Same ingredients, different packaging – that’s the set formula for how to market a product to a new audience. When the new target market is of another gender than the previous one, all you have to do is change the colour. Mass market production operates on a gender binary, with two colours at either end of the spectrum: “delicate” pink for women and “dynamic” blue for men (also available in pastel options, for children). The only time this palette gets disrupted is in the marketing of sanitary napkins, onto which a bright blue fluid is poured in every advertisement. So the makers of the campaign for Vim Black – the all-new dishwashing liquid for men! – must think they’re doing something very cool on multiple levels.

            When I first saw the static ad, featuring some random dude tagged as a “first time dishwasher”, I thought it was another situation where the inability to hear the pitch of women’s voices, and therefore their pitches or protests too (this problem is endemic at advertising agencies, I can tell you from years of professional experience) was at play, along with some sheer cluelessness up and down the entire chain of command on the client’s side.

Then I watched the video commercial, featuring the not-so-random Milind Soman, and realised just how intentional the product and its promotional materials are.

To quote the author Nikita Deshpande’s posts on Twitter: “The ad (esp the video) is smarter than we’re giving it credit for. It sounds sarcastic and in-on-the-joke to some of us, while still speaking to its target audience. When you go to someone’s home and see Vim Black in a kitchen, it silently tells you who does the dishes here. Even if the men in the house do not lift a finger, just the buying and displaying of the product in the home gives them bragging rights. Clever clever clever marketing.”

A major brand like Vim doesn’t just come up with a product as a joke; but apparently the joke is that there is no such product. The whole thing, going by what the company has said in a new statement on Instagram, was to encourage men to see that “You don’t need a new bottle to enter the kitchen, just the realisation that these are your chores too.” It then chides them for the “bragging skills” its initial tagline (Easy To Clean, More To Brag) had cheered.

So no such product will be in stores then. It won’t be used by insecure men, whose family members may be glad it exists to take the dirty crockery out of their own hands. It won’t enable virtue signalling. It won’t really do anything, this campaign, other than have irritated people of all genders.

The company’s response comes across a little ham-fisted. If it was a joke, it was a lousy one. Or perhaps the product was secretly discontinued before release – not that big a logistics nightmare since the liquid is exactly the same. If black bottles are out there in warehouses somewhere, I sure hope they’ll be recycled. But as for sexist attitudes, unfortunately, there are constantly new bottles for those old whines too.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in December 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

After two months of intense and sometimes heartbreaking protests, the Iranian government has reportedly decided to disband its Gasht-e-Ershad “guidance patrols”, a police division. These patrols engaged in literal moral policing, enforcing state-mandated dress codes for women, particularly of hair coverings. The distinctive green and white vans they had operated are said to no longer patrol; however, the government has not confirmed the suspension.

            Whether the law that makes hijabs for women and girls compulsory will also be scrapped remains to be seen, but the end of the Gasht-e-Ershad is a partial win. That is, if new methods to enforce compliance are not brought in. Until the law itself is gone, or replaced by one that safeguards personal choice in clothing, the danger of new types of enforcement remains. Reports say the law, which dates to 1983, is being reviewed.

            The powerful protests – which sparked after what is believed to have been the institutional murder of 22-year old Mahsa Amini following her arrest by the Gasht-e-Ershad for not wearing a hijab – have shown how vital personal freedom in the area of apparel is. Fashion is not frivolous. It can be self-expression when one chooses; it can be oppression when one cannot.

            Photographs of women in Iran from before the Islamic Revolution of 1979 that show them as mini-skirted, open-haired global citizens are popular vintage images. The provenance of their attire may have been Western, but the principle of freedom should be universal, even if not cultural. Not everything that originates in one’s culture is worth preserving, or to use a word that has gained unreflective popularity in some quarters, not everything that originates in one’s culture should be decolonized. Sometimes, imported values are better. To consider India, for example: the homegrown concept of caste, or the deeply-entrenched practices of gender inequity, are both things that are positively impacted by looking at the wider world and discarding what may be familiar but wrong.

