Winds of change...its now or never!

We met on a matrimonial site. Circa 2003. His proposal was shortlisted mainly because he was a doctor and both my parents too were doctors. Appa had a special respect for his chosen fraternity and I shared it, what with being brought up by two and after having worked as a medical journalist.

As was common in those days, my profile was created in such a way that it was my Appa who was on the lookout for suitable matches for his child. But then again, it being those years, dad was not very computer savvy and it was I who drafted the profile. One of the important points it stated was, 'We, as a family, do not believe in the dowry system. And, if yours does, please do not respond to this profile'.

Dr. Satish (his real name) wrote in his interest to my father, in perfect, old school gentleman style. Appa was impressed. He was in training for his MRCPCH in the UK. Soon after, we began corresponding. I had taken a break from work to do a second Masters during that time and was in Chennai. His parents were retired and settled in Bangalore.

I was home in Kerala on a short break and his parents visited. It was a short, informal meet and they claimed that they too wanted to settle in Kerala and had come to check out a property they had shortlisted at Kottayam (my hometown). After I returned to Chennai, Satish during the course of one of our chats (it was yahoo and hotmail chat times) said, "My mother really liked that carved, antique teapoy set in your house. Are the tusks on those carved elephants real ivory?". I was gobsmacked that a first time visitor would pay such attention to details of furniture etc. The conversation changed soon after.

Fast forward a few more weeks, the alliance was on in full arranged marriage style. Satish came down to India. We met at home, with parents in tow. His parents had bought a very old house in Kottayam, which they mentioned that they planned to renovate. As in most arranged marriage meets, I felt no special spark at our meeting. But yet, two incidents happened which struck me as very odd. When we had a few minutes alone, Satish in great hurry thrust a small gift into my hand and said, "I brought this for you, but don't take it out before my parents". And, the second was when his mother requested to my mom that she wanted to see me in a saree. I did voice my protest to mom but she mollified me saying it was a harmless request. And, when I did wear a saree, the lady looked at me, nodded as if satisfied and said, "She does not look like my elder daughter in law who is so stocky. My DIL looks so rotund in a saree".She also brought out a wedding picture of the elder son to show us his wife.

The two incidents kept playing on my mind. But contrary to my usual nature, I did not voice this to my parents. The main reason was because I was riddled with guilt, for already disappointing them twice - once, over a never should have happened love affair and second, a haphazard attempt at proposing to a friend on the rebound and which did not work out (on hindsight luckily for both of us). I was 28. I decided to voice my concerns to a senior Psychiatric counsellor who mentored me during my summer apprenticeship at an NGO. Looking back, I do not know if it was his traditional upbringing or he simply did not want to take the responsibility of a marital alliance break up, he told me, "Focus on the positive side. Satish likes you so much that he brought you that gift. Maybe his parents are conservative and that is why he chose to hide it from them".

A couple of weeks fast forward. A wedding date is set and the hall booked. We are corresponding on a regular basis too.

Then one day, a phone call from Appa.

" Dear,I want to ask you something.Do you really like Satish? Will you be very disappointed if this does not work out? If so, tell me and I will make this happen". Appa, what exactly is this? Tell me...

To cut a long story short, once the date and venue were fixed the 'would have been in-laws' had made the following statements, over many days...

-How much gold are you planning to give Molu (daughter). You saw my elder daughter in law's picture, no. She was wearing 100 sovereigns. It's not that we want anything but if Molu can't match that, then she might be embarrassed.

-We want a very grand wedding here. But since we are settled in Bangalore for several years, all our friends are there. So, we want you to give a grand reception there.

-Since you are not from Bangalore, how about giving us Cash in advance so that we can arrange the Reception in Bangalore.

After that 3rd call, my dad had put them on hold and said, "I'd like to talk to my daughter and ask her opinion". Till then, he hadnt told me because he too (like I did) assumed he might disappoint me!

Appa, don't even ask me, call this off immediately.

Appa, however, decided to give it one last shot by emailing Satish about this. The guy responded, "See Doctor, my parents are only trying to make your daughter's life comfortable. After all this is all for her. Even here I have just bought an apartment, wont she get that too". That made us laugh! The sheer ludicrousness.

We called it off.

Circa 2023.

Yet another smart, beautiful professional lady, with a brilliant future ahead of her, decides to end it all. Her would be groom called off the wedding because the dowry was not enough! Yet another statistic, yet another news item from my cent percent literate State.

