brooding over chai

Every time we travel by car, I desperately look for a toilet. While the men unzip and empty their bladder anywhere, I have to suppress the constant pressure on my bladder. After a while, I cry out to stop the car. The hunt then begins. If it is a locality, I go around requesting permission from the residents to use their toilets. If it is a desolate stretch, we start hunting for a tree, a huge boulder, or the remnants of a wall – anything that would shield my bottom from prying eyes. It is at such moments that I feel we can never be equal. The men can do ‘it’ anywhere. But we cannot! June 2021 One afternoon, a sudden abdominal pain left me gasping for breath. None of the painkillers worked. A series of diagnostic tests followed. The doctor informs me. ‘Madam, your body needs adequate water. Do you know the benefits of…?’ By then I had turned my mind off the ‘discourse’ and was concentrating on the painting behind him. I suddenly heard the husband say ‘Doctor, she does not drink water a

Our society doesn’t treat their daughters the way they treat the Goddess. They will throw themselves at the feet of the Goddess but they will cry their voice hoarse if a daughter is born. Alas, this year Baba was not there to lift her up on his shoulders and show her the Goddess. The year had been cruel. Baba, who worked in the city, never came back home one day. The landlord refused to listen to her pleas to threw her out. The Dhaak* sounded again. She saw women carrying thaalis bearing food for the Goddess. One by one the offerings were lined up in front of the idol. It was time for ‘Bhog Nivedan’. A long, rectangular piece of cloth was held in front of the deity blocking everyone’s view.  People turned their face away as it was forbidden to look at the Goddess while she accepted the Bhog. After a while, the Dhaak, Shonkho and the Kanshor sounded announcing the end of the ritual. The priest invited everyone to come to the Mandap and accept Bhog. “Who is that urchin? Darwaan, Darwaan?