Shuvashree Chowdhury's Blog, page 31

Cyclone Vardah

Sharing my immediate reactions that I posted on Facebook…Will add to this soon. 

Shuvashree Chowdhury Ghosh

December 12 at 1:08pm ·

Cyclone Vardah: The most aggressively ferocious, soul shattering, scary, cyclonic rains I’ve ever encountered in my whole life, now in Chennai. Luckily my flight to Calcutta this afternoon was cancelled early enough this morning for me not to have ventured out foolishly. We have no power since night and having to keep all doors and windows shut to lock out the tirade. Yet water is coming through any hairpin slit and flooding floors. I’m actually pretty rattled as all the doors and windows are shaking wildly and the trees and rain aggressively and crazily bashing our walls with the wind’s phenomenal velocity with a witch like, evil shooing sound. This is no way to die…well; it sure feels I’m close to it!!!

Shuvashree Chowdhury Ghosh

14 hrs ·

If I was shaken sitting at home, to write the FB post on death being near, when I’m not easily fearful…this is why! The Hyatt (ref video in the link below), which had its glass panes flying off, is a 5 mins drive from my house. I could feel the ferocity of the wind and rain right through my soul even without viewing this havoc. The power was long gone and internet was down, so there was no way I could have seen this coming. But I am intuitive and perceptive to the slightest bit of impact on my senses, and this was as if death was coming running!

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/videos/news/watch-cyclone-vardah-topples-car-bus-in-chennai/videoshow/55946699.cms?utm_source=fb&utm_campaign=toimobile&utm_medium=referral

 

My Humiliation…Or Was It?

This actually is a Facebook post inspired by the saddening news of the demise of one of my favourite women leaders – the chief minister of Tamil Nadu (I live in Chennai its capital) on 5th Dec 16 at 1130 pm…more on her in the New York Times article in the link below:

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/05/world/asia/jayalalithaa-jayaram-india-tamil-nadu-chennai.html?mwrsm=Facebook&_r=0

This para (FB post) below by a senior journalist/author, the one I’m married to, on Ms Jayalalitha,  is what actually prompted what I have to say below that:

Bishwanath Ghosh

Yesterday at 2:11am ·

She exuded grace and charm and at the same time was the ‘iron lady’ who brooked no criticism. She was sophistication personified and at the same time was the darling of the masses. Sometimes a goddess with a blinding halo, sometimes a goddess with feet of clay — but always dignified in both avatars. An astute politician, an able administrator. She was well-read and equally fluent in Tamil, English and Hindi. And above all, she fought her way up in a male-chauvinist society and in male-dominated fields to eventually find men prostrating in front of her. Jayalalithaa was larger than life. Tamil Nadu will never see another leader like her. I personally find it difficult to believe that she is no more. But then, we all must die someday — and when death comes knocking at your door, it does not care how politically powerful or how poverty stricken you are. #Jayalalithaa

Part 2: Dated 6th Dec, 2016.

How and why Madam Jayalalitha became my role model. Reference post by Mr Ghosh:

Sharing this post here (below) of over two years back. The incident that I recounted vividly – wherein I’d felt deeply humiliated then, took place at MCC – Madras Christian College.

Yes it is the very same – where the universe conspired to allow me to read my poetry to a full house comprising the entire English Literature department just 2 days back, as party of the international poetry festival (ref my previous posts on it). This is after the deluge last year had swapped my opportunity to read my poetry at Women’s Christian College (WCC) for MCC (it is co-educational) this year.

How can I even begin to define the deep sense of satisfaction I felt when after the reading – at the staff room, I reminded the HOD (he obviously had nothing to do with the silly coffee incident of 2 years ago) that I was ‘the wife’ who had come to inaugurate the Lit fest. He looked at me quizzically as recognition dawned. This after he had flung several well intentioned difficult questions at the other senior poet Bina Sarkar and me at the auditorium. All of which I took the mike and answered even as Bina graciously allowed me to – much to his satisfaction and visible agreement by way of approving nods. He was standing at the back of the auditorium behind the students.

