Shuvashree Chowdhury's Blog, page 25
November 9, 2018
Fulfillment
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It’s the morning after Diwali
And I’m sitting out on my balcony –
Viewing the line-up of all the burnt out diyas
That tenderly glowed through last night:
Vibrant in a multi-coloured sequence –
With tiny light bulbs and slim candles,
Amidst the champa and chameli flowers,
Emanating distinctive aromatic scents –
Enveloping me with security and nostalgia
Of when I’d lit candles here in youth’s heaven.
A white ball, slowly comes into my view now –
It has to be the sun I convince myself,
For it’s adorned in a glowing orange-ring of hope,
Rising over the railing infolded in shrubs:
The new sun blushes in shades of tangerine –
Climbing out amidst cut-paper decorated terraces,
Dissipating its romantic glow – now far and wide
To raise the sleeping world into a latent new morn,
Where, as yet, only a lone pigeon daintily walks –
Over the slim waves of an old asbestos rooftop.
I look down at my half-finished cup of green tea
Set atop the tray in green and white vines,
When the sudden gust of a chilly breeze
Sends slight shivers up my spine in delight –
For there’s anticipation of the coming winter nights
Leading to Christmas and New Year moonlight nights
Where there will be you and me and lots of wine.
The crows are crowing, pigeons in hoards descend
Over a rooftop – with the best Diwali decoration,
Bringing me back to the present moment,
Where there’s peace and contentment and joy even –
For that’s what Love and Hope do for your determination
To live a life pursuing your dreams, vision and goals,
Without worrying about what your destiny might unfold –
So long as you bear the torch of satisfaction lifelong
That your heart’s not yet – and never going cold!
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November 8, 2018
The Dark Side of #MeToo – A Powerful Weapon being Blunted by Misuse!
[HEADNOTE]
The Dark Side of #MeToo – A Powerful Weapon being Blunted by Misuse!
by Shuvashree Chowdhury
I am a staunch supporter of the #MeToo movement, especially as a woman. I laud the movement for the challenge it has posed to norms of male behaviour and the exposure of some real demons. However, I am also very disturbed by how it is being diluted and misused by certain set of women.
If you’ve ever worked with me or been reading me for over a decade in various platforms, you would easily relate to this by now. I do not see how we can trivialize what we women have gone through forever — and many of us have been fighting against that lifelong, with everything we have to give, through raising our voices. But by simply joining an anonymous brigade that so easily says #MeToo for anything and everything is problematic.
If a man looks at me for a few seconds more than I like, should I react with a #MeToo? If he flashes at me in a public place, would I also say #Metoo? If he runs me down at work and compels me to leave my job that I have aspired to be at the top of, will I also say #MeToo? If he attempts to harrass, molest or rape me — of course I would categorise these three under #MeToo!
What I’m really trying to highlight here, is the increasingly rampant misuse of the #MeToo campaign. That almost any attention, which a woman has deemed unwelcome at any stage in her life, is being passed off as “sexual harassment” — and that is grossly damaging and slanderous. It is flung around on Twitter and other social media with names of the “perpetrators” in tow. The second noticeable aspect of #MeToo is that the man is denied a voice unless he has “proof.” The allegation is the verdict.
The media houses will not only happily publish your write-up, if you can stitch one together yourself, or air your wet tear-drenched towel of words for days and weeks on any news channel that could get them viewership — till everyone’s well-dried, tired and bored of that topic or that person.
If you ve been keeping abreast of the current social dredging exercises, in the name of the #MeToo campaign which I support for the right reasons only, you would easily recognize that I’m implying here to all the stories that surfaced recently on Chetan Bhagat — and one in particular, written by the writer Ira Trivedi in the Outlook magazine. And what is Bhagat’s primary fault — he just happens to be one of the most commercially successful Indian authors, whether or not the elite reading class feel he deserves it. While those making the allegations in frustration — after they could not get him to get them any public attention let alone bestseller status, even after a decade’s friendship, Trivedi is using his reputation as a weapon to go and grab the limelight herself.
And this — however warped your narrative reads or sounds to a logical and analytical mind — might even construe you having led the man on with your words or actions, into believing you were seeking favours yourself — sexual or otherwise: considering after that you remained friends with him for a decade, to now coming out with your beautifully written pieces — smearing his lifetime’s hard earned reputation.
Many, if not the majority of the cases that have been much publicised in the Indian media, are similar to that like Chetan Bhagat, whose name I’m only using here as an example to make my point, like I did with Sudeep Sen in the write up below.
But if you try to voice your views in support of any man, try to speak up for his character or innocence that has been maligned by those who spend more time politically plotting their career graph — rather than conscientiously working on the plots of their pieces of writing, or the intricacies and nuances of any other craft they might wish to earn fame out of, then you’d rather not nurse any hope of getting it published or aired.
I had submitted the write-up below for publication to The Scroll, The Wire and The Indian Express. Just last month when the second wave of #MeToo erupted in India — on October 27th & 28th respectively, I submitted the write-up the follows for publication to the following magazines/persons: at The Scroll to Mr Naresh Fernandes (Chief Editor) & Ms Aarefa Johari (the correspondent who wrote the article in the first place). To The Wire to: Mr Sidhartha Vardarajan & Sidhartha Bhatia (co-editors). I received an immediate knee-jerk acknowledgement email from Mr Bhatia that he cannot carry the piece (no reasons given whatsoever): “regret that we will be unable to use this.” And finally, I sent to The Indian Express to: Mr Raj Kamal Jha (Chief Editor) & Pratik Kanjilal (Books Editor). Other than the one-line response from Mr Bhatia of The Wire, there has just been total silence from all the others. It is clear the media houses only seem to be interested in sensational unverified stories to raise their TRP ratings and not concerned with a balanced truth — either through directly contacting the allegedly accused to get both sides of the story, or in third party unbiased voices.
