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Archive for the ‘Indo-Pak’ Category

Negative Stereotypes


Think Norway. What occurs to your mind?
A beautiful country up in the north, where it snows, its all peaceful, no crime. No?

Think Africa. What crops up in the same  head?
Poverty, AIDS, famine, a picture of a starved kid pops up in imagination, and for some well informed perhaps they think of it’s corrupt leaders. Yes?

BTW, don’t  you know Africa is not a country but a second largest continent?
It comprises of  57 countries, each with a distinct culture, language and of course like any other country, each of them have their distinct problems.

So will it  be  justified to summarize all these sovereign states with just  four or five issues, that too very negative.

Why did this stereotyping occur?
The answer is simple. Disinformation.

How?
Of course through the various advertisements from the social sector, that with all their good intentions wish to collect funds for development in the continent. And the media, that through its good intentions tries to highlight to the world the grave  issues they face. However, despite their good intentions, they end up creating a negative stereotype.

Ever thought what must Africans be thinking or feeling of this stereotyping of  them?
It is not that such issues do not exist,  they do, but then this is not all, about Africa.

To highlight this negative stereotyping, without  lashing out in anger, a group  has come out with an extremely creative and cheeky parody called “Africa for Norway” with the message:

“ Imagine if every person in Africa saw the “Africa for Norway” video and this was the only information they ever got about Norway. What would they think about Norway?”

Also imagine if they also used  picture of a Norwegian child shivering in cold, without permission from those concerned?

Here is the parody “Africa for Norway” :

What message do they want to convey through this initiative?
1.Fundraising should not be based on exploiting stereotypes.
2. We want better information about what is going on in the world, in schools, in TV and media.
3.Media: Show respect.
4.Aid must be based on real needs, not “good” intentions.

For more details on the brilliant project click>>  Radi-Aid .

Coming closer to home, who would know more about stereotype than Pakistanis and Muslims with a “My name is Khan and I am not a terrorist.”  being their holy passport to the outside world.

On a personal note:

Growing up as a minority Muslim in a metropolitan New Delhi, India, I came across some curious stereotypes:

  • How many wives  does your father have?
  • Why doesn’t your mother wear a burqa or why doesn’t your father have a beard?
  • Is you father a professor of Urdu in Delhi University?
  • Do you eat Biryani everyday?

Equally ridiculous questions were asked when I came two decades ago, as a newly married immigrant to the megacity Karachi in Pakistan:

  • Are you a Hindu? (On wearing a saree and bindi together, and being of Indian origin).
  • Did you have Hindu friends?
  • Did you ever eat food in Hindu households?
  • Kya India mein VCR hota hai? (Are there VCRs in India?) ( The last curious query  sounds hilarious 😀 now, but it almost got me crying as a new immigrant. Those were the days when India had only Fiat, Ambassador or Maruti cars,   no Sony TVs and yes, not even StarPlus channels 🙂 ).

Not sure if these stereotypes were also created through media !

Category:

Humour, India, Indo-Pak, International, Pakistan, Social Issues, Uncategorized

India and Pakistan: Let’s recover our natural bond


All dreams can be turned into realities, all we need to do is to first break the barriers within, and take the first step forward. PHOTO: AFP

Published in Express Tribune on Aug 15, 2012 : http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/13383/india-and-pakistan-lets-recover-our-natural-bond/

Many stories in our lives, no matter how insignificant, leave us changed. I narrate my personal life experience, as a young child, which subconsciously broke my psychological barriers between India and Pakistan. This was long before I even decided to marry a Pakistani, and cross over to the other side.

Living in a rented house in New Delhi, India, we were faced with a senior Hindu couple as our landlords, who were old workers of a radical Hindu extremist organisation. Being a very strict vegetarian couple, even the normal Hindu families wouldn’t feel comfortable renting their upper floor.

My parents, being moderate Muslims, were respectful of their religious sentiments, and in dire need of a short term rental place. They thought they would be able to spend next six months as tenants there, without any problem. The owners had put restrictions on us for certain non-vegetarian food items which we were not allowed to cook in the kitchen. It did make us a little uncomfortable but out of respect and religious sentiments, we would strictly abide by their rules.

