Standing up...kid style

There has been a lot of standing up for oneself and setting of boundaries that I have been reading about at Starry's blog. Made me think a lot about my own behaviour in the matter.

I had been quite a militant feminist in my teen years. Somewhere along the way, I have morphed into a closet feminist. Somehow got stuck in a rut of my comfort zone. Have been taking baby steps towards getting out of it, but not sure how long I shall take to get even close to getting there. I owe it to my child.

So the child is growing older and needing help dealing with peer interaction. As always, we turn to books- our best friends.

Last year, the tooth fairy (oh, yes, we still believe in those, and Santa, a la The Polar Express) got A a book that she has thoroughly enjoyed. It has been her constant companion over the past year, given that peer interaction is becoming more and more important. Thanks to her petite built and a possibly outdated interest in books and such, she is often the target of those who think they know better. As parents, we keep talking to her about it whenever an 'incident' happens, even stressing on the fact that every person is special in their own way, and that a lot of what those girls say doesn't become true even if it feels like that. That she has so many wonderful gifts that a lot of those girls do not have. That she just needs to ignore most of that behaviour. And at times, stand up for herself and what she thinks is right.

So when she came across this book on amightygirl.com, the tooth fairy thought it would be good thing to get her.

pic courtesy amightygirl.com

Stand Up For Yourself  & Your Friends
Written by Patti Kelley Criswell
Illustrated by Angela Martini
Published by American Girl Publishing
Ages 8+

We begin by defining bullying. It can be many things, but it is mostly about power. And not all bullies are the stereotypical big, tall, loud, intimidating person. Think Miss Agatha Trunchbull from Matilda. Oh, no, they come in different packages, and at one time or another, any one of us could bully someone else.

The book then goes on to deconstruct the politics of bullying as it occurs, and the strategies to handle it. It is peppered with real incidents reported by real girls, the way they handled it, and a lot of expert-speak on each incident. There are short, snappy, two-page chapters on each topic, with full colour illustrations.

There are also many quizzes the reader can take, like 'Is this bullying?' on identifying which behaviours would qualify as bullying, 'What's your speak-up style?' on how you would deal with a given situation and 'What do you stand for?' on your beliefs about friendship. The very practical and easy to apply tips by experts and kids themselves make for a much appreciated 'cool' factor. Or at least I have been informed so by the kid, who dips into the book often for inspiration.

There is also plenty for the bewildered adult who might be the bystander, the authority figure who may have to tackle a potentially explosive situation, or the parent who has to deal with either end of the bullying episode- the bully or the victim. Much that can be used by the adult in their own interaction with power struggles among their peers too.

A book that can be applied at all levels, with sound strategies that can be extrapolated to situations even beyond the scope of the book. And even though I place it at 8+, younger children can benefit from it too- as more and more, these things happen at a younger age in today's world.

The book has an accompanying journal that I'm sure the tooth fairy is currently considering. A journal full of quizzes, checklists and charts that I'm sure the child will enjoy working on with her own experiences.

Crossposted at Saffrontree.

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And while on the topic of standing up - here is my review on Women's Web of Warrior in a Pink Sari- an autobiographical account of Sampat Pal and her Gulabi Gang.

A right to her own self

She is born a woman.

When will her birth be celebrated without any reservations?

Will she ever be able to decide for herself?

Will she ever be free to walk out on the streets without strategizing:
Should I go?
Need I go?
Am I dressed right?
Will I be considered respectable enough?
Is the time OK to go out?
Is it safe for me to be out?
Which way will be safe?
How fast do I need to go to reach a safe place?

When will she be taken seriously?

Will the world ever realize that a no means a NO?

Will she ever be able to universally claim her right to an education?

Will she ever be able to express her thoughts and feelings without worrying about being ridiculed for it or about who might get angry over it?

Will she ever be able to live to her full potential without having to dumb down to conform to others' expectations of her?

Will she ever be able to be true to herself without being apologetic or being made to feel guilty about wanting to be herself?