As I am no longer hoping to find my article being accepted for publication — I am hereby posting the submitted article verbatim — so that it may at least go down in history for registering my strong protest of this bigoted campaign. The true thrust of the #MeToo campaign that ought to focus on the real perpetrators is being diluted and misused by some groups of city-based priviledged relatively-empowered women with access to English-language social media, who have personal axes to grind and gain frivolous instant public attention — which is shameful and slanderous.
*
PS: Chetan Bhagat and Sudeep Sen — please excuse me for raking up these circumstances … but I felt compelled to your examples to raise my voice against what’s going on here and the wrongs of movement.
*
[ARTICLE]
Raising a Voice Against Misuse and Misguided Use of the #MeToo Campaign
by Shuvashree Chowdhury
In my view, #MeToo is an impactful tool for women to stand up with, against all the atrocities committed against us for centuries. But it is a sharper tool in the western world, where there is a clearer distinction in people’s minds on what harassment really construes. In our country — the same tool can get misused and thus sideline the gravity of the issues it ought to address, as I believe is the case right now, with the barrage of misleading and dubious accusations doing the rounds.
This is perhaps due to the inability to determine and understand or acknowledge the difference between brash power play, bullying, aggressive attention, and the sheer over friendliness or attentiveness of a colleague that you don’t fancy or find attractive. I say this, after two decades of corporate assignments including a top-of-the-line airline, bank, hotel, three lifestyle retailers, and an international head hunting firm, having started out as a corporate sales executive with a large tour company at 23 years of age. All of these experiences now go into my fiction writing, which fairly analyses issues like those brought up in the #MeToo campaign.
Earlier this year, I had been shaken to read an article on Sudeep Sen in the Scroll which reported allegations against him by a poet. As a result of the allegations, some other poets — many of who he has been rather kind to — were opting out of an anthology for young poets that he had been working on. I had reached out to Sudeep immediately on reading this article. He told me that he had learnt of the accusations. He had been shocked to learn of them. And though they were blatantly false, he had written a polite letter to the accusing writer directly, requesting for a meeting in the company of people they mutually trusted to discuss the matter. Needless to say, he never heard back from the writer. I lent him my unequivocal support. This was based on my first hand experiences of, at first, dealing with him in a professional capacity, even though we have remained friends since then. I also spoke to people we knew in common, young poets whose work is also featured in this upcoming anthology. I shared my story with them so that they may also know the experiences that I’m now about to share with you, just as vividly as I did with them at the time, to add a fair perspective to all that was/is being said about Sudeep by some of these poets/ writers on mere hearsay.
I first met Sudeep Sen in October 2012, over a couple of official dinners, when he had come to Chennai with a group of train-traveling Australian and Indian writers as part of Bookwallah, an Indo-Australian literary event. After a brief conversation over dinner and exchange of email addresses, we stayed in touch by email, totally by my initiation.
After I had read his book of poems, Rain and Ladakh, which I liked very much and I even went on to review them in my blog. I also shared with him two poems I had written on Pondicherry, where he was headed to with the group, and his appreciation of them gave me the confidence to take up writing poetry more seriously than I did so far. I had discussed the then ready-manuscript of my debut novel ‘Across Borders’ with the group of writers at the roundtable of the restaurant over dinner, on their curiosity, but Sudeep had not joined us by then. So he did not know that I was a writer too. However, I wrote to him about it and requested for a blurb.
At first, Sudeep categorically replied, “I will read … but give my comments, only if I like the writing.” There was no other condition attached to it and I gladly consented, forwarding the manuscript by email. I did not get a reply for several months, but though disheartened, I respected his decision not to give his comments and did not write to him again.
It was when I posted the cover photo of my book with a few other author comments on Facebook that Sudeep wrote to me, saying “I would like to send in my comments too. I just got delayed due to a lot of personal issues. Would you like me to send it now, or is it too late?”
A couple of months back then, I had seen from his Facebook posts — that Sudeep had lost his mother, and thus understanding that my book would hardly be in his line of priority at the time, I requested him to send his comments now. It went on the back of my debut historical fiction book, and is going as a foreward on the republished version of it again — and in three other new books including a novel, a collection of short stories, and a poetry volume.
I firmly believe in his inability to ‘harass/molest’ a woman, let alone force unwilling women for sexual favours however minimal — in spite of his overtly warm, gregarious, and sociable demeanour, sometimes even with strangers. In my view, his jovial behaviour may seem arrogant at times to those who don’t know him well, and I have pointed this out to him a few times over the years — but it is never offensive.
My confidence in Sudeep is from my first-hand experience with him in a professional capacity then, on the eve of the launch of my book in Delhi in December 2013, details of which are in the link: https://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/between-the-lines/article5508192.ece#
I had travelled to Delhi from Chennai the morning before the event and was staying at a hotel close to Sudeep’s house. On hearing of this, he had kindly asked me to stay at his place, in his son’s room — if I’d like and save the cost of a hotel room. I declined, but agreed to come and have a meal with him. I did not construe his well-intentioned invitation as a sexual advance as another woman in my place might have. I walked over to his house, from my hotel, with minute directions from him and he greeted me warmly with a light hug, insisting I take off my shoes outside the door (a practice he insists with all his guests). After I was seated and we chatted for a while, he brought out a cake saying “Congratulations on your book launch” and a bottle of red wine. It pleased me so much, especially after the years of struggle to reach this stage, that in my emotional state, I would gladly have gone and hugged him, but he made no such move. He had already invited to take me to his friend’s (a very attractive American woman I was to find) coffee table book launch (on dance/fabrics) by Penguin.