            When one considers photos of pre-1979 Iranian women, or photos of the protests now in 2022, one notes that only 43 years are between them. Among today’s protestors are senior citizens who experienced the curtailing of their rights. Their children and grandchildren, born into that curtailing, are there too. Some long for a freedom they have never fully tasted – which tells us that freedom is an intrinsically human desire, more intrinsically a part of us than rules and systems created by the few to control the many.

            While many may have chosen hijabs, and still would, many also did not, and would not. Neither choice should be made on behalf of an individual.

            When an ultraconservative regime takes the reins, anywhere in the world and at any time, drastic and painful societal change happens without mass approval (propaganda will always make it appear otherwise). Being able to leave depends on luck or privilege. Most people always stay. For many but not for all, this would be through further layers of choicelessness.

            At the antipode of fundamentalism are fundamental freedoms. Whether about the hijab or about food or about love – a basic respect for another’s right to choose is what ultimately safeguards one’s own.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in December 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

For the second time in a span of weeks, a gruesome murder involving a fridge and close relationships has come to light in Delhi. The details – the very gory details, as well as extrapolations and rumours – of both crimes have been splashed across headlines. I don’t need to repeat them, except to say: in the first case, a man killed his live-in girlfriend, and in the second, a mother and son killed their husband/stepfather together.

            These are horrific incidents, no doubt. But among the extrapolations is a particularly dangerous one: in the first case, the woman having been murdered by her live-in partner of a different religious background has led to a vociferous increase in anti-love and anti-freedom sentiments (in addition to the pre-existing vociferousness of anti-Muslim speech and action in India). The second case is newer in public knowledge and its sensationalism so far appears to help extend the storyline of the first, which has been positioned to feed directly into a darkly prejudiced worldview.

            Essentially, the woman’s murder is being used as a cautionary tale against cohabitation, inter-religious relationships and disobeying the wishes of one’s family of origin. The deceased had been estranged from her family of origin, who had disapproved of the relationship. She did not choose abuse, and she did not choose death, when she decided to enter the live-in arrangement.

            Without needing any details of the inner workings of that relationship, we can surmise that she chose it for the same reasons people choose to live with or to marry their partners: companionship, shared expenses, shared experiences and proximity. The reasons behind why she did not marry are subjective, but her decision to cohabit is not. Her staying in the relationship even after it turned abusive, as many reports say, is also not subjective at all. Many, many people remain in abusive relationships for longer they would like to.

Some reports say her family of origin had also been abusive; which means that she left one bad situation for one that she thought was better, but was not. This often happens to survivors, for reasons that have do to with what literally feels familiar to the nervous system, as many contemporary psychologists discuss.

Speaking from personal experience as well as witnessing and learning from many: it is extraordinarily difficult, particularly for women and queer people, to leave abusive families or partnerships in India. There is no sturdy infrastructure of practical resources and interpersonal understanding. To leave, one must navigate so much. It takes time, persistence, money and resilience. Not leaving is no reflection on one’s desire or effort to.

            Most people don’t leave. We know this because the continuous violence within marriages and families in India is an entrenched part of culture and lived reality. That is why cases that show a willingness to choose lives that are out of this norm are held up for public scrutiny, as if to say – it’s safer inside, see? It isn’t.

Perhaps one day society will truly accepts individuality and diversity. Until then, the cost of an authentic life is high — and the choice to pursue it, whatever the outcome, is brave.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in December 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

I thought I was doing nothing, but it turns out I was doing something: I was doing niksen, if that is the right verb. Niksen is the Dutch art of intentionally being unproductive. It is the art of doing nothing, and I’ve been doing (or not doing) it a lot recently.

            By now, most of us have heard about various such concepts for a better life, like hygge (Scandinavian: slowing down) and meraki (Greek: passionate engagement), as well as several of Japanese origin, like ikigai (having a life purpose), wabi-sabi (embracing imperfection), kaizen (continuous improvement) and mottainai (sustainable usage; I cannot help but read this last one in Tamil every time, unfortunately). These words succinctly encapsulate deeper philosophies about living more consciously.