Auntie, as my parents called her, would come and check the kitchen often. But since my parents were complying to their demands and respecting their sentiments, they did not object. In fact, they let her reassure herself.

Once my father’s aunt in Lahore fell sick, and he wanted to see her before she passed away. Luckily the whole family got the visa too. My parents informed uncle and auntie that they were going for a visit to Pakistan. To be honest, we expected a negative reaction from them for their tenants were to leave on such short notice.

Surprisingly, a day later, the senior couple came upstairs to us and made an appeal. They said they lived in a house in Lahore before they migrated to India in 1947, as newlyweds, and if we could bring back a picture of that house to them, it would mean a great deal. They had the house address memorised by heart, even after almost 29 years of living away from it. They had a strong bond with Lahore and were holding on to memories of their youth spent there.

The address was (some number), Ram Gali, Lahore.

We went to visit their house and took photographs of it. The current residents were very hospitable and showed us all the different and curious things about the house they had left exactly as they were.

One such thing was the “Om” emblem installed at the head of the entrance of the house. We were surprised and found it immensely kind of the new residents to have left it there as the Sanskrit word ‘Om’ is of sacred importance to Hindus.

When we returned, the first thing my father did was he developed the photos, and present it as an album to our former landlords.

Upon receiving the album, the old couple broke down. Tears and simultaneous smiles shone on their faces as they touched and saw the pictures. My parents gave them details of the house, verbatim from the current residents in Lahore. They were particularly moved by the symbol “Om” still being in place, and the name of the street still being Ram Gali. Maybe, sitting across the border, they had the idea that Pakistan is extremely anti-Hinduism and all their belongings would have been destroyed or reconstructed by now.

Around the same time, my nani (maternal grandmother) had passed away, and mother would feel depressed. Auntie would then console her by saying,

You are my daughter; as it is I have none.

She had two sons, and they, too, were living away at that time. Her motherly emotions were not stymied by differences of faith. She was beginning to realise that our prejudices based on religion were unimportant and meaningless.

Auntie never came up to check for non-veg being cooked in the kitchen again, as she had before. But she did visit to give us guavas from her tree in the backyard, or chameli (jasmine) flowers from the garden, which my mother loved so much.

Our new house was under construction and uncle once offered,

Take me there, for I have experience in house building and can give you some suggestions.

After six months, we moved to our own house, but the relationship we had weaved out of love remained. It was no more a torn fabric of partition but a beautiful tapestry of friendship and love.

They did not visit much as they were very old, but whenever we visited their house, we received hugs with a warm reassurance,

“We are your nani (grandmother) and nana (grandfather),” they would say, helping us children cope with the absence of our own.

Now, I’m married to someone from across the border and I believe that my Indian nani and nana’s attitude played a major part in removing the demonised presumptions I had of people across the border. Perhaps this was what gave me the courage to even think that living with a man from Pakistan would not be such a bad idea after all.

Two decades on, witnessing the turbulent tides between India and Pakistan’s relations, and watching the feelings of misunderstanding existing between certain sections of people on both sides, I feel there is a dire need to break these psychological barriers. We may now be independent but we share with each other more than what a simple defined border can weaken. Our traditions, culture, attire, our liking of spicy food and chapattis and our love for our families are all mutual.

Thankfully, the distance-less, border-less social media is playing that role. It is bringing people across the border closer as friends. Even something as small as a Twitter trend about our friendship can make a difference in someone’s mindset and remove our biases.

This year, I’ve seen a group on Facebook, as the name implies, “Celebrate India, Pakistan Independence Days for Peace, August 14/15, 2012”.

Following a plea to “Pray for Peace between India and Pakistan” on December 18, 2011, initiated by a Toronto based Indian journalist, Swati Sharan, almost 200,000 people across the globe prayed for peace. Inspired from this success, the idea to form the above mentioned group and to celebrate independence days together for peace was conceived. Thus a Facebook event was created.

A number of peace groups from different parts of India, Pakistan and even Canada joined in. (They are all listed on the event page).