As I sat in his house, he asked me, “Would you like to have dinner at home, or with friends of my friend whose book-launch we will be going to now?” — as if to remind me that we had better leave. “I’m fine with dinner anywhere” I replied. “But yes, I’d like some wine first, as I’m freezing — look at my red nose! I’m just not used to the cold in Delhi anymore, even though I went to college at Delhi University.”
So after a glass of wine, Sudeep called a taxi and we went to the book event at Select Citywalk mall’s Good Earth store. There were so many gorgeous and well-dressed people and very gregarious at that, and having come over that morning from Chennai where people are generally reserved and shy, also after having lived there for the last eight years — I felt conscious and at unease with the Delhi crowd. But Sudeep looked me up every now and then, to ensure I was fine. He was socializing with almost everyone who he seemed to know and many of who warmly joked and pulled his leg, making me ease out on my stiff and reserved attitude so far with him.
“Pick up something to eat and drink … you’ll be a fool to be shy here” he’d say, or something similar, each time he walked over, often signalling the waiter to hand me a drink or a snack. “Also invite people to your book launch tomorrow. That’s how you circulate.”
After the event, Sudeep asked me, “Would you like to go home or have dinner with these people?… I’ll go with whatever you decide.” I’d had enough of socializing for one evening (and truly, for many evenings to come) and had managed to invite not a single person yet to my book-launch the next day — so I said, “Let’s just go and have dinner at your home.”
We took an auto back to his place — I was only too glad, after the stress of socializing, that I was no longer used to. Sudeep quickly laid out all that his maid had cooked on the kitchen table. While he ate quickly and quietly, I spoke nonstop in sheer nervousness of the event the next day, propelled by the unsuccessful effort I’d made to socialize this evening.
After dinner, I sat around at Sudeep’s study, and then at his sitting room, while he sat at a distance from wherever I sat, as if to reassure me to relax and be comfortable. He showed me around his house, trailing me from a distance, not entering any of the rooms with me. I was happy to spend time with all his books that are no less a collection than one might find at a public library — and I showed no sign of wanting to leave.
All evening, he did not come and try to sit close, leave alone lay a remote finger on me, as he could have — to take advantage or exploit my circumstance, perhaps in entitlement for his launching my book the next day at IIC for which all invitations and preparations had been made — and I might have been stuck in a corner and forced to relent to his advances. Also I didn’t know anyone in the city that night, and there was not a soul in his house but the two of us.
After a long chat, mostly over the struggles I had to face till reaching this stage with the book, Sudeep said: “Now please don’t utter any of this [my struggles] at the book-launch tomorrow or ever again to anyone, people will just misquote such weaknesses. Cholo, get up, let me walk you back to your hotel. It’s rather late.”
“Yes it’s late.” I replied, looking at my watch marking past midnight. “So tomorrow would you like to join us on our drive to the IIC from here? Or would you come on your own?” Then jovially, also at ease with him by now, I added, “There are two really pretty women joining me, whose company you might just like.” He replied saying that he would make his own way to the IIC.
As we walked, through the deserted lanes of that Delhi winter’s night, Sudeep walked several steps ahead of me. Though he would turn back every now and then, to see I was following him. It was like he was keeping a safe distance, so that I would not even imagine he might be making any designs on me and feel uncomfortable as a result, or have neighbours imagine anything. At the hotel’s entrance he shook my hand lightly, said ‘good night’ and simply walked away — even as I kept looking at his receding form in gratitude for having been a perfect gentleman, while I had been so anxious all evening.
After my book launch the next evening at the IIC (and the official dinner at the Oberoi Hotel that my publisher had hosted), Sudeep dropped me in front of my hotel along with my friend. As he was leaving us (with two of my male friends he was taking over for drinks to his place), he gave me a hug congratulating me in the presence of everyone. Anyone in that group, if they had been petty or immature, might have construed his hug to be a sexual innuendo if they’d wanted to. But neither did they — and in any case, it was the last thing I might have imagined after the civil experience of the night before.
As I said, Sudeep had even gone to the IIC by himself (and wasn’t tempted by my invitation to have the company of two other pretty women on the ride, which a compulsive flirt or womaniser might have found the need to). And believe me, as a woman I know when anyone touches me inappropriately — and I am totally on the side of all the women whose spaces have been non-consensually violated. But to have misread Sudeep would have been grossly wrong and unfair.
After this, Sudeep and I kept in touch and have met as friends, several times in Chennai over a poetry festival where I also read and in Calcutta over his book events. But my views here of him, are formed of the time before we became friends, and had met in a completely professional capacity.
Sudeep continues to be one of our best known English language poets with rewards and recognition from across the world. He is still the official editor for the Sahitya Academi anthology wherein 75 poets have their work represented. I know also that there are many writers, artists, academics and others — both men and women — who have affirmed their faith in Sudeep, personally, quietly, unobtrusively without fanfare or media attention. I hope they will now be more vocal about their stance.
All of the above was over six months ago. But with the resurgence of the #MeToo campaign — and a couple of slanderous, misguided, unproven Tweets by two women (whose books Sudeep Sen had not reviewed) — I feel compelled to write this on behalf of those of my male friends who I believe have been wronged and misjudged.
