Lakshmy Menon Chatterjee's Blog

Rajalakshmy Kumara Menon (nee Thazhuthaveetil Gowri [magallu] Rajalakshmi or TG Rajalakshmi), my mother, who also loved to be referred to as Rajam or Raji, was born on July 4th, 1937. She was the sixth child of seven children born to Nandilath Parameshwaran Nair and Thazhuthuveetil Gowri. When I think about my mother, what comes to my mind is that she was a force to reckon with. She was a very strong, proud, no-nonsense, and sadly, troubled woman. She was 84 when she passed away. 

A Chronicle of Her Life

Let’s start from the beginning (based on what my Mom has told me of her childhood – so it might be a little sketchy)…

My mother had always felt neglected as a child by her own mother. She used to tell me stories of how she and her needs were ignored as a child, and she felt that even some of her siblings did not treat her well during her adolescence and teenage years. Maybe, that’s why she became so antagonistic later in life. She never truly forgot the incidents that hurt her deeply and she made sure her siblings never forgot those incidents either. 

My mother was fond of her father because he was the one person whom she felt truly loved her. And some of her siblings were kind to her as well. During her childhood, she was closest to her younger brother and used to spend most of her free time playing with him. She was someone who could make friends very quickly and she had many friends from childhood with whom she connected later in life. It’s not that she did not have many happy memories from childhood – her most favorite place in the world was her ancestral home in Karimallur, which is near the banks of the Aluva river (Periyar river). She has some beautiful memories of spending her holidays there, playing with her cousins, splashing around in the river (and almost drowning once!), and attending the family temple festivals. She always used to talk about those days spent at the ancestral home with fondness. And she made it a point to visit the ancestral home as regularly as possible. 

Mom’s last visit to our ancestral home (2018)

I don’t know why my grandmother was mean to my mother, but according to my mother when she wanted to enroll in a degree course in college, my grandmother made a nasty comment about her intentions, which prompted my mother to drop her plans (in protest) for a year. After a year, with encouragement from her eldest brother and her father, she enrolled in a degree course, away from home, in St. Theresa’s College in Ernakulam. She loved her hostel life, the teachers, the nuns who ran the convent college, and these were some of her happiest memories, which she continued to talk about throughout her life.

Some of her hobbies included drawing and poetry. It looks like that’s where I inherited these talents! She was also extremely fond of Bollywood and old Malayalam film songs. Her favorite Malayalam film stars were Sathyan (not many people may remember him) and Mammooty (every Malayalee would know him!). Her favorite Bollywood actor was Rajesh Khanna. 

After completing her degree, she did a diploma course in social work, and soon after this course, she managed to get a government job as a correctional officer for a Home for Destitute Women and her work location was based in Kozhikode (in Kerala). Because she was the warden, she stayed at the same place and managed the home for some years. Again, this period was a very happy time for Mom. She was independent, in-charge, and extremely happy doing the work that she did. In fact, even after she was forced to resign to marry my Dad, she always used to talk about her position, designation, and her responsibilities with a lot of pride (she used to even use it to intimidate or scare people into obeying her later in life!). I think that was her one regret in life – that she had to leave her job for settling down in holy matrimony. Because Mom had never been interested in getting married. She always used to tell me that she only married because of family pressure. She was actually 35 years old when she married my Dad – in those days, a woman getting married so late in life was unheard of. 

She married my Dad, Cherubala Pathayapura Kumara Menon (CPK Menon) on September 6, 1972. And I was born almost a year later to them. Soon after I was born, my Dad got an opportunity to work abroad in Liberia, an ex-US colony in Africa. Around six months after I was born, my Mom and I travelled to Liberia to join my Dad. 

Mom and Dad at various stages of their life

My mother fulfilled the role of a housewife and mother. She loved to cook and she was a wonderful cook. I remember that she always used to get recipes from others and try out new things. She used to write down all her recipes in a diary that she kept. And I know by the accounts of people who have tasted her food that she was quite popular when it came to food. Her samosas, banana chips, pizzas, cakes, cookies, pickles, and all the other delicacies that she would conjure up in her kitchen were relished by my school friends and others. Till the time she was physically able to cook, she enjoyed cooking. Unfortunately, I did not inherit her love for cooking…

Better days in Liberia and Zaire

We lived in Liberia for eight years, during which time we went through the trauma of a coup. Mom’s health got affected because of the stress. She was not recovering, so Dad decided to leave us in Kerala until he could make alternate arrangements. Mom and I lived in Kerala for around six months until Dad found another job in Kinshasa, Zaire (now called the Democratic Republic of Congo). Our life in Kinshasa was a pretty good period. My mom even got to work for a brief period at the same company where Dad was working. Things were good until we decided to return back to Kerala, and even after that. Some good times that we spent together were when I took them on surprise vacations for Dad’s 80th birthday and then again for Mom’s 80th birthday. Also, all the vacations that we took during my childhood and adolescence contributed to many lovely and happy memories.