Will she ever be able to see herself as a human being first, without the epithets of mother, daughter, sister, wife, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, granddaughter, nurturer, care-taker, house-keeper, cook, whore, entertainer? Will the world ever be able to?

Will she be able to perceive her self through filters other than those of fair, dark, fat, thin, short, tall, beautiful, ugly, black, white, yellow, brown? Will the world ever be able to?

Will she ever be considered a human being, with human wants, wishes, feelings, failings, without the halo or stain?

Will she ever be considered more than a means to an end- getting a male heir? More than a womb whose job it is to cater to the propogation of the (ironically) human race?

Will she ever be able to reclaim her right to her body, her thoughts, her feelings, her wishes, her life?

Will she ever be able to live a happy and fulfilling life on her own terms without everyone and their cousin attempting to control her choices?

Will her life be ever considered more important than any ideology?

31 year old Savita Halappanavar died a painful and unnecessary death in Ireland after being denied proper medical care. Her story is known to all by now. Her baby had already miscarried, and she was dealing with the heartbreak in a practical way- asking for a termination of the pregnancy as her life was in danger. She died a long and protracted, extremely painful death. An entirely preventable death. An immeasurable loss for her family- her parents and her husband. What kind of upholding of religion did this achieve? She did not even share that belief.

Both Praveen and Savita Halappanavar lost their baby. Only Savita lost her life.

She was born a woman.

Is this the kind of world into which I've brought my daughter?

I couldn't put my wish and hope for a better world for our daughters in words any different from these by a favourite poet, Rabindranath Tagore-

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high 
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments 
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way 
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee 
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake

Poetry, as relevant today as it was a hundred years ago.

RIP, Savita Halappanavar.

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This was a post hankering to be written. Savita's story was just the catalyst.

Violence Against Women Awareness Month...a call to join hands

VAWA month

October. The month in which we raise our voices against violence that is perpetuated against women. Perpetuated by men and women equally. Of all kinds- physical, emotional, sexual, verbal.

There will be much written by all our contributors about the overt, in-your-face kind of violence that catches the attention of everyone, even those who would condone violence. What I would like to draw attention to, is the subliminal kind of violence, that contributes to the psychology of both the perpetrators and victims, ensuring a milieu in which overt violence can occur.

Violence is done as a way of controlling a woman. I am not even going to go into the street variety of violence. Violence within the four walls of the home, where a person is supposed to be safe, is often the commonest place where violence occurs. Not just physically restraining her, but ensuring that she does not remain capable of thinking for herself, living in a perpetual fear of the next outburst. Even if the woman in question does strain against the stifling situation, and try to come up for breathing space, or even manage to carve a space for herself, there is always the fear that the perpetrators of violence will trod on her hard earned sense of self.

Emotional and verbal violence, here, can be of the most insidious kind, and is often socially sanctioned in many cultures. A put-down in passing can be one of the most effective ways of keeping the little woman in check. This is even more relevant if done under the wraps of matrimony, and is often discounted by those outside the closed circle who do not see any evidence of violence- no injuries to report.

Even if the violence escalates into the sexual or physical kind, the constant chipping away at her esteem, which probably begins at an early age, ensures that she is unable to come out with it into the open. For by now, she has begun to believe that her situation is somehow her fault.

The woman becomes a victim thrice in a situation like this. Once when she has to face the actual violence. Second is when she is accused of somehow having 'asked for it'. The third is when she is disbelieved, belittled, and denied any justice when she does get up her courage to fight it.

It is this that needs to change. Having come this far in our fight for equity, it will change...someday. That is the hope one lives in.

Do go to the Violence Against Women Awareness Month blog- read, comment, and participate. We need all the support we can get.   

Book Review: The Diddakoi

Pic courtesy flipkart

The Diddakoi
Written by Rumer Godden
Cover illustration by Christian Birmingham
Published by Macmillan Children's Books
Ages 8-12 yrs

I've learned a lot about adoption and attachment from Sangi's posts, and there are many nuances to the whole issue that I would not have otherwise being sensitised to. Thanks, Sangi!

