HERE’S A PART IMAGINARY, part real email thread of conversations among faculty members at an elite law university in India. Two developments are being discussed simultaneously – one is a weekly cricket match, and the second is the establishment of a women-only Women’s Law Society. The names of participants in the conversation have been changed to maintain anonymity. I have identified the professors as male and female to pronounce the genderedness of the conversation.
HELLO UV READERS! I’m excited to be writing my first post here. And going by the old feminist slogan, “the personal is political”, my first post is about something that is intensely personal: marriage. My views on marriage have always been ambivalent. Even as a child, I recognized that most marriages I saw around me were unsatisfactory and, almost always, unfair on the woman. But it seemed like the default option. Once you grew up, you got married. Usually by the time you were 25 if you were female. You had a few more years if you were male. [Read More]
WHEN I WAS A KID, my favourite colour was red. I still remember a red silk dress I had, with thick silver trimming all over the bodice and sleeves. And if you’re a close friend of mine, you’ll probably have heard my little story about the huge tantrum I threw in Hazratgunj, Lucknow, once — all about wanting a pair of red shoes.
I don’t know at what point I stopped saying that red was my favourite colour, and when I went through a shifting spectrum of favourites — ‘white’ and ‘black’ and ‘sea green’ and, at one point, ‘lilac’. Pink, however, was never ‘my’ colour. [Read More]
THE YEAR WAS 2004. I don’t quite remember what part of it, but since I don’t recall more than one layer of clothing on me, it must have been summer. India was on small-town America’s radar with Nisha Sharma appearing on Oprah, a heroine after sending her almost-husband to jail practically at the altar/mandap. And being the only Indian woman at my organization, the comparisons were spontaneous.
“Don’t go home,” my Supervisor advised, all compassion and sweetness after grinding my nose into the ground with 14-hour workdays. “They might set you on fire too.” [Read More]
