Being Indian: Independence

Whenever I feel the need to blog here, I have to find that perfect moment when I am angry but not absolutely overwhelmed by anger. But today, as we approach our Independence Day in a few hours, I am f***ing angry, just knowing how unbelievably false this day is. The one day when we paint our profile pictures with tricolours and finally come around to respect our country and celebrate it. This year, maybe we should all go out and find the first house party and beat everyone up. We should find a young girl on the road, strip her naked and try to grab every inch of her skin; for I am led to believe, that is what Indian culture is.

This year alone, I have had three experiences that have shattered my faith in the fact that I am safe on the roads of this country. Let me begin by the most common one. I was at a restaurant with some friends at about 12:30 am, buying dinner after attending a concert. As I walked towards the food counter, a middle-aged man in a lungi grabbed my crotch as he went past me. I turned around and yelled “Bastard!” and continued towards my friends. It then struck me that that wasn’t punishment enough and that this man would probably go grab some other woman again. So I went on to find him.

When I found him, I asked him “Why did you touch me?” His friend began to defend him as the man in the lungi stood sheepishly behind. I continued to explain that he had no right to touch me and demanded an apology if nothing more. At this point, two of my male friends had joined me and a crowd had gathered. My friends began to shout at them and I explained that I would like to deal with it by myself. Following the apology I received, as I walked away, another man in the crowd exclaimed, “Abey! She just wanted to make a scene!” So, I turned around and asked him if he would have made a scene had I been his sister. At this point, the man happened to push one of my male friends and the next thing I know they are about to get into a fist fight and I am being escorted to safety by a security guard. The man had a knife. While, my friends got away safe, he had absolutely no qualms about bringing the knife out to protect his ego. A knife for his ego and a sleazy comment for my dignity.

As we proceeded to leave the restaurant, I sat by the parking lot just trying to wonder how me demanding my right to safety turned into an ego clash between two men. While many of my friends came and applauded me for having “balls”, one went on to tell me that I didn’t need to be such a drama queen. To date, I try to understand the rationale behind that statement. Somebody, please explain to me how telling a man that he had no right to grab my private parts without consent is being a drama queen.

A few months ago, we parked our bike outside UB City at 10:15 pm. After returning in barely fifteen minutes, we found that the bike was punctured. We wheeled it down the road and walked back to UB City where our friends offered to take us back home in their car. As we waited for them, five men on three bikes went past us, made a few comments and parked ahead. We crossed over to the security cabin and waited for our friends, quickly realising that those men were going to follow us. As soon as our friends arrived and we got in to the car, the men got on their bikes and started them. They followed us for a while we slowed down to let one of them overtake us and noted down the number of the bike. A friend in the car couldn’t control her anger any longer and hit the man on the bike with the car door, yelling at him. He scooted and minutes later, so did we towards the closest police station, just in case.

The following day, we took the bike to a puncture shop and asked to see the tube. There were two clean slashes on the tube and they had appeared to have been made with a small blade. The men had punctured our bike in an attempt to handicap us and probably then attack us. After filing a police complaint against the bike, we went on to ask a few people around the parking lot if they had seen anything. They hadn’t seen anything but were happy to provide us with free advice “That is why you should not go out after 9, madam!”

If you ask a woman how many times she’s been felt up at all hours, wearing all kinds of clothes, the answer will be countless. We can’t even count the number of times we ‘have been subjected to street sexual harassment; it’s an experience that we have been “warming” ourselves up to since we were 12. I have been angry for years about being a target simply because I’m a woman. But recently, after watching the news, watching the Guwahati incident, watching the Hindu Activists thrash innocent men and women in a home stay, reading about the deaths of a number of women who are targeted simply because they live their lives differently, I am scared. And I don’t want to be scared because then they get the victory.

The reason I started this blog was to explore what Indian culture really is – the many deep trenches in our society that we hang on to for the sake of tradition? Or is it the way ahead? At this point, I don’t see a way ahead. Unless, everybody stands up against street sexual harassment and moral policing. Unless, women educate their sons and daughters that sexual harassment of ANY kind is an absolute wrong. Unless, the media stops running after the story and calls the police instead.