So it was hardly a surprising thing that I unwittingly picked up quite a few books that deal with that on different levels. A few are books for children, and here is one of them. A complex, well written book that draws one into it.

A spirited, half-gypsy, half-Irish girl. An orphan. A misfit at school, targeted with some serious bullying for being different. The fact that 'normal, nice' children can, in fact, be very cruel, especially if they reflect the prejudices of their elders. The fact that prejudices can lead to fear of a situation/ person, and that it can become difficult to overcome.

An ordinary 'Miss Marple-ish' British village in the 1960s where everyone knows everybody. A legal care system where the best interests of a child is decided by the letter of the law, and not by what the child would want, or what might be truly best for the child. Some well meaning going wrong. Others unaware of their own ability to give and heal.

'It's good of you, Edna,' Miss Brooke repeated, but it might spoil your holiday. Besides, I don't think Kizzy would go.'
'Heavens, you don't have to ask her.'
'I think I do. People should always be asked before being disposed of.'
'A child?'
'Children are people, Edna,' said Miss Brooke as she had said it to Mrs Blount.
'Well, please yourself,' said Mrs Cuthbert. 'But I tell you, Olivia, that child's too much on your mind.'
'Isn't that what she came for?'
'For what?'
'To be on my mind.'

An ordinary children's story of extraordinary meanings, the book takes one on a roller coaster ride of emotions, which nevertheless unfold very gently at times and with the dramatic quality of a tempest at others. That brings home to us the fact that the human spirit is more resilient than one can imagine, and that we all that the light with the dark in all of us. That patience, love and care can wrought wonders.

Rumer Godden herself was very difficult, and different in many ways as a child, and in this book she writes from  her own memories of it. Kizzy Lovell, our central girl character, the 'diddakoi'=half-gypsy, who is picked on by the other children for being different, and who is in the centre of a controversy over who should foster her, and how, is a throwback to that childhood. In some ways Kizzy reminded me of some of Enid Blyton's similar characters- Carlotta from the St. Clare series, and Lotta from her Circus books.

This is her best known book for children, which got the Whitbread Award in 1972. It has been called "the sort of book children had to fight for to get it from adults". The book should be read in the context of the period in which it is set, as there is much that can be considered 'politically incorrect'. And inspite of the many negatives, the many questions it raises, especially in young minds, it is an incredibly uplifting book, with a happy ending. A loved it!

Crossposted at Saffrontree.   

Music that moves --- Part 1

Music is food to the soul. It can uplift me, move me, transport me to another world altogether. Often it moves me to tears. While listening to a song, I have often to hide my tears, esp. if I am with company, even if it is just my family around. When I'm by myself, I let go and let the tears flow. With happy, peppy music, I let it take me over and sway to it. It can be a very cathartic experience, believe me.

Yesterday I just wanted to chill out after an extremely hectic weekend. Sports league at school, a long awaited baby shower for a friend, a commitee meeting in the apartment complex, and guests for lunch on Sunday- from the in-laws' side.

So I put on some old hindi songs that I love while I did my chores in the morning, and just let go. These are some filled with angst.

This is lovely! First part is sung by Madan Mohan, the music director, and I never fail to have goosebumps at the place where Lata Mangeshkar takes off for the second part- the beginning alaap is really something.




This is a classic sung by Lata Mangeshkar, composed by Jaidev- couldn't get sweeter and simpler than this.




Feel the frission up your spine as Lata begins this one! Mukesh compliments her perfectly.




The incomparable Lata paired with the equally incomparable Dimple Kapadia in this one!




Story of the unrequited first crush! I prefer the Kishor Kumar version to the Lata one.



This one is all about being on an emotional precipice. I couldn't get a better link. Just close your eyes to shut out the image and let Asha Bhonsale's mellifluous voice wash over you.




Angst for GenX. Life has to go on. The brisk beat adds to the feeling of restlessness.




This one is by Reshma, a singer born in undivided India, and who had to go over across the border at Partition. She is known for her Sufi songs too. Although there is a movie video available, I prefer to highlight the singer instead of the very cheesy acting.