In today’s environment any woman can make any accusing comment on a man, cast any aspersion to a man’s motive, share any interpretation of a man’s behaviour, extend any half-truth, she can even lie — and she will be believed, in honour of all the women who have genuinely suffered at the hands of men. Today, therefore, if a woman has spoken, then the man is guilty — no questions asked. And this is being accepted, being celebrated even, by a section of society as a way of compensation for the trials of women over the years. One injustice replaced by another.
I have bought this up now to raise the pertinent questions that we need to raise regarding the frivolous and gossipy space that the #MeToo campaign is becoming, thus rendering blunt a powerful weapon that should be used to slay the real demons like sexual-harassers, molesters, rapists in our society. My fellow women (and men) — please, focus on the real offenders — otherwise this movement will be diluted by misusers and misguided-users, as it has begun to happen.
*
Shuvashree Chowdhury — a senior professional in the Indian and international corporate sector for nearly 25 years — is the author of two novels (Across Borders, and Entwined Lives), a book of short stories (Existences), and a volume of poetry (Fragments).
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[LINKS]
https://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/books/sahitya-akademi-poets-protest-5091272/
Also as a reference to my debut novel ‘Across Borders’, I’m sharing below my interview (2013) in the Indian Express by Mr Yogesh Vajpei, in this link:
All other media reviews, including the photos and coverage of the Delhi launch by Sudeep Sen is in this link https://shuvashreeghosh.wordpress.com/2013/09/13/the-telegraph-reviews-my-book-across-borders/
****
#MeToo – A Powerful Weapon Being Blunted
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“I like stories where women save themselves” – Neil Gaiman: And Me too!
Firstly, let me start by telling you, that I am not a believer in the #Metoo campaign. But then, if you’ve ever worked with me or been reading me for over a decade in various platforms, you would easily relate to that by now. As I do not see how we can trivialize what we women have gone through for ever – and many of us have been fighting against lifelong, with everything we have to give, through raising our voices –- by simply joining an anonymous brigade that so easily says #Metoo for anything and everything.
If a man looks at me for a few seconds more than I like, should I re-join with a #Metoo; if he flashes me at a public place – would I also say #Metoo; and if he runs me down at work, harasses me and compels me to leave my job that I have aspired to be at the top of – will I also just say #Metoo? And well, if he attempts to rape me or even rapes me — will I still look helplessly on and say #Metoo! But then, that’s not really the point I’m trying to make here in this post.
What I’m really trying to highlight here, is the misuse of the #Metoo campaign. That almost any attention, which a woman has deemed unwelcome at any stage, is being passed off as “sexual harassment.” It is flung around on Twitter and other social media with names of the “perpetrators” in tow. The second noticeable aspect is that the man is denied a voice unless he has “proof.” The allegation is the verdict.
If you’re a woman who makes an allegation, or ten, about a man having “harassed” you, at any time in your fifty years or maybe more – life, whether it even be only on social media; there will be at least twenty people who will suddenly back your allegation.
Then newspapers and magazines will not only publish your write-up, if you can stitch one together yourself; or air on prime time – your tear-drenched towel of words for days and weeks on any and every news channel, that could get them viewership: till the audience is well dried to the bone and bored of that topic. This might be – however warped your narrative reads/sounds to a logical and analytical mind – that might even construe you having led the man on with your words or actions, into believing you were seeking favours yourself – sexual or otherwise: considering you then remained friends with him for a decade, to now come out with your beautifully written pieces – smearing his lifetime’s hard earned reputation.
If you’ve been keeping abreast of the current social dredging exercises, in the name of the #Metoo campaign, you would easily recognize that I’m implying here to all the stories that surfaced on Chetan Bhagat. And what is his primary fault – he happens to be one of the most commercially successful Indian authors, whether or not the elite reading class feel he deserves it. While those making these allegations in frustration – after they could not get him to get them much public attention, let alone best seller status, even after a decade’s friendship, use his reputation as a weapon to go and grab the limelight themselves. Many, if not all the cases, that have been much publicised from the Indian media, are similar to Chetan Bhagat, whose name I’m only using here as an example to make my point, like I did with Sudeep Sen in the write up below.
But if you try to voice your views in support of any man, try to speak up for his character or innocence that has been maligned by those who spend more time politically plotting their career graph – rather than conscientiously working on the plots of their pieces of writing or the intricacies and nuances of any other craft they might wish to earn fame out of, then you’d rather not nurse any hope of getting it published or aired.
I have submitted the write-up below, for publication to the media houses/magazines – whose names I’ve mentioned at the end of this post. Other than a polite email acknowledgement from Mr Siddharth Bhatia of Wire, on his inability to publish the piece, there has been silence from all the others. Now that I am no longer hoping to find my write-up being accepted for publication, I’m hereby posting it verbatim – that I may at least go down in history for registering my strong protest of this bigoted campaign. This is even as anything I’ve ever written is feministic in tone.
[ARTICLE]
Raising a Voice Against Misuse and Misguided Use of the #MeToo Campaign
by Shuvashree Chowdhury
In my view, #MeToo is an impactful tool for women to stand up with, against all the atrocities committed against us for centuries. But it is a sharper tool in the western world, where there is a clearer distinction in people’s minds on what harassment really construes. In our country — the same tool can get misused and thus sideline the gravity of the issues it ought to address, as I believe is the case right now, with the barrage of misleading and dubious accusations doing the rounds.