Growing in just a few months, now all these groups are set to celebrate the two independence days on ground as ‘peace days’, in their own unique ways. They all look forward to take it further each year, hoping that more groups will soon join in.

But we need to see more of this sentiment beyond the virtual world and into the real one.

Learning from these example, I again feel reassured that after all dreams can be turned into realities. All we need to do is to first break the barriers within, and take the first step forward. After all, we cannot deny the fact that we were once one. We stood united and even fought against the British together, hand in hand. And today on India’s Independence Day, despite the political and legal barricades, we have to learn to love each other. We already do so naturally; maybe we aren’t expressive enough or have yet to unlearn our biases and accept each other as brothers that we are, but it is undeniable that love does exist.

I pray for Pakistan and India to thrive far more than they already have. Where Pakistan will always be in my prayers, India will too. I wish for lasting peace to prevail between the two nations, the two neighbours, the two brothers.

Happy 65th birthday, India! Happy independence day.

Category:

AmanKiAsha, Indo-Pak

Whatever IS will be WAS.


The above heading is a Buddhist saying by Monk Ñanamoli. The  in depth meaning of its essence could not be more powerfully conveyed than by an ancient  Buddhist ritual called dul-tson-kyil-khor ( Mandala of colored powders).

Sometime ago in search for an idea for silk painting I accidentally bumped into a beautiful  handmade creation, which in first hand looked like an intricate colorful geometrical design, called Sand Mandala.

As the name implies, it is a creation made from colored sand. Mandala means a palace. There is much more to it than the eyes can see.

From the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, this is not just a creation of a beautiful sand castle, but a spiritual journey, for which requires a great practice and meditation before embarking on it. Even during the creation , which usually requires 4 monks (bhikkus) who keep chanting hymns and focus all their minds and actions into its creation.

The sand mandala for them is a three dimensional Palace of Imagination in which they enter, and each dot, line, shape and color that they create in it stands for a specific aspect of Buddhist Philosophy. There are many types of Mandalas, and each stand for a unique symbol.

The creation has to be accurate, and the work  between the 4 creators, working on each quadrant,  has to be well coordinated.

Billions of grains of colored sand powder are carefully and accurately placed in its specific location, using two copper conical pipes called chapku, which are gently tapped over the other, to release controlled amount of sand.

The colors for the painting are usually made with naturally colored sand, crushed gypsum (white), yellow ochre, red sandstone, charcoal, and a mixture of charcoal and gypsum (blue). Mixing red and black can make brown, red and white make pink. Other coloring agents include corn meal, flower pollen, or powdered roots and bark. In the ancient times they used colored dust from the lapiz lazulli, emerald, ruby, and corals and other precious stones to get colored dust powder.

It takes from few days to few weeks to create a mandala.

However, the most mind boggling part arrives when the whole intricately built sand mandala is undone ( yes, you read it correct),  from outside-in in a rotas wheel movement, never to exist again, by the very monks who created it. This metaphorically implies the impermanence of things.

The dust collected is immersed in a flowing water ( river nearby) symbolizing the transference of the energy of goodwill ( imparted to it during its creation)  and compassion, to the rest of the world. {The whole idea gave me shivers and goose bumps}

Hence, when even  at first look it appears to be an end of a creation, but in the real sense, nothing is ever destroyed forever, just that it is returned to the nature, to rejoin elements.

And this does happen to all animate and inanimate objects on earth, be they complicated  humans,  simple plants, soft clouds or  even lofty mountains.

When Buddha passed away, one of his disciples remarked:

Aniccaa vata sa”nkhaaraa — uppaada vaya dhammino
Uppajjitvaa nirujjhanti — tesa.m vuupasamo sukho.

Impermanent are all component things,
They arise and cease, that is their nature:
They come into being and pass away,
Release from them is bliss supreme.

It compels me to be reminded of Kabir’s doha:

Mati kahe kumar se tu kya rondey mohe,
Ik din aisa ayega main rondoonga tohe.
(The clay says to the Potter: What will you maul me, a day shall come, when I shall maul you).

Or yet in another doha he reminds:

Kaya nahin teri nahin teri,
Mat ker meri meri.
(This existence isn’t yours, don’t call it “It’s mine, it’s mine.”)