This one was part of the repertoire of A's school band, of which she was a part. Never failed to bring tears to my eyes. Probably A's first brush with an awareness of sadness in music. The stills in this clipping are poignant.

A tale of two friendships

Sometimes, some friendships take a life of their own, don't they?

A had a 'best friend' at school in the early primary years, and the two girls were inseparable, though as different as chalk and cheese in temperament, interests and disposition. They were in the same class for 3 years, and we had innumerable playdates together. Sometimes I would just drop A off at her place on a weekend to spend the day. AM, the friend, has pet rabbits and lovebirds, and A, starved for a pet of her own, (sorry, baby, this is one thing that you will have to grow up and have for yourself.) would have a lovely time. Sometimes AM's mother would drop her off at our place. Sometimes I would take the two girls with me for some outing- a visit to our library being among the most enjoyed- followed by lunch at whichever place the girls wanted.

AM has a twin who is a special child. A lovely boy, he became someone very special for A. Every time we met, A would spend some time holding his hand, talking to him, and he, too, would always have a smile for her.

AM's mother S and I have become close friends. We have a lot in common - a similar educational background, and we are also both SAHMs inspite of it, and a lot of mutual affection.  S is a woman I really admire. She has had a lot on her plate, but her enthusiasm for life is to be seen to be believed. Of course there is sorrow in her life, but as she puts it, she has been blessed to be chosen as the mother of this soul.

Last year, the two girls were in different classes. Somehow the trajecteries of their friendships and interests have skewed away from each other. AM has become a part of the in-crowd, and A has gone further along the route to be labelled a 'nerdy' child.

There have been many instances where I have had to comfort a bewildered and hurt A, who could not understand what had happened to her 'best friend' AM. Where had she gone? Obviously the girls were both growing up, losing bit-by-bit that innocence of childhood. Making different choices. It saddened me to see it happening.

We did, however, continue to make trips out together with the girls, and at these times, we could see the original friendship still there beneath all the problems that they were having.

A, in the meantime, had another friend, someone so well suited to her- their temperaments and interests coincided. They are both book-mad. Their mothers, too, both gelled. Again, they had a lot in common, books featuring at the top of the list. Both pairs of friends got on like a house on fire. I could see that this was going to be a friendship for life. But...

Yes, there is a but. This friend, too, moved away. Not mentally, like AM, but physically, to another school. A was heart-broken. Everyday, she would speak about this friend. Every time she read something she loved, she would want to talk to her. We do manage occasional meetings, but somehow it is never enough.

The two different pairs of mothers, though, still remain friends. Their bond, too, I hope, is for a lifetime.

Yesterday, we had planned a trip to a kitchen gardening workshop, Oota from your Thota. A wanted to ask AM if she could come, so we called. That is when we came to know that her twin had been seriously ill for a few days, and was still in hospital, though fortunately recovering.

That was it. We put our plans for the day aside, as A wanted to go and meet her friend and her twin, as did I. So we went.

I hope SOMEONE UP THERE is aware of my little one's golden heart, and will not let it be hurt so often.

Book Review - THE OTHER SIDE OF SILENCE: Voices from the Partition of India

Pic courtesy flipkart.com

THE OTHER SIDE OF SILENCE
Voices from the Partition of India
Written by Urvashi Butalia
Published by Penguin Books
1998.

Urvashi Butalia, the writer, has impressive credentials. Along with Ritu Menon, she set up Kali for Women, the first feminist press in India, in 1984, and later, Zubaan Books. Born to in Ambala, India, to parents who were refugees from West Punjab, now in Pakistan, she grew up hearing stories of  the Partition, which tore apart the Indian subcontinent at the time of its freedom from British rule.

She began her research as a process of making sense of her family's personal tragedy. One thing led to another, and over time she realised that what 'history' tells us of the Partition are the bare political facts: tales of warring political parties and the British involvement in the whole gory process, the loss of property and lives, the statistics of the largest mass migration in recent history and violence in the riots between the Hindus, the Muslims and the Sikhs caught in the unfortunate event.