This is perhaps due to the inability to determine and understand or acknowledge the difference between brash power play, bullying, aggressive attention, and the sheer over friendliness or attentiveness of a colleague that you don’t fancy or find attractive. I say this, after two decades of corporate assignments including a top-of-the-line airline, bank, hotel, three lifestyle retailers, and an international head hunting firm, having started out as a corporate sales executive with a large tour company at 23 years of age. All of these experiences now go into my fiction writing, which fairly analyses issues like those brought up in the #MeToo campaign.
Earlier this year, I had been shaken to read an article on Sudeep Sen in the Scroll which reported allegations against him by a poet. As a result of the allegations, some other poets — many of who he has been rather kind to — were opting out of an anthology for young poets that he had been working on. I had reached out to Sudeep immediately on reading this article. He told me that he had learnt of the accusations. He had been shocked to learn of them. And though they were blatantly false, he had written a polite letter to the accusing writer directly, requesting for a meeting in the company of people they mutually trusted to discuss the matter. Needless to say, he never heard back from the writer. I lent him my unequivocal support. This was based on my first hand experiences of, at first, dealing with him in a professional capacity, even though we have remained friends since then. I also spoke to people we knew in common, young poets whose work is also featured in this upcoming anthology. I shared my story with them so that they may also know the experiences that I’m now about to share with you, just as vividly as I did with them at the time, to add a fair perspective to all that was/is being said about Sudeep by some of these poets/ writers on mere hearsay.
I first met Sudeep Sen in October 2012, over a couple of official dinners, when he had come to Chennai with a group of train-traveling Australian and Indian writers as part of Bookwallah, an Indo-Australian literary event. After a brief conversation over dinner and exchange of email addresses, we stayed in touch by email, totally by my initiation.
After I had read his book of poems, Rain and Ladakh, which I liked very much and I even went on to review them in my blog. I also shared with him two poems I had written on Pondicherry, where he was headed to with the group, and his appreciation of them gave me the confidence to take up writing poetry more seriously than I did so far. I had discussed the then ready-manuscript of my debut novel ‘Across Borders’ with the group of writers at the roundtable of the restaurant over dinner, on their curiosity, but Sudeep had not joined us by then. So he did not know that I was a writer too. However, I wrote to him about it and requested for a blurb.
At first, Sudeep categorically replied, “I will read … but give my comments, only if I like the writing.” There was no other condition attached to it and I gladly consented, forwarding the manuscript by email. I did not get a reply for several months, but though disheartened, I respected his decision not to give his comments and did not write to him again.
It was when I posted the cover photo of my book with a few other author comments on Facebook that Sudeep wrote to me, saying “I would like to send in my comments too. I just got delayed due to a lot of personal issues. Would you like me to send it now, or is it too late?”
A couple of months back then, I had seen from his Facebook posts — that Sudeep had lost his mother, and thus understanding that my book would hardly be in his line of priority at the time, I requested him to send his comments now. It went on the back of my debut historical fiction book, and is going as a foreword on the republished version of it again — and in three other new books including a novel, a collection of short stories, and a poetry volume.
I firmly believe in his inability to ‘harass/molest’ a woman, let alone force unwilling women for sexual favours however minimal — in spite of his overtly warm, gregarious, and sociable demeanour, sometimes even with strangers. In my view, his jovial behaviour may seem arrogant at times to those who don’t know him well, and I have pointed this out to him a few times over the years — but it is never offensive.
My confidence in Sudeep is from my first-hand experience with him in a professional capacity then, on the eve of the launch of my book in Delhi in December 2013, details of which are in the link: https://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/between-the-lines/article5508192.ece#
I had travelled to Delhi from Chennai the morning before the event and was staying at a hotel close to Sudeep’s house. On hearing of this, he had kindly asked me to stay at his place, in his son’s room — if I’d like and save the cost of a hotel room. I declined, but agreed to come and have a meal with him. I did not construe his well-intentioned invitation as a sexual advance as another woman in my place might have. I walked over to his house, from my hotel, with minute directions from him and he greeted me warmly with a light hug, insisting I take off my shoes outside the door (a practice he insists with all his guests). After I was seated and we chatted for a while, he brought out a cake saying “Congratulations on your book launch” and a bottle of red wine. It pleased me so much, especially after the years of struggle to reach this stage, that in my emotional state, I would gladly have gone and hugged him, but he made no such move. He had already invited to take me to his friend’s (a very attractive American woman I was to find) coffee table book launch (on dance/fabrics) by Penguin.
As I sat in his house, he asked me, “Would you like to have dinner at home, or with friends of my friend whose book-launch we will be going to now?” — as if to remind me that we had better leave. “I’m fine with dinner anywhere” I replied. “But yes, I’d like some wine first, as I’m freezing — look at my red nose! I’m just not used to the cold in Delhi anymore, even though I went to college at Delhi University.”
So after a glass of wine, Sudeep called a taxi and we went to the book event at Select Citywalk mall’s Good Earth store. There were so many gorgeous and well-dressed people and very gregarious at that, and having come over that morning from Chennai where people are generally reserved and shy, also after having lived there for the last eight years — I felt conscious and at unease with the Delhi crowd. But Sudeep looked me up every now and then, to ensure I was fine. He was socializing with almost everyone who he seemed to know and many of who warmly joked and pulled his leg, making me ease out on my stiff and reserved attitude so far with him.
“Pick up something to eat and drink … you’ll be a fool to be shy here” he’d say, or something similar, each time he walked over, often signalling the waiter to hand me a drink or a snack. “Also invite people to your book launch tomorrow. That’s how you circulate.”