I was in two minds before penning this down. Will I be able to get the message across in the right manner? Does it sound like I'm preening? Its sheer luck that I had a man like my dad as father. Pure destiny. But, then I decide to pen it down because over the years, I've realised that the courage that most people around me associate me with is something that was taught to me by my dad.

Why is it that we instill in our daughters that her 'self worth' is determined by someone else. Why do we teach her to measure her societal status by how docile she is? Perhaps that is the unspoken code of conduct that we instill deep in them by how we lead our own lives. Mothers who let themselves be trampled, walked over and treated as properties. Fathers who show them this is how real 'alpha males' treat their women, don't dare dream for better.

PS: Let us not make any judgemental/patronising comments or opinions about the young medico who passed away. We, in no way, know what she went through. Rest in Peace, young one.

Reverse empty nest syndrome

 With nuclear families, almost everyone has become familiar with the concept of 'The empty nest syndrome'- we've either experienced it or seen someone experiencing it. But, what about the reverse? Maybe, I'll call it the Reverse Empty Nest syndrome. This is the term that came to mind when I attempted to name the strange feeling of 'uprootedness' that hit me, periodically...and,over the years. I tried searching the term on the internet and it did throw up an article or two but these were mostly about youngsters whose parents shifted residence, geographically, while they were away in Universities. And, not from an Indian perspective. What is special about the Indian perspective,you ask? Well, we seem to have a culture-specific propensity to delay moving out of our parents' homes and, even if we do move out we keep coming back, we never quite quit thinking of our parental homes as some kind of base, a taproot perhaps.

I got employed just after my 22nd birthday,in another state. Each journey back and forth saw my entire family heading out to the railway station to either see me off or see me in. My Appa, used to drive me crazy with his repeat phone calls to check if I'd checked/rechecked my tickets, if the train/bus was on time, when would I be reaching (though he knew it) etc etc. Once the destination moved from Chennai to Bangalore, the journey moved from trains to overnight buses so that I could alight closer home. It also meant the buses reached early in the morning by 6.30 or so. Appa would wake up much much earlier and come over to where I alight, atleast 1/2 hr in advance. Like all youngsters, I found his solicitousness annoying and at times, have even told him off. 

Later, when I moved along with the spouse to Middle East, my amma, took over the role. And, though I did try to convince her to not undertake the 3 hour car ride to pick me up as I arrive at the airport, she came saying she'd like to spend the time during the trip back home talking to me. I was secretly glad. This phase ended when amma moved to be with my sibling. 

Then, home base shifted to where my in-laws resided. More specifically, my mother in law. The two years that Covid raged, we did not make the trip to Kerala. December 2021, I took my then preteen, home for a two week visit. When I called to inform them of our plans to visit, my eldest sister in law, who was there, simply said, "I'm so happy that you are coming". I was beyond happy to hear that! And, when we arrived, I saw my usually not very emotive father in law literally beam. Those two weeks were some of the happiest times my daughter and I had. 

In June 2022, I went again. But, this time it was for a scheduled spine surgery. During a casual chat, on one of my days of recuperation, my mother in law stated. "Why am I, such an old person, alive when so many youngsters die?". Amma, it is because you are here that I could take it easy after my surgery, I told her. Her face cleared. That trip was the last I saw her alive.

We will be travelling to India, hopefully soon. My father in law is still there. My sisters in law too. But now, I know this too is a time bound luxury. In an average person's life, there are broadly 2 phases. The one when you have your parents with you and the other, when they are not around. This strikes you, even more, at times when the body fails to match the pace your mind wants to set.

Reverse empty nest syndrome... 

