 |
|
| HER WORLD | Sunday, May 4, 2003, Chandigarh, India |
|
Crossing boundaries Social monitor How to change for change of life |
|
|
Crossing boundaries
THE red palash flowers are in bloom. They lie in carpets on the miles of green that still make this haven of peace, the abode of the greatest of poets and dreamers, Tagore. It is time for the Basant Utsav, when Holi is played with the colour of red and yellow flowers in Santiniketan. That's what they told me when I arrived in Kolkata a few days before Holi. So I went, in the long train that goes to Bolpur, jaunting lazily through miles of what I gathered was a green countryside. I did not see the green. Nor did I meet any Bengalis who could refresh my images of Tagore and his land. I was in a night train, closeted with a Marwari couple on their way to Darjeeling. They knew nothing about the Basant Utsav nor the Bauls nor the red palash flowers. They were into business that had no room for flowers. They did not speak the language that takes one closer to the countryside. They spoke Marwari, their own kind, that evoked more of Haryana than the sandy wastes of Rajasthan. They were curious to know what brand of an Indian I was. My language and my looks did not give me away. Nevertheless. We accepted each other as travellers. They were visibly sorry to see me open a package of sandwiches for dinner. This is better, they chimed, opening their shiny tiffin carrier and offering me a generous portion of spicy red potato and fried puris. Looking at it I knew why they were so large and happy. Take some more. Eat well, they said, examining my frail frame. I praised the food, ate it and shed chilli-induced tears. Closing my eyes I heard their ceaseless chatter. As I did not understand a word, it lulled me to sleep. In the middle of the night, as the train reached Bolpur, I sneaked out of the compartment without saying goodbye. They were snoring under the railway blankets. Bolpur was deserted. No taxis, no autorickshaws, no way of getting to my destination. Finally, a battered tourist bus bearing the name of the resort arrived to carry me to the hotel. The driver swore in Bengali. He did not like the idea of a woman arriving at midnight. I had broken into his sleep. He threw my suitcase on the front seat and without shutting the door fired the old engine. He began flying the bus furiously down a long desolate road. The shops were shut, not a person moved anywhere, not even a dog. A strong wind, the beginning of a harvester, blew and rattled the open bus door. Wrapping myself in a shawl I tried gazing out into the night. On the heavy dark trees I saw no red blooms. The morning dawned with a pale sun. I rushed out to see the trees. The red palash was nowhere around. It is too early for them to flower said the rickshaw-puller who offered to take me on a tour of Tagore's Vishvabharati. I saw very few cars, just rickshaws moving silently and freely through the trackless green. "No car can take you to the places I will," he said. And he did. Riding his frail vehicle making his own way where none existed he stopped in front of a traditional mud house, the kind the Santhals live in. This was built by Nandlal Bose, he informed. He knew each sculpture of Ram Kinkar Baij and there are several standing in the campus. He showed me the massive banyan tree where Tagore, he said, sat and wrote some of the verses of Gitanjali. He advised me to first see Utarayan, the complex that houses the Tagore Museum and his home, and then took me to the Sangeet Bhavan to watch the rehearsals of the music which would be sung at the utsav a day later. He even drove me through the ground shaded by the heavy mango trees where they would play Holi with vegetable colours, not syringes filled with chemical coloured water. He knew everything it seemed about Tagore's Santiniketan though he was not a Bengali. "I am a Bihari but I was born here and have never left," he told me. Before he brought me back, he stopped briefly at the gate of a white bungalow with green windows. "It is the bari of Amartya Sen," he said. This too was now on his heritage list. It was a large gracious house with a wide garden. Two women were moving under the old trees. His mother is inside, told the rickshaw-puller. I did not want to barge in. The sun was high and hot. The crows were quiet in the mango trees. I returned for a lunch of macher jhol and then a siesta charged by dreams of Tagore. I had rediscovered him on this visit, relearnt the nuances of his Gitanjali, which I had read as a younger woman. It made more sense now as did the face of Tagore lost in a haze of white hair. I left Santiniketan without seeing the palash and the Basant Utsav. I did not see what I had come to see. But I saw what I did not expect. I realised how sensitive an unlettered rickshaw-puller could be. And at the Bolpur station, as I sat waiting for the train, I discovered the love of a mother in an old woman. Wrapped in a dirty-white dhoti she limped with a walking stick, stopped and looked at me with limpid eyes. She was very poor but she was not begging. When I gave her my packed breakfast she accepted it with both her hands as if it was prasad. Tumi bhalo, she said. You are very bhalo, I rejoined. She smiled faintly, disbelieving. How can one who begs be a good person? she was trying to tell me. The image of a beggar in our conditioned minds is of one who is perennially poor, decrepit, nasty, one who only has open hands but not an open heart. When the old woman put her frail hand on my head and blessed me in a language I did not understand I saw the face not of a beggar but a giver. It was a face of compassion, a Madonna with a white head, who understood the nature of pain and how to bear it. Back in the train, the lone passenger