Just like Madam Jayalalitha it was my deep desire to earn respect at the very place I had been insulted and discriminated.

An elderly poet coordinator on the way back home from MCC told me – “Shuvashree why do you mention your husband’s name in situations where it’s your proficiency that matters and not his name.”

“After two decades in the corporate world I’m not suffering from an identity crisis” I crisply replied, “so what if the world is hell bent on robbing it.”

How would she (yes it was a woman) know it was the look of recognition I received for “me” from the HOD after being “the wife” that would boost my self esteem boundlessly, in gearing me for the steep climb ahead in life.

Part 1: 5th August, 2014.

Am I Overreacting??? — Very recently, I found myself in the august company of very senior academicians, invited to coffee over a journalistic and literary discussion, at a plush office, along with husband. It was the college Principal’s office. I was ‘the wife’ of the chief guest inaugurating the annual literature festival of the college, the 5 other people in the room all male, excluding husband, were the hosts. I opted to be rather quiet, not in way of intimidation as I seldom am, but by sheer cognizance that I was there only in the capacity of ‘the wife’ and no more. Even when quizzed on my own writing, all I would divulge with a dismissive air was that it was ‘fiction.’ So what was to follow in spite of my most humble demeanour was astonishing to say the least.

After we were served snacks and cold beverages, there was a last round of coffee. The bearer, came and placed the cup on a saucer along with a spoon and napkin, on the centre table right in front of me, after which he was about to serve the others all 5 men. But by way of muttered commands by the hosts, he was asked to pick up the cup and place it in front of husband. Only after which, I was served, followed by the rest of the men. Now, it’s not that I wish to supersede husband’s importance in the world at large or to prove myself ‘a mere woman’ as superior, but I felt rather belittled. I was as it is acting as dumb as I possibly could, but this callous doing, which I would personally not subject even my chauffeur or maid to, had I been dining with them, reminded me rudely of the chauvinistic society we live in and it is so acceptable to all. Am I the only one then, who is overreacting to things like this?

Why I write about such issues at the cost of inviting mockery/ridicule, is not to vent my personal unrest, but because I strongly feel – someone’s got to raise their voice and the younger generations must learn that inequality, discrimination, biases are just not acceptable. I have realized this through years of training/coaching young people…they need a voice to follow.

This in the link below is one of the many poems I read at the Madras Christian College:

https://shuvashreeghosh.wordpress.com/2015/03/07/a-woman-am-i/

What is relevant to note is that over 90 people have shared this poem in the above link…yet no one likes it! Doesn’t it tell us something about ourselves and our society.

Let It Go

 

Acquaintances are aplenty,

True friends so few;

Loyalty is negligent,

Hypocrisy is widely strewn.

I’ll let go off the duplicity –

Of those supposedly friends now askew:

Embrace an emancipated view

To those I considered strangers, new.

So if you should find that you’re

From my friendship removed,

It’s so I’d rather clear convoluted space,

Fill it with positivity, love of strangers anew.

 

PS: This poem was inspired spontaneously and momentously by the below poem

Let It Go – By e.e. cummings

let it go – the

smashed word broken

open vow or

the oath cracked length

wise – let it go it

was sworn to

go

let them go – the

truthful liars and

the false fair friends

and the boths and

neithers – you must let them go they

were born

to go

let all go – the

big small middling

tall bigger really

the biggest and all

things – let all go

dear

so comes love

********

My poetry reading at India Korean Center Chennai.

Dear friends in Chennai, this is to cordially invite you to an evening of poetry on the 5th of December, at 7pm, where I feel privileged to be one of the participating poets.

I apologise for this informal way of inviting you in such short notice. I look forward to seeing you with friends and family.

Warm regards, Shuvashree.

 

International Poetry Festival In Chennai – With Prakriti Foundation.