Photos taken during different vacations

However, my relationship with my Mom became more complicated as time progressed.. While I was always at the center of her universe, I was closer to my Dad from childhood. It could be because he was more patient and rarely raised his hand at me (only once in my recollect-able memory). I should add here for those who are not familiar with Indian households, spanking a child was a very normal thing to do – unless of course there were country-specific laws that protect children from spanking. And my mother was the strict, formidable, and ‘action-oriented’ (to put it mildly) parent. She had very little patience for anything. Most of the times that she used to spank me were around studies…not for any behavioral challenges. However, there were a few key incidents in my childhood that unfortunately broke my trust in her, which led me to seek solutions within myself and possibly disconnect from her. 

From childhood to the present

I wouldn’t call myself an ideal or traditional daughter. And that caused a lot of grief for my parents, especially my Mom, as I grew up. My Mom and I rarely agreed on anything because our thought processes were poles apart. As I grew into my late teenage years, my relationship with my Mom grew more caustic. My trust issues with my Mom never got resolved – in fact, the rift grew deeper and deeper with every new incident. I had a deep emotional disconnect with my Mom, which only a few close friends and family members knew about.

However, my Mom continued to love me in her own way. She was extremely possessive about me and she wanted all my time for herself. She knew that I was closer to my Dad, and that made her want to always intrude when my Dad and I were talking. Even when I got married, she looked at my marriage as a social obligation that she needed to fulfill, rather than an opportunity for me to start my own family. And so, more trouble followed in my first marriage because of her interference, and the fact that I was not mature enough to know how to prevent that kind of interference. I don’t blame Mom completely for the breakdown of my first marriage – my ex was a huge catalyst for that, and even I am partially to be blamed for how things panned out. It took a divorce and a couple more incidents to educate me on how to draw boundaries with people in general, and specifically my mother. 

While I was emotionally disconnected from my mother, I still tried to fulfill my responsibilities as a daughter as best as I could. I cared about her well-being, but I also had to protect myself from getting emotionally hurt any further. There were a lot of nasty fights between Mom and me that continued to chip away at my feelings for her. After my Dad passed away in December 2017, she wanted to come and stay with me and my family in Bangalore, but I could not accommodate this particular desire of hers because of the nature of our relationship and my previous experiences with her whenever she and Dad had visited my home over brief periods. It was not an easy decision for me and definitely, it was extremely difficult for my Mom to come to terms with the fact that she would have to live by herself in the house that my parents built.

My Dad’s sudden demise was her first breaking point because till then, she had the fighter spirit in her. There was a huge shift in her way of dealing with people after that. She was emotional and always sought sympathy from everybody around her. She was someone who was used to getting her way, and suddenly, it was not possible. She was dependent and had to be cordial with people she did not like that much. It was difficult for her – this change and the adjustments she needed to make to her true nature. 

After Dad passed away, I tried to find her home nurses who could stay with her so that she would not find herself completely alone. But, her self-sabotaging nature always got the better of her and no home nurse ended up staying with her for too long (just a month or two). I used to visit her almost every month to help her with groceries, bank work, and any repair work that needed to be taken care of. I was also there with her when she needed to be hospitalized a couple of times. I continued trying to find her home nurses who would stay with her despite her reputation of being nasty to people. This went on until I realized that the only way to ensure that she was well-cared for was to get her settled down in a retirement community (assisted-living facility). 

The next challenge for me was to convince her to go and live in a retirement community. It had to be her choice and it could not be forced. So, I waited patiently, had conversations with her every day about the pros and cons of living in a retirement community, and talked about the risks of living alone in her house without anybody to help her. It took some time, but she finally and grudgingly made the decision to move to the retirement community that I had found for her, Bless Retirement Living (Bless Homes) – a beautiful, upmarket, and highly-rated place for the elderly community in Kerala. However, in India, the concept of moving a parent to a retirement community was frowned upon. No loving and dutiful child was supposed to do that to a parent, and although people who knew my Mom understood my reasons for moving her to Bless Homes, from society’s standpoint, it was wrong. But that was my cross to bear and my burden to overcome. I knew that my mother would get the best care possible and her every physical and medical need would be taken care of. Mom shifted to Bless Homes on August 30, 2019. I stayed with her a few days to settle her down and get her oriented to the place. 

Mom’s first few days at Bless Homes Life at Bless Homes

I know that her moving to Bless Homes broke her spirit a second time around. People who knew Mom from her heydays and until she was in her own house, could see the difference. She ceased to be the towering personality that she was. Until the pandemic and lockdown, I tried to meet her almost every month. After the lockdown started, I still talked to her and had video calls with her, but she missed me being there physically with her. And I could not travel because of the fear of risking exposure to the Coronavirus, and possibly infecting her as well.

In June 2021, she suffered a brain stroke and was hospitalized for around 10 days with the support of the staff at Bless. She could no longer talk, recognize, and even eat on her own. She was completely bedridden for almost three months. During this time, I made a trip in July to meet her and be with her for a couple of days. I still don’t know if she was aware of my presence. Seeing her in this state was traumatic for me, and possibly released all residual negative emotions that I may have been holding about my relationship with her. As a Reiki and Merlin Trinity Healer, I started healing her and myself to release past trauma and our karmic dues.

