I think I must be 8 years old (or may be, as far as my memory can recollect) when someone asked my mother, “how will you marry your daughter? she is so dark.” Very gracefully my mother replied, “abhi to padhne ke din hai chachiji. Dekha jayega.”(It’s her age to study Aunty. We’ll see) Mum gave me a smile, and a content and convinced look to her. I couldn’t understand how my complexion is going to affect my marriage, why is it so important to marry or why is she so bothered? But I could clearly see somewhere in the corner of my mother’s eyes, some amount of sadness. I still remember that face and that entire scene. I hated that woman, she’d given an expression on my mum’s beautiful face which was beyond my understanding and unclear things have always annoyed me.
As I started growing up, I didn’t become much tall either. Another thing which is kind of necessary for having better chances of getting a good prospect. So here I was in my early teens, a dusky short girl with thick long hairs plus a lot of attitude and guts. Papa didn’t teach me how to be scared of anyone or anything but Mum taught me to be quiet and tolerant alongwith the strong streak to stay financially independent as long as I live. My parents never felt that I was any less than anyone in anything but they were not walking with me entire day or struggling with me in my battles. ‘Remember the lessons! learn to deal with your problems yourself ’cause only you can do the best’. So though I was fortunate enough not to get treated badly at home, there were many elements all along the roads which used to flash the board of ‘dark’ and ‘short’ and many such words to me. Slowly and steadily, it started seeping in and I literally started considering my physical appearance ‘unacceptable’ according to social standards. Nobody observed, but I was a complete loner throughout my school days. Nobody understood that beyond that strong look, there was lot of ‘shattered confidence’ ; “you’re not fair! unacceptable…you’re not tall! unacceptable…you’ve got dark gums! you shouldn’t laugh…you’re not this, you’re not that…Ultimately! You’re not good enough for people. And the school life ended.
At that crucial point of my life, Papa got transferred to Pune and I reached Fergusson College. Ah! What a day it was. First day of college, I was reading a notice in main building. “Where is the botany department?” A fair and tall girl of my age asked. “I don’t know”, I replied quite hesitantly. Few more questions and all my answers were, “I don’t know”. She left and my acute self-criticism mechanism kicked off, “you couldn’t speak three sentences, what was that ‘I don’t know thing’, but I actually can’t speak this language, but you write good essays in this language, who said that, Goswami ma’m, that’s just because you were her favourite…I can put this ‘Me vs Me’ conversation in the ‘Chip and Dale’ mode, it was so long…finally, you won’t survive in this college. You’re not for this place.
Phew! These were my first 16 years. I entered the Statistics department…red and green salwar suit, eyes down, cautiously I went and sat on the last bench. Few tall, few short, few dangerous looking boys entered in the class and took their benches. I was always the observant one, nothing used to skip my eyes, I might say or not but trust me, I’ve seen it and I’ve seen it all. Professor came, questions popped and the answer came from the last corner bench. Yup! that was me, but again, it was an easy question! They all must not have studied!… So I decided to keep quiet (someone might feel I am showing off). I made friends and few of them were very under-confident as they were repeating the term. So I used to teach them before class and soon they passed with good marks. That gave me some confidence. They could get some direction in their lives and that was making me happy. Months passed and I graduated with distinction plus a good amount of confidence-booster as I had finally found people who were ready to notice my brain rather than the ‘acceptable physical standards’ or in short my face. So my college days ended and I still was not a big-shot in my extended family. The concern was still lingering that how will I be married, the dusky and short one. Now my time had come to question, “why I wouldn’t get a guy who will be sensible enough to see beyond? why everthing in a girl’s life revloves around marriage? I am yet to find men more intelligent than me in my age group, why should I give him the right to judge me? Why should I wait for his approval? Who is he?…” I was a rebellion since day one, I guess.
I was placed in a good software firm, was studying Japanese alongside and had a set future. One fine day out of the blue, my mum came with this clipping from employment news and before I could literally sink into the idea of joining forces I had reached Mysore Services Selection Board. To my surprise I was recommended. Now there was no turning back I knew. In no time I reached Air Force Academy and after an year, passed out as a commissioned officer in Indian Air Force. I celebrated my 21st birthday at my first duty station along the western border. Boom! Suddenly I had become the shining star, kids were looking upto me, people who had criticized everything about me have surprisingly become ‘hail Rohini’…a lot many things were happening, and I was observing as usual. Something still hit me; “Now she will get someone…” There were things after that too but I got stuck on that part.
Almost 22 years of her life, a girl spends in preparing herself for a man who has just been taught to demand. Half of this time, they don’t even know where are their underwears kept; they are the moms’ boys. Our society raises both sexes absolutely differently. On one side where she was being taught to make herself ready for that final day, boys are not being told to at least have some vision to understand or try to see her journey. She should be fair, tall but not too tall, educated but not too educated, opinionated but not too much…there is a tab placed on everything…knowingly or unknowingly she moulds herself accordingly. She struggles to secure her space in every possible arena of this society and even after reaching a stage where she has proved her worth, the final statement is still about associating her with someone so that ‘He’ could what ‘provide’ her an identity? I am not against men but its disappointing that you really don’t get too many of them who understand this point and respect them for just being another human being. No! She doesn’t need your sympathy, she has strengthened herself without you, she has made herself out of nothing, she has picked up her pieces and she has faced the storms…and those are very different from yours and the sad part is that, that they were consistent for a really long time. To all the wonderful men out there, don’t acknowledge her because she is associated with you in some relation, give her due because she deserves it as you do. To all the kickass babes, I am not saying don’t dress up or glamourise yourself. Do it for yourself, because it makes you happy, just like an artist puts plethora of shades in his paintings not to get people’s approval but to give shine to his creation ’cause he desires it to be like that. You are a woman, God made you complete.
Samiyajanya's Blog 