After the event, Sudeep asked me, “Would you like to go home or have dinner with these people?… I’ll go with whatever you decide.” I’d had enough of socializing for one evening (and truly, for many evenings to come) and had managed to invite not a single person yet to my book-launch the next day — so I said, “Let’s just go and have dinner at your home.”
We took an auto back to his place — I was only too glad, after the stress of socializing, that I was no longer used to. Sudeep quickly laid out all that his maid had cooked on the kitchen table. While he ate quickly and quietly, I spoke nonstop in sheer nervousness of the event the next day, propelled by the unsuccessful effort I’d made to socialize this evening.
After dinner, I sat around at Sudeep’s study, and then at his sitting room, while he sat at a distance from wherever I sat, as if to reassure me to relax and be comfortable. He showed me around his house, trailing me from a distance, not entering any of the rooms with me. I was happy to spend time with all his books that are no less a collection than one might find at a public library — and I showed no sign of wanting to leave.
All evening, he did not come and try to sit close, leave alone lay a remote finger on me, as he could have — to take advantage or exploit my circumstance, perhaps in entitlement for his launching my book the next day at IIC for which all invitations and preparations had been made — and I might have been stuck in a corner and forced to relent to his advances. Also I didn’t know anyone in the city that night, and there was not a soul in his house but the two of us.
After a long chat, mostly over the struggles I had to face till reaching this stage with the book, Sudeep said: “Now please don’t utter any of this [my struggles] at the book-launch tomorrow or ever again to anyone, people will just misquote such weaknesses. Cholo, get up, let me walk you back to your hotel. It’s rather late.”
“Yes it’s late.” I replied, looking at my watch marking past midnight. “So tomorrow would you like to join us on our drive to the IIC from here? Or would you come on your own?” Then jovially, also at ease with him by now, I added, “There are two really pretty women joining me, whose company you might just like.” He replied saying that he would make his own way to the IIC.
As we walked, through the deserted lanes of that Delhi winter’s night, Sudeep walked several steps ahead of me. Though he would turn back every now and then, to see I was following him. It was like he was keeping a safe distance, so that I would not even imagine he might be making any designs on me and feel uncomfortable as a result, or have neighbours imagine anything. At the hotel’s entrance he shook my hand lightly, said ‘good night’ and simply walked away — even as I kept looking at his receding form in gratitude for having been a perfect gentleman, while I had been so anxious all evening.
After my book launch the next evening at the IIC (and the official dinner at the Oberoi Hotel that my publisher had hosted), Sudeep dropped me in front of my hotel along with my friend. As he was leaving us (with two of my male friends he was taking over for drinks to his place), he gave me a hug congratulating me in the presence of everyone. Anyone in that group, if they had been petty or immature, might have construed his hug to be a sexual innuendo if they’d wanted to. But neither did they — and in any case, it was the last thing I might have imagined after the civil experience of the night before.
As I said, Sudeep had even gone to the IIC by himself (and wasn’t tempted by my invitation to have the company of two other pretty women on the ride, which a compulsive flirt or womaniser might have found the need to). And believe me, as a woman I know when anyone touches me inappropriately — and I am totally on the side of all the women whose spaces have been non-consensually violated. But to have misread Sudeep would have been grossly wrong and unfair.
After this, Sudeep and I kept in touch and have met as friends, several times in Chennai over a poetry festival where I also read and in Calcutta over his book events. But my views here of him, are formed of the time before we became friends, and had met in a completely professional capacity.
Sudeep continues to be one of our best known English language poets with rewards and recognition from across the world. He is still the official editor for the Sahitya Academi anthology wherein 75 poets have their work represented. I know also that there are many writers, artists, academics and others — both men and women — who have affirmed their faith in Sudeep, personally, quietly, unobtrusively without fanfare or media attention. I hope they will now be more vocal about their stance.
All of the above was over six months ago. But with the resurgence of the #MeToo campaign I feel compelled to write this — on behalf of those of my male friends who I believe have been wronged and misjudged. In today’s environment any woman can make any accusing comment on a man, cast any aspersion to a man’s motive, share any interpretation of a man’s behaviour, extend any half-truth, she can even lie — and she will be believed, in honour of all the women who have genuinely suffered at the hands of men. Today, therefore, if a woman has spoken, then the man is guilty — no questions asked. And this is being accepted, being celebrated even, by a section of society as a way of compensation for the trials of women over the years. One injustice replaced by another.
I have bought this up now to raise the pertinent questions that we need to raise regarding the frivolous and gossipy space that the #MeToo campaign is becoming, thus rendering blunt a powerful weapon that should be used to slay the real demons like sexual-harassers, molesters, rapists in our society. My fellow women (and men) — please, focus on the real offenders — otherwise this movement will be diluted by misusers and misguided-users, as it has begun to happen.
*
Shuvashree Chowdhury — a senior professional in the Indian and international corporate sector for nearly 25 years — is the author of two novels (Across Borders, and Entwined Lives), a book of short stories (Existences), and a volume of poetry (Fragments).