While I was not with her physically during her final moments, I had the honor of performing her last rites myself (women in India are not generally allowed to perform all the rites during the funeral) and I could sense that she was finally at peace with herself and with me. She passed away on September 10, 2021. May her soul rest in peace. Om Shanthi. 

Hopefully, we will meet again someday, Mom.

Love you and miss you…Lakshmy

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Cherubala Pathayapura Kumara Menon (in short, CPK Menon), I can proudly say, is my father and a great man with an incredible sense of humor and a unique capability for instant repartee. On the day of his death on December 27, 2017, relatives and friends from far and near had only one thing to say about him – “He was such a good man! So humorous and so pleasant to interact with!” He loved to talk and connect with people young and old. But there is so much more to Dad than the pleasantries that people remember him by.

His Humility

No matter how successful he was, Dad remained a very humble man. Even if it was not always possible, he always tried to understand the other person’s perspective. This could be because of setbacks that he encountered in his career and life. His partial loss of hearing made him aware early on that he needed to work harder than most to be successful. He never let his ego get the better of him. And he always did his utmost to make others feel comfortable in his presence, and not intimidated.

His Honesty

Whether it be at the office or his personal interactions, my father was honest to the core. He never took a single rupee/dollar that did not belong to him. And he was always very particular about keeping his accounts in order. When the ancestral property had to be divided amongst the extended family members, he was tasked with the responsibility because all his cousins and his siblings trusted him to do right by them. The respect people had for his honesty and integrity was tremendous.

His Legendary Humor

Dad was famous for his one-liners and instant comebacks. He loved to read and he would take mental notes of quotes from those books. He loved to joke and make people laugh. And people, in turn, loved to spend time with him so that they could forget their own troubles momentarily. His sense of humor was so infectious that even people who had only met him once still remembered him for his sharp wit. Dad loved to pull people’s legs and nobody was spared. Yes, he did antagonize some in the process, but for the most part, people understood that this was how he was and he never meant any harm.

His Kindness

Dad has always tried to be helpful to people in need. There are so many people who are so grateful for my Dad’s generosity and guidance in their time of need. He was always dependable and he ensured that the person who needed his support would get all the required help. He was also somebody who could relate to people of different generations because he always tried to move with the times. Whether it was a child or an adolescent, he would try to think and interact at their level so that they would feel comfortable immediately. Post Dad’s passing away, I hear personal accounts from people who have directly or indirectly benefited from his benevolence.

His Interpersonal Skills

He always tried to keep in touch, either by letters or by email, Facebook, WhatsApp, or any other means possible. He loved to connect and chat with everybody. Before social media entered his world, he used to write many letters even if he did not get a response from some of the recipients. After his death, I hear people talking about how well he used to write, especially condolence letters that sought to provide comfort to the recipient. Even when he lost his hearing completely, he encouraged his visitors to write their answers so that he could keep the conversations going. Of course, some of his visitors did find it cumbersome to write their responses and sometimes Dad felt hesitant to ask them to write their responses. After he became tech-savvy, he became an expert at connecting with near and dear ones through social media. A couple of days before his death, he had even posted Christmas & New Year greeting cards to everybody on his address list. It was a shock for many to hear of his death because they had received his card on the same day they heard this sad news.

There are so many other facets to my Dad that would probably take multiple pages to fill, but one thing is for certain. He was a good man and he will be remembered with a lot of fondness by many.

A Chronicle of His Life

Let’s start from the beginning (based on what my Dad has told me of his childhood – so it might be a little sketchy)…

Dad was born on September 17, 1935. He was the third child of the six children born to Rarath Govindan Nair and Muthumani Amma (nee Kunjulakshmi). He lost his father at the tender age of five while his parents and five other siblings were living in Bombay (or present-day Mumbai). Having no other choice, his mother moved back to her native place, Chittur near Palakkad, Kerala in 1940. Life was tough for my grandmother and her six children because she had to depend on the generosity and whims of one of her uncles, CP Karunakara Menon (referred to as Kannammaman by Dad), who also happened to be the last Diwan of the erstwhile princely state of Cochin. My grandmother along with her children and some of her sisters lived in the ancestral property that became their home for another 20 to 25 years. In spite of her suffering and troubles, my grandmother was adored for being one of the kindest and most helpful people in Chittur – many Chitturians still speak so highly of her and remember her generosity. I think my Dad inherited this trait from her.

Dad suffered a partial hearing loss during his adolescence. However, he did not let his partial hearing deter him from making something of himself because he could not stand his mother’s suffering and helplessness and wanted to get her out of the situation that she was in. After completing his high school in the Government High School in Chittur and then his degree at Victoria College in Palakkad, he decided to pursue Chartered Accountancy on the advice of his uncle, Kannammaman. He moved to erstwhile Madras (now Chennai) to prepare for his exam. His first attempt to clear the Chartered Accountancy exam led to failure and a renewed determination to be successful. And successful he was in his second attempt. After clearing CA, Dad started working in Madras, and some of the firms he worked with were Shaw Wallace and Varma & Varma.

During an interview with one firm when he was looking out for a job in Madras, the interviewer asked on seeing Dad’s hearing aid, “Are you deaf?” Dad immediately asked the interviewer back, “Are you blind?”