            Did you know that leisure is a human right, according to the United Nations? Specifically, Article 24 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights says: “Everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay.” I love that this phrasing lends itself equally to capitalism as well as to the other socioeconomic models which consider productivity (“the hustle”, as we call it nowadays) imperative.

I learned this fact in an article by Olga Mecking and Ruth Terry; Meking authored a whole book on niksen. I don’t intend to read the book, as it kind of seems counterintuitive to, but it’s clear from this decision that I’ve imbibed its core principle.

The truth is: I was, and am, burnt out. Events in my personal life over the last few years devastated me, and I was already wrung out when I made some bad professional choices against my instincts and other people’s wiser warnings this year. The only way to stop the accumulating distress was to, well, stop doing things. So I cut back, cut cords, cut my budget, cut a long story short. I began doing less, purposefully.

Yesterday, I let myself enjoy the sheer relief of acquiescence to the idea of just giving up on some of the things I’ve been working toward. It was delicious. It’s not so much what I did in that state of acceptance than the way it felt that mattered. Today, I woke thoroughly exhausted, with my chronic pain issues flaring in my body. I was fortunate to have access to someone skilled at massage. “You’re in pain all the time, aren’t you?” she asked after a point. “Frequently,” I semi-lied. The body keeps score, but isn’t constantly loud about it.

It’s usually good to have language to describe one’s experience, but I don’t know if knowing about niksen will help me shape my cognition of mine, and my recognition of my needs, better. But I am glad the term and its meaning exist, for they allow others who cannot identify with the kind of bone-deep burnout I’m going through to understand what I may need better. I’m also obviously not alone in such a state of being, nor is this prescription unique for me. Medicinal doses of doing nothing, measured out thoughtfully, are probably needed by more people than would care to admit it. But I, well, do.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in November 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

So Elon Musk now owns Twitter, after a brief but dramatic corporate tussle that began with majority stakeholdership, became what the former Twitter leadership considered a hostile takeover, and culminated in Musk basically being legally locked into the acquisition. Unsurprisingly, firing a huge percentage of the pre-existing Twitter staff and directors has been one of his first power moves as the new owner.

            Some fear that he will now enable further noxiousness in an already contentious platform, making hate speech more visible and catering expressly to right-wing or conservative political agendas. There are numerous rumours, including that Musk will simply shut Twitter down, just because he can.

Alternately, Twitter may become a paid service. According to CNN, court documents show that Musk intends to make users pay using cryptocurrency for every post. The popular statement “This hellsite is free”, often shared alongside screenshots of varied evidence of social media toxicity, will then cease to be true.

As for it being a hellsite – well, to quote Jean-Paul Sartre, “Hell is other people”. If enough people join Mastodon, or any similar platform, it will degenerate in some of the ways that Twitter had already degenerated, long before.

When I began getting notifications that people were following me on Mastodon, I moseyed over there for the first time in three years. I updated my profile, and put up a Toot to say I was back. Sort of. I can’t remember why some of us tried to migrate to Mastodon last time. What I do know is that we mostly failed to.

I made my Twitter account a private one in May 2021, when self-appointed fans of the Indian government sent me mass vitriol for a Tweet implying a governmental role in the horrific second COVID-19 wave. I had said that my father was on a ventilator and that I hoped people would vote better next time (no parties were named, and he died the next day). Which is to say, like many who have experienced this or any kind of abuse on social media, I’m a little unfazed by Musk taking over.

In fairness, it is not only right-wing folks who make these platforms dangerous and even unbearable. This week, a Dalit writer posted a thread about the psychological toll of being trolled last year for having religious markers at their wedding; the abuse came from people they had admired within progressive or liberal groups.

Hell is other people. Both offline and online. Platforms that aren’t designed for hatred and don’t bend to capitalism mitigate our exposure to bad experiences on social media, but cannot entirely keep them out because of human tendencies.