I mentioned three experiences and illustrated only two. My third experience is every day. Every day, I look at people on the streets and everybody looks like the Hindu Activist, like the moral police and I won’t deny that I am scared. But, I am not completely broken. I will NOT change my lifestyle, my choices and give up my freedom. I know today, that when I walk out of my house, my dignity is a target. My safety is compromised. While all of my posts on this blog end on a positive note, sadly today is not the case. How am I going to celebrate this special day? By going and buying myself a can of pepper spray. That, my friends, is how I am going to celebrate Indian Culture. Pepper spray. Who would’ve thought! Happy Independence Day.

Being Indian: Divorce

“My parents are divorced”

“Oh I'm so sorry to hear that”

The story of my life. Everybody is sorry to hear that my parents are divorced but they don't bother to imagine what life was like before that or what lead to it. People don't usually get divorced for no reason or selfish reasons (which I will discuss in future), especially when their children are in their late twenties and early thirties. Today, in conversation, a friend of mine said “Obviously you would have gotten over it by now!”

It's true I am definitely over it. But not only because it was a sad or bad experience in my life but because having been in relationships myself I can understand that it may not always work between two people. Especially if they have been given the permission to marry after their sun signs have been matched. Here, in India, it is imperative that the stars pronounce you married regardless of whether you're ready for the responsibility or not. Why, even in Mumbai, you are responsible to marry by 18 or 21 but responsible to drink only by 25. Why do we look at marriage as such a simple threshold to cross while it is in fact such a humongous responsibility?

I'm not a fan of arranged marriage. The legal binding of two people for life, normally decided by stars light years away. The story of one of my uncles goes like this. He fell in love with a woman and asked her to marry him. She said yes. After this, he went to his parents with her horoscope and they said “If you've already said yes then why check the horoscope?” But not everyone is that lucky. And so my sister and I are now children of divorced parents.

Yes, growing up at one time was tough. Yes, there were times I felt like I was the parent with two children (my parents). But I realized that the decision was good for all of us and once the dust had settled, we really started to look like a family again, even if it was a dysfunctional one. The point is that there is a social stigma attached to divorce and those with divorced parents. What with the Delhi police making an assumption that we will go wayward and therefore asked to be raped?

The recycling guy down the road asks every time he comes home to pick up the newspapers, “Aunty yelli (Where is aunty)?” I can never bring myself to tell him the truth, so I say “Oor ge hogidare (she is out of town).” I am scared of the very same reaction that the Delhi police had.

I had heard of divorce before it hit my family. I thought of it as common. But after having gone through it, I realized that it wasn't that common. I may not feel the need to think twice before telling people that my parents are divorced. But they need to think a few times before they can respond to it. Even if I'm okay with them just not having a response. Or even joking with it saying “Explains why you're so bad with relationships!” No, I have never had that response, but it sure would give me a good laugh.

People sometimes like to give me some comfort and say “We also went through the same thing, but just that our parents never got divorced. I know what you went through.” Recently, I took a friend up on this just to see what they meant. He said his parents too had problems. A bunch of questions followed.

“Did you ever ask them if they were happy?”

“Did you ever talk to your sister about it?”

All of the responses were negative. Well, then I'm sorry but you don't know what I went through. The journey to now was hard. It was bitter. It involved a lot of soaked up tissues. It involved a lot of messed up conversations and even a plate flying across the room. But it ended for the best.

Being a child of divorced parents, I can honestly say that divorce, as much as it is in the papers, on TV, in the movies and more is still a rare event. One that calls for a lot of sympathy and a lot of unnecessary pity. Yes, my parents are probably more liberal than yours because they have had to face the stigma of being divorced. And there is a section of society that still doesn't understand what being divorced means. I recently had to explain to a saleswoman that we do not need a romantic holiday for two (which you can only avail if you're married) because I am single and my parents are divorced. She asked about three times after that because she just didn't get it.

Divorce is not a bad thing. It may require years of thinking but in the end it can be fruitful. I see posts on Facebook that show two old people holding hands saying “In our time, if things went wrong we fixed them.” This just makes me realize how regressive even young minds are about divorce. Statistics show that children of divorced parents are more likely to get divorced themselves. Does marriage petrify me? Certainly. I will probably think a million times before I commit to someone on a long term basis. Do I think divorce a convenient way out of a bad situation? No. I would rather spend a whole lot more time making a decision about the enormous responsibility of marriage than spend time later worrying if I need a divorce.