Around 1963, he moved to Delhi to work with Mohinder Puri & Co, where he met his mentor and eventually, his great friend, the Late Mr. Mohinder Puri. In May 1971, he brought his mother from Chittur to live with him and his two other brothers. Unfortunately, my grandmother did not get to spend too much time with her sons because she died of fever and breathing problems on November 4, 1971. Dad was shattered by her untimely death.

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Clockwise: My grandmother, Dad holding me, Dad as a tourist in Delhi, Photos of Mom and Dad after their wedding

 

On September 6, 1972, my Dad married my Mom, TG Rajalakshmi, and I was born on August 12, 1973. Soon after I was born (in October 1973), my Dad got an opportunity to work in Liberia (a former US colony in Africa) through a job opening (with a company called Fairco) that had come through with the recommendation of the Late Mr. Mohinder Puri.

While working in Mohinder Puri & Co, Dad encountered an issue with a stinking restroom in office because nobody bothered to keep it clean after using it. Dad decided to put up a sign on the wall behind the toilet – “Our aim is to keep the toilet clean; your ‘aim’ would help too.”

When I was six months old, my Mom took me along and moved to Liberia. My Dad’s move to Liberia was a turning point in his career because he became quite successful and a highly-respected chartered accountant in those times. So much so, that a particular minister (Minister Neil) of the Government of Liberia heard of my Dad and offered him a position as the Comptroller of Accounts with the Water & Sewer Corporation of Liberia. Dad took up the government job and continued until the coup d’etat that started on April 12, 1980.

[image error] Better days in Liberia and Zaire

 

My memories of life after the coup are quite vivid. There was a dusk-to-dawn curfew those days. I remember Dad getting a visit one evening from some soldiers of the new regime because he was the Comptroller of Accounts of a government-run organization. They made him accompany them to his office and questioned him about the office keys. I remember them coming back and taking away my Dad’s official car. Those were dark days. Live images of firing squads (even Minister Neil was killed by the firing squad) and the uncertainty of what would follow next caused all of us to worry, even though I was only seven years old. Because of the high levels of stress, my Mom fell ill and had to be hospitalized. I remember Dad making food for my Mom every day and we would walk to the hospital so that he could drop me to be with my Mom at the hospital while he went to work. In the evening, he would again bring my Mom food and then take me back home. It wasn’t that the hospital did not provide food, but my Mom found it difficult to eat the hospital food.

When my Mom’s illness did not get cured, my Dad took a decision to move us back to Kerala. On the day of our departure, while we were at the airport, the public announcement system called out his name and he was informed by some security officers that he was not allowed to leave because he was a government employee. My Dad explained the urgency of the situation and promised to return after dropping my Mom and me in Kerala. For some reason, the soldiers were convinced with my Dad’s assurance and allowed my Dad to take my Mom and me back to Kerala. And true to his word, Dad returned to Liberia after settling us down at his sister’s house.

Then started one of the most traumatic events in my Dad’s life. After he returned to Liberia, he was put under house arrest because he was an expatriate working for the government. Of course, my Dad was very sure that he had not done anything wrong and he endured those tension-ridden days for a while. After an official investigation, they realized that my Dad was innocent and he was freed. However the experiences in Liberia prompted him to look for work in some other country, and that’s how he ended up in Zaire (currently the Democratic Republic of Congo) in 1981.

After Dad moved to Zaire to work in a company called Sozaplast, he got Mom and me to join him there. From this point, I have clear memories of the times we had spent. As always, Dad was very well-respected by all in the office, including his boss. All was good until one of the chartered accountants that he had helped recruit from India backstabbed him while my Dad was away on vacation. Things were so bad that somebody from office had canceled our return tickets back to Zaire. My dad, the unsuspecting and innocent person that he was, returned to Zaire to find out that he had unceremoniously lost his job without any explanation. This happened in August 1988. I still remember how sad Dad was about the betrayal of trust and I am not sure if he completely recovered from the shock of it.

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Photos taken during different vacations

 

This was again a very traumatic period for all of us. Luckily for Dad, because of the goodness of his heart and his skills as a chartered accountant, he was able to find a job with another company and he continued there for a year until my 10th grade was complete. We moved to my school campus (I was studying in The American School of Kinshasa) because Dad no longer had a car and it would have been tough to commute from home to school. Our accommodation in the school campus was small, but we really had some fun times living there. During this time, the boss of Dad’s previous company realized his mistake in trusting the wrong person and tried to apologize for his actions. But Dad had been hurt so badly by these events that he refused to go back and work for him. After my 10th grade was complete, we all moved back to settle down in our own house in Thrissur, Kerala.

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Photos of time spent with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grand aunts 

 

Dad decided that he did not want to work anymore and hence started his retired life. His life in Kerala was relatively uneventful. He connected with his old friends from Chittur, some of whom lived in Thrissur. He continued to write letters and visit Chittur once in a while to revive old memories. He used to walk a lot to keep himself active and healthy (he was diabetic from the age of 40). Life was good for a long time until he became 100% deaf and he started having eyesight issues. After he lost his hearing completely, he stopped going for walks and slowly his health started to fail. He became frailer. And he started becoming depressed with life because he was no longer able to hear what people were saying in a gathering or when they visited him. Again, there was a turning point in his life when he was presented with a tab so that he could start chatting, emailing, and messaging friends and relatives. He learned and adapted to social media so quickly and so effectively that he managed to connect with a whole new set of people who were living around the world. He still continued to write letters to those who were ignorant of social media. And this he did until the day prior to his death.