Just over a month ago, I opened a new Twitter account – a public handle that was and still is intended to help me reach more readers, enabling me to participate in the virtual literary world more. So far, it hasn’t done too much for me, but the fresh slate feels good. There’ve been plenty of other platforms before (Friendster was my first, I think). There’ll be more in future. The Internet has been here long enough for us to be nostalgic, maybe, but not surprised.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in November 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

I did not know the two-finger test was still taking place in India as part of post-rape official procedures. I had been under the impression that it had already been eliminated from protocol, so it was surprising to read that the Supreme Court has just banned it. This highly invasive procedure consists of a medical professional, i.e. a doctor or nurse, inserting their fingers into the survivor’s vagina. This has no scientific value and offers no medical insight. It is a perverse method designed to shame – based entirely on the notion that if a person’s vaginal examination suggests a history of prior penetration, they could not have been sexually assaulted. This means that prior consensual intercourse or assault, as presumed through hymenal or muscular markers that could arise from a wide variety of causes, could be held against the survivor should they testify.

            But I hadn’t been confused: the Supreme Court had indeed ruled that the two-finger test was unconstitutional in 2013. But nearly a decade later, it is clearly still a part of sexual violence related medical and legal enquiry in this country. The Supreme Court has only reinforced its prior ban, with a new directive: anyone who conducts this ghastly examination will be held guilty of misconduct.

            The legal definition of rape in India was expanded in 2017 to include penetration by any object or body part, as per an amendment to Indian Penal Code Section 375. It is my view that a person who conducts this traumatising examination on a survivor should therefore not only be tried for professional misconduct, but also for sexual assault itself.

            Rape is severely under-reported for a vast variety of personal, familial and societal reasons, as well as the fear of systemic persecution – from police, medical personnel, in court or in the press. That fear is one that the implementation of trauma-informed and progressive laws can help reduce.

            In the gap between my sense of déjà vu on the Supreme Court’s announcement and my discovering that there had indeed been a previous one, this thought crossed my mind: perhaps I’d been ignorant of current procedure, and presumed the violation of two-finger tests were bygone. This kind of occasional uninformedness is something that everyone experiences, and is natural. We are but human and our knowledge, exposure and assessment skills are both limited and evolving.

            The limits are circumstantial, but the evolution is chosen. So much is revealed in such a pause, in the awareness that one does not know enough. To take that pause counters the pervasive culture of reactivity, groupthink and one-upmanship. It is a practice I’ve been trying to inculcate more often in all aspects of life. To know I do not know is the point at which I can begin to learn.

            Yet, still on the subject of knowledge and not-knowing, I wonder how many survivors in these years had their awareness of the ban shot down by despicable doctors, and I wonder how many had no idea of the ban at all. To what extent is our tendency to think, or hope, that laws are applied as they should be contributing to further abuse?

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in November 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

The late, great Toni Morrison is often quoted from a 1981 speech in which she said: “If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” This has inspired many – including myself at certain moments, in the thick of or on the cusp of a manuscript – but it’s also not the entire truth. One does not only want to make books. One also wants to consume them, complete and undiscovered, as a reader.

As though my TBR pile isn’t taller than I am by many (many) times over, as a reader I also sometimes get a craving to enjoy a book that doesn’t yet exist in the English language yet – at least to the best of my keyword search skills.

Here, then, is a whimsical, short and not at all comprehensive list of novels that I hope to someday read – which is to say, I hope they get written, and beautifully.

Ana Mendieta (1948-1985) has long fascinated me, and when I heard of a new podcast around her demise – believed by many to have been a murder – I hankered to read a novel about her. There isn’t one yet, but Helen Molesworth’s “Death of an Artist” podcast on Pushkin both satisfied some of that, as well as spurred more interest. It’s a thought-provoking and candid take into ethics in the art world.

Reaching much further back by several millennia, consider the earliest writer recorded by name: Enheduanna, a Sumerian poet and priestess devoted to the goddess Inanna, from the 23^rd century BCE. Her hymns have survived, and even had the privilege of many translations. But she has yet to be the star of her own story.