There was not much data on the renting apart of the closely enmeshed fabric of society and the actual sufferings of the flesh-and-blood people caught in the crossfire. The feminist in her also became aware of the huge conspiracy of silence (this term has also been used in reference to the victims of that other regrettable horror of the same time, the Holocaust) that enfolded the suffering of those considered to be of 'not much account' and therefore on the margins of citizenry- the women, the children and the harijans.

"But the 'history' of Partition seemed to lie only in the political developments that led up to it. These other aspects - what had happened to the millions of people who had to live through this time, what we may call the 'human dimensions' of this history -- somehow seemed to have a 'lesser' status in it. Perhaps this was because they had to do with difficult things: loss and sharing, friendship and enmity, grief and joy, with a painful regret and nostalgia for loss of home, country and friends, and with an equally strong determination to create them afresh. These were difficult things to capture 'factually.' Yet, could it be that they had no place in the history of Partition? Why, then, did they live on so vividly in individual and collective memory?"

Ms Butalia takes us through these events as pieced together from first-person accounts of survivors. The stories seem fantastic, the violence, the bloodiness ant the loss inexplicable, as does the almost mythological account of a society where the different religions had lived together in harmony, love and trust. Surely something had gone seriously wrong somewhere for the anger to have erupted as it had, killing and maiming millions, and creating a legacy of communal disharmony, and an almost pathological enmity between the two countries which were once part of one whole. A whole that had effectively driven their colonial rulers away.

The feminist in the writer notes some very interesting aspects of the problem. Even the interviews were necessarily taken in a family setting, where men did most of the talking, and women were often silenced. While men spoke of the politics, the killings, the violence, the women's experience of Partition was largely defined by the death of children, abductions, sexual violence, honour killings, forcible co-habitation/marriages with their abductors, their making peace with it, especially after children were born of these relationships.

During their interviews, Ms Butalia tried to listen to the unsaid, the silences, the sudden breaking-off of the narrative, the nuances. "In my work, the more I looked at women's voices and found them inserting themselves into the text, the more I realised that the silences did not exist only around women, but also around others, those whose silences have been even less important to society. The search for a history of women was what then led me to a search for a history of others. The voices of women, of children, of untouchables, to me provide not only a different perspective on the history of Partition, but they also establish this history as a process, a continuing history, which lives on in our lives today in a variety of ways." 

Then there was the ultimate insult to injury- the Abducted Persons (Recovery and Restoration) Act, 1949. A lot of this has been pieced together from accounts of social workers who were actively involved in the operation. Ostentiably to recover abducted women and children and return them to their families, the Act would not take into account the women's choice in the matter, something that all citizens were given upto the late fifties. After being abducted, these women often got assimilated into those families, bore children out of those relationships, but were torn from these children when they were 'recovered' to return to their families of origin. The original families would often refuse to accept these 'children of sin' which were left with their abductor-fathers. Quite often these children ended up on the streets with the other children who had been displaced or orphaned in the Partition. Both the women and children were refused the 'choice' that citizens of both countries had at the time.

First-hand accounts by some of these children, adults at the time of interviewing, underscore the same conspiracy of silence. Many of them glossed over their accounts, unable as adults to relate their memories of the horrors. Some of them, like a Sikh survivor who was just 9 at the time of Partition, had memories overshadowed by one particular incident- the death of their own familiy's hands of almost a hundred girls and women to 'save' their honour - an incident immortalised in the book and later movie Tamas.

In fact, most of these personal stories have been found to a large extent in a multitude of short stories and novellas written by many noted authors who have lived through the Partition- Amrita Pritam (Pinjar), Saadat Hasan Manto (Toba Tek Singh, Kingdom's End and other stories), Gulzar (Raavi Par and other stories), Khushwant Singh (Train to Pakistan), Bapsi Sidhwa (Ice-Candy Man), Bhisham Sahni (Tamas), and more. Many of these stories have been made into film, reaching a larger audience. Many bollywood movies, too, speak of the Partition or 'Batwara' as it is called in Hindi.