One of his favorite quotes – “Fat men can’t stoop too low.” (He used to say this whenever he saw me!)

Even on the previous night before his sudden death, he had been chatting on Facebook messenger with some of my cousins and other people. And he was mentally alert until the last moment. He died peacefully surrounded by people he knew and knowing that he was being cared for. I don’t think he could have asked for a better way to go. He was 82 years old.

Dad, you will be missed sorely but your legacy, humor, and wise words will live on forever in the minds of those who loved you. Hopefully, we will meet again someday.

Love you and miss you…Lakshmy

For almost a month I have been unable to think about something to write on my blogs. That does not mean I have not been writing. I have been doing other kinds of writing, like poetry and stories. But for some reason, I was in no mood to blog. Maybe I was tired of writing about stuff that upsets me. Maybe I was looking for something nice to write about. I really don’t know.

I still consider myself new to the world of blogging, when compared to all the veteran bloggers on the Internet. So, have other bloggers faced this sudden lack of topics to write about? I am curious. Is there something called blogger’s block?

I do find it strange that I am suddenly without ideas about what I should write. Even this post was quite impromptu. I was not planning on writing anything today, and then presto! The words have started tumbling out…I am glad that I have finally started blogging again, but is this temporary?

What I am sure about is that I will continue writing, whether it is on my blog, through my poetry, or the collection of short stories on which��I am currently working. So, even if my blogs fall silent from time to time, I am not giving up. I shall not quit!

Fingers crossed till my next blog…

Filed under: Blogger's Block, Blogging Tagged: Blogger's block, blogging, writer's block

I fervently wanted my first post of 2015 to start on a happy note. I wanted my words to inspire and bring hope to those who follow my blog and those who enjoy reading my posts. But, that cannot be.

This week’s events in Paris have overshadowed my every other thought. Though the attack itself is heinous, what makes it more grave is that it symbolizes a threat to freedom at so many levels. The fourth estate has always enjoyed more liberties in freedom of expression than do normal citizens around the world. There is no doubt that journalists do sometimes tend to cross certain unwritten boundaries in the name of reporting or freedom of expression. So, they do sometimes end up insulting a certain religion, religious figure, a certain region, or a group of people.

While I do sometimes question the depths of depravity that journalists can sink into, I do respect their right to express themselves. But today, that right stands threatened. For, the attack on Charlie Hebdo is not just an act of revenge by a couple of madmen, but the beginning of the end of the freedom of expression. This event has ingrained the seed of fear in people all around the world about what they can express online or in the papers. It is not the first time this has happened. I believe it was two years ago when two girls were arrested in Mumbai for posting something on Facebook that questioned the reason for Mumbai coming to a halt as a result of the death of Bal Thackeray, the late Shiv Sena supremo. That event also represented a threat to freedom of expression. And there��have been��many such instances where journalists and normal citizens have been attacked in some form or the other for expressing their views.

Freedom is the right to live without fear. And I think today we all live in a state of fear because we have to be very careful about what we say, how we behave, what we wear, and how we live. Tolerance has disintegrated into vehemence. The solution to every problem seems to be violence instead of dialogue.

Why should we live in such fear? What is going to happen to the freedom that I enjoy today? Will future generations have the same freedom that I have today? Can the world move beyond this event and continue to believe in the freedom that existed prior to these attacks?

Yes, I saw some newspapers reprinting the ‘offensive’ cartoons to challenge the attacks. But I also read a disturbing news that one of the Danish newspapers, which had originally published the cartoons, announced that they would no longer print such material. To me, that represented the beginning of the end of the freedom of expression.

Will more newspapers follow suit? While I do believe media should exercise some restraint while publishing news articles, it should not be as a result of the fear of retaliation. That is just wrong. If one newspaper stops publishing because of fear of vengeance, wouldn’t that encourage other negative elements to use violent tactics to suppress the freedom of others?

So, no. We need to continue to march on with expressing what we feel and what we want to say. If we exercise caution, we only do it to avoid hurting others, whether it is a person, a community, a culture, or a religion – not out of fear, but out of respect.

Freedom must survive, no matter how many times it is interrupted.

I am Charlie.

Filed under: Charlie Hebdo, End of Freedom, I am Charlie, Je suis Charlie, Threat to Freedom Tagged: attack, Charlie Hebdo, end of freedom, freedom, I am Charlie, je suis Charlie, threat to freedom

The Peshawar tragedy has been weighing heavily on my mind…all those innocent lives, whose dreams were cut short brutally by the bullet. This is my tribute to all those innocent lives lost in the Peshawar school attack…May your soul rest in peace…

Lost In The Rain

On a bright, wintry day of December,

A day the whole world would remember.

A temple of knowledge turned mausoleum,

After an act of terror-laden mayhem.