Another writer was Liliʻuokalani, the first and last queen regnant of the Hawai’i, who was overthrown by the USA at the turn of the 20^th century with the intent of annexing the islands. Liliʻuokalani composed many songs noted for their sentimental quality, whether towards a lover or towards the land. There are sources aplenty for an author who wants to research her life.

Speaking of monarchs, Razia Sultana of the Delhi Sultanate, who ruled for less than four short years (1236 to 1240) would make for an incredible protagonist. As the only woman to hold power from that throne, her story would find echoes even in contemporary India, highlighting continued gender inequity. In the hands of the right writer, it could also present a cogent view of history, one that is not skewed to appease modern acrimonies.

Finally: one more from the subcontinent, but not from the pages of history. I love mythological fiction that offers fresh takes on known characters and elevates lesser-known ones as central protagonists. The Naga princess Ulupi, who married Arjuna of the Mahabharata, would be a stunning sutradhar: serpent-tailed, subaqueous, subversive in surprising ways.

I don’t want to write any of these novels myself because I want to experience them as a reader, a pleasure that is distinct from the pleasure of creation. I’d be delighted if these literary fantasies of mine inspire some or several, and would love to read what they conjure.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in November 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

It should be a simple thing, what one chooses to wear or not wear. Fabric isn’t a weapon. If you don’t like seeing a garment on another person, look away. If you don’t like not seeing a garment on another person, look away. When we say “person”, it’s important to acknowledge that queer people and cis-women are disproportionately affected by wardrobe policing. Societally as well as structurally, wardrobe policing is deeply linked to seizing control over bodily autonomy and sexuality, and by extension reproductive freedom and freedom itself. Dozens of people have died in ongoing protests in Iran against laws that enforce the wearing of the hijab, which covers the head as per Islamic mores. The protests began after 22 year-old Mahsa Amini was killed by police for not covering all of her hair as per government regulations. Since then, people across Iran have burnt their hijabs, cut their hair and stood up against larger oppressive forces that regard head-covering as symbolic of requisite submission.

            The world is watching, but not necessarily perceiving. French celebrities who have shared footage of themselves cutting off inches of their hair have rightly been called out for performative behaviour. These actions do not address Islamophobia within their country, and potentially encourage it (France has laws against face-coverings). At least one Indian woman, a non-celebrity, has gone on social media to mimic this; it may not be long before some Indian celebrities begin to do the same. Actor Priyanka Chopra, known for being vocal about progressive values abroad while being either silent on issues within India or indicating rightwing alignment, was also called out for unreflexively expressing support for Iranian protestors.

Among the unreflexively ignored or dismissed issues – and the most directly relevant here – is the fight of students in Karnataka to wear hijabs and burqas. The shadow ban on the same, which came into effect in February and was worded as having to do with conforming to institutional dress codes, has had a detrimental impact on women’s education in the state, and by extension all aspects of personal and collective empowerment. Through forcing students to drop out or undress, it has truncated the dreams of many.

            One’s socio-political integrity and ability to parse contextual nuance can be gauged through one’s reaction to the hijab issue in India and abroad. This is a scenario in which there actually is a single correct reaction: i.e. to desire that whether one wears it or not should not be policed by the authorities. Full stop.

            To reiterate: the ongoing protests in Iran are against laws that enforce the wearing of the hijab, and punishments for disobeying the same. The coverings themselves are a matter of personal choice. That choice may be influenced by family customs, peer pressure, social media and other factors, but the same can be said for the choice to not cover the head. To respect choice is to also respect fluidity. A person may be raised to wear the hijab, then choose not to, or may embrace it as a consenting adult despite it not having been a norm in their upbringing. The basic right, either way, is the same.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in October 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

The trajectory of a long friendship is not always an arc. It can zigzag or bend. It can go underground like a subterranean river, reemerging later. It can be like a river in spate, seemingly rough but with depths only those within it can know. It can break: half a bridge.