Dear friends,

I’m immensely pleased, to share that in the 10th Prakriti Foundation International Poetry Festival to be held in Chennai from 29th Nov to 14 of December 2016, I will be reading at the venues enlisted below.

2nd December, 16. (Friday)

10 am – Madras Christian College (MCC) https://www.mcc.edu.in/

11.30 am – SDN Vaishnav College http://www.sdnbvc.in/

5th December, 2016. (Monday)

Morning – Guru Nanak College http://gurunanakcollege.edu.in/

Evening – INKO (Indo Korean) Centre http://www.inkocentre.org/

I am humbled and honoured for the opportunity to share this forum with some very senior and reputed poets from around the world, whose work you might be familiar with: Keki Daruwalla, Charles Stein, George Quasha, Sudeep Sen, Arundhuti Subramanium, Yuwon Hwang, Bina Sarkar, Raghavendra Madhu, Anupama Raju, Renuka Narayan, and many others.

I’m sharing the schedule in the excel sheet here http://poetrywithprakriti.in/schedule-2016/ (please enlarge to read)  – so that those in Chennai may be able to plan ahead and attend the events of your interest.

I hope you do come by for my readings too – even though there are so many senior poets to come listen to. Also please say hello if you come by – I promise to be at my gracious best. Trust me, I’m not intimidating as I’m often made out to be – from my usually reserved demeanour.:)

My Apolitical Views On Politics.

You might mind the title of this post quite an oxymoron…that’s because I take much interest in Politics, but not in the way one might imagine. To explain  – I’m sharing here random Facebook posts of the last few days and might keep adding to this whenever inspiration strikes…You may read my previous post that triggered this thinking now. 

14th Nov, 2016.

I really am at a loss to understand, why we are always so acutely polarized into opposing factions – over political or social camps we have almost become synonymous with – due to our hate and explicit social media posts. So much that we are not willing to accept – that a person, party, place or cause may have both positive and negative aspects. If you notice – there are acute slammers or acute supporters of our PM just as there are of Aam Admi Party or Kejriwal, Kanhaiya or Rahul Gandhi for that matter. This attitude of extremism stems purely out of an alter ego that we cherish over anything else.

I may have been totally opposed to Donald Trump as Presidential candidate. But I have made my peace by now and am willing to look out for the good he might do in power, just as I did when Narendra Modi was elected. To that end I’ve been taking extra interest in reading up and watching talk shows on both men and their lives.

Just because I am a feminist does not mean I cannot talk or write about an all women gang of professional robbers as in my previous post. Then because I’ve been so awed by the aspirational, progressive attidue of people in Tamil Nadu to write about it, does not mean I must conceal that this particular gang of women robbers (my last post) came to Calcutta from Tamil Nadu. It does not imply that in my view – women and those from Tamil Nadu make great robbers.

Then we even have people who judge peoples loyalty or disloyalty to spouse and family or friends if we have divergent views.

16th November, 2016:

Narendra Modi’s Mother In Support Of Demonetisation: When and if you are raised by a tough and resilient mother, you won’t wonder at allowing a 97-98 year old mother exchanging her old notes by herself – to support her son’s crusade. You will know that such mothers don’t need allowing or urging as they are their childrens greatest brand ambassadors and supporters. My 76 year old, ex professor, pension earning mother, vows to support me in my choice of an uncertain career in writing – quitting a secure one – in the face of scathing opposition at every close quarter, some of which I have cut out of my life for good. Whether daughters like me need anything more than her moral support for long is quite another question!

16th November, 2016.

I’m not a populist and I don’t care to collect ‘likes’ – so let me list a few of the things I do or don’t do and have no qualms in admitting. If you want to be a populist be sure to do the exact opposite of what I do 

My Personal Workplace Fiscal Dilemma

My Personal Workplace Fiscal Dilemma: That which makes me empathize with the Indian governments sudden demonetisation policy, that has earned it much angst from the common man – to whom the long term benefit seems inconsequential now.