The dreams of a hundred lives torn,

Leaving behind beloved ones forlorn.

Their last day to feel the warm sun,

As they fell to bullets from a gun.

Some had dreams of healing others,

Some wanted to become famous authors.

Numerous wished for eternal peace,

Sick of terrorists and the police.

But terrorists attacked that day,

Loaded with many bullets to spray.

Innocent blood spilling on the floor,

As terrorists broke open each door.

And when the rain of bullets ceased,

Survivors crawling over the deceased.

The feeling of loss crossed borders,

Anger rising against the marauders.

Nothing would bring the children back,

They are just names in another attack.

It is for their country to now decide,

Whether terrorists be allowed to hide.

Because terrorists have no religion,

They aim to cause fear in each legion.

Believing in the worth of their cause,

They justify their heritage of loss.

Filed under: Attack, Death, Peshawar School Attack, Terror, Terrorists Tagged: attack, death, innocence lost, Peshawar attack, school attack, terrorists

Over the past couple of weeks, ever since the Delhi rape incident, there have been talks, articles, and debates on the issue of rape. One of the discussions going on in the television just happened to trigger a discussion of which I was a part, where an opinion was voiced that the way a woman dressed may have something to do with the fact that she was molested or raped. Of course, I do not agree with that viewpoint because that goes fundamentally against what I have seen and experienced.

But it got me thinking…

I took myself as a case study…

When I was younger (pre-teens and teens), I had experienced my (un)fair share of being ‘man’handled, commented upon, molested, and harassed…the collective memories of these incidents shaped my opinion about old men, Malayalee men (sorry for the generalization, but around 60% of the men in Kerala are lecherous!), men in crowded places, and men in general. I developed a sixth sense about men and my antenna was always on the alert whenever any man stared for too long at me or looked at me inappropriately (or at least fell into my definition of inappropriateness).

Just to make it clear, the way I dressed when I was 10, 13, 16, or 18 years old had nothing to do with the fact that I was a target of unwanted and uninvited male attention and more. I was always fully clothed and that too, ‘well covered’ for any man to be ‘enticed’ into touching me inappropriately.

However, after my late 20s, the number of times I was molested or harassed almost became zero. During this time, the way I dressed had changed. I started wearing capris, jeans, sleeveless tops, skirts with slits, knee-length skirts – dresses that would be considered ‘a little too forward’ to be worn by a woman in her 30s or 40s. However, not even once was I harassed or did I become the target of sleazy comments.

So, what was it about me that gave men the impression that they could ‘get away’ with touching me inappropriately when I was younger and now, the same kind of men would not dare come anywhere near me? It is obviously not the way I dressed! Yes, the way I dress today probably does make men chance a second glance at me, and their interest is probably piqued, but it never goes beyond that.

Obviously the men who engage in inappropriate behavior bank on the fact that their victims will not reveal what has happened. So, that was my first clue.

After a lot of contemplation on this ‘phenomenon,’ I believe that the following traits in women tend to make men more confident of molesting, harassing, or raping them, and more importantly, getting away with it:

Vulnerable – the minute a man, with dishonorable intentions (I am adding this because not all men behave like this), finds a woman in a vulnerable situation or position, he will take advantage of her and the situation. They use threats to keep their victims silent.
Keeps Quiet – molesters, harassers, and all such worms known as men operate mostly on the condition of anonymity. They look for soft targets…that’s why children are targeted so often because usually, they can be threatened into silence. That’s also why such men behave abominably in crowded places like buses, markets, or theaters – because they can quickly slip away in the crowd after harassing or molesting their victims.
Docile/Insecure – not sure how, but ‘sexual predators’ are somehow able to zone in on girls or women who are docile or insecure, and that gives them the confidence to carry out their plan. Because they know that they will face less resistance and that these women will not protest loud enough to catch somebody else’s attention.

I think these are the three most common traits that sexual predators look for in their victims. Of course, this is my theory based on my observations and experiences – so I may be wrong. But, if you take any instance of molestation, harassment, or rape, you will most probably find that the victim had at least one of these traits.

So how can we, as women, avoid being potential targets of sexual predators?

Again, I did a little bit of introspection, and here is what I think:

Avoid Risks – yes, that is my first rule of self defense. Avoid getting into sticky situations as much as possible. Go to any self defense class, and that’s what the instructor will tell you as well. Avoidance is the most preferred technique of self defense.
Be Alert – if you are in an unavoidable situation, remain alert till the danger has passed. Sometimes sexual predators may be deterred from their intentions when they realize that you are onto them. Keep watching them and let them know that you are watching them.
Wear A Mask – this is a tough one because you have to learn to mask your fears and your insecurities. You have to appear tough even if you aren’t. You have to appear aggressive and loud even if you aren’t. Sexual predators will rarely attack somebody who they think will attack them in return or scream so loud that they attract unwanted attention.

I  don’t know if these pointers will help other women from avoiding becoming a target, but if it has helped me for so long, I am sure it will help others.

I certainly hope so…

Be strong, be safe.