As a child of divorced parents, have I lost faith in the institution? To a certain degree, I do believe the institution of marriage is a meaningless invention. And I would certainly not choose it at this point or in the near future. But it has worked for some people and is working for several friends of mine. Marriage is a personal choice; it is a huge responsibility that will affect you and your future offspring. If you do decide to take it, give it your best. But, in the end if the institution is making either of you unhappy beyond repair, there is no harm in getting a divorce.

When my parents were about to get separated, my friends assured me that it was a passing phase and that all marriages had problems. Nobody geared me up for the divorce that was coming. And I wish they had. It took me a lot longer to accept that it is okay for my parents to get a divorce than to accept that my parents were unhappy. I just don't get the logic. First we match people up based on the sky and then we look down on those marriages that didn't work. I, for one have no pressure to get married and I am lucky. But it's high time we stopped looking at getting married as just another milestone in life. Think a million times before you tie the knot. And double that before you plan a family. With that big fat wedding, comes great responsibility.

Being Indian: Freedom Of Expression

I try to vent out my anger with this country and my fellow Indians by posting once a week. Most often, I don't feel better when I let it out but with this blog, I am able to channelize my anger productively. But now, the newspapers tell me Facebook, Google and most of these open spaces are going to be banned. This makes me mad because I know that my writings and many others are going to be targeted and defined as “objectionable and offensive”. This is an abomination because you and I are entitled to our right to freedom of expression and this does not happen in a democracy.

In a situation like this, I feel naïve. I remember in school, we were taught to think of our constitution and country with pride, a country that was for the people, of the people and by the people. A democracy. And we spend years believing how true that is and are stunned at a point like this. What part of pre-screening content on social networking sites is democratic? A cartoonist would use his drawing board to express his anguish against the many issues that haunt our society.* As much as we believe social networking is a complete waste of time, it is a common man's canvas to express himself about the same.

Google, Facebook, Youtube, Twitter and many others serve as platforms for free speech. Anyone can log on to any of these sites and write or post a video with his/her opinions. There is no editor telling you that your opinion doesn't count. There is no authority that is preventing you from being heard. It is absolute freedom of expression where every opinion counts. The best part about these websites is that any information that you find offensive can be reported and removed. It is a reflection of the democracy that we want to see in our country.

Yes, this kind of freedom is not always used productively. It is being misused by many to defame people and to spread hate speech against certain races and communities. Desecration of religious symbols too are common but generally don't last because people retaliate and make sure that these images and posts are removed. But is the solution to hate speech controlling free speech? No. Free speech in fact is the way out of it. Free speech enables one to sensitize people to issues. It invites discussions that use rationality to help people realize that in a public forum you must watch what you say. And this happens everyday on our Facebook walls, our blogs, on Youtube, etc. Most people are using these mediums responsibly, very well knowing that they are accountable for what they say thanks to traceable unique IP addresses.

While many us waste a lot of time on the internet browsing memes and taking stupid tests, the web is also being used productively to implement change in the society. The internet has helped mobilize many movements – today more people know about Irom Sharmila's protest thanks to pages and posts while Anna Hazare received attention from mainstream media. People are able to be vocal about their support by signing petitions from the convenience of their desks. The Ugly Indian on their birthday using Facebook, made people get out of their comfort zones and clean up parts of their neighbourhood. For activists, the reach is endless, it is no longer local – an activist can gather support for a cause from across the globe. As we speak, people are contributing money to buy this child a real drum kit to play on. That is the power of the web.

The internet is also a rich source of knowledge and is extensively used by students and working professionals to keep themselves up to date with the fast changing world. Harish Gupta from Bengali Market was recently quoted in the news stating that the children in his school often use Google to write their assignments. This received criticism from many stating that there is a lot of pornographic content on the internet and that children should be protected from the internet rather than encouraged to use it for educational purposes. This is absolutely irrational. This is saying we shouldn't step out of our houses as coconuts may fall and land on our heads. What is necessary instead is to educate parents and children to use this medium safely. Plenty of software is available to prevent pornographic and offensive content from showing up on search engines. A number of controls are already in place to prevent this. What we need is a better understanding of this medium rather than a ban.

My biggest concern however is how this is going to affect artists. A few years ago, social networking opened up countless opportunities for artists to showcase their talent to a large audience, absolutely everyone who's on the internet. The entertainment industry may have suffered a hell lot with the rampant piracy of their material. But upcoming artists have gained a platform that has helped them establish themselves without going through the mainstream media. What happens to these artists? What happens to the livelihoods of social media consultants and media professionals whose jobs revolve around the web? It is not just our ability to share the mundane details of our life that is at stake here. It is a lot more than that.

