Bindi- my heritage, my culture

I wanted to say something about this issue for a very long time, however, I finally decided to do it after seeing an Instagram post recently. I came across a post that was aimed at young women, selling to them the latest trend in "tribal-style street fashion"….the bindi. Not only was I appalled at seeing this, I was enraged. I would like to clarify a few things for everyone out there.

The bindi is a symbol of my culture and of my religion's deep heritage.

When placed on my mothers' and sisters' foreheads, between their eyes, it is said to manifest and enhance the energy of Ajna (आज्ञा) - the sixth chakra in the Hindu tradition, representing intellect, wisdom and intuition. For some, it represents a third eye of sorts itself, providing wearers with a sense of higher consciousness and being, echoing the ability to understand and sense the intangibles of our universe. For many Hindus, it is deeply seeded in our vibrant mythologies and tales - a sign of celebrated womanhood.

It is not, however, a decoration for you to wear when you are prancing around at hazy music festivals, colliding your body with others at the club or even wearing it to the beach with your crop tops and denim shorts. When you use it in such a way, you are divorcing the bindi from its heritage and its true meaning. I usually don't like to talk about cultural appropriation because it is quite a complex and highly subjective issue, but I just want to reiterate that there is, in fact, a fine line between appreciation and appropriation. Please realize that my culture is not your fashion statement or your paycheck. There is nothing hipster or boho chic about it.

I would also like to point out that for years, the women of my culture have been ridiculed, taunted, and humiliated for wearing the "red dot" that happened to be an integral part of their cultural identity. Immigrants were shamed into letting go of their traditions and symbols as they did not comply with Western norms. If you can not appreciate the bindi on the crowns of my people, you can not appreciate it, period.

Do not separate a symbol from the beings that gave rise to it. I choose to reclaim the bindi.
By Tanya Tewari

Be proud of your existence

A letter to all my friends,
I urge you to tether yourself to the night sky and step outside of your uncertainties. There is no truth truer than star light - all that you have been led to believe will fade in comparison.
Please realize that that all of us are a culmination of someone's worship, the brickwork of our guardians' love; collectively, we are divinity exemplified. 
We are soups made of the same stock, mansions rooted by the same foundations, an intricate embroidery of youngsters torn by the same dilemmas.
So when they insist, wanting to tear us up and divide, wanting to accuse and point - tell them that you are a wanderer.You do not define yourself by sect or colour or religion - your humanity and your mind are both far too large to fill these shallow holes of distinction.
Let them know that yes, you hear what they say. You have temporarily written their judgement and discrimination on the surface of your lungs, never allowing the ink to sink in, and exhaled it with no further thought.
So control the wobble of your chin, the stutter of your lips but never try to tame the wilderness of your heart. Smile at them, full tooth and glory, let them know they have no power in the land of open-minded journey-men and -women.
We can not be found within city lines, can not be held by any dams - our skin pigments and desires carry no cracks, no remorse, no guilt, and no shame.
Never apologize for your struggles, the calluses on your hands or your skyscraper ambitions. These are all a part of your beautiful existence.
And when they try to set you on fire, remind them that you are even more beautiful aflame - laugh heartily, knowing that you are igneous. Knowing that you are the phoenix birth of an artist, of a philosopher, of a raging scientist just waiting to happen.
Rejoice. By Tanya Tewari

Being an Indian

               
             
 Being an Indian for me, is being engaged in a camaraderie filled with heightened dreams, and the wish to grow past margins and dubious expectations. Being an Indian is knowing how to strive, better yet - thrive, in the midst of adversity.Being an Indian is abiding by one simple philosophy : "juggad first yaar, baaki baad me dekhengey". Being an Indian means pride, means defensive, means all encompassing. Being an Indian is devouring a mango whole, and even sweeter, knowing the blessings of my grandparents' hugs. Being an Indian is strolling in Dehradun, and bowing to the Ganga in Rishikesh. Being an Indian is being familiar with the scent of melting butter on my mami's morning paranthas and the fragrance of chameli on slumbering, evening streets. Being an Indian is being smitten. Being an Indian is exhilarating. Being an Indian is a privilege, a blessing, and no doubt, a responsibility. But most importantly, being an Indian is something that never really escapes you.
Happy Independence Day, India - "the ancient, the eternal, and the ever-new".