*
Below are the links to the magazines that carried this story that inspired my strong write up and cover note as above: If you read these versions, you will see how easy it is to be crucified to death by the media one fine day, after a lifetime’s work and achievement, simply by having a woman say anything…Does she even need to stand up for it, let alone prove it!
https://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/books/sahitya-akademi-poets-protest-5091272/
Also as a reference to my debut novel ‘Across Borders’, I’m sharing below my interview (2013) in The Indian Express by Mr Yogesh Vajpei, in this link:
All other media reviews, including the photos and coverage of the Delhi launch by Sudeep Sen is in this link https://shuvashreeghosh.wordpress.com/2013/09/13/the-telegraph-reviews-my-book-across-borders/
On the 27th of October and 28th of October 2018, I submitted the above write-up for publication to the following persons:
Naresh Fernandes – Chief Eitor, Scroll
A Arefa – Correspondent who wrote the article in Scroll
Sidharth Bhatia (I received an acknowledgement email) and Siddharth Varadarajan – Chief editors of the Wire
Rajkamal Jha – Chief Editor, Indian Express
Pratik Kanjilal – Books Editor, Indian Express
PS: Chetan Bhagat and Sudeep Sen, please excuse me for raking up these circumstances…but I felt compelled to use these examples to raise my voice against what’s going on here.
October 30, 2018
Colours of Light
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Light dazzles my eyes,
as the sparks emitted
come in every conceivable
shape, colour and size:
They fill up the staid autumn sky,
setting my heart a flutter
like all those butterflies – daylong
hovering around garden paths,
sucking nectar from
flowers of every colour and form,
that are now in full bloom
amidst the houses and barns
of my childhood fantasies
from all the classic novels
I’d keep my head buried in,
that would take me to another world,
to hide from the reality of my situations.
These Diwali shards of brilliant light
now ignite my mind’s eye,
setting my thoughts racing wild
to when I was a child of nine
and sorely afraid of the dark:
Such that, I’d close my eyes and run
to the light switch boards on the far wall,
of my boarding school dormitory hall,
if I came up to my locker out of time —
feeling my way with my hands,
panicking but managing not to fall,
like playing blind-man’s-buff with my fears,
wherein I was to extricate myself from them
so I couldn’t lose my sense of self ever again —
in the flurry of adult life, when at work
I’d fight for my rights and my self esteem,
not act a victim in the circumstances:
When it’d take a turn into a dark alley of any man
trying to overpower me with their clout,
throwing me overboard many a times
but always providing me from my own torch —
strong beams of logical reasoning and light,
to guide my confident and unique strides.
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October 27, 2018
Autumn in Calcutta
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I’m strolling the bowered pathway,
swathed in an autumn sunlight
slinking in through tangled vines:
My face feels all flushed
in tones of the blossoms,
caressed by a nip in the air
romancing late October’s
shiuli, champa, chameli flowers.
The festivities continue unabated:
today is Karvaa Chauth –
when for the longevity of their lords
women fast daylong,
paying obeisance to them –
who over their lives supremely command,
under a full moon patiently summoned.
It’s romantic and has tradition no doubt
but reeks of subjugation and male clout,
as we women, since eternity, love a sheltered life:
Yet on a whim want our independence and flight
which to get we blame every man in sight,
But aren’t ready to give up on the benefits
of a male-dominated society –
as that’s our heritage we’ve imbibed.
We’ve already worshipped in Bengal
the strength of a woman in its potent form:
goddess Durga and all her children,
rejoicing in her slaying of the demons
of poverty and suppression,
that lives had turned into a dungeon:
by bestowing upon all – gaiety and fun,
even if it’s only a week long –
leaving us forlorn when the goddess is gone
but soothing our emotional fall
by cushioning it with another festival –
with goddess Lakshmi and her owl,
that barely a week back
touched our houses and hearts.
As Dhanteras, Kali Puja and Diwali
draw near, the nip in the air
now much dearer –
the aroma of Shiuli permeating my senses,
as the days are getting shorter –
the mornings more dewy and quieter,
and fog slowly pervading the night air
that make me value
the homeliness I’m steeped in,
to step out of my mental bower
to project my inherent
strength of being a woman.
September 26, 2018
To the Sunset
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The boats pass me by,
I don’t know
where they go and why,
but I stand looking on
hoping they’ll take me along –
to my destiny that’s long drawn,
also is allusive and withholds –
my dreams that are manifold.
All I want is a meaningful life,
not merely to survive,
and to leave footprints behind
that may cushion and guide
hearts such as mine –
that face the burdens of life,
without the strength I’ve imbibed
out of the struggles and strife:
in my life that ought to be sublime
for the blessings I’ve been born with.
Yet my destiny slips me by
even as I harness all the winds
to stay afloat, over those tides I stride –
like the boats that slip and slide,
creating ripples in the picture of my life:
but are unable to find a steady spot
where I can anchor my soul,
and steadily emit the orange glow
from all the sun I’ve soaked;
that through bridges manifold
I’ve diligently crossed
in the prime of my life,
to give me a steady shine
when my sunset years dawn,
so as to guide my path lifelong.
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August 21, 2018
Rekindling Memory Stills
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I’m sitting at my desk this morning,
When the sky turns a deep leaden grey;
The clouds become dense as smoke –
Impregnated they are with August rain.
It’s been rather humid the past days
And I’ve bodily been in a lethargic state:
But my soul’s wondering amidst the clouds –
My heart and mind in total disarray now.
The streaks of light amidst the thick haze
Dazzle my eyes, as steady rain descends;
Mango leaves in varied green shades bristle –
As if water spluttering over a charcoal kiln.
Slender trees at my window sensuously swish
Like Tal Pakhas in housewives slender wrists –
They fan their white and red bordered frames with:
Restoring my Bengali childhood memory stills.
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August 13, 2018
Creative Delight
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This morning, in Calcutta –
I walked the rain drenched paths,
swanked by lush green grass
over which varied tall trees
sheltered a multitude –
of gallant flowers and plants.
The eastern sun in gearing up
to display it’s spleandour and might –
over the torrential rain and lightning
that dazzled the August night;
peeked at me rhythmically
through branches astride:
as a Chhau dancer – showcasing his art
decked in a brilliant Gold ensemble,
grabbing my awaking mind’s eye.