But what happens if the government decides to ban these sites and takes control of the user edited information that is being posted on the internet. It is a term that we are all well aware of. It is an act that we have at some time been victims of. Moral policing. Who decides what is objectionable and offensive? My friend said my blog is sure to go if the government has its way simply because everything I say will be defined as not Indian Culture. The writer from Mumbai will surely agree with them. If the control of information on the web goes to the government, the political party in power will decide what you say, what you see and what you should think.

Right now the power to decide what we say and see on the internet lies with us. But if this ban is in place, it is going to slip away. I am sure that people will stand up to this then. But why wait? Are we waiting for them to take our freedom away before we do something about it? This is a democracy. We all have the right to freedom of expression and if there's anything money can't buy, it is that. So before it's too late, stand up to this – write to Kapil Sibal, change your profile picture, put up a status about it or write a blog. Trust me, they are listening.

*Courtesy: Cartoonist Sudhir Tailang on Big Fight, NDTV

Being Indian: Clothing and Rape

With discussions about women's clothing inviting trouble making the rounds, I remember an incident from a few years ago. I went out for a drink with a large group of friends. I wore a comfortable pair of old knee length shorts and a t shirt. My shorts were a bit weathered and torn and one of my friends thought it would be no big deal to slide his hands up one of the tatters. He was wrong. The same night, I neatly folded my shorts, put them away and never wore them again. They gather dust in my cupboard but I miss them. They were the most comfortable pair of shorts I owned – old, filled with memories and a gift from a friend. That night this guy thought that since my shorts were torn, I was easy. And It wasn't just him that made that connection. My then boyfriend also said “Of course, with those shorts, what did you expect?”

I'll tell you what I expect. I expect that when I wear something, or smoke a cigarette in public, or go on a night-out with just my girlfriends, I am in no way asking to be touched. I wear the kind of clothes that I do because when I look in the mirror I feel good – I feel confident, comfortable and most of all, I feel me. It is my own right to choose what I wear and how I express myself. Be it a pair of shorts, jeans, three-fourths, a bright red kurta or a silk saree. What I wear in no way translates to permission to grope me.

Yes, of course it would have made a bigger impact for me to begin this piece with an anecdote about how I got felt up in a kurta or a burkha. But the focus isn't what I'm wearing but what happened. My thigh was grazed by fingers without my consent. And the fact that I was wearing a pair of shorts shouldn't be considered as evidence in this case.

In this whole discussion about the relation between clothes and rape, where do men stand? We are assuming here that regardless of what women wear, men are like hungry dogs. Salivating over every mini-skirt and spaghetti top that passes by. We assume that men have no self control whatsoever. And with that we assume that the only way to fix the problem is by telling women what to wear.

I understand that by what I've just said, you assume that I only blame this on the mindset of men. While actually the problem lies in the way all of us think, refer and talk about the things we see. A large part of this very thinking is enforced by women - Mothers who tell their sons and daughters that women dressing a certain way Is wrong. When you publicize your judgements about a woman's clothing on to your children, you endorse molestation. It's that simple. The only way that this relation between clothing and rape is going to stop is if we stop labelling people based on what they wear. If you tell your son that a certain woman is dressed inappropriately, he will think the woman is easy and that touching her without her consent won't be wrong.

This is not a feminist issue. It is a human rights issue. Men are also groped, molested and raped. Every man I know has been groped by men and women. Nobody likes to be touched when not asked for. Touching somebody without their consent is simply an inhuman thing to do. Period.

I am forced to return to talk about sexuality. The lack of sex education in this country causes us to repress our sexuality so much that the so called “eve-teasing” is so common that it is expected. As a woman, I can safely say that I get cat calls, felt up or flashed at least once a week. That's over 50 times a year. And this is one woman's experience. And at the end of it, it doesn't matter what I'm wearing.

Today, I'm ashamed to say that I am from Bangalore City. The first city in the world to cancel SlutWalk. A global movement that was cancelled simply because the Bangalore Police succumbed to the protests from right wing groups. Instead of protecting the thousand citizens that wanted to walk for safety of their men and women, they cancelled it because right wing groups protested. What does that say about our police? That when I'm out on the streets in the night, wearing a pair of jeans and a t shirt, I will always be the victim and I will always be the cause. My safety along with so many others is compromised.