was an older man dressed in a rumpled grey pant and shirt. He perhaps
worked for the Railways, I told myself. I was right. He soon disclosed
that he was the Stationmaster at Bolpur. I wondered if I could get
something to eat. Nothing is available on these stations except muri and
tea, he said. He beckoned a young man carrying an interesting
contraption selling muri. A mound of puffed rice in the centre
and in the small aluminium containers an array of things to spike it -
mashed potato, salt, chopped green chillies, mustard oil and ground
coriander. Like a trained chef he spiked the muri and bounced it
in a paper packet handing it to me with a large smile. When I gave him
Rs 5, he returned Rs 2, saying it cost only Rs 3. That's what all the
travellers in Bengal eat. At Burdwan, when the train stopped for three
minutes, the stationmaster ran out and returned with a dozen green
bananas. He plied me with them. Each of us ate two. Take the rest home,
he insisted. Put them in your suitcase. There is no space and I am going
to Delhi, I told him. Take them anyway, he said. I did. I gave them to
the children who followed me at Howrah station. Children, I realise, are
happier with bananas than with unwilling coins thrown at them. |
|
Social monitor Significantly, many of the new women writers in English are not full-time into the profession, but need to snatch time out from steady jobs and household chores, working late into the night or early morning’ "between two whistles of the pressure cooker," only to see their names in print, says Anjum Sayed.
Today, there are several dozen women writers ranging from Bharati Mukherji and Shashi Deshpande to Nabaneeta Dev Sen, Manjula Padmanabhan, Jhumpa Lahiri, Jaishri Misra, Anita Nair... each with her distinctive style and following, attaining different degrees of success. "For every 10 manuscripts we receive in fiction, seven are from women," informs Vicky Chauhan, editor with a leading publishing house. "And the best part is that these women authors sell better than men. Obviously, women make better story-tellers." Significantly, many of the new women writers in English are not full-time into the profession, but need to snatch time out from steady jobs and household chores, working late into the night or early morning’ "between two whistles of the pressure cooker," only to see their names in print. Some don’t even know why they write in the first place. Misra, for instance, intended to write a long explanatory letter to her husband on her "boredom and frustrations in life" and before she realised it, it had become a very, very long explanatory letter and the manuscript for Ancient Promises. "When I first started, I didn’t have the faintest notion I was writing something that was going to be published," she narrates. "I hadn’t set out to be a writer, although I had always liked the idea of being one. At that time, it was the frustration of not being able to work..." Publishers point out that the most memorable works (including Roy’s) have come from such first time, unplanned efforts. Being unfettered by the consciousness of a ‘target reader’, the author is able to be at her spontaneous best, which is often lacking in later works. Misra agrees: "With the certainty of being published, suddenly you are no longer alone in your study, pouring out your heart on to paper, but are writing for an audience, a readership that hadn’t existed before. Looking back now, that was a tremendous freedom to have." Deshpande debunks the idea as amateurish: "Writing needs commitment. It is not a pastime like flower decoration or needlework. So when women say that they want to write, but don’t get the time, I tell them, ‘If you want to write, you’d find the time’." Time nevertheless remains a constraint for every woman writer who attends to household chores (even a 10 to 5 job), sending children to school and living with the guilt of being a bad mother and wife — things, male writers do not usually have to grapple with. Some women take the easy way out by staying single, or at least making sure they don’t have kids. As Padmanabhan, who has chosen the latter course, puts it: "I decided that being a woman was an obstacle only if I chose the path of motherhood. And since I had no desire to choose that path, the rest was easy." "I rarely think of myself as a woman and don’t think I need to concern myself with the typical shackles other women deal with," she adds. "My struggle in the early days was a straightforward existential one: how to be a human being who writes or draws and how to support myself financially."