For Appa

Tommorrow is Appa's 77th birthday. Every now and then I keep wishing we'd had more opportunities to bond better. It took adulthood and a heartbreak for me to really get to know what a steadfast rock solid support he could be. It was like an invisible veil was lifted and we suddenly could understand each other so much better. Appa was pretty clueless when it came to building a real rapport with kids and this was 'one' reason why we bonded late. In a lot of ways I found my spouse almost the same when it came to Abhi. The comparison just made me work harder on making him emote/ relate better to her. And now, on several occasions when she cooly says, "Amma, I like Acha better. You are the fighter cock", the brat really doesn't realise how proud it makes me. All my work, luv, ha ha ha. A memoir I penned the year before last cropped up on my Facebook memories and my little brat read through it. She wisely said, " Amma, now you know why I always come and give you extra hugs...I shouldn't be missing you the way you now miss your dad". Healing can be hard when you dont forgive yourself and...others. It is time I did. For me, writing about it is a major way of sorting things within my head and so... It was the begining of May, 2007. We (Unni and I) had come down to Kerala from Bangalore on a 2 day visit to attend his cousin's daughter's wedding. We arrived the previous evening and since it was such a short visit, Unni decided to go to his parents' and I to mine. His had a full house with his sisters and their families too. And so, I felt no qualms about going straight to my home. We stay only 27 kms apart and it was decided I would join in with the wedding goers bus, the next morning, as it passed a point near my home. We'd also decided I would hop off as we journeyed back since the next day we had to return to B'lore and I would get only one more evening at home. Appa saw me off at the bus stop and I hopped in casually promising to return back home that evening. Now, it so happened that mom in law fell sick and decided to skip the trip. It was a 4 hour journey to Trivandrum from Kottayam, and back. Everything went well till the return journey started. Now at leisure, the many neighbour/distant relative wags that were along with us on the bus kept repeatedly asking me, "Arent you coming back to Arpookkara? Mother is sick"...and so on and so forth. I guess they were just harping on it as casual talk. But, as luck would have it, at that point I somehow felt guilty for deciding to stop at my house. And, I called my appa and told him," Appa, I wont be coming home. Please bring my luggage to the bus stop. I'm going to Arpookkara". Appa said nothing. He was there waiting on the roadside with my travel bag. I waved a quick bye(he disliked bidding goodbyes to me and would always look away) and got back in the bus. That is my last visual frame of him. The tall, distinguished figure standing next to the red swift car with my luggage. If I have the date right, it was the 5th,Saturday. On 17th, Thursday evening as I was on my way back from office, it was about 8.30 PM, I got an urgent call from my brother. He asked me to do something urgently with no questions asked and cut call. I did. After which I returned home and called him back hoping the emergency was over. Amma picked the mobile this time, she simply said, "Appa is gone". It did not strike me initially. Where would appa go now?. It took time to register. Or, maybe it never did register in my head. I did not expect my 6 footer, healthy, handsome dad to just disappear the way he did. He had no chronic health issues, maintained healthy routine and had been born into a family of people with robust lifespans. Then the internal struggle began. I felt guilty. For not keeping my promise of going back home to him. For not spending that one last evening with him. For allowing myself to be bullied out of my original decision by people who played no roles in my life. On introspection, I remembered how he who always made me 'unniyappams' and 'ada pradhamans' told me the last time he made, "I dont think I will be able to make this for you anymore. I'm not well".I paid absolutely no heed to that statement!! Why would I? He looked absolutely fine to me. Guilt intensified. Then, I felt anger. Anger at those women. Anger at anyone who dared to live their long lives. Why my appa? And, why on the eve of his 62nd birthday? He lived a life that was useful to so many, on a daily basis. And, he just went? He would have made a wonderful grandpa to my little girl with her love for stories. What wonderful stories he could tell! A zillion real life stories/adventures of his doctoring days in the remotest of places.He would've stacked up all the 'Balaramas' and 'Kalikudukkas'of the world, each year as she came down to Kerala on vacation. He would've been there to keep checking on me from the moment he knew I'd booked airtickets uptill the minute I stepped into his compound. But, it is time I healed. It is time I forgave myself. And, the best way for me to do that would be by reminding myself appa died the way he wanted. "Doctoring is the best profession" he would proclaim, "I can practise till the moment I die". And, that is the way he went. He went while attending to patients in his home clinic. And, in a split second. His face serene (I remember asking amma that), his dress immaculate (the way he always was). I will also heal by making a promise to him. He was someone who was immensely proud of me and could not bear to see me waste time. He kept my first professional visiting card displayed under the glass of his consultation table. I promise to get a hold over my life, one step at a time. I promise to prioritise.

Between You and Me...

 Recently, during  a casual mom & dot banter, we were just taking stock of the 'trusted adults' in our circle. The dot pipes in, 

"Amma, I really like XYZ aunty but don't really feel fully comfortable with Uncle XYZ". 

I say okay and wait...

"...Amma, it's not that he has ever given me cause feel uncomfortable...it is just that I somehow don't feel fully okay..."

She paused, I could sense the small glimmer of 'self doubt' in her own judgement. But I wait. It comes.