History, as told in history books, however, sticks mostly to the bare facts and statistics of the Partition. 'The other side of silence' tries to address this deficit in a more factual way, that can be corroborated, than the fictionalised accounts. Showing us that the fiction is not a very long way off reality.

More than twelve million people left their roots and migrated, about ten million of these crossing the western border. Around two million died in the violence. An estimated  75,000-1,00,000 women are thought to have been abducted and raped by men of religions different from their own (and indeed sometimes by men of their own religion). An estimated 50,000 children were born to the abducted women, an an unaccounted number of children were abandoned or simply lost. "People travelled in buses, in cars, by train, but mostly on foot in great columns called kafilas, which could stretch for dozens of miles. The longest of them, said to comprise nearly 400,000 people, refugees travelling east to India from western Punjab, took as many as eight days to pass any given spot on its route."

Ms Butalia has very honestly admitted that her work does not represent the whole of the history of Partition, but is a very personal history, her reading of the interviews she took. She also candidly admits that it is probably a very one-sided view of the whole thing, as by 1984, when she began her research, it was no longer possible to obtain access to those on the other side of the border, and cautions communal groups from using her research to reach their ends.

Here are some more excerpts from the book.

Am entering this book in the 2011 South Asian Reading Challenge at S.Krishna's books.

Mommy is guilty as charged

Ranjani had tagged me some time back. Sorry, Ranjani, for not doing the tag for such a long time. I have no excuse but my laziness.

Yesterday, however, I went out with a friend and her one-and-a-half year old son, who adores A and will keep asking for her by his pronounciation of her name every time he sees me, expecting her to be somewhere around me all the time.

We did many things (like browsing in a bookshop and picking up some books) that I know A would have loved to do with us. I kept thinking of her all the time, and was wishing it was a holiday, so that she could have accompanied us. Maybe I will take her out on the next school holiday.

Mommy feeling guilty? You bet!

According to the tag, I have to

1. Write about 2 instances where you have put yourself before your child/ children... been a wee bit selfish.
2. How did you feel? Did you feel a pang of guilt or were you comfortable?
3. Tag 2 more moms

I have always had A along with me since she was born. Since we do not stay with extended family, it was only us all the time. I never had anyone to help with her. I have,  of course, my house-help who comes in everyday for housework, but taking care of A and cooking is something I never liked to nor wanted to delegate.

The first time I spent some time alone without A around was when she joined school. Even there, I would say it was I who had a bad case of separation anxiety - A was ready for mixing socially, and so settled down there quite soon.

Over the years, I have grown to like the 'me time' I get when I am by myself. I find that it is essential for me to have this time for myself, to do as I please, without worrying about the kid's or the husband's schedules. Reading, morning walks, blogging, working on something interesting, browsing in bookshops, going shopping or catching a movie/theatre programme with friends or by myself, eating out sometimes. When A was younger, I also caught up on the listening to music other than nursery rhymes and other children's songs when she was elsewhere. All the things a stay-at-home-mom may do after all her chores are done!

Of course, I love the times we can spend together on days when she has a holiday. Some of the best times we have spent together are sitting together, each with her book in her hands. Yes, I have a little reader at home, and I'm glad it's so.

So I would have to really think for doing this tag. Let me see-

1. Harry Potter. A is as much into the series as I am. Only difference being, that I discovered the series in 2004, when she was just three, and she began reading them in 2009, two years after book 7 was published. True to my belief that she should read the books before she watches the movies, she has watched them all only on TV. Except for Deathly Hallows 1 & 2. She began with book 7 much after DH 1 had gone from theatres, and we are still waiting for the movie to come on TV, or for us to pick up the DVD, which we will probably do only after all the movies come on DVD, and we can buy the boxed set. Of course we finished reading book 7 at super speed in time for her to watch the last movie on the big screen. Went to watch it with Choxbox, her FB and another friend from school and her mother, all big on Harry Potter.