The perception stems from their concerns that generally find expression: Domestic discord, romance, gender clashes, family values, pain and tragedy.... It is only of late, that some are boldly entering into the "male space" with perceptive accounts on politics, religion and space. However, as Roy points out, such moves are not without the hostility that greets a female intruder: The sub-text, of course, is that don’t worry your little head about all such things. Go and play with your toys. Leave the real world to us." Sex though is an exception, especially if it is titillating stuff. "I am not squeamish about writing on sex," says Namita Gokhale, who got more notoriety than she deserved for the steamy passages in her first novel, Paro: Dreams of Passion. "I took the comic
approach, but found I shocked people. I continue to write about sex, but
can’t stand sex for titillation. But over the years, I have realised
that people want more of prurient sex. No wonder, a writer like Shobhaa
De sells so well." |
 |
How to change for change of life BEGINNING or end that is the way how you look at it. I am talking about menopause. Some women are relieved and happy that they don’t have to suffer the nuisance of bleeding every month and there is also no more tension of an unwanted pregnancy. Moreover, they can pursue their unfulfilled hobbies, which they could not do earlier because of a busy schedule. But for lots of women it is an end of their life. With the longevity increasing globally the doctors all over the world will be facing more of old age problems in their day-to-day practice. Women in their menopausal age have varied different reactions, such as: "I am so happy" "I am so depressed" "I can’t fall asleep" "I have no energy" "I get frustrated" These are the some of the expressions we might come across in our practice or otherwise. Menopause means end of en era in woman’s life. It means stopping of the menstrual cycle due to the lack of a hormone called oestrogen due to loss of ovarian function. When a woman does not get periods for one year, she is labelled as menopausal. Menopause occurs between the age of 45 and 50 but it can also occur any time between 40 and 55. Induced menopause due to surgical removal of uterus and ovaries and damage to ovaries due to chemotherapy is sudden and can be distressful for the patient. As the number of old persons is increasing the number of post-menopausal women in the world is expected to be 1.2 billion, out of this 76 per cent will be in developing countries only. With increased life expectancy there will be increase in problems of advancing age. Increase in morbidity and mortality from osteoporosis, cardiovascular and urogenital and neurological disease will be a consequence of their living longer in an oestrogen-deficient state. If a woman lives for 64 years that means 1/5 of her life is without hormones. And she does live for 84 yrs nearly 1/2 her life is without hormones. About 35 per cent of post-menopausal women are osteoporotic. That is approximately 30 millions in India. Symptoms of menopause It comes with problems such as wrinkles, graying of hair, looseness of skin, lack of energy, forgetfulness, aches and pains, hot flashes, mood swings, urinary problems, vaginal dryness and decreased libido and painful intercourse. Menopause is a natural phenomenon. We don’t have to any thing drastic if the lady does not have any problems except to guide her how to improve her quality of life and live gracefully. She must be made to understand that it is not the end of life but it is end of an era in her life. She can keep on doing all those activities which she was doing earlier with a few precautions to keep her safe. She should be told how to improve the quality of life and be useful to her family and society. We all know that menopause is a transition and it can be very distressing for a lady. No body can deny the role of women in the house and society. The backbone of a home, all her life is spent looking after her husband, in-laws, children and then grandchildren—without expecting much in return. All she wants is some love and affection. At this age, if the family does not understand the impact of menopausal symptoms she gets frustrated and