It was the evening of Dhanteras, of the year in which I had joined a branded jewellery chain with a national presence, as manager of one of their five flagship stores. Coming in from the airline, banking, and luxury hotel industry three months back, I had no prior experience of handling jewellery, except for the little I wore personally at the time – unmarried as I was yet – in the year 2002. But in the 3 months since joining this premium brand, I had stretched my learning capacity to the hilt. More so, I had tested my risk taking ability – by indenting for the deficit stock limit of 8-9 crore rupees purely by instinct, also the written inputs from the team so as to assign responsibility to each member. The team’s vast collective industry experience had been tapped to my satisfaction – even though except for one member all of them were less than a year old in this organisation and operating system. At the time, we didn’t have centrally computerized indenting, as would become highly specialised in a year.

On Dhanteras day alone my sales target was one crore rupees and need I remind you of the value of this in 2002/03. As has become fashionable over the decades, even in Calcutta – where I was located then, considering Dhanteras is more a north Indian festival celebrated two days before Diwali, huge crowds flocked every jewellery store big or small. Throughout the day, since the store opened there had been a rush at every counter, with winding queues at the ones selling the machine made gold coins. These coins were embossed artistically with images of Lakshimi, Ganesh or just the reputed brand name – in denominations starting from a gram to 5 and ten grams, all very popular and a must-buy for many.

At about 7 pm the store was so crowded that there was hardly leg room for me to stand, let alone walk from one counter to the next. I walked over to the cash counter instead where we had a number of additional cashiers deputed – from the regional office, behind who were the attendants to pack – so that the purchased goods could be handed over after verifying the paid bills. I stood behind the cash counters for a few minutes, after ensuring none of the sales staff needed my help – feeling pretty useless even as the queues spiralled in front of me.

I had barely moved out of the billing area, satisfied with the smooth proceedings, when suddenly the security supervisor of Group 4 walked up to me.

Urgently he said in a low voice: “Ma’am two ‘eternity’ diamond bangles are missing from the cash counter. The cashiers didn’t want to tell you or declare it till we are sure. But I thought you should know. We’ve asked the customer to wait, so even he does not know yet.”

I turned around and erupted, “What? But how did that happen? What’s their value?”

“Ma’am about 9 lacks for two” he replied in a matter of fact voice, even though his shaken expression betrayed his voice, for he was going to be accountable just as I was. “When the cashier was going to hand over the product after the customer’s billing was complete, the box that had been kept behind for delivery was found empty. Do we shut the store now?”

I was aghast. I had no prior experience of anything like this, in fact witnessing the Dhanteras craze for the first time in my life, yet knowing I would have to interrupt this frenzied buying at the cost of public wrath. I was so new in the system, but from earlier jobs at the airport I had the mental strength to take tough and analytic decisions and abide by them at all cost and against criticism. More so, in time prove that I had done the best thing at the time. So I sprung into calculated action.

“Even if we check the CCTV footage the thief might leave the store by then, so we’ll have to shut the door immediately, what other option do I have…though I’ll be causing immense hindrance to reaching the sales target, won’t I?” I said to the security supervisor – a tall, smart and athletic young man with a well-trimmed moustache.

“Ma’am we must check the remaining customers at least and the CCTV footage.”

My mind was racing like several wild horses were pulling it in every conceivable direction – shaking my confidence and belief in my own capability and testing it to the extreme, even tempting me to pretend all was well – so as to reach the sales target. But then how would we deliver to the customer his choice of purchase or how could I even suggest after the time he had spent that he make a fresh choice.

 “Shut the main gate then…roll the shutters down immediately. But wait, we’ll be causing panic among the customers…won’t we?”

“Yes ma’am…they are going to be very angry if we don’t allow them to leave the store as they will visit more stores also today as it’s customary. They will see it as a bad sign.”

 “You go on and rewind the CCTV footage and start scanning the scenes with the senior managers from regional office…I’ll handle the crowd.” I blurted, pushed to the wall but the challenge eradicating my anxiety and indecisiveness.

