This appeared in The week on sunday. I love this column since it deals with gender issues, and generally annoys a lot of men!!

Short changed. Again!

Why are we getting so damned excited? Over a single digit becoming double?? Calm down, ladies. Hold the euphoria. Please don’t call it ‘progress’ just because the 15th Lok Sabha has 61 women featuring in it. It is a pathetic and paltry number, and we should really be angered not thrilled by it. I was talking to an RJ last week, and he went blue in the face declaring what an amazing moment this is – after all, it represents a full 10% - and aren’t we like, totally overjoyed ?? My response was more sober, if not downright annoyed. Get real. We are living in a new era, and we certainly don’t need this kind of condescension to validate us. Hold the champagne for now– the party has yet to begin. Tell me about it when women cross the 50% mark. Then we can dance on the streets and truly celebrate. Till such time, let us ask ourselves why political parties remain so reluctant to back women candidates in this, the 21st century. Or, if they do decide to give a ticket to a woman , it is often for the wrong reasons ( someone’s wife, widow, daughter, aunt, sister, mother ). I was watching young Agatha Sangma on television and I said to myself – look at this remarkably poised and intelligent young lawyer. Sure, she comes from a politically prominent family. But even if she didn’t, she richly deserves to be in parliament. There must be several, equally accomplished young women in India, willing to throw in their lot and take a shot at politics. We need more Agathas if women are to make a difference in public life.
Given the small numbers this time, I really don’t know how strong or effective a body these ladies will make in parliament or even if they will speak in a cohesive voice. I certainly hope they do – for their own sakes. We have always had a few truly extraordinary women parliamentarians but their voices have rarely been heard as emphatically as needed. Eventually, most were reduced to ‘goongi gudiyas’ – nothing more than decorative\token creatures, whose presence was always noted by waiting journos for the sartorial statements they were making, rather than statements on more vital issues relating to the welfare of women at large. Whether it is Jayaprada, Priya or any other presentable M.P. references to their physical appearance are still obligatory. So it shall be this time round, as well. That’s my guess . I sincerely hope I am proved wrong.
We women should cease the meaningless drum beating immediately. Perhaps we are too passive to protest or even register our disappointment, thrilled as we are with the ‘new’, ‘improved’ mandate. For those who are pleased by the crumbs and gleefully point out how the slice of the political pie is getting larger, it must be pointed out that from 3.5 percent representation in 1977 to over 10% in 2009 does not indicate a quantam leap by any standards. If anything, it proves that it is still the snail that determines the pace. And given that women do make up nearly half of India’s one billion plus population, this is a sorry statistic to be flaunting in the first place.
We talk of empowerment and flexing the female muscle. To me, that sounds like a joke. Our issues continue to be regarded as non-issues. We lack the teeth to make the cut – simple as that. I don’t want to sound like a party pooper, but excuse me, what exactly are we celebrating here? Most of our really, really powerful women are busy with other ‘more important’ issues, and give depressingly low priority to their less privileged sisters languishing in the back of the beyond. Those unfortunate women with no access to toilets or medical health, whose daily diet remains way below the body’s requirement, and despite which they are compelled to toil in the fields for half the wages earned by their men. Will the 10% work on behalf of this vast segment? Or do have to wait patiently for the 16th Lok Sabha election to crawl up the ladder by another percentage point or two…. And once again foolishly crow about ‘stree shakti’ from the rooftops ? Ladies – don’t get fooled. Don’t get short changed. We deserve better, okay??

I am in one of those rare over -sentimental moods. Nostalgia rules for now. Quick. Ask me why.

I met my 87- year- old aunt Nirmala last evening. For some odd reason, we always addressed her as 'Nimatai' and not 'Nima Maushi'. This would make her an older sister which she isn't. She was my mother's middle sister. I was meeting her after years. Which is shameful, given that she lives in the same city. Worse, I was there to pay a condolence call - her daughter ( and my first cousin , Rekha) had lost her husband the previous day. I went to Nimatai's ground floor apartment in Bandra expecting to meet a devastated, shattered old woman. She was alone in the flat, awaiting her daughter-in-law and son. When she saw me, she did not burst into tears. She glared!! And said sharply, " So.... it took a tragedy to bring you here." I hugged her and apologised. She wasn't having any of it. She recalled the last time I had visited her ( ages ago!) and I felt truly ashamed. I sat on an armchair next to her looking like a penitent school girl. She continued to scold me for the next few minutes .... and I loved every minute of it! At my age, how many people are there who can exercise such a right?? I regressed instantly. My body language changed and so did my voice. I could 'see' my own mother in Nimatai clearly, and my heart was breaking - the same hands, the same mannerisms, the same choice of words ( sarcasm!). I thought to myself, we Maharashtrians are such strange creatures. We rarely show our emotions. Even at a moment like this, mourning the untimely death of a well loved son-in-law, there was no rona dhona. Just a stoic acceptance of fate . It wouldn't have been any different at a birth or a wedding - no blatant , loud celebration. Just a restrained acknowledgement of the event. As a young girl, I used to wish I was born a Punjabi - I loved their exhuberance and flamboyant displays of even a minor achievement. Today, I am glad about the essential Maharashtrian in me - the one that longs to be scolded by an aunt who is addressed as a sister! I love my Nimatai. May she live long and stay just the way she is.Always.