depressed. It is the time when there is major change in her relationship within the family and her sex life. The role of each family member must change to help her to prevail over depression and emotional stress through which she has to pass. Along with family support, she needs counselling which can be provided by her family doctor or her gynaecologist. There is a great need for the community education and understanding. We all can help the women to sail through this difficult period smoothly. We must make our elders feel that they are our assets and not our liability. How to improve the quality of life The best guide is your doctor. The woman and the doctor should work together in assessing her health status and risk factors for developing disease due to aging such as cancer and heart disease. . Healthy diet: A balanced diet containing low fats, moderate proteins and high carbohydrates. Optimal intake of calcium, vit D vit C magnesium, phosphorus can help to prevent osteoporosis. Milk and curd are rich sources of calcium. Other foods advised are fish, almonds, dark green leafy vegetables, broccoli,. whole cereals, kidney beans, pulses and fermented foods like idli and dhokla. Foods to be avoided: Fatty meats, fried meat, sugar and refined carbohydrates, spicy pickles, coffee, tea, chocolate, alcohol and tobacco. Adequate exercise: The best form of working out is weight-bearing exercises. Walking, jogging, stair-climbing and dancing elevate mood and reduce stress. It increases cardio-respiratory function. It also help in minimising midlife weight gain. One should be careful in choosing the type of exercise and avoid overdoing any thing. Know the limits of your body. A positive attitude: It is very important to have a positive attitude toward life. The woman should try and keep herself occupied and cultivate hobbies. Weight management: It is very important. But don’t expect results over night. Take guidance from an expert to monitor your diet. Stress reduction: If you are constantly under stress take help from your doctor. The family plays a very important role as a stressbuster. Non-prescription remedies: Calcium, Vitamin C, Vitamin D, soya products should be used. Stopping usage of alcohol and smoking. Use of local treatment, either local cream or moisturiser should be used for vaginal dryness. Management in symptomatic women Whether you have symptoms or not you should take guidance from your doctor. She can tell you to undergo basic investigations to rule out any existing disease and also to prepare you for any disease in near future due to the effect of diminished hormones. If a woman needs HRT (hormone replacement therapy) then she has to have all investigations relating to various organs before starting HRT. These include:
HRT has its advantages and disadvantages like any other medicine and each patient has to be worked up according to her needs and her system. The topic of menopause is a very long and controversial in regard to treatment but one should not be hesitant in trying a medicine if it is required as most important is to live well not only to live long. (The writer is a
practising gynaecologist.) |
THE
red palash flowers are in bloom. They lie in carpets on the miles
of green that still make this haven of peace, the abode of the greatest
of poets and dreamers, Tagore. It is time for the Basant Utsav, when
Holi is played with the colour of red and yellow flowers in
Santiniketan. That's what they told me when I arrived in Kolkata a few
days before Holi. So I went, in the long train that goes to Bolpur,
jaunting lazily through miles of what I gathered was a green
countryside.
EVER
since Arundhati Roy won the Booker Prize for her God of Small Things,
women’s writing in India has received a major boost. There were,
of course, writers like Bharati Mukherji and Shobhaa De before her who
were hogging the headlines. But none had made it as big and that too on
debut.
This is another aspect
women writers have resented. In fact, many object to the very expression
of ‘woman writer’ — as though it was something less than a writer.
But then, barring the likes of Mahashweta Devi, who is praised for her
ability to "write like a man", women have failed to cross the
gender divide.