            Recently, I had dinner with someone I’ve known for fifteen years. We had spent a lot of time together initially, but drifted apart within a couple of years. Still, we maintained a semblance of contact, although we had seen each other barely a couple of times in a decade. At our meeting, something stirred, and I brought up the incident that had led to our drifting apart. We spoke about it with mutual kindness, with awareness that while it had not caused a rift, it had created a diminished bond. My friend sighed at one point, indicating regret for time lost. “Well,” I said. “We’re still here, and so many BFFs are not.”

I had shared earlier in the conversation that certain friendships, expected to be lifelong, were gone. But, I also had no idea until my father passed away just how loved I am. I had always isolated myself and chosen poorly in relationships. So I was astonished by how much support came to me upon bereavement. People I thought I’d lost, or who had been collateral damage in other wars. People I didn’t know I actually had.

            I also found out how little I mean to some. The person I had considered my best friend, who was certainly the primary relationship in my life for a dozen years, chose to boot me out during this tragedy. I thank having so many other arms of love around me. Those undistorted or at least less distorted mirrors showed me with clarity that this denouement was a gift. A door was held open for me not so I could be removed, but so I could be free.

            It took a while to forgive myself for that long friendship, for all the ways I failed myself by choosing it again and again. I was finally able to when I began to see myself applying the lessons – withdrawing at the first signs of abuse, unravelling the knots in my own wiring, reminding myself that my lack of self-trust meant good decisions could feel bad but were still right, and more.

Speaking recently to another friend, I shared about how the element that had cemented that toxic relationship was the other party’s largesse when it came to a valuable commodity: time. No matter what crisis I was in, little or large, no matter how many times I wanted to regrind the wet flour, as we say in Tamil, they would be there. For hours and hours. Nobody else ever gave me that much of the luxury of time.

What the longue durée offers is perspective. Time has many measures.  Had I misspent mine? The question has arisen sometimes, and lingers until I see that its answer is in friendship with myself – love and understanding for myself. I am my longest-known friend, the only one who is certainly forever.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in October 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

Yemanja flowed through the Ogun river, moving with the current into the Lagos Lagoon, and then surged into the Atlantic Ocean – travelling onwards with enslaved people on ships. This is why she is honoured among many in Africa and its diasporas. She is worshipped, in some forms, as a mermaid. So is Mami Wata, another spirit/deity who is also depicted as fish-tailed. Then, there are the Nommo – space mermaids who taught the Dogon people astronomy. There are many African mermaids, and many mermaids everywhere in the world.

            Nyai Ratu Blorong is the goddess of the Sumatran waters, the one who causes tsunamis. Also from that region is Mathabu’l-Bahri, whom legend holds is the mother of Singapore’s founder; the merlion emblem of the island state is derived from this tale. In Gurindji country are the karunkayns, who can remove their tails like petticoats, and the yawkyawks, who can shapeshift into other reptilian, insectoid and marine forms. In Japanese waters are the ningyos, whose flesh curses those who consume them with the torment of immortality. La Pincoya of the Chiloé islands controls the fish-harvest. Sedna of the Arctic Circle has her tangled hair attended to by human shamans. Pania haunts the Aoteraroa shoreline, arms outstretched, seeking. Hwang-ok of Doengbaeksom scrys a yellow topaz orb in which she can see her loved ones left behind – some say, in India.

            The plurality and universality of the mermaid is clear. So is her ancient provenance. Mermaid plaques from 2^nd century BCE Chandraketugarh, Bengal have made the rounds on social media this year (believed to be in a private collection). They are predated by many others, including Atargatis of Aleppo, Syria.

            The Tamilest mermaid I know is Thai: Suvarnamaccha of the Ramakien, daughter of Ravana. Actually, that’s not true: the Tamilest mermaid I know is the one I – conjured? was enraptured by? – let’s say she came to me. Or: she called to me, and I came. Her name is Ila, and she exists in my books Incantations Over Water and Mermaids In The Moonlight. I created her because I come from a place where mermaid motifs are everywhere, and the lagoons resonate with mysterious sounds beneath gravid moons, but lore about them is missing.