White birds with sure yellow feet
hopped over puddle-drowned grass,
shoving their yellow beaks
into crevice and cracks
of fallen tree trunks floating as rafts.
Yet around these sights and
sounds of chirping that abound,
morning walkers rushed past –
indifferent to nature’s practiced dance,
oblivious to a painting
with words or a brush
forming in my minds eye –
of it’s own accord.
It’s a new day
that’s washed clean now
of yesterday’s dusty thought tracks;
awaiting my pristine mind
to collate all the numerous slides –
to form a kaleidoscope
of creative delight.
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July 16, 2018
Across Borders, my debut novel: The republished version.
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Across Borders was first published in November, 2013. The republished version along with my 3 new books (cover photos below) – a novel, a collection of short stories and poems, are to be released in a month.
Sharing all the media reviews and reports from over the last few years…
The Telegraph review of Across Borders: http://www.telegraphindia.com/1130913/jsp/t2/story_17343876.jsp#.UljewuIUYt9
The Hindu coverage of the Delhi Launch: http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/between-the-lines/article5508192.ece
The New Indian Express, Sunday Magazine author interview: http://epaper.newindianexpress.com/c/1927216?fb_action_ids=10152083698974974&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_source=aggregation&fb_aggregation_id=288381481237582
http://epaper.newindianexpress.com/185382/The-New-Sunday-Express-Magazine/17112013#page/11/2
On Across Borders – A letter from Dr P.V Krishnamoorthy, the first Director General of Doordarshan: https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=548085161926172&id=422992421102114
On Across Borders – compliments from Pranay Gupte (Author; biographer; historian; columnist):
The TOI coverage of the Calcutta launch of Across Borders on the 7th of October, 2013: http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Repository/ml.asp?Ref=VE9JS00vMjAxMy8xMC8wOCNQYzAwNTE0
The Telegraph (3rd Nov, 13) – the Calcutta launch of Across Borders covered in the article – Border Ties: http://www.telegraphindia.com/1131103/jsp/calcutta/story_17523613.jsp#.UnXDJrQUYt-
In the north east issue of the Telegraph: http://www.telegraphindia.com/1131108/jsp/northeast/story_17543250.jsp#.UnzsKbT872p
The New Indian Express coverage of the Chennai launch of Across Borders: http://m.newindianexpress.com/chennai/69359
The Hindu covers the Chennai Launch of Across Borders: http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/events/borders-and-beyond/article5358237.ece
The Times of India, Page 3, covers the Chennai launch of Across Bordersas ‘An Evening To Remember’ in the links below: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.549170335150988.1073741835.422992421102114&type=1
http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Repository/ml.asp?Ref=VE9JQ0gvMjAxMy8xMS8yMCNBcjAyMzAx
The Assam Tribune Review: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=576699309064757&set=pcb.576700002398021&type=1&theater
Pictures of the Calcutta launch at Oxford on 7th October, 2013: 2013: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.527481180653237.1073741830.422992421102114&type=1&l=14d538ddf6
Pictures of the Chennai Launch of Across Borders on the 14th of Nov, 2013: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.546464922088196.1073741834.422992421102114&type=1&l=58590d9b1d
Pictures of the Delhi Launch of Across Borders on 19th Dec, 2013: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.564831846918170.1073741836.422992421102114&type=1&l=29abb8da9a
The Calcutta Launch of Across Borders – on Youtube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9W_2ubxVAwY – video 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTQatqdgf8k – video 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gU13BecaYRA – video 3
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJlb1E0peWI – video 4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4EWpRKkyZA – video 5
The Face Book Page Link: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Across-Borders/422992421102114
Excerpts from Across Borders, in the link below:
The New Books, to be released in a month are below:
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May 28, 2018
Happiness Is An Attitude
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Happiness does not depend on what you have in life – it is the ability to condition your mind to the state of contentment inspite of your external circumstances. Such that those who see your smiles may be sceptic of the cause behind it as they cannot have it – inspite of everything that they think they have more than you do.
The surest way to find happiness, is in first having a personal vision for your life even if it is to be the ‘best’ mother or house wife… and setting goals to achieve that vision, such that climbing every rung envelops you in the essence of achievement and contentment.
Without a spiritual bent of mind, by dwelling in shallow and frivolous thoughts, and looking at other’s aspirations and weighing their ability to achieve them – you can never find the light towards real happiness.
If you allow your smiles to be dependent on your children’s successes, your loyal and doting wife/husband’s ability to get you whatever you want, your financial situation and lifestyle – your smile can never emanate from your depths. The happiest moment then will only be fleeting as a butterflies life, for profound and constant happiness – is deep rooted within yourself and emanates only from your “self” esteem.
Don’t rely on anyone else for your happiness and self-worth. Only you can be responsible for that. If you can’t love and respect yourself – no one else will be able to make that happen. Accept who you are – the good and the bad – and make changes – not because you think someone else wants you to be different.
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Once you become fearless and habituated to standing close to the edge, from years of practice, you don’t really care about the threats, baseless fears, inferiority complex and insecurities of those who preach from their limited exposure and shallow thinking. You would rather fall and learn newer lessons each time, than allow their negativity and pessimism restrict your thinking, even if they like to construe – your self confidence that can only come from having taken that dive so often to successfully surface and swim back to shore – as arrogance and irresponsible behavior.
— Shuvashree Chowdhury
“One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.”
— Dale Carnegie
“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”
— Thich Nhat Hanh
