Solemn Deals, Scripted Lives, & other stories

Considering reported rapes as a ratio of population will actually portray India as quite safe. The feeling fails the reality test, however, because only a tiny minority is actually reported. Rapes in wedlock fail the definition itself and those within families sometimes remain unknown even within the family. Even others will be hushed up to protect the victim’s chances of marriage, and family ‘honor’. More than three quarters of Indians are Hindus like me, and some of our customs indirectly sustain this horror. Dowry is the most prolific of them.

Dowry is not just greed – it is the most glamorous celebration of misogyny. Some kill to earn it, and the rest kill to avoid it. Though the custom was made illegal  more than half a century back, it is proudly practiced by Hindus in most parts of India.

I recall a meeting in the past with some (male) friends where we ended up discussing marriage. When someone claimed that Eastern and North Eastern India has lower instances of dowry, in came a remark: “Saale kanjoos“.  Don’t be amused – these are also the same regions which show some of the highest sex ratio, and lowest rates of rape (… and least religious fanaticism too).

Another instance I’d once overheard women discuss (chuckle) : A woman was explaining how her marriage was special. Her in-laws were nice enough to convert all the dowry into jewellery and present back to her within a week. The bragging of dowry was required during marriage. Or else the clan would have doubted the worthiness of the groom; or if she was already pregnant!

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Matrimonials give an idea of how a vast majority of marriages take place. There is a prevailing rate for every type of groom – from a petty Government servant to Ivy League graduates. Grooms will vaunt their education or work in the caste classifieds, and brides their money. The strength of the new bonding will be solemnized by matching all the magical parameters of gotra, gan, rashi, numerology and most importantly potential for a  unidirectional transfer of wealth. And somehow the magic will start, after the deal takes place. A generation back it was compulsory too, but not as obnoxious as it is now. People throw down even their last retirals hoping to tame this bottomless greed. The extortion often continues even after marriage, sometimes till the hostage is alive.

For a man who has earned this easy money, it is a no brainer to loathe a liability when he can choose the sex of his own child, so cheaply, in the private of a clinic.  Though, I will be surprised if a ‘hormonally active’ female (which do not  include Saasu-maa-s) will ever support killing of a foetus, just for greed.

“With all due respect, sir, if you still like that dreamy deal your parents and relatives struck for you, you should have allowed them to sleep with your bride first!”

Arranged marriages leave more holes for dowry; though not all arranged marriages will involve it. Choosing a partner leaves very little option for the family to perpetrate this greed. Why can’t we convince our parents that it is neither their marriage, nor their lives, nor their times ? Why not just marry the girl I love ? Live in a new home ? Where does mideaval voodoo come into picture at all ?

Candle lights have protested a ghastly rape. But how many of those male flames will choose to burn down the dowry deal struck by their parents ?

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Religion (unfortunatey) is one of the first piece of learning which gets imprinted in the mind. The roots of this custom lie in the deep male chauvinism seething in some of Hinduism’s holiest texts. Puranas and Epics slaughter the character of the Vedas and the Upanishads. Women, even godesses curl up around the feet of their husbands; polygamy, and rapes run abound. Honor is protected and liability disposed.  The religion has become a confused mess – women are objects of desire and worshipped as mythical magicians at the same time. And there are still some who will ‘explain’ all that for you. A half literate society fed with these from childhood, and rehearsing these everyday can hardly be expected to think straight. Dowry is not even perceived as a problem. So is rape seen as a disgrace and not as a crime. And the birth of a girl child casts a gloom.

When it comes to greed, inspiration cuts across communities. Others have been learning fom us.

Government control of ultrasound machines will never improve sex ratio. People will kill a newborn by packing salt into her mouth, or simply dumping the live baby in a garbage bin for dogs to eat. They do these already. Or they will burn brides.

It is high time we, those raised as Hindus, introspect. Conscience must supercede outlandish beliefs. Let us fix ourselves first and not point at what others, say, Muslims do. Look in the mirror dude. And look yourself in the eye!

Srisailam

Warning: Not for the strong faithed
This piece only discusses the magic of the Srisailam temple. There is a scenic dam and reservoir too. But all that is too clichéd.

In Hyderabad it is widely accepted as the ‘only good place’ in the vicinity worth visiting. A ride to this abode of Shiva takes about 5 to 6 hours from Hyderabad and is pretty scenic. And you will ride through plains, forests and hills over State Highways which are pretty well maintained by Indian standards.

