Kartikey Sehgal

Commenter Kay wrote detailed responses on the story ‘What the slut-walk is really about’. 

my dad was an attorney, and had more flexible hours than mom, yet it was mom, every evening who came home from work, cooked, cleaned, helped us with homework, and on the weekends did an entire cleaning of the house, my dad always got the full plate of food ready, before any other member, he on the other hand never handed a glass of water to her…..the fact that in most homes, girls are ‘groomed’ for the domestic life after marriage, whereas the boys aren’t even asked to pick up after themselves.

Kay is referring to what I have called the ‘lesser man’. [link]

Let’s be clear. It is not a man’s duty to do house-work. Man by nature is independent. His upbringing spoils him. Men are feminised into being lazy; scratching their thighs and rubbing their eyes simultaneously while smiling ‘cutely’ and in turn, getting their cheeks pulled apart by older women.

The problem is not that man is not helping woman in house-work. The problem is that he has been brought to this state of dependency. And women are an important part in this complicity of enfeebling him.

Kay further writes that men care about their own families and not their wife’s parents. True.

However, Kay, note that these men don’t really care about the ‘family’. If they understood and cared for ‘the family’, then they would understand and care for the system; instead they ‘care’ just for their family. Naturally, these men don’t really care. They bear. A ritual, a responsibility for life.

And how can they care? They have been overburdened and bored to death. All that time you thought you were helping them by locking them up in rooms in front of books, you were actually preparing them for being living zombies. Heartless creatures who validate themselves through ‘marks’ and promotions.

These men don’t care much for their parents. They won’t care much for yours (if at all). And while women are blaming their husbands for being heartless, they may be preparing their sons for leading the same life.

We are preparing for a society of weak men. The ones who don’t do much while their country is bombarded regularly. Who are content to live amidst social indicators of wealth. Who scorn at men who are smarter but poorer. The ones who look at a man and think, ‘does he have more money than me? Should I talk to him nicely in the case he does?’. These same men then spit on the roads and throw their empty soft-drink cans on the road and reach out for their car, all the time scratching their thighs and heads in unison.

There are variants of such men. The serious ones. Who don’t scratch anything publically and are given to rules and mores. Who are depressed. And sad. And responsible to their family. Sadness and strictness takes up so much of their time, that they care little about their wife or her parents.

Behind all such men is almost always the weak family, characterised by the weak father and the weak (but seemingly strong) mother.

Kay, you must note that women are equal (or higher) contributors to the sufferings of women. I need not tell you that women are not good friends with other women. In society, the good woman is left behind by other women. She doesn’t get much support from most men as they are, well, lesser men, destroyed and unable to identify real worth.

The slut-walk movements do not take this into account. Which is why they come across as moronic. They will not be able to help women. If you really want to investigate the condition of women (and men), then read this very long essay by Thomas Ball. What applies to America can apply here.

You need action* and not needless drama to come out of any problem. Slut-walk is pure drama. Running and playing under the sun with children is action. Toughening them up is action. The second-rate/lesser men can’t do it. Those who know the ‘truth’ can. It is imperative they act.

Make ‘real men’*. They will not curb the wit and talents of any woman.

*action:  this is the ‘voice your dissent’ query of your response
*real men will have ‘real’ daughters. The witty ones and not the ‘bitchy’ ones.

GV

What does it mean to be Indian? What criteria must one fulfil to be acknowledged and accepted as an Indian?

The way I see it, even Jamie Patel, who has no memory of her homeland, and most likely possesses a Canadian outlook on life since she was born and brought up here, is an Indian. The colour of her skin, her last name, certain nuances about her that I’m sure exist that are telling of the Indian influence, all make her so.

Then there’s Georgina. A lot of people consider her and think of her solely as an NRI, an outsider. Someone who may think she’s an Indian but isn’t really. Because she wasn’t born there, because she doesn’t speak the language, and according to some, doesn’t entirely look like one.

I naturally disagree. Why should she have any less claim over her birthright due to an upbringing in a foreign land? Why is it that she must be made to feel alienated? Of course she doesn’t think and have the same views or same passions as one raised in India, it’s only obvious since she was raised elsewhere. According to many, however, she is still less Indian than someone who’s fresh out of India and is ashamed enough of his/her national identity to refuse to acknowledge it in public. How is that fair?

Then there’s me. Born and raised in the motherland, came abroad to study at the age of seventeen; at the start of what I consider the formative years that shape and mould one’s personality, principles and character. I have doubts about my Indianness. I have travelled within my country, I have been to rural places as well as other urban centres. I have certainly seen more facets of my country than someone who wasn’t raised there. I’ve had a sheltered upbringing, and I’ve always been far too comfortable in my own little world to venture out of it much. So, while I have viewed my culture and its people with curiosity, it was never enough to pull me in to absorb me into living it.

I am told I haven’t seen the real India. But then again, how many people have? How many of those other people in my building, how many of the kids I went to school with, have experienced an India, a “real” India outside of their own structured, self-sufficient lives? How many care? How many are simply content to be ignorant of the essence of our people? Does a lack of experience in meeting different people, going to different places, learning more, seeing more make me less Indian than someone who spent their last three years studying in India? Does a change of location early on in my life somehow brand me to a lifetime of divided identity? Does it make me less Indian if I don’t see myself spending the rest of my life in India?

I’ve only been here in Canada for three years. The dominant part of my life was spent in India, yet it would seem that the dominant cultural influence on me is Western. Am I trying to be too Canadian? I don’t think so. I’m being myself, wherever that leaves me. I’m not smart enough to pretend to be something I’m not. If I act a certain way, it’s because I am that way.

Is my thinking not Indian enough to satisfy some? Does my lack of experience mean that I have less right to talk, discuss and have opinions about any thing Indian than someone who knows more? While some people are close-minded enough to believe that absurdity, for the most part, people believe the image one projects. So if I think that I should just shut up in a discussion about Indian culture because I have experienced less of it, then that’s what people will expect of me. I am just as Indian as the oldest, most experienced person in our country, and just as much so as the next fifth generation Indian living abroad whose idea of Indian culture is Bollywood and curry.

The difference lies in the experiences. Those are what develop our ideologies, our beliefs, our goals. I would have possessed the same personality I have now were I born anywhere else in the world. The expression of certain behaviour, certain quirks, certain beliefs over others are thus dictated by experiences. While no one has the right to call me less of an Indian, what’s even more foolish is when I doubt my own identity as one. I can spend the rest of my life living in Canada, maybe my family will even be scattered all over the world for all I know, but even so, I would never hesitate before answering when asked where my home is. India is my home.

Just as some people live with their parents and their birth family all their lives, there are those children who move out early, but that doesn’t mean that home is any less important to the latter, or has any less of an impact.