Annie Zaidi's Blog, page 21
August 14, 2017
Inside a rape story
A rape story
Annie Zaidi
It's not science fiction and it's not
the nation's growth story. It's the rape story we are all living
inside of.
In this rape story, your
female/male/trans body is owned broadly by the state but specifically
and practically by your father, and next to him, your elder brothers,
and next to them, your uncles and your younger brothers. They decide
who to
Annie Zaidi
It's not science fiction and it's not
the nation's growth story. It's the rape story we are all living
inside of.
In this rape story, your
female/male/trans body is owned broadly by the state but specifically
and practically by your father, and next to him, your elder brothers,
and next to them, your uncles and your younger brothers. They decide
who to
August 5, 2017
A Rift on the Road
There they were, coming apart right in
front on me. A man wearing a moustache, walking fast, turning around
to spit out angry words. A harsh, loud, “Get Lost! Get away from
me!”
A girl followed, a few steps behind.
Skinny fit jeans and pointy heels. She murmured something I couldn't
quite hear, but I caught her tone. It was half-way between placatory
and indifferent.
I slowed down
front on me. A man wearing a moustache, walking fast, turning around
to spit out angry words. A harsh, loud, “Get Lost! Get away from
me!”
A girl followed, a few steps behind.
Skinny fit jeans and pointy heels. She murmured something I couldn't
quite hear, but I caught her tone. It was half-way between placatory
and indifferent.
I slowed down
August 3, 2017
A new poem
If (with Kipling's blessings)
If you can measure yourself
with the eye scales of the woman
who survived your enemy
If you can hold the woman
you had leaned into until she warmed
and, looking into her eyes, say
why you are afraid
If you can walk out of the shadow
of your father's failing,
your mother's distress,
and then if you can turn to the cleansing heat
of summer sun
If you can measure yourself
with the eye scales of the woman
who survived your enemy
If you can hold the woman
you had leaned into until she warmed
and, looking into her eyes, say
why you are afraid
If you can walk out of the shadow
of your father's failing,
your mother's distress,
and then if you can turn to the cleansing heat
of summer sun
July 23, 2017
Storytelling
People had forgotten, he muses, that it is also possible to read through one’s ears. After all, that is how most of us begin to receive stories—listening to our grandparents. Jameel Gulrays was counting on people’s ears rather than their eyes when he started to read aloud Urdu stories on a dedicated Youtube channel. Just about a year and a half later, his channel has over 1,300 subscribers and
July 16, 2017
In a narrow lane
A narrow lane requires a great deal of adjustment. It can be something minor, such as needing to twist your torso as someone approaches from the opposite direction. Or it can be something big, like having snatched a chain or purse, and making a run for it, and then realising that you’re being chased and you do not have much of an escape route. It could also require a major adjustment on the
July 4, 2017
Of, by, for ourselves
I recently led a discussion on democracy at the immensely successful Community Library Project, at the Deepalaya/Shiekh Sarai library in Delhi. Here are some further thoughts about why, published on the project blog:
Of, by, for ourselves
It’s the simplest, cleanest,
easiest to remember definition of democracy: Of the people, by the people, and
for the people.
These days, I often
Of, by, for ourselves
It’s the simplest, cleanest,
easiest to remember definition of democracy: Of the people, by the people, and
for the people.
These days, I often
July 2, 2017
Just thinking
शायद आप में और मुझ में इतना ही फ़र्क़ है, जितना सपना और स्वप्न में। या शायद इतना, जितना सपने और ख़्वाब में. इतना फ़ासला नहीं, जितना अच्छे और बुरे सपने में होता है. रत्ती भर का फ़र्क़ समुंदर नहीं, जिसे एक सांस लेके पार न किया जा सके।
The difference between me and you is the difference between 'Sapna' and 'Swapna'. Or the difference between 'Sapna' and 'Khwaab'. It is not the difference between dream
The difference between me and you is the difference between 'Sapna' and 'Swapna'. Or the difference between 'Sapna' and 'Khwaab'. It is not the difference between dream
June 24, 2017
Of Salt and Water
Awadh’s distinct culture was the result of generations of cooks, dressmakers, perfumers and masons transforming their art in response to royal patronage. The cuisine, therefore, is different from Mughlai fare. Kababs go beyond being skewered on a grill. Galautis are made to melt in the mouth and kakoris nudged further towards tenderness—if you can imagine that—often by chefs who’ve devoted their
June 5, 2017
Running off track
It’s a pleasant idea to contemplate—a track that runs like a divider down the road, protected by metal obstructions on either side and shaded by trees. For someone who believes in cycles over motorised transport, it would be a beautiful sight to behold. I beheld such a sight recently in Lucknow, but sadly, only in brief fragments.One shady stretch of cycling track would run down the middle of a
May 31, 2017
A new poem
Talking of Flowers
There was a poet who said once
your talk is the talk of flowers.
He said it in Urdu of course,
so perhaps this is not what he meant.
To talk of you is to shed flowers
from my mouth is also
what he might have said.
To talk of you is to talk of scented
creatures grinning up at the morning
plush with themselves and the aching
to be witnessed and named,
There was a poet who said once
your talk is the talk of flowers.
He said it in Urdu of course,
so perhaps this is not what he meant.
To talk of you is to shed flowers
from my mouth is also
what he might have said.
To talk of you is to talk of scented
creatures grinning up at the morning
plush with themselves and the aching
to be witnessed and named,