Regardless of all these people who make up the terrible world we live in, I see hope and therefore applaud the vice chancellor of Bangalore University to say that what this city needs is a change of mindset. That is what will stop victim blaming. Educate your children, let them know that nobody asks to be touched without consent – their clothes don't, their habits don't, their lifestyle doesn't. A sexual act without consent is wrong. There are no two ways about it. What we need is for people to start treating each other like human beings. Nobody asks to be raped – and most importantly their clothes don't.  

Being Indian: Gender Discrimination

I'm sure that as a woman, it is only expected that I write something about gender discrimination. The entire discussion of gender equality has been done to death and therefore I'm not going dwell on it. What really bugs me however is gender stereotyping. Boys don't cry, men don't gossip, women love commitment and so on.

When I browse through Facebook, I often find these lists and posts that pin specific characteristics on a gender. There are a number of lists about things men should know about women and vice versa. What men and women like. How they behave in relationships. Social networking sites are practically self-help books with dating tips. The sad part about this entire thing is that if a man expected me to have these qualities, he would be more than disappointed.

I don't take 45 minutes to shower. I have had a bigger fear of commitment than some men I have dated. I have not been planning my wedding since I was 10. I don't expect you to pay the bill on a first date, in fact, I would be offended if you did. I believe chivalry is not just a man's job. I don't fancy muscular men, bar fights and trash talk. I like fart and poop jokes. And yes, I'm very much a woman.

Now, I have been told by many that maybe I'm the exception and not the rule. Some men even tell me that they get along with me more because I'm not very feminine. What I'm trying to say is that even with these gender stereotypes, my lack of femininity gives me brownie points. But when it comes to masculinity, the stereotyping is a lot more aggressive and is strongly reinforced by the media.

Men are expected to be strong in every way – physically and emotionally. The ideal image of a man in advertisements and film is that of a muscular and well trimmed man who has great physical strength and is less likely to get into a situation, he can't fight his way out of. Emotionally, men are portrayed as less communicative – they are rarely seen in situations where they are vulnerable. The media projects an image of a man who is unreal and predictable – creating a pseudo standard by which we measure the real men we interact with.

What agonizes me the most is that I feel that by pushing this stereotype on the men we meet in the real world, we are denying them the opportunity to live up to their full potential of feeling and understanding certain natural emotions. I honestly like men who tear up during an emotional discussion. I have seen many men cry and not once have I felt that these men are not masculine enough. Also, I have found myself tongue-tied during emotional conversations wherein the men have actually led the talk to a productive conclusion. While physical appearances are a personal choice, for me bulky muscular bodies are a complete turn off. And still there are articles circulating the web telling men that women like their men muscular.

Thank you for taking the time to speak on my behalf but I'd rather you not.

The birth of these lists and posts comes from the age old obsession of the two genders trying to understand one another. I solely think the problem arises when you attempt to understand somebody based on their gender rather than plain simple human beings. Yes, scientifically, I will suck at driving whenever I learn to do that. But analysing my likes, dislikes and habits based on my gender has no logic at all. A friend of mine recently saw my room and exclaimed that for a woman, I was quite messy. The truth is for a human being, I'm very messy. I have no sense of cleanliness whatsoever and it is not because I'm less feminine. I'm simply lazy and have less discipline when it comes to keeping my room clean.

I have met many kinds of men and women. I never have trouble understanding most of them because as a mish-mash of these so called masculine and feminine characters, I feel that these traits belong to people of both genders. There will always be exceptions to the rules because there are no rules. The only things these so called rules do is create false expectations not only from others but from ourselves.

Some part of me hopes that these lists were created in absolute humour with the sole intention of making people laugh. But then again blogs like these make me realize that there is a huge market out there that relies on these gender stereotypes. Sadly, we are in that market and until we realize that all this is a bunch of rubbish, we will probably expect every woman to gossip and every man to fear commitment.

Being Indian: Dignity of Labour

I grew up with an engineer for a father, a teacher for a mother and an extended family full of educators, doctors and scientists. I remember when I was 8, my sister was 15 and just out of high school. She was the first one to take up Commerce as her specialization in 11^th Std. At that point, I realized just how “science-oriented” my family was. I loved chemistry and mathematics, maybe because while I was growing up, I would pretend to be one of my mother's students while she took tuitions at home. Surprisingly, I just about passed in History. Despite that, I went on to study Arts in my 11^th and 12^th.

