About Ahalya....of the Past and Present

:)

Let me start with what we know from our Hindu mythology of Ahalya - the chaste wife of the great sage Gautam Maharishi and Indra - the god of gods. Indra had his heart set to seduce Ahalya - a task that would have been impossible had he not used magic powers to transform himself to look alike Gautam Maharishi.

The unsuspecting Ahalya offers no resistance to Indra's cunning and it is only when Indra is caught sneaking out of the cottage by Gautam Maharishi that she realizes the full effect of what she has been caught up in.

Gautam Maharishi is furious and turns her to stone. (She is eventually delivered from her curse by Lord Rama)

The scriptures differ in their interpretation of the story of Ahalya. Some scriptures tell of the fact that she had indeed seen through the disguise of Indra but allows herself to be seduced by him. Some scriptures portray her as a victim of Indra's cunning and Gautam Maharishi unjustified wrath.

Clearly, debatable. However, the question that comes to my mind is - Indra might have looked the same as her husband but what about his touch? Did it feel the same too? As women we are sensitive enough to sniff out a man and his intentions in the way that he looks at us. Every touch tells a story. Even when it comes from the same hands. And Ahalya was not an average woman - she was the most beautiful one crafted by Brahma the Creator and the wife of a sage.

In my opinion, Ahalya should have known.

Coming to the present, Sujoy Ghosh's Ahalya short film is a far off reminder of mythology and is an out and out thriller. Its a piece of twisted horror that I bet you can't turn your mind off from for the 14 minutes that it runs. Slightly predictable, but brilliant nonetheless! :)

Watch it here...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ff82XtV78xo

Imbibing Pritilata

Pritilata Waddedar – how many of us have heard this name or know about her short life that comprised of 21 inspirational years?

Wikipedia will give you some of the information about Pritilata – an Indian revolutionary born in Chottogram (Chittagong) in undivided India who lead a baton of men to raze the Pahartali European Club that bore the sign – “Dogs and Indians not allowed” to the ground.

I think of the times then and of the young men and women who were not born in a free country. Pritilata was one of them. Unlike most girls of her time, Pritilata had access to education in one of the best institutions of her time. A star pupil from the start, she went on to graduate from the reputed Bethune College in Calcutta (Kolkata) and subsequently took on the responsibilities of headmistress of a premier school in her hometown. No mean feat for a girl, especially one who was barely out of her teens.

She could have led a life a little less extraordinary, immersed in domestic duties expected from her gender. She did not. Instead, she felt drawn towards the ‘resistance’ or the swadeshi movement.

Resistance in Chattogram and the rest of the country did not admit women to be a part of their work. She changed their minds.

What made her take to a life that no one quite imagines for herself – to quit a whole life’s work, leave behind her family, forget every comfort, go into hiding, and devise a plan to attack the epitome of British presence in the region?

Was it the humiliation of not being a free citizen? Was it for the love for her country? Was it her education that instilled in her a deeper sense of self-respect than to accept whatever was meted out to her countrymen? Was it her need to be a part of the struggle for freedom in the best way she knew?

It could have been all of the above. It could be more. She had to do what she had to do. Little did she know when she bit into the cyanide that she would become Birangana or The Valiant One, an inspiration to many who would follow her path. Little did she know as she closed her eyes for the final time, that her sacrifice would be forgotten in the pages of history in years to come like those of the others like her.

1932. That was the year that Pritilata laid down her life. Eighty-three years too soon to see how far women have come. And I wonder what it might have been if she had lived or if she had a chance to come back to us this day.

Would she like what she would see? our nation? its women? Would she choose to fight a different fight? Or choose not to fight?

But, it’s not up to her anymore. It’s up to us. She is not here. But we are. There are no clubs for us to burn down. But there are evils that we need to eradicate and changes that need to be brought. Is it not possible to imbibe a little bit of her spirit in us and stand up for what is right? To stand up for our rights?

That would be, the perfect tribute to Pritilata and all like her – who once stood up for our rights.

Never Honk at a Turkey(s)

I kind of associated turkeys with Thanksgiving feasts until I saw them parading on the roads here in the picturesque city I live in. Its fun to see them strutting around in their brown plumage quite oblivious to the traffic. Pretty much like their jay-walking chicken cousins, they are no good at negotiating the pavements.

Therefore, when I saw a whole bunch of them taking to the road that other day, I decided to use the car's highly under-used horn to just let them know it was not safe, especially when I am behind the wheels. I could sense the dilemma of the bird at the side of the road as the unfamiliar resonance fell on its ears, wherever those might be in its small beaky head.

Turns out, it was not alone in its feathered quandary. One of the turkeys that had in fact crossed the road safely to the other side decided to dash back and the one that should have stayed at the side of the road made a panicked run across it.

I did not have to hit the brakes, their lives were not in any imminent danger but the pandemonium that I unleashed upon them taught me a very important lesson in driving that no manual in the world will tell you - Never Honk At A Turkey(s)!