"Amma, am I wrong? Is it okay if I don't feel comfortable about someone who has not given me any reason to feel so..."

Listen child...It is perfectly okay. Remember, you never, ever have to explain yourself for not feeling comfortable about someone or something. Trust your instinct & stay away. You have every right to say, I do not like this and move away...always. Never allow anyone to compel you into validating why you feel something or someone is not right. Not now, not ever. And, that someone can be anyone, be it your close of kin, a teacher, your parent's trusted ally...whosoever. 

PS: Was reminded of this conversation in the light of the ongoing Chennai Schools abuse issue...especially a survivor who recounted her harrowing experience. What struck her more than the incident was the fact that her parents did not stand up for her. 

Start young. Look your children in the eye and tell them you are there for them, no matter what! Talk to your kids. Yes, both girl kids & boy kids. Teach them it's okay to say 'No' without guilt.

Random...

Are you someone who confuses 'Empathy' with 'Sympathy' too? I am someone who has worked hard at making myself understand the difference between the two...I don't always succeed but I try. Where am I going with this? Wait a bit... Those of us in Kerala recently woke up to the news of a young lady Banker who commited suicide within her workplace. People speculated as is usual. The debates took a new turn when a note penned by a senior representative of a Bank Employees Union spoke about increasing work stress and a new,target oriented work culture that was evolving within the banking sector. Soon, the note became 'viral' thanks to social media. As is always the case, when one view point gets popular, someone twiddling her/ his thumb over a smartphone elsewhere thinks up an opposing view point. 'We work to live and not the other way round. Every work has its associated work pressure, if one cannot handle that then one should be considered a misfit'...and so and so forth went the 'opinion'. This, somehow, reminded me of an incident that happened in my life when the 'Me too' movement had just started and people were shooting opinions both for and against. Someone close to me, whatsapped a personal forward. It was an opinion piece by a super senior lady doctor, born into a previleged family (upper class plus moneyed, deadly combination and protective factor). She had claimed that the 'Me too' movement was a farce propogated by women who used their sex to get favours and then when the time was right, called foul. She went onto state that she, during her 'illustrious' career never had to face unwanted advances from her male colleagues. She further claimed, it is totally the woman's charector that determines if she is subject to unwanted male advance. I went ballistic reading this. Now, the parallel I see in these two seemingly unconnected incidents is this. Both, the senior lady doctor as well as the person who declared if you cant take the stress, leave the job, speak from the same platform. That protected, hoodwinked platform that does not realise 'Choice' is not a luxury available to all. It is the same when you look at someone who stays in an abusive relationship and proclaim, 'If it were I, I would've walked out'. That is exactly the point. That person is Not you. Neither is that lady Bank Manager who passed on. Neither are the countless women who kept quiet for years before they found their voice. Just remembered this quote by an anonymous author, I'd read a while ago, "You know my name, not my story. You've heard what I've done, not what I've been through..."

When life puts you and me on pause...

 How does a pandemic of universal proportions, such as the one we are now in, affect us? I don’t mean the economic or physical toll it takes on us. Does something like this make us more thoughtful or selfish? Considerate or more entitled? Spiritual or superstitious? Have you pondered?

As almost everywhere else, we are on an ‘almost lockdown’ social situation too. This morning was my first venture outside to pick up essentials. As soon as I got out of the car I overheard a small altercation between the cleaning staff at the entrance, who was disinfecting trolleys, and a customer. The customer obviously was not satisfied with just the wiping down of the handle bars but wanted him to do the whole trolley. What struck me about the incident was that the man ‘demanded’ the service and then once he got it, marched away without even a smile.

Once inside, it was great to note that the majority paid heed to social distancing rules. But, what was missing too was the smile. I saw a lady in particular, who perhaps panicked at the sight of nearly 90% of the shoppers wearing masks, was attempting to hold her handkerchief as protection. When I saw her before the rack of sweeteners asking a clueless shelf stacker about icing sugar, I pointed it out to her. She practically recoiled, threw a scathing look at me and muttered, “I don’t want that one”. I checked if I had crossed the limits of ‘social distance’, I hadn’t.

Not all of us can be frontline heroes. But within our limited purviews, we still can do our bit.

