Some women I have scorned, some I have loved. This is to all the women I love…
Among the many, the betel leaf fragrance of my grandmother’s fingers as she force-fed me bowls of rasam saadam (a spicy vegetarian broth on rice) still remains strong in my memory. Very recently, my girlfriend sent my mom a photo of her kissing me on the cheeks, as a prank. There was an instant response to her from my mother: ‘Take care of your hair, oil it regularly.’
I have been bitten by a stray mother dog when I tried to lift her weak baby from under a car. The puppy was handed over to the Blue Cross and I had to go through an anti-rabies vaccine regimen. I hate injections. The nurse who injected me didn’t flinch or frown when a grown man was making so much of fuss over a needle shot.
Their unconditional love and affectionate sternness made them more human and angelic. Wherever I go, it seems I get flooded by the warmth of the women around me.
I had moved to Chennai for my job and had fallen ill terribly. I was weak, had high fever and couldn’t even move. My girlfriend and her mother travelled over 20 km in the middle of the night to take me to their home, and made sure I recovered in a mere three days under their care.
My landlady is sweet, too. Not only has she arranged for me accommodation at a relatively low cost, she cooks and feeds me so I don’t have to eat in hotels. I’m sure I weigh much more now than when I came.
Bold career women, women who could even tame satan with their hospitality, it has been a pleasure growing up among the divine beings. But there’s also the other side to the story. It happens in subtle ways, seemingly minor ways, but leaves behind a serious question: if we can truly understand and respect everyone else from their perspective of gender.
It might be a lot of things. Like the cautious gaze a mother has over you when you’re merely playing with her little daughter, or the accusatory glance you might get when you unintentionally touch or push someone in a crowded bus. Carrying the burden of an assumption that a man must be at fault when a woman complains.
Notoriously and most commonly in road incidents, it’s almost never the lady’s fault. Can’t a younger woman give up a seat to a frail, older man in the bus even if it was reserved for the ladies? Imagine how cool it would be when a woman reprimands a traffic constable for letting her go without paying a fine just because she’s a woman.
I’m not saying all women are so. I’m just making a few observations I’ve had in my life. These may, depending on the situation, also apply to men. But when I as a man sees it happen, I’m not worried about how some among the fairer sex take advantage of little things here and there, but I think of where as a society we are headed.
I don’t want my daughter to be one of them. I clearly don’t want my son to be growing up to disrespect women. But is it wrong for me to expect a meaningful dialogue to arise between men and women, surpassing the constriction of gender ideologies?
In an atmosphere where people are swiped left and right off the screen, cruelties against every gender exists. People are becoming disposable emotionally. Are we forgetting ourselves with respect to our human core? Is it not time we sat down, talked and understood each other?
It really begs the question: Are you really from Venus? Am I really from Mars? Or do we all belong to the same home?
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