A
long time ago, a friend of mine and I sat talking about our future. At that
time life was just opening up in a million exciting ways and exploding in all
directions – both good and bad. We sat on a little wooden bench in a tiny shed
in the remote and stunningly beautiful hillsides of the Chhotanagpur plateau
wondering what the future held for us. Twenty years down the line who would we
be? Where would we be? We felt it may be an easier task to have a hold on what
we would not do, rather than what we would. And my friend and I then set
ourselves 3 indicators, which we swore to avoid. These indicators, true to our then somewhat
romantic and intellectual pretensions, took the detailed shape of these 3 visions:
1. We were standing in a poorly lit
kitchen, hair coming loose from a hastily tied bun, wearing a synthetic saree
with a blouse that was not matching, cooking over a blackened ‘kadhai’. We
looked fatigued and virtuous.
2. We were running after our infant children,
with morsels of food in our hands, pleading and cajoling them to eat a little –
just a little, ma. We looked dumpy and virtuous.
3. We were meeting after 10 years and our
conversation was limited to nappies and recipes. We looked vacuous and
virtuous.
We
made a pact right then, and promised to avoid doing all the above three and use
these as our indicators of failure in the years to come. Our joint horror of
domesticity, the influence of Bollywood and our own rather non conventional
mothers are visible in the details and nature of these three indicators.
Did
we succeed? I would say yes. Has it been easy? No. The pressure to conform is
immense.
In
the twenty years that have elapsed since
that day, my friend and I stayed faithful to our pact. We have stuck to avoiding
our indicators, sometimes slipping close to one, sometimes making herculean
efforts to avoid another and often, standing aloof and apart and watching with
disbelief as other eminently sensible friends and family ticked off one
indicator after the other. “Why can’t you be like everyone else?” has been a
comment we have heard often. “Why can’t others be like us?” my friend and I
have wailed.
And
in these twenty years, these carefully detailed indicators (our apologies to
all readers who wear synthetic sarees) have turned out to be one of the most
potent influences in my life. Every time convention and custom called one of
these indicators would rear its head. For example, as I prepared for a parent
teacher meeting, chose a plain saree and tied my hair in a severe bun to look
the role of a sincere and hardworking parent, one of these visions would rise
up in all its melodramatic flamboyance,
and I would hastily back track.
Mostly I have arrived at parent teacher meetings looking, well, let’s say,
different from everyone else in the room.
Just
in case the reader is beginning to imagine us as anarchists or feminists or
activists or all of them together and pictures of austere, angst ridden,
dowdily dressed, statistics quoting middle aged women are beginning to take
shape in your head, let me assure you that only the middle aged, feminist and
activist bits are true. Both my friend and I are proud home makers and contented
parents to 2 children. Our homes are full of things we love – books, music, children,
friends, family, dogs, gardens, paintings, maps, food and more books. We have
travelled the world. Like most others, we have had our share of good times and
the bad. If you meet us now, you will see two contented, eccentric, determined women,
with a clear and usually singular opinion on most things in life and not shy of
voicing them, ready for a good laugh and a good trip, a good book and a good
cup of tea. We are mostly tranquil, sometimes grumpy and yes, a few times also
sad. We have our kitchens (excellent ones, mind you) but have not been limited
to them. We have our children (lovely ones, you’ll see) but have not been
limited by them. We have our conversations (soul satisfying, as always) but
they are never virtuous. By our standards, we succeeded.
And
since this is a blog about my own experiences, I cannot end by only telling you
that we succeeded. I must tell you how I succeeded. Here then, are my tried and tested strategies
of response when conformism and virtuosity are leaning heavily on your door.
Mostly such bulwarks of social stability exist in the form of the general
population who spend an immense amount of resources trying to get you to follow
the herd. When they do,
1. Learn to smile. But smile knowingly
and enigmatically. Most people find women who smile knowingly a little scary,
if not creepy. Do note the difference between smiling ‘nicely’ and smiling
‘knowingly.’ The latter has an element of superiority. Smile especially in
times of anger. Hide your anger, but show your smile. When I have responded
with anger, the argument has turned righteous and virtuous, and I have been
left isolated, furious and worst – I have lost the argument. But when I have
remained silent and smiled slowly and knowingly, I have always won the
argument. Additional benefit of this strategy: Enjoy the confusion one creates
by choosing not to respond exactly at the time when people are gathering around
to watch you explode.
2. Pick a non committal word or phrase
that allows you to respond, but not give anything away. Like “Really?” or “Is
that so?” or “Indeed.” My mother tongue, Bengali has an outstanding phrase in
this category –“Tai, na?” Apologies to my non Bengali speaking readers – it is
almost impossible to translate. The primary objective here is to refrain from committing
to anything you will regret later and/or participate in a pointless argument. The
combination of this phrase with Point # 1 or with a raised eyebrow can give you
95% success.
3. Have role models of who you do not
want to become. That works better than having role models of whom you do want
to become. If social pressure becomes too much and you start thinking of
replacing your one dish party menu with a 4 course sit down meal, instead of
sensibly completing the chapter of the book you were reading, train yourself to
respond to this situation by remembering Auntie M.
4. Have the correct friends. This one is
the most important.
Since
you will definitely benefit from this short hand book on initiating radical
social change, do return the favour and share your strategies too.