My parents never questioned my chosen path. I received a lot of criticism from an uncle (a scientist) who insisted that if I wanted to get into psychology (my then interest), I should do it through science as there was more money and scope for science. I stuck to my decision and completed my arts course. I went on to take up journalism and psychology in my degree. Less than two years into college, I realized being in an institution and studying just didn't work for me. I found myself bunking college and reading through huge psychology books at coffee shops. Attendance shortage, fines and being locked inside college against my will till 3 pm regardless of whether there was class or not eventually led me to quit and start doing random intern-ships and jobs.

I trained and worked in a lot of publications back then. I clearly remember at this point, I got into a huge argument with the same uncle. He claimed that working in a newspaper took very little effort and talent and that the humanities by itself are a complete waste of manpower. I stopped him and very simply asked him if he subscribed to a newspaper.

We often study about the cruelties of the caste system. In some parts of the country, the caste system in it's original ugly self still exists. But I think a more prevalent problem in this society is the lack of dignity of labour. The instances I mentioned above are fairly trivial to the larger picture. Another situation could cite a better example. Recently, I was at a friend's place attending a small party of sorts. Just before I took leave, the conversation was about maid servants and their inherent quality of stupidity.

A lady in her late 40s went on to say “Maids are born to be maids. They are not equipped to do better.”

I sat in disgust as I dined with this woman. I listened as the conversation went on into bickering about their maids incapability to take simple instructions. I have heard many people bitch about their maids. I too have, especially when I started finding money missing from my pockets. But to judge an entire group of people based on their occupation reminded me a little too much of the caste system. I really wanted to ask this woman why she was hiring somebody else to do a job that was apparently so insignificant?

Another day she named an MNC and asked me how they could hire her maid's daughter since she couldn't even speak decent English. I had kept quiet the other day and decided I could not do that again and told her that not all jobs in this country depend on English speaking skills. After all, English isn't even our native language.

This is the thought that fails me. How does speaking English make one superior? Isn't the objective of language communication? I myself am quite ashamed that I think in English and can't fluently speak a single Indian language. We are all for supporting movements that promote education for all, but where is that support when it comes to practising dignity of labour?

The above example is one of many. The way we deal with the people in our system highly reflects our thoughts. The maid servant, the watchman, the auto driver and many more are all people we take for granted in society. We assume that the reason they have those jobs is because they are uneducated, poor or simply don't know better. The sad part of it all is that we benefit greatly from the services of these people every day. I never fail to thank my maid servant as she leaves home every morning.

The traffic policeman is another person that I feel bears the brunt of this disgusting Indian habit. We hate all of them because we bumped into a few that offered to take bribes from us. Our policemen are highly underpaid. They are made to work long hours without breaks to eat or answer nature's calls. At the end of it, they have to somehow put up with us. All of us, in a hurry to get places that we forget lane discipline. We ride onto the zebra crossing before the pedestrians even get a chance to cross the street. We don't always wear our helmets. We are proud to drink, drive and get away with it and in the end we blame the police because they are under staffed. Who would want to be a policeman? Long hours, less pay and the worst of it, the public treats you like scum.

A trend is coming together. Over time, we are putting engineers, doctors and entrepreneurs on a pedestal. No doubt, these are noble jobs. The point is all of them are. We are all a part of this system and we all put in the same amount of effort. Dignity of Labour is defined as respecting all jobs equally. But when I see the way we treat each other, I can only see that we define dignity based on our incomes forgetting that if we didn't have one another, our lives would simply fall apart.

Being Indian: Sexuality

It's a three letter word. It has so much do with life and yet we choose not to talk about it. It's use is abundant in adjective form. In the movies, in the tabloids, on the streets. India is a country with a raging population of over a billion people. The way things are going I wonder how these people got here. Since nobody's ever talking about sex.

My experiences with this word have been many. Right from my teens, there was that aunt who didn't let me watch a Toni Braxton video on MTV. Or that time she told me Friends was a bad tv show. Of course, there is the awkward experience of reading an illustrated book that explained the act of sex when I was 11. I had just hit puberty. And of all the ways to educate me on the subject, I was given a book. A dirty book.