In 1837, the Danish writer Hans Christian Andersen published a sad story about a young mermaid who longed to have a soul, like humans do, and not transmogrify into sea foam at the end of the centuries of her lifespan. In 1989, The Walt Disney Company made a cherished animated film inspired by it, a happy love story. The red-haired, Caucasian daydreamer Ariel, its protagonist, has since heavily influenced the concept of mermaids in the international public consciousness.

The live action version of The Little Mermaid will be released next year, and stars Halle Bailey, an African-American actor. This has upset some people, and confused others. But that is only because they don’t know any other mermaids – and this is their loss. Take it from me, one who made up a mermaid because there can’t be too many of them: the waters contain depths far beyond the human capacity to fathom. There is more than enough ocean.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in September 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

An incident of slut-shaming and sexism that took place in a Kolkata institution almost a year ago recently came to light in the press, and has now even made international headlines. In October 2021, a young professor at St. Xavier’s University was summoned to meet the management. She alleges that she was subject to a “witch trial”, during which she was condemned for photographs of herself in swimwear. The parent of an undergraduate student who had been caught viewing them had lodged a complaint against the professor, alleging that her photographs were “sexually explicit”.

            The photos had been uploaded to her private Instagram account, were not taken on university premises, and were posted months before she joined the faculty. The professor says they were put up as IG Stories, which disappear after 24 hours. She was forced to resign, and has written in the press about the serious consequences this had for her and her family financially and health-wise. In the meanwhile, the institution has reportedly sued her for defamation, to the tune of a whopping 99 crore rupees.

Father Felix Raj, the university’s Vice-Chancellor, claimed in an interview that the professor had admitted that she had given her students access to her Instagram. If the institution’s version is correct, the professor’s choice to accept follow requests from students, thus blurring certain professional boundaries, would certainly have been wrong. But that doesn’t resolve the logical issue: if the IG Stories had been posted months before she joined the university, how could she or why would she have granted access to students she had not even met?

What is uncontested is that the account was private. It is unclear whether any action has been taken against the student who may have cyberstalked the professor, using means that could have included hacking or fake accounts. At the very least, they had access to circulated screenshots, a possibility that then takes this entire situation into the terrain of stolen images. The disgusting underbelly of photographic phishing in India – when photos of a person are stolen, circulated, given false captions, morphed and more –  is the reason why many women have private accounts. Evidently, even those do not provide enough safeguards.

There is some amount of misogyny at the core of this issue, no matter how you look at it. The professor has every right to dress as she wants to in her personal time, and to document and even to share this – even on a public account, if she so wishes. Her wardrobe has no bearing on her work, and neither does any aspect of her private life. The student’s intrusion, and then the parent’s intrusion (with the expectation that authorities punish the professor), into her private life is categorically unscrupulous behaviour. The institution has been more than heavy-handed, and tarnished its own reputation in the process.

The professor has written anonymously that she has “settled for being a cautionary tale for the time being”. But the caution, one hopes, will not be for others like her. It should, when the dust settles, only be for creepy individuals and conservative institutions who do not respect the rights of others.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in September 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

The Supreme Court of India has recognised the legitimacy of what we can call (inspired by its own phrasing) Atypical Love. These words come from the SC’s mid-August decree, which ruled in favour of reinterpreting an institution’s rulebook to permit leave to care for both the complainant’s adopted and biological children. “These manifestations of love and of families may not be typical but they are as real as their traditional counterparts,” observed the court. “Such atypical manifestations of the family unit are equally deserving not only of protection under law but also of the benefits available under social welfare legislation.”

            Atypical love and atypical families, in the eyes of the court as per this order, will also include queer couples and unmarried heterosexuals. This is cause for celebration for all who live in the shadow of the Typical – which is to say the heteropatriarchal – sometimes in secrecy, sometimes defiantly, but always with heightened vigilance.

