father is providing you everything you need. Do not ask for all this expensive things” said Mother sternly. Maithri gave up. She knew that there would be no more discussion on this matter, without her getting scolded. If she insisted again, there would be serious reprimands. She went back to her books miserably.

The next few days, Maithri was quiet. She didn’t speak much both at school and at home. All the time, she was brooding on how much she wanted that pen but couldn’t have it. She was also angry with Neha. If she hadn’t shown her the pen, Maithri wouldn’t have known the pain of not owning it. Neha enquired about her glumness several times, but couldn’t get an answer out of her. For Maithri was too proud to tell her the truth. She would rather not have the majestic pen than be pitied. So she went about her days dejected and alone, staying away from her best friend and her beautiful pen.

One morning in class, she was told that school was going to be closed the next day for Christmas. That’s when an idea formed in her head. She had read about Christmas and Santa Claus in many books and seen in the films on their black and white television. She was too young to understand what religion meant, but old enough to know that they didn’t celebrate Christmas. But it didn’t matter to her. The books said that Santa Claus always bought a gift to all the good children. All one had to do was write their wish down in a paper, put it in a stocking and hang it on the fireplace on Christmas Eve. Behold, the next morning, the gift would be sitting at the Christmas tree, all beautifully wrapped up and waiting to be opened with eager hands. This whole thing always fascinated her. But she never thought of giving it a try. Maybe it was because they didn’t celebrate Christmas, or had stockings or a fireplace to hang them on. Or maybe because she thought there was no Santa Claus, rather it was the parents who buy the gifts their children wished for. Or maybe because she had never wanted something so badly that she would hope. Hope that Santa Claus really existed and would get her that gift, which her parents couldn’t.

Deciding that the pen was worth the effort, Maithri came home from school that day and hunted for her father’s sock. “No stocking here, but a big sock should do” she mumbled to herself. Having found the perfect one; she hid it under her pillow and went about her chores quietly. That night, just before bedtime, she wrote down her wish for the pen, in the best writing she could. Carefully folding up the torn piece of notebook paper, she put it in the sock and placed it under her pillow. She went off to sleep easily that night; with a light heart filled with faith. That night she dreamt of talking to a huge man dressed in all red, with flowing white beard and a jingle in his step while he listened to her earnestly.

The next morning she woke up before Mother could call out to her. There was no Christmas tree in the house, so the gift she asked for must be in the sock itself. She pulled out the sock from under her pillow and thrust her hand inside eagerly. Her mind told her she was being silly; there wouldn’t be any pen there. Despite that, she was crushed to see that the sock was empty. She started to cry, not knowing why. Was it because there was no pen, or was it because she had hoped for a miracle and it didn’t happen? Father came rushing to comfort her, and Mother asked her the reason for her tears. But she didn’t answer. How could she tell them that she was upset that Santa Claus didn’t come and give her a gift? She was too old for that. Mother was getting angry with the delay being caused on a school day. So Maithri dried her tears and went to school. That day she stopped pining for that pen.

The next couple of months passed away quickly and the school year was coming to an end. Maithri tried be her usual self after the incident with the pen and Santa, though she was still sad. She also disliked not speaking to Neha and missed her very much in the days she had spent away from her. Deep inside she knew that there was no fault of Neha’s in this whole pen affair. So she was back with her best friend and wondered how she could ever have been angry with her. Neha not knowing what had disturbed Maithri those few days, was relieved to see Maithri becoming normal again. They both grew closer after that break, as if to make up for the lost time. With the advent of the final examinations, they studied together after school and spent a lot of time together.

On the day of the last test, Maithri skipped back home almost happy. She was free from the tyranny of studies and school for the whole of summer and she looked forward to two whole months of fun and play at her grandparent’s village. The only thing she would miss was Neha and times spent with her. But then they would have the whole of next school year for that. Maithri couldn’t get herself to worry about anything that day and went about humming to herself.