So I would go to watch all the earlier HP movies on big screen without her, even when I knew that she would have loved to watch them with me on big screen. That would be Order of the Phoenix, Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows 1. If I count the fact that most of her friends went to these movies without reading the books, that would include Goblet of Fire, too.

2. A has never been one of those kids who pester their parents to buy something, anything, everytime they make a visit to a shop. Except when we are in a bookshop. Woe betide me if I take her to a bookshop and do not buy something that she will enjoy. So I do not plan a bookshop visit with her if I have not budgeted for at least one book for her to choose and buy. There are also all those books that are interesting enough to pick up, small enough to be read quickly, but too expensive to pick up, and sometimes for a younger age group. Think of all those fabulous picture books we have not yet got our hands on! So we take advantage of bookshops' policies which allow the customers to make themselves comfortable and read away if they may.

Considering her love of books, and of browsing in bookshops, there have been many occasions when I have gone for it alone- when I have to go to a book sale which it might not be possible to go for on the week-end, which might be in a far-off location, or if I just up and go plonk myself in my favourite book shop on a day when I need some retail therapy. Do I feel guilty? Yes, I do, indeed. As Choxbox will be able to testify, I often pick up a whole lot of books, then realising that they would be way beyond my budget, put away most of those that are for myself, and end up buying those that I know A will enjoy!

To A's credit, she has never consciously made me feel guilty about these things, taking it as gospel that the book has to be read first, and she is overjoyed when I get her something on my book-shopping trips. Yes, she makes me feel guilty about that, too. Contrarily, I would not have felt as bad if she had gotten upset about it.

That was my rather wordy take on the tag. I would like to tag Choxbox and Sangi. Both are ladies I admire immensely for their out-of-the-box thinking and from whom I learn so much. There are some more out there whom I would have loved to tag, but the rules say I have to tag two. So anyone else who wants to take it up is welcome to do so. Let us hear your mommy-guilt secrets, ladies!

Review: A Poem for CRY

Pic courtesy infibeam

A Poem for CRY
Favourite poems of famous Indians
Compiled and edited by Avanti Maluste and Sudeep Doshi
Published by Viking: Penguin Group
Foreword by Amartya Sen

I borrowed this book from a friend. A perfect book for dipping into. A perfect book for a rainy day. Thanks P!

Human emotion can be a tricky thing. At once overwhelming and finely nuanced, it is a slippery being. It becomes difficult, sometimes impossible, to express what one wants to say, what one is feeling. Sometimes one does not want to express one's feelings, but just clarify, validate, what something nebulous that one feels is. Sometmes one is in search of that perfect punch line that is just there...at the tip of one's tongue, but elusive.

Poetry is the refuge of all such souls. Sometimes a few lines express so well what one has not even admitted to oneself that it makes us wonder - how did the poet know so well? And then one has one's favourite poet, favourite poems.

Amartya Sen says in his foreword - "If one can find the right poem, quoting someone else can be as much an expression of one's deeper self as anything one can write oneself. This is a remarkable collection not only for the beauty and reach of the poems themselves, but also for what it tells us about many people who have been active in one walk of life or another, since the selections allow us to have a quick peek into their minds." 

A Poem for Cry is an anthology of favourite poems by what sounds like the Who's Who of India. Adi Godrej, Rahul Dravid, Gulzar, Sachin Tendulkar, Jyotiraditya Scindia, Indira Hinduja, Anjolie Ela Menon, Sri Sri Ravishankar, Nandan Nilekani, Aparna Sen, Kiran Bedi, Shah Rukh Khan, Amartya Sen, Lata Mangeshkar, Tarun Tahliani, Vikram Seth, Zubin Mehta, Jayant Narlikar, Kiran Majumdar Shaw, Dom Moraes, Rahul Bajaj, Amitabh Bachchan, Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, Medha Patkar, Mulk Raj Anand, Derek O'Brien, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Justice Y. V. Chandrachud, Fareed Zakaria, Sonia Gandhi, Shyam Benegal, Pandit Ravi Shankar, Azim Premji ... You get the picture?