Filed under: Delhi Rape, Harassment, Molestation, Rape, safety, Sexual Predators, Traits of Rape Victims Tagged: avoiding rape, Delhi rape, harassment, molestation, rape, sexual predators, traits of victims

The recently ‘sensationalized’ rape incident that happened in Delhi has triggered a lot of debate in the country. It has obviously reopened the scars that were etched in the minds of the public after the infamous Nirbhaya case. The Nirbhaya rape and murder case happened on December 16, 2012 in Delhi, where a young woman was brutally raped and later assaulted with an iron rod (by four men in a moving bus) causing her eventual death. The recent rape incident also happened in December, in Delhi, and in a cab that was operating for the now infamous Uber cab company. Thankfully, the victim survived and was courageous enough to come forth and identify her assaulter, leading to his arrest. But this article is about the ripple effect this incident has caused across the country.

Rape is probably one of the most commonly-used demeaning forms of violence. The physical violation is traumatic enough for the victim, but the emotional violation is more long-lasting and debilitating. This particular rape incident has made most women, including me, across India very insecure, and it is mainly because we know that it could have happened to any of us. For some reason, this incident has hit home closer than other rape cases and it is making the Indian government take stringent measures against cab service companies that do not properly verify the antecedents of the drivers they hire.

However, more than the legal and political ramifications of this incident, it has actually triggered a deep unrest within the psyche of every urban Indian woman. Her confidence in the ability to travel alone has taken a beating. She has to think twice before she gets into a cab. The sense of security that she felt in hiring a private cab has been decimated. She now has to keep one finger constantly on the panic button of her mobile when she gets into a cab. Until she reaches her destination, she will have to keep herself awake in the cab despite of how tired she is. No matter how free or independent this woman thinks she is, she is constantly a prisoner of her own fears. The onset of darkness multiplies these fears because for some reason, the lack of sunlight seems to trigger the baser instincts in men.

The government implemented a rule to ensure the safety of women after the Nirbhaya case – that women should leave office before 8 PM or if they have to work after 8 PM, the office must provide a cab that would drop them safely at home. Unfortunately, this rule has become a sort of restriction because it implies that if a woman needs to meet her targets or complete her deliverable, she is legally not allowed to stretch her hours at office like a man. Companies question women when they work late because now they have to pay for the cab to ensure that she reaches home safely. This was not how things were earlier. A well-meaning rule that now prevents women the opportunity to achieve their true potential.

Now, after this incident, I am not sure what will be the next rule that will be implemented. Will the government propose a rule that a woman can get into a cab only if she is accompanied by a male relative? Or will they ban women from using cab services? Are we going back to the dark ages?

Or, can the government do something more constructive like implement a service, such as 911 (in the U.S.), which can automatically trace a distress call and arrange for assistance within minutes? Can convicted rapists be forced to wear a tracker on them so that the police can quickly trace their whereabouts? Can serial sexual offenders be registered in the nearest police station, and can this information be published online and on notice boards so that neighbors are aware of their presence?

Can these measures guarantee the prevention of rape? Probably not. Can it reduce the number of incidences of rape. Most certainly yes. Would severe punishment for rapists deter other potential rapists from committing this act? It’s possible, but it’s not a certainty.

A wise man once said, ‘prevention is better than cure.’ Society needs to be proactive instead of reactive. Our government needs to be proactive instead of reactive. Children need to be tutored on the right values, so that they grow up to be good, responsible citizens. The change has to start with us, from our homes. It will take time to change the mentality and viewpoints of all those people who still believe that rape is a form of revenge or a means to achieve sexual gratification. But if we start sensitizing our children on the harmful after effects of rape, there there is a good chance that our future generations will have more respect for fellow human beings.

Filed under: Delhi Rape, Laws, Loss of Confidence, Rape, safety, Sexual Assault Tagged: Delhi rape, fear, laws, loss of confidence, Nirbhaya rape case, panic, rape, rapists, safety, sexual assault

I have been reading in the newspapers (I read the Times of India, Chennai edition) for some time now, about the rising incidents of school violence in India encompassing stabbing, molesting, and rapes. This is not normal. What is happening to the youth of India? What is changing in our society to make children less sensitive? I do not remember the situation being so bad around 20 or 25 years back.

I have read about so many instances of school shootings and other violent behavior displayed by school children in the U.S. Horrible, horrible tales of kids, of teenagers thinking that the best way to vent out their anger and angst against the people, who ignored them, bullied them, or just walked away from them, was to maim them, shoot them, and kill them. American society talks about gun control and how important it is bring in regulations on using guns. While that is an important piece of legislation, the problem is more deep-rooted. It is a social problem. One of the reasons stems from a possible disconnect that these kids experience from their families and society in general. It would be absolutely wrong for me to judge the parents of these kids who take to violent behavior, because I do not know their circumstances. According to a research conducted by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), the U.S. Department of Education, and the U.S. Department of Justice, there are many risk factors that lead to school students behaving and thinking violently.