By my darling daughter Tanya Tewari

Gender discrimination in India

Being a female brought up in an educated family of India I have not been victim of gender discrimination to that extent but my sympathy and heart goes to those who has really experienced this curse. I remember that nine years back the fifty year old lady, Raj, merely a structure of bones, and who used to come to clean up my home and to wash dishes. She had to clean many houses in a day just because she could find a bridegroom(who was driving somebody’s autorikshaw) for her daughter and it was her first and foremost duty to make the groom’s family happy by giving them almost everything she owned. It means she was not only giving them her beautiful daughter but also her whole life’s hard earned money. I could feel the mixture of pain, agony and happiness in her voice while she used to tell me everyday her progress regarding the preparation of marriage. I asked her why she did not make an effort to educate her daughter? She replied”Bibiji,she is merely a girl who has to go to another family why should I have spend money on her education and then handover her to another people.But my son is going to pass 10 class this year”. She was happy to tell me this.I knew her problems and responsibilities would finish just after handing over her daughter to another people. But she could not realise that it was the starting point of her daughter’s problems and responsibilities. I dropped the idea of arguing with her on this subject as it was not possible to change her outlook on this subject now.
I could also recollect that few years back in the month of November, in India, like everyday after my morning shower, I was sitting in lawn with a hot cup of coffee in one hand and newspaper in another hand, spreading my long wet hairs to dry them in natural sunlight, I was astonished by the knock on my house gate. I dropped my cup of coffee and newspaper on the table and went to open the gate, where a 7-8 years old girl was standing asking if she could pluck few flowers for “puja” from our flowerbed. I gave her the permission. While she was plucking the flowers, in order to start conversation with her, I asked her for what kind of puja she was plucking those flowers. She replied that, that day was her brother’s birthday and a priest was invited to her home to perform some religious rites to calm down the planets who might be affecting her brother’s life. The girl looked so cute and innocent to me. I asked and when is her own birthday? She said that she already had it last week .I asked, but then why she did not ask me for flowers last week. Her answer left me in deep shock. She said” Because I am a girl so it is not so important that a priest should be invited or a puja should be performed on my birthday”. How easily this little girl had accepted the fact that it is not so important to calm down the trouble creating stars of a girl in our pseudo Indian society.
These are just two examples of gender discrimination in developing countries like India, which I have mentioned here but from the very beginning, I have been observing, reading and experiencing this kind of hundreds of examples all around me during my stay in India. Now inspired by a nice friend I thought of writing over this subject.
Gender discrimination, actually, starts from the beginning of birth or even before birth of the child itself. The birth of a girl child is considered to be a sort of debt which parents have to pay in future whereas boys are considered as support at the old age. In order to exempt from this debt lot of people prefer to abort the female foetus in the beginning only. Females of all ages face neglection by the society throughout their lives. In some families even today adult men and boys are fed well and prior to that of women folk of the family.
Manu, said long ago, 'where women are honoured there reside God'. So from this we could guess that women were given more respect and honour in Ancient India but it started deteriorating due to Muslim influence in the later period. Even today women are considered as mere sex objects in our male dominated world. Women are married at an early age with a view to control their fertility by their male counterparts. This in turn brings early pregnancies and deaths due to their tender age. Fertility for women is considered as bliss, while infertility is a curse for them. Even today, when it is biologically proved that Y-chromosomes produced only by men result in the birth of male child, women are held responsible in some families for the sex of the child and also for being infertile. Stillbirths, abortions and babies with low weights are also seen in the case of women who are not properly fed. There are many other fields where importances of women’s existence are ignored.
We, the people of India, know that women’s role in India, starting from independence to present day, cannot be ignored. For the development of Indian society there is a need for providing proper access and social justice to the women. India is a country of masses and it will shine only with the development of the masses, which include both men and women folk. For this there is a need for change in the outlook of the individual in every system starting from family, state to the International level.

Modern Reader’s Curiosity

I still recollect my days of childhood when I used to run into the room, and flung myself on the bed beside my grand mother, and said: Grannie, do tell me a story." I had to ask this many times as my grandmother was always busy with different things.If she was busy in talking to my mother I told Mother she could finish her talk to-morrow, but she must let Grannie tell me a story there and then. As soon as ever Mother had given way, I rushed at Grannie. I got hold of her hand, and, dancing with delight, dragged her inside my mosquito curtain on to the bed. I clutched hold of the bolster with both hands in my excitement, and jumped up and down with joy, and used to say: "Now, Grannie, let's have the story!"
My Grandmother then used to tell me the story of a king who had seven sons or of beautiful princess who was in the full bloom of her youth and who sleep on the golden bed of flowers. There was no need for me to know who the king in the story was or what the name of that beautiful princess was. There is an English proverb: "Ask me no questions, and I will tell you no lies." So I used to withhold all my questions, while the story was being told. So the pure and beautiful falsehood of it all remain naked and innocent. I understood all sweet things; and never cared for such useless things as knowledge. I only cared for truth. And my unsophisticated little heart knew well where the Crystal Palace of Truth lay and how to reach it.
Today whenever I steal few moments from my busy life, I always open treasure of my childhood memories and stories. Sometimes I tried to pass those stories to my nine year old daughter but she seems to be always critical and suspicious .She blinks at me through her scientific spectacles, and asks "Which King you are talking of, Mom? What was his name? This irritates me but I assume instead a look of profound learning, and begin: Ok, King’s name was so and so.” Being a modern reader her curiosity, however, is not so easily satisfied. She would ask,”Ok mom tell me which country he was ruling over”? I deeply regret that it is impossible to find, from any trustworthy source, a detailed account of his reign .Then she brings her Encyclopedia of History. It becomes difficult to dissolve her suspicions Finally I give away idea of transferring my precious treasure of stories to her and decided to keep it to my self. But one thing is understood that children of this age like a story that is both improving and instructive. They don’t want to be deluded like us.