Let us not be doomsday prophets

All of us love to be messengers of ‘tragedy’ (Aristotle was right). When it comes to news, we focus on the gory, the base, and the attention to blood curdling specifics. Think about it, are we as quick to share news of human happiness as that of falls. The same trait rears up when it comes to a contagion, a pandemic. We all become re-tellers of deep kept ‘conspiracy theories’ to predictions of unimaginable suffering. This trait, fuelled by social media, is education independent. Have you spared a minute to think about the spirals of despondency and panic this mindless pounding of misinformation could send the ‘vulnerable’ into? If you don’t have the time, the patience to verify don’t be mindless harbingers of misinformation. Especially, when it comes to something as serious as a pandemic.

Let us take as per our need and not greed…

I think a whole lot has been written about hoarding of provisions and the like, so let us focus elsewhere. As of date, the contagion has reached gargantuan proportions. Dr.Tedros Adhanom, the head of the World Health Organization, stated in a media briefing held earlier this week that a lot many countries and healthcare centres are worried over shortage of Personal Protective Gear (PPE), in simple terms the protective gear that frontline healthcare professionals need whilst working with severely ill patients. The Centre for Disease Control (CDC) states, “Supplies of N95 respirators can become depleted during an influenza pandemic or worldwide outbreaks of other respiratory illnesses”. These official quotes have to be read alongside reliable Dos & Don’ts in self-protection that has been repeatedly conveyed to us as public.

-      a) Follow rules of Social Distancing

-       b) Proper Respiratory Hygiene

-       c) Proper Hand Hygiene

Experts say that masks might give a casual wearer, like you and me, a false sense of security. Club this with a heightened propensity to touch your face to straighten the uncomfortable mask and perhaps repeatedly smothering it with infection. The same is to be said with gloves. Just watch someone go about with gloves, they touch everywhere and become vehicles of infection. Do we always remember to sanitize before we touch across surfaces? 

Of course we need an appropriate mask if we are sick and do not want to infect others with our droplets, a primary care giver to a sick person or are someone under extreme risk for contracting the disease. A mask also protects us from being sneezed upon by someone in a lift, a shopping aisle, you say. True, but that is where the rules of social distancing come. Once, that is done right, even a cloth mask or scarf will work if you remember the rules of Hand Hygiene and proper disinfection after use.

Remember, supplies are short and if the front line workers fall, we are on our own into doomsday march.

Let us spread the right information and help to those who don’t have the privilege…

Our building caretaker rang our doorbell on the second day of lock down. He came to request me to remove the two potted plants I’d kept outside our front door because the Municipality officials who came for checks said so. He had worn a dirty scarf over his nose and it kept slipping off and on several times during the 2 minutes he stood there. He wore because the officials who came casually warned him about precautions. He knew no hand hygiene, no sanitizer, and no 20 second hand washing technique. Your building caretaker in your apartment block, the lift operator, the car cleaner, your domestic help…there are many round you who may not always be able to understand vital information and even when they do, have the spare currency to buy that extra bottle of sanitizer so easy for you and me. Little things go a long way now.

Let us rely more on the likes of Dr.Tedros and less on the likes of Adagudamada Gurus…

Keep those astrologers, soothsayers and gurus on hold unless it is plain spirituality talk. Let them talk about what they specialize in and let Dr.Tedros talk about his. Follow the right sources for information. And, stop at the appropriate amount of information.

Now, I ask again. Has the pandemic given you an extra ‘humane’ edge or has it taken away more? Remember, this too shall pass, my friend!

Together we stand...

Monsoons in Kerala are not always romantic. Not to a 17-year-old who is trekking that lonely stretch to reach the bus station. It is a 2-5 pm first year of college examination day and at 5.15, it is almost dark. There is a figure who keeps step with her and is incessantly mouthing obscenities. She hides the tremble from her voice and tells him off. It does not deter him. She runs the last lap, the blood pounding in her chest. It is Circa 1993.

A group of carefree friends happily trade stories as they saunter. A hand comes up stealthily from behind and paws her to hurt, terribly. The pain is sudden and excruciating that she screams. Heads poke out of the windows of a nearly full bus that passes by. A few male faces break out in a grin when they realize what must have happened. Filled with rage the group of friends chase the owner of the offending hand as he runs into a printing press in the vicinity. The girl angrily storms inside and demands they let him out. Voices deny and suddenly the guy rushes out on a bicycle through the back door and as she helplessly watches, vanishes...Circa 1996