I remember clearly stumbling upon my mother's lingerie when I was a child and she would hurriedly put it away saying I wasn't the right age. I never remember asking my parents where I came from. I guess even as a child I knew that here and now wasn't the time to ask questions. That I think is the biggest problem with the current society.

Today, 26 years old, I understand everything there is to know about sex. And I believe that the road to now could have been a lot smoother. I wish that my mother had sat me down and told me everything about sex. Approaching the subject objectively, warning me that if sex must be practised, it should be practised safely. I wish she had told me that I was going to start growing breasts so when they came I wouldn't be ashamed of them but embrace them. I wish she had told me that one day I was going to start bleeding, so I didn't think I was dying.

Nobody's ever talking about sex here. I visited a gynaecologist early 2011 and in my appointment, I asked her what kind of birth control I should use.

She very confidently said “Once you get married, sex will be safe.”

How does a legal written document or a ceremonial procedure make sex safe? A perfect case of moral policing, this doctor thought it was better to advice me on what is right and wrong morally rather than look out for my physical well-being. Pre-marital sex is often frowned upon in this country. The ironic thing is that it is so rampant that the frequency of abortions is very high. I know many women who have had abortions, some in their early weeks and some very painfully past their trimester.

In fact, I have had an abortion. When I think of pain, I think the most that I have gone through is minutes after inserting that tablet up my vagina. I went through it with my mom on my side who thought it was a mere heat stroke. I never told her because I was ashamed. I thought that despite being so aware of the dangers of having unprotected sex, I had made such a stupid mistake. Months after the dreadful life changing procedure, I started talking. I discovered that many women around me went through the same thing. They were all ashamed for the same reason. I realized I wasn't alone.

At that point I realized this country has got to start talking about sex. Yes, the i-pill advertisements are quite the progress. But any open-minded gynaecologist will tell you that taking an i-pill Is asking for disaster. I myself have had migraines and 14 day long periods just because I took an I pill. Where are the PSAs about birth control? About condoms? Where are the instances of abortions and safe pre-marital sex in our Indian soaps? Why is it that I'm a large part of a majority and still portrayed as a minority?

I am no longer ashamed. I was 24 when I had to get an abortion. I was not financially or emotionally stable enough to raise a child. I made the right choice. And many people would agree with that. Why bring a child into this world if you don't have the responsibility to raise him/her? Think about it.

I recently had the most interesting online conversation with a writer from Mumbai about sexuality. I asked him what he thought of homosexuality and his response was quick. He said that when people are unable to find partners of the opposite sex, they just turn to their own sex. As a bi-curious person, I gasped and wondered how somebody who was a writer, a person with an inspirational role could say something so ignorant. When I told him that I myself might be bisexual, he started questioning me. If I had kissed a woman, if I had licked a cunt. Soon into the conversation I realized that on the other end of this network was a man with his dick in his hand. I stopped discussing my sexual life with him. He said he needed research for his book because he wanted to add a few sexual chapters and hadn't had sex.

I went on to give him links to erotic stories that I had written when I was experimenting with the genre. I had found that writing erotica was challenging. A little too challenging. I didn't know if it was my lack of knowledge in the kinky areas of life or that my metaphors had run out, I had only 2 stories to my credit. I shared it with him and told him that if I found any kind of plagiarism I would sue his sorry ass. He insisted that I tell him in conversation how my love making sessions went. I refused. Minutes later he turned around and said “This is not Indian culture” He compared me to Silk Smitha and said I would deserve a similar death. I went on to ask “What the fuck is Indian Culture?” to which he responded by saying I had abused his country and that I was a bitch.

Now, here's what I find absolutely disgusting about this experience. The minute I told him I could be bisexual he started to hit on me. I have had similar experiences before. Sharing my erotic writings with fellow writers have turned into misinterpreted invitations for sex. When men say they like big boobs, do you see me putting on a padded bra and asking them out? No. What is so wrong with a woman being open about her sexuality? And the worst is that this writer from Mumbai thought that writing erotica was wrong. We all know that a majority of people indulge in visual pornography if not written. Why the sudden hypocrisy?

At the end of this rant, I very plainly ask. What is so wrong about talking about sex? Isn't that how you and me got here? Isn't it a natural urge in life? There are a number of crimes in this country that arise from lack of sex education. When are we going to wake up? We have a serious problem with the lack of family planning and birth control. Our resources are limited. All I can say if there's no better time, it's now that we've got to start talking about sex, baby!