I briskly walked over and positioned myself just inside the main gate, after asking the gunman to shut the store immediately, bracing myself for the backlash – I announced to all in the foyer who were on their way out in a crisp professional tone: “I’m really sorry ladies and gentlemen, please bear with us…You cannot leave, as there’s been an incident of shoplifting and its high value…We have to scan the CCTV footage before letting those present go out. I hope you will understand my position.

As expected, there was an immediate uproar: “This is crazy. How long are you going to lock us in like this to recover the loss? But then one gentleman sensibly blurted – “Well, I guess you don’t have a choice under the circumstances, do you? Then another announced – “May I suggest you check each one of us with a metal detector, tally our bills and then let us out?”

It was a brilliant idea I thought, as I had been thinking of it too, but how could I have suggested this move to our much honoured and respected customers myself? A customer suggesting it aloud in everyone’s presence resolved my confusion.  I got the gunman to come inside and scan each person with the metal detector and verify his or her purchase with the bill and allow him to leave. I got an attendant to serve water and mithai I had ordered in plenty to those departing, wishing them a happy Diwali.

After I had cleared the crowd in the foyer and the rest were busy at their purchases waiting in queue, I stepped out of the shutter gate – pulled half shut till now, with two security guards posted outside. To my utter shock, there was a long queue reaching the end of the large main street, waiting to enter our store. As soon as some people recognised me as the new manager from their recent visits, they walked up and encircled me.

“Please let us go inside Ma’am. We have to buy the Gold coins at least today if not jewellery, as it’s auspicious.”

There’s a huge crowd inside,” I replied politely but leaving no room for discussion, “And once they’ve been serviced, I will open the gate. You just have to wait a little. I am really sorry for the inconvenience.”

“It’s alright we know the problem of shoplifting that occurred inside. Those coming out told us. But you can arrange to sell the coins from outside, can’t you?”

“That won’t be possible right away as we don’t have the manpower or additional products sorted out and ready to do so. Please bear with us, the gate will be opened shortly.”

I rushed inside to the CCTV monitor and to my horror learned that the two women shoplifters had been identified and they had already left the store before we detected the loss.

“Just get the Theatre Road police station OC online for me please” I blurted totally exasperated, as I rushed off to ask the gunman to open the gate and allow people in.

He did as instructed, but to my dismay the long queue had dispersed and just a few people casually strode inside. I cursed the loss of so many customers and the obvious inability to meet our targets and went and spoke to the Police station OC on the phone as I had met him and other cops several times in the meetings they had called leading up to this festive period – to discuss and prepare us for such probabilities.

 The working day ended at about 2 am when we all went home, dropped by the company car to return next morning for the Kali Puja and Diwali sales rush that would as expected spill over to the next few days. That evening, I had made it a point to call the head of operations in Bangalore – who had trusted to recruit a fresher in the business like me just before peak season – and I recounted my entire day’s experience. I could have kept quiet and perhaps earned myself some brownie points on my efficiency, but this was a beginning of a path for me and I wanted to get in right going ahead, rather than pretend on my efficiency which would fall flat if I didn’t clean up my act and that of my new team.

The head of operations heard me patiently and I think was overwhelmed by my risk management attempt, but more my passionate and sincere owning up of my deficiency in planning and execution, when most people in my situation would ensure to hide such an incident from him.

“There really wasn’t anything better you could have done today under the circumstances” he said to my relief, as the enormity of the financial transactions involved were   still causing me much unrest. “But there is a lot to learn from this experience – in planning for such exigencies and in better execution of the processes. Now concentrate in clearing up the backend functions, accounting for all the manual bills raised, filing an insurance claim.”

PS: Please read the article in the link below for an understanding of the inspiration for my post.

http://www.huffingtonpost.in/rana-kapoor/7-reasons-why-demonetization-is-a-masterstroke-by-modi/

My Short story in “Himal Southasian” – the literary magazine.