That night, she had visitors. Just after dinner, as Mother was clearing up the kitchen, there was a knock on their front door. Father opened the door and ushered in Neha and her father. As the parents exchanged their pleasantries over some tea, Neha looked at Maithri with very sad red rimmed eyes. Evidently she had been crying. She gave Maithri a beautifully wrapped box, tied up with a red ribbon forming a bow on the top. Maithri had never got a present so delightfully packed. She was lost in admiring it, and forgot to wonder about the reason behind the gift. Then, Neha told her the terrible fact. “My father has got transferred to Mumbai. We all have to move there. We are leaving early tomorrow morning so that I could attend the admission process in the school there.” said Neha trembling. Maithri was too shocked to give a response. When she didn’t give a response, Neha burst into tears. Her father gently steered her towards the door, saying good buy.  “I will miss you so much; we had such good times together. We will be friends for ever. We will write letters to each other. That is why I have given you this gift. This will remind you of me always” said Neha, while leaving.

Maithri still couldn't understand what had just happened. Neha had always been around for as long as she remembered. She couldn’t imagine times without her. Her mind couldn’t recognize school classes, and lunch times and books without Neha. She just stood there, trying to make sense of it all. Mother and Father knew she was very upset at the loss of her friend. Hence they tried to distract her. “What did Neha give you?” asked Mother pointing to the gift in her hands. Maithri sat on the bed while she gently unwrapped the box and took out the gift Neha had given her. It glittered even in the dull light of their home as it nestled in her palm. Tears streamed silently down her face as she ran a finger over the smoothness of the brown and gold. 

MOVING

Five years, and five different places – that has been my record. I have been moving places ever since I got married and because of it you can safely call my marriage quite ‘happening’. Oh! All that moving!! It has been lovely, it has been terrible. The organizer in me is enthralled, the lazy me is miserable. Travelling across the country with bags and baggage has been quite a mixed experience!!

Why we move? It is just my luck. Probably, on a dreamy day I would have earnestly prayed to have a life of travel, and at that exact moment, the gods would have decided to pay attention to me! Maybe I should complain to the gods for their untimely consideration. Or maybe I should be grateful that they didn’t listen on the other days when I had some really crazy and dangerous prayers like volunteering in Sudan or becoming a cow or climb the Alps!! Well, now that this gift has been bestowed on me (with no returns policy); I think I better enjoy it.

Where do we move? If you could put a pen on one corner of the Indian Peninsular and without lifting the pen tried to draw an X in any way but ensure that you cover the northern, western and southern edges of the country – you can trace my path and the places I have stayed. The common points about these places are: they are at least 10 kms away from the nearest civilization (often a small village town), they have exactly one restaurant to dine out, but they are all serviced by Flipkart and Amazon!!

How do we move? While driving through the countryside highways, have you ever been disgruntled by those overloaded, tarpaulin covered, senile looking trucks which seem to struggle to move ahead but are insane enough to stay on the fast line? Those are the trucks which have carried my house from place to place. None of those awesome, jazzy moving companies for us! They don’t service these unknown places we keep moving to. Now you know never to call me when my belongings are in transit. I would eat your ears out along with my nails.

The only other element in this moving business is the packing and unpacking!! It is the most crazy, stressful, soul searching activity which happens in our house. I always took pride in the fact that I have very few belongings and live minimalistic. But that feeling exists only till the time arrives when I have to pack up my house. Somehow the truck gets completely filled, whichever size you get. It is only at packing time, that I discover the many things which my husband and I don’t use, but then there is barely any time to discard/dispose/donate them, so they get carried to the next place. In the new place, we do not know anyone or anywhere we can discard/dispose/donate, so those unused items remains packed and sent to the darkest corner of the house till the next move – thus the cycle repeats!!

Packing is also the only time there are clashes between the different agents who are packing, i.e., me, husband, maids, packers/truck handlers – how should the paintings be wrapped, how to pack important items like books and saris, should the fridge go horizontal or vertical, should we take the lovely plants I collected or let them go (not really family members), should we bother wrapping the mattresses or let them be to be used by the truck driver at during his journey, etc. The worst and most difficult decision to make is got to do with our car. Do we drive across the country to the new place in the heat of the Indian summer or do we send the car in the truck and foot the bill for all the scratches and damages which happens as a result? Tough decision!

I think you got the picture about our moving days and decisions. It is not all that bad and quite interesting for novices. In case you do want to visit us, I would highly recommend you to do so when we are in the process of the Move. You would be extremely entertained as well as educated!! And of great use to me J