            Some day, I hope that the recognition of individuals who are their own families – who are, essentially and practically, alone – will also be validated in the eyes of society. The law will follow. Even where it already applies, legitimacy is not lived reality; this gaze remains unchallenged in actual practice. Speaking from experience, to be a woman alone in this country is a perennial source of chagrin, fear, anger, rejection and uphill battling. I could write volumes about this. For now, two relatively unserious examples of how a person without a family is viewed will suffice.

            The first: I always book window seats on trains and buses wherever possible, but “We are travelling as a family,” is offered as a reasonable excuse for me to have to give up my seat. I just say No, but I grit my teeth behind a smile. It’s the expectation that annoys me so much more than being asked. Why are my desires as a passenger to enjoy the scenery less important than a group’s desire to sit together, when in all likelihood they were together and will remain together beyond the hours of the journey?

Here’s a more dramatic example that became funny in retrospect: on assignment years ago, I was taken into tiger territory by a local guide. My instincts told me not to get out of the vehicle, although my colleague did. He came back aghast and shaken, saying it was an open area and not an officially designated space, and that they vamoosed before any animals were spotted (or rather, spotted them). When I asked the guide why he had acted irresponsibly, he said: “I wouldn’t take families here. I thought it’s okay because you are bachelors.”

            Meaning: no one’s going to cry for you, my spinster sister, so go ahead take all the adventures you’re inclined to. Which, to be fair, is a nice contrast to the other imposition one more frequently encounters: you are a threat to the patriarchal system and deserve to be extinguished.

            So I love – atypically and applaudingly – the Supreme Court’s ruling. May its recognitions of what different lives look like extend further still, reflecting in the ways people regard, respect and subsequently treat one another.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in September 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.

There are presently two sexual assault cases registered by Kerala police against activist and author Civic Chandran. The details of the cases blur a little in press reports, but it can be inferred that the accused targeted women writers and readers at literary events and through social media. Chandran has been granted anticipatory bail in both cases, on similarly conjectural grounds, by the Kozhikode district sessions court.

            In one case, the court observed that as a noted leftist thinker, it’s “highly unbelievable that he will touch the body of the victim fully knowing that she is a member of the Scheduled Caste”. In the other case, the court observed that a sexual harassment complaint would not prima facie stand when the complainant was thought to be wearing “sexually provocative clothes”.

            In both cases, the Kozhikode district sessions court decided to let Chandran off the hook, through an inflated opinion of Chandran’s character and a misogynistic depreciation of the accused’s character.

Reading about Chandran’s work, and about how he allegedly made statements on the “hypocrisy of people in Kerala towards sex” shortly before these cases, reminded me so much of some other notable cultural activists. Their professed leanings are progressive; their actions and words in actual interactions are not. Some of them were implicated in the MeToo movement. Some were not, and still ramble unscathed, coteries around them preciously protecting their reputations while whispers abound – and will always abound.

There was something I learned during one such scenario that became public some years ago. That was: there is always more, much more, beneath the surface. In that situation, it was easy for many to side with the accused because the most visible case was a little complicated, even for those of us who believe women on principle. But the ripples it set off were powerful: in private, even secret and almost always unrecorded ways, other survivors came forth. Most could not risk the visibility of a call out or a formal filing. All were empowered, in the very clandestine places in which healing happens, in some way. Knowing one wasn’t alone in one’s experience has that effect. Healing is more important than justice, sometimes. I’m not saying this happened for everyone, but if it did, then it happened just as the damage happened – out of sight.

At other times, healing is predicated on justice. The outcome for every survivor who seeks legal recourse has an impact on the emotional liberation or continued suffering of many others. Today, this pertains very visibly to the release of eleven rapists and murderers, who had been serving life sentences, involved in what is known as the Bilkis Bano case, part of the carnage of the 2002 Gujarat riots. There too, a judgement of character on purely casteist grounds – that as Brahmins, the perpetrators were inherently good-natured and had reformed – prevailed over the acute need for the survivor’s physical and mental safety.

The Kerala High Court and the Supreme Court of India have both been moved to address these respective travesties of justice. It remains to be seen whether righteousness will triumph, or if wickedness will be left to ramble further.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in August 2022. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.