Dear friends, I’m delighted to share with you in the link below(in pink), my short story titled ‘A doctor’ – published in the reputed literary magazine ‘Himal Southasian’

The story is set in Chennai and reflects the progressive, aspirational attitude of the city and its people at all levels – to surge ahead in life against all odds.

This publication is so special for me, as it’s after a series of shortlists over months, since making this submission on the 25th of May – to a public call for submissions to their fiction issue, that I learned only this morning I’d finally made it to this prestigious journal. I’d written this story in 2007/08, when I had just started to write, after moving to Chennai in May 2006.

http://himalmag.com/a-doctor-story-shuvashree-chowdhury/

My Short story in “Himal Southasian” – the reputed literary magazine.

Dear friends, I’m delighted to share with you in the link below(in pink), my short story titled ‘A doctor’ – published in the reputed literary magazine ‘Himal Southasian’

The story is set in Chennai and reflects the progressive, aspirational attitude of the city and its people at all levels – to surge ahead in life against all odds.

This publication is so special for me, as it’s after a series of shortlists over months, since making this submission on the 25th of May – to a public call for submissions to their fiction issue, that I learned only this morning I’d finally made it to this prestigious journal. I’d written this story in 2007/08, when I had just started to write, after moving to Chennai in May 2006.

http://himalmag.com/a-doctor-story-shuvashree-chowdhury/

 

 

 

 

Wings Of Tyranny

One morning, as I rarely did when working for an airline in Calcutta around the year 1997/98, I visited the gym in the morning before going to work, instead of the evening. After my usual hourly workout that I wrapped up with the butterfly arm press while chatting with the instructor, I hurriedly collected my bag from the locker room and rushed out. I was one of the last ones to leave that morning, and was going to rush home – nearby, and then drive down to the airport about 12 km away through office-hour traffic. Other than the instructor, to whom I always chatted liberally, I did not talk to any of the all-male members who used the gym. Other women used it during the day.

As I stepped out on the road, I hurriedly unlocked my car with the remote key and chucking my bag on the adjacent seat, seated myself at the steering wheel. It was only when I was about to release the accelerator after turning the ignition on distractedly, that I looked up at the windshield. To my shock and immense horror, something that resembled a large grey rat, was plastered on it. I turned off the ignition and jumping out walked over in front, to be struck by revulsion. A dead pigeon, perhaps run over by a car, or electrocuted on the wires above, was positioned on my windshield, with both wings spread well out.  It was actually smothered on the glass and there was muck all around.

I ran back into the gym in immense fear, as I had an intuitive sense of being targeted and perhaps attacked further in a nastier way. I felt vulnerable as one might during a riot. I breathlessly narrated the situation to the instructor, who was also just leaving. He rushed out with me and looking exasperated, guilty, and somewhat ashamed even, from the obvious sexism hurled at me for no apparent reason, he removed the poor creature. He had to turn his face away from the horrid, decaying smell that hit his senses. He assured me, that there was nothing more to worry about and I could go home now and he advised me to get the car washed before leaving for work.

This part time gym instructor, much older to me, incidentally a Facebook friend now, was actually a cop in service – even as he still is, from the intelligence wing of the Calcutta police. And yet, right under his nose, also that I was in conversation with him, obviously some idiots who noted my using the butterfly press, had implanted that rotting sense of  sexist and perverse humour in wings, on me.

The next day I went back to the gym in the evening as usual, but I never tried to find out who had done the dastardly act, or bother with an apology or seek punishment. It never struck me even for a moment, that my reserved behaviour or by my merely being a woman, I had incited this perpetrator. Sexists, stalkers, molesters, rapists – it’s them who are to blame not those who they victimise, no woman should ever doubt that. Why would I give him further perverse pleasure, having watched my reaction to his nasty prank for sure, of having got my attention – with his vile psyche for which he chartered the rotten wings of a dead creature, perhaps even squashed it himself!