We had pre-booked the APTDC hotel which is a few blocks from the temple. It had uniformly unmaintained rooms with nice views of the adjacent building on all sides. They will leave you to yourself and will not disturb you with room service or cleaning, as long as you stay. The attached ‘restaurant’ serves ‘complimentary’ breakfast of the holy trinity of idly, vada and upma. The lunch you may buy is also the classic South India thali prepared with an extra touch of salt and red chili powder. Veg of course, that’s implicit! There is a Canteen near the temple – which serves much better food. But get your food packed – unless you want to witness how hygiene is ravished.

Srisailam overflows with the typical Hindu obsession with cows and cow dung. It is just not possible to walk without stepping on one of those blackish heaps. I could see cows even inside the temple complex. If you somehow manage to dodge a cow you will bump on a beggar; or someone selling overly colourful overpriced booklets of Bronze Age stories in various languages. The sidewalks are cluttered with the vastly popular fortune tellers who otherwise look like hippies, and have a wingless parrot crammed into a 4 inch cage, which pulls out a dirty brown card of fate from a stack. We surely need more beef eaters; and since I cannot possibly ask for more cannibals, a serious drive on vasectomy.

Roads from all sides to the temple complex are blocked by low gates to stop all vehicles, leaving only the pedestrian ways free on both sides. The guard was confronting a brand new car which had just been administered some holy scribbling as well as paintings of various gods on all its windows including windscreen, rendering them virtually opaque. The barefooted guard ultimatey prevailed, and saved the temple from that car. One bystander asked him something – and he nodded – it was clear no car is allowed. He had barely seated himself that he stood up again in a salute. Lo! A white Mercedes with a beacon was waiting on the temple side of the gate. After he attended it, I asked if that was ‘an aircraft’. He nodded again. I do not know why.

On both side of the roads there are shops of various sizes, but all of them selling exactly the same items, which are used to bribe deities. There is a strong positive correlation between how much you spend and how much of luck you can earn. No wonder the Mercedes people are so lucky. Finding a grocer or medic will be tough; his shop too will be selling the bribe-ware on the front row.

It was worth going inside the temple – to experience the real connect. A group of devotees, about 50 in number, unkempt except for their newly made white clothes, were seated on the ground around the gate – and infinitely repeating a devotional sentence. Most of them were enjoying it, in fact, having fun. While howling on, they were keeping tab on the aunties and sisters around. Some played with their mobile phones.

At the temple you may buy privileged darshan at a cost which allows short cuts to the deities, and a free one which requires you to stand at least for a few hours in a stenchy filthy zigzag queue guided by a mesh of metal nets.

We took neither – and bribed our way in. As a result we got a Nepalese guard who guided us through. During the entry to the narrow pathway overlooking sanctum sanctorum, you will be fitted into the longer queue. Then onwards you need not bother about moving – the mass of humanity will guide you. Shrieks, cries, shouts, moans, pushes, punches, smells and gasps will drown your sanity. Children barely understand the magic this peril will bring to their lives and were uniformly uncooperative. Except for one I saw sleeping – probably she has passed out in this magic spell.

I felt like one with the world.

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To address the most obvious question that you may ask: Why did a filthy atheist like me go there?

1. Someone had to write this up. Devotion overlooks details. Ain’t the details funny?
2. To see more clichéd stuff too
3. To see a lovely rainbow on my way back
4. To drive 500 km in 3 days

Learning (a) Disability

My car driver is a young Muslim man in his twenties. He smokes a lot, hates Telugu, and is suspected of stealing petrol, either in kind or by using the AC when we are not around. He is tech savvy and brings his own UCB dongle loaded with a wide variety of music, including, hold your breath, “Summer of 69”. But he needs that compulsory three hour break on Friday afternoons. All said, lets come to the point.

Salim is getting married. I being his employer have the  privilege of certifying him to the marriage broker. Being better among the worse, I endorsed him positively. That was a month back.

He had plans to take a week off on marriage. And one light afternoon, his plans somehow crossed my mind. When asked he said something I would not have expected a Muslim to say: “my granny asked for too much money”.

Salim found nothing wrong in the status quo – “Everyone does it. We will start a business.”

Religion dictates Muslims to practice Mehr, practically the inverse of dowry – the groom’s family has to pay up. Now, I have seriously started suspecting his Friday afternoon breaks.