But, I also know that nobody is born a killer. Circumstances, society, and parental influence play a major role in transforming an innocent child into a cold-blooded monster. Many of these violent thoughts could be dealt with early on, only if children could talk to their parents openly about what was troubling them. And, I believe that is the missing link. Sometimes parents of violent children are too caught up dealing with their own problems that they do not consider it important enough to understand what their child is going through. Many parents are blind to their children’s faults, which is also another reason for children to not know the line that divides right from wrong. When a child is a bit different from others, society makes a mockery of their odd behavior, looks, or even dressing. This pushes children to withdraw within themselves. There are so many other reasons – socioeconomic, psychological, hereditary, and so on, but I do believe that with the right kind of support from family and society, such violent behavior and mindset can be nipped at the bud.

So, what has changed in the Indian society that has made children more violent than before? It could be the higher exposure of media, where certain stereotypes are formed of how one should behave or dress. It could be the rise of dysfunctional families in India. The earlier system of joint families had many advantages, one of the most important being the emotional support that grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins could give even if parents failed to do so. With both parents going to work within a nuclear family setup, the child comes back from school to an empty house. Most children do not have that emotional connect with their parents, which prevents them from discussing their problems or thought processes, even when their parents are around. So, the first step in fighting against the rise of violence among the next generation is for parents to create a conducive environment for open conversations with their children. They need to feel their visibility and importance. They need to know that they are being noticed and that they are valued. And that feeling and knowledge should start at home. When there are psychological causes for the violent behavior in children, parents need to take their children for counselling. There’s no shame in getting professional help for children to become better people, right?

I had written a poem a couple of weeks back when I was pondering over how a child could be drawn towards violence. It is called…

The Cloak Of Oblivion

I exist, but no one sees me,

I am alive, almost lifeless,

All stare at and through me,

To them, I am just nameless.

I wish I were extraordinary,

Somebody they could admire,

But I was nothing but dreary,

My life was like a quagmire.

I struggled for some fresh air,

Hoping for a timely rescue,

No one seemed to even care,

I respired, no one had a clue.

All I needed was attention,

A kind word, a good gesture,

All I received was abjection,

That left me with much rancor.

I have been forever covered,

In this sad cloak of oblivion,

Never would I be discovered,

That I was a normal person.

The time had come to unveil,

And to prove my existence,

They would now learn my tale,

Through my acts of vengeance.

Filed under: School Violence, Violence in Kids Tagged: adolescent issues, dysfunctional families, family support, Indian society, killer children, no violence, psychological issues, rapes, school shooting, school violence, social issues, society, violence, violence among children, violent behavior

We have seen it in the movies and on television, especially made popular by the famous television series, Sex and the City. And I can tell you from my own personal experience that a woman is never complete without her closest girlfriends…

I am sure many women around the world would agree that their lives are more enriched by the presence of their girlfriends. So is mine.  I have always had at least one or two really close girlfriends throughout my life, starting from the age of 12. Prior to that, my friendlist was checkered…which means that either I didn’t have any friends or the friends I had were not close enough to mean something. So, I know the value of having close girlfriends.

So, why is it important to have close girlfriends? Well there are so many reasons that it is difficult to list them down in this article. But I will try to highlight the most important reasons:

Close girlfriends

hear you out; they don’t scold you or judge you on anything you do or say.
always make time for you, even during their busiest of schedules.
love you for being you and that is the only criteria they have.
tell it to you straight if you are doing something wrong. They never talk behind your back.
empower you to take your own decisions and not decide things for you.
accept you for who you are and for the choices you make.
provide you with emotional support when you need it the most.
represent the best kind of friendship a woman can ever hope to have with another human being.

If you don’t believe me, there is research that supports why a woman needs her close girlfriends.

According to a research done by Stanford university, one of the best things a woman can do for her health is to nurture her relationships with her girlfriends because quality girlfriend time apparently helps increase the serotonin levels – serotonin is a neurotransmitter that helps combat depression and can create a general feeling of well being.

So, till the age of 12, I was the poorest of kids because I did not have any close girlfriends. But over the years, I have met some amazing women whom I have been lucky to have as my closest friends. I won’t say more. You know who you are and you have certainly enriched my life.

Because today, I am one of the richest women in the world!

Filed under: Buddies, Friendship, Girlfriends, Women Tagged: best buddies, buddies, close girlfriends, friendship, girlfriends, women, women friends

Lakshmy Menon Chatterjee:

The first official review of my book!!! I am so excited that it has been received well… :-)

Originally posted on The Author's Blog:

Title : The Fourth Monkey – Poetry with a purpose
Author : Lakshmy Menon Chatterjee
Pages : 160
Publisher : Patridge
Genre : Poetry

Rating : 4/5

Overview :

The Fourth monkey is a collection of poetry by Lakshmy Menon Chatterjee and it represents Lakshmy’s thoughts, observations, frustration and inspiration. Most of her poems are based on social issues, relationships or nature. Lakshmy has penned down these poems with a purpose, be it to speak against critical issues, contemplation of relationships or appreciate the beauty of nature. The paintings and photographs contained in this book are also produced by Lakshmy.

Highlights :

Beautiful collection of poems.
Short and crispy.
Contains various emotions and issues.
Provides a new perspective.

Review :

I was a bit curious when I heard about this poetry book. I have read some poetry books from Indian authors and they were quite good. So, automatically, expectations were…

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Filed under: Life