First job with one of the biggest newspaper names in the country. She is only 22. And, for the first time alone in a big city. Her boss promises to put her on par with the rest of the team, if she performs. She puts heart and soul into her niche. He is a senior stringer reputed to bargain for favours in return for stories. And, this is where she unknowingly hurts him in her zest for work. Repercussions begins as subtle comments made in soft tones - sleazy hints that it is her femininity that was landing her stories. She is shocked but ignores. Then come the carefully manipulated  manoeuvres at the least expected moments, those as if by accident, brushes against the body. This time she tells him off. He flings out his hands in 'helpless' innocence. She complains to her immediate superior, he looks taken aback. Does nothing. She thinks her time has come when she catches him red handed snitching a press invite in her name. She goes to the topmost guy in office with a complaint. The guy blatantly denies all. Absolutely nothing happens. It is a junior reporter who might leave for greener pastures Vs this old sod who has been here forever. Who gets priority is a no brainer! Circa 1998.

She has just gone into the washroom to freshen up. Some instinct makes her look up and she sees the tips of two hands gripping the air vent from the opposite side, as if to pull up. Shocked she yells, "who is that?". A sudden thud and feet that run away as she comes out as quickly as possible. She walks into the HR department armed with a complaint. She is confident of corrective action since the human resource manager is a woman too. Next day, a cardboard piece clumsily stuffed into the air vent is the 'stringent' action taken. Circa 2000

She works at the Chennai office. Her work entitles frequent email and telephonic co-ordination with a senior reporter in the Mumbai head office. Always soft spoken, helpful and polite, he builds up trust over two years. She resigns and joins elsewhere in due course.Then by chance, they meet in person while he is on a visit to the town. He returns and then the tone of his emails change. It comes as utter, complete shock and she severs contact, completely. Circa 2001

It is a busy day at work. Office is now a 15 minutes walk from where she stays, via a short cut. It is 8 pm and the lane is empty that night. She is not afraid since it is a familiar route. The orphanage she frequents during weekends to read stories to kids is just round the corner. A 'bullet' passes her with its huge chug chug noise. Lulled by the familiarity of the daily path and her thoughts she pays no heed when the bike reaches the end of the road and veers back. As it reaches her, the headlights dim and a hand suddenly explodes forward to whack her across the chest. She almost falls. The bike speeds away. Shock and pain give way to anger and then to fear. She suddenly remembers how the small children from the orphanage sometimes run out to play or on small errands. She imagines them in her place against the man on the bike. She dares her way to the nearest police station. The era of citizen friendly policing is still not on and there isn't a single woman in uniform or otherwise at the station. She lodges a complaint. It is nearly 9pm. For two evenings thence, the green, anti eve teasing squad jeep remains parked near the lane. Then it disappears. A month later, she hears the same chug chug...Circa 2002

Her nineteen year old domestic help is almost in tears. The girl is the sole bread-winner in her family of three. Her single mother suffers depressive episodes and her brother is too young. In between tears, the girl reveals how someone from where she worked as domestic help before, is constantly tormenting her over the phone.She answers the call this time and from courage that stems out of anger says, "If you call once more or do anything at all to this child, I will be at your doorstep with the cops. I promise you that. I dare you to try it just once more". To this day, she does not know how it worked but maybe it was the tone, the filmy style...but, the guy never called her again. Circa 2007.

Years have passed. The stories stay. There are many more. Some said, many left unsaid. Some acted upon, many left as is, in sheer helplessness.These stories are mine. I relive them, again, because today I had to tell off yet another person who bombarded me with derogatory messages about the women who share their #metoo stories.

Of late it is less anger and more  a feeling of let down when yet another 'evolved/educated' soul mouths privilege talk. Not everyone with #metoo stories have kept quiet. Some of us have complained ourselves hoarse, several times, to no avail. Do you know what courage it takes for a vulnerable, young girl to stand up for herself, again and again, and yet not be taken seriously? Do you know the fear that comes when you realize that your unaddressed complaints make your oppressor more brazen? Do you know what gall it takes to stand alone in an alien city with no godfathers?
And, do you even realise that some women, most women, don't even have the choice to just walk away from it all, like you and me.

What makes it so difficult for anyone to understand that 'choice' is a luxury not available to a wide majority. And, if you have it, know that it is a privilege. It is not a pedestal for you to stand up on and gloat.

PS: My better half who reads this account as I finish, suddenly pipes up, "What about those young children. The ones who perhaps are abused by their very own. Do these people say that these little children too had the choice to just walk out of the situation? He is so right!

Respect and peace to every survivor out there #Metoo