Some of the poems in this anthology?

Daffodils by William Wordsworth. Mulk Raj Anand, Vishwanathan Anand. Karan Johar.
If (If you can keep your head when all about you) by Rudyard Kipling. Lord Bagri. Farzana Contractor. Rahul Dravid. Adi Godrej. Parameshwar Godrej.
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. Manvinder Singh Banga. Harsh Goenka. Uday Kotak. Azim Premji.
Epitaph on a Tyrant by W.H.Auden. Shyam Benegal.
Footprints In The Sand by Mary Stevenson.  Dr Indira Hinduja. Jyotiraditya Scindia.
Abraham Lincoln's letter to his son's teacher. Shah Rukh Khan.
And Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. Malavika Sangghvi.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning. Naseeruddin Shah.
Speak Gently by David Bates. Brinda Somaya.
Where The Mind Is Without Fear by Rabindranath Tagore. Tariq Ansari. Rahul Bajaj. Nana Chudasama. Aamir Khan. Anand Patwardhan. Aruna Roy. Prannoy Roy. Mallika Sarabhai. Viren Shah. Kiran Majumdar Shaw. Kavitha Krishnamurthy Subramaniam.

And many more.

The anthology does not limit itself to poems from English. There are poems in Hindi, Marathi, Urdu, Gujarati, Bangla, Tamil, Sanskrit. I was thrilled to find the Gayatri Mantra recommended by Nandan Nilekani. These poems are printed in the original followed by an English translation.

Quite a few poems were not known to me, as were a few poets. Some intrigued me enough for me to do a search for more poetry by that poet. A learning experience.

For A too. I read Abraham Lincoln's letter to his son's teacher to her, and I could sense her paying very close attention. Why? Let me reproduce the poem here.

He will have to learn, I know
that all men are not just,
all men are not true.
But teach him also that
for ever scoundrel there is a hero;
that for every selfish politician,
there is a dedicated leader.
Teach him that for every enemy there is a friend.
Teach him to learn to lose...
and also to enjoy winning.
It will take time, I know;
but teach him, if you can,
that a dollar earned is of far more value
than five found...
Steer him away from envy,
if you can,
teach him the secret of
quiet laughter.
Let him learn early that
the bullies are the easiest to lick...
Teach him, if you can,
the wonder of books...
But also give him quiet time
to ponder over the eternal mystery of birds in the sky,
bees in the sun,
and flowers on a green hillside.
In school teach him
it is far more honourable to fail
than to cheat...
Teach him to have faith
in his own ideas,
even if every one tells him
they are wrong...
Teach him to be gentle
with gentle people,
and tough with the tough.
Try to give my son
the strength not to follow the crowd
when every one is getting on the bandwagon.
Teach him to listen to all men...
but teach him also to filter
all he hears on a screen of truth,
and take only the good
that comes through.
Teach him, if you can,
how to laugh when he is sad...
Teach him there is no shame in tears,
Teach him to scoff at cynics
and to beware of too much sweetness...
Teach him to sell his brawn
and brain to the highest bidders
but never to put a price tag
on his heart and soul.
Teach him to close his ears
to a howling mob
and to stand and fight
if he thinks he’s right.
Treat him gently;
but do not cuddle him,
because only the test of fire
makes fine steel.
Let him have the courage
to be impatient...
let him have the patience to be brave.
Teach him always
to have sublime faith in himself,
because then he will always have
sublime faith in mankind.
This is a big order;
but see what you can do...
He is such a fine little fellow,
my son!

As are our daughters! A was listening wide-eyed, and smiling as I ended it. As soon as I finished reading it, she got up and hugged me tight. Probably recognising the love behind all the scoldings I seem to be giving her currently. Pre-teens!

This is certainly a book I'll want to buy for my own collection. The copyright is held by CRY :Child Rights and You. All profits will go to them.

Crossposted at Bookreviews.

I am entering this book for the 2011 South Asian Challenge and the Reading the World Challenge 2011 at Papertigers. India. Non-fiction. Poetry.