And of Bulleh Shah’s kaafi:

Na Kar Bandeya  
Meri Meri
Na Teri Na Meri
Char Dinan Da Mela
Duniya Fair Mitti Di Dheri.
(O people, why  be obsessed with me, mine. Its neither yours nor mine. Its for a while, then we all shall be but a pile of dust).

Indeed, “from dust we were born, and to dust we shall return.”.

Category:

Art, Bulleh Shah, India, Indo-Pak, International, Kabir, Peace, Personal, Poetry, RELIGION

A Life’s Journey of my Sister in the Indo-Pak Subcontinent


An open letter to Director General UN Women, on issues and recommendations for women in one’s region.

First published here: http://worldpulse.com/node/34370

Dear Michelle,

I am sure you, jolly well, must be aware, as a woman that despite being more than half of the world’s population, we the female gender, is still considered either a subordinate or a commodity in the hands of men on this earth. The issues faced by us women all over the globe are numerous and it would take many a blogs to even list those issues. Female infanticide, girl child neglect, malnutrition, sexual abuse, illiteracy, economic slavery, women trafficking, domestic abuse, bride burning, moral policing-you name and that issue still exists among a large chunk of this world’s half population.

As India is my homeland and Pakistan the land of my husband and kids, Michelle, I have chosen to love both the countries as much and hence the plight of women in both the countries is very close to my heart. Broadly speaking, the issues faced by the women (my sisters) in both the countries are similar except for some minor differences in the magnitudes or the nomenclature.
I wish to recount here a typical journey that ‘my sister’ i.e. a typical woman lives in the Indian subcontinent right from her conception till her death.

A news of a pregnancy is rejoiced in our communities and right from that moment, the prayers begin wishing for a son. Rarely does one see people who wish for a girl especially in the absence of a male child. Hence the first rejection of her dignity is registered in a very subtle manner, right at her conception.

As the pregnancy progresses many an enthusiastic parents, especially in parts of India, frantically start to investigate for the gender of the baby growing in the womb and if confirmed a female–thanks to the practice of ‘female foeticide’–some of my sisters end up being aborted just for being a girl. Hence their life ends long before it actually is destined to begin, of living in this world.

Among those who open their eyes in this world—not many are in a position to call themselves lucky.

My little sister is raised as a secondary to her male sibling. She is fed once her male siblings or other male members of the household have had their share, and hence she embarks upon the journey of life malnourished right from the outset. From the birth till death she is under the control and command of a male ‘guardian’ be it a father, a brother, a husband or a son.

While her male sibs go out to play, she is asked to stay indoors and help the mother in house chores. And even if her brother is lucky enough to go to school, she is, in many places , told to stay behind looking after the younger sibs, no matter how much she aspires to acquire education. About more than 3 out of 5 of my young sisters from toddlers to adolescence, in Pakistan fall prey to the beastly lust of men and that too known uncles or cousins (in 90% of cases) in the form of sexual abuse, molestation or rape.

As she attains an appropriate ‘age’ the elders decide that it is time for her to move on with matrimony. What is the age of her groom is purely her luck—he could be a young boy of her age or if the parents are lucky to get a good price—then the groom could be as old as her father. The age is no bar. She is by now well trained to not to express her like or dislike and could be subjected to any sort of oppression to make her obey the decision in case she dares to defy.

The marriage for my sister, Michelle, does not by any means, mean liberation from an oppressive father or an authoritarian brother, but a mere transfer of control and command of her life and existence, to her husband. In many a communities in Pakistan, if she opposes, she is subject to severe punishment in the form ‘honor killing’ or else.
And out of those who do get married, a third have to bear the taunts and torture at the hands of the in laws for not bringing enough of the dowry. Some are even doused with kerosene and burnt alive ( ‘Bride burning’) in India and sometimes in Pakistan too.

National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB), India said a total of 7,618 incidents of dowry deaths were in 2006 , in India, an increase of 12.2 percent over 2005.

On the other hand, in many parts of India, and Pakistan, 1 out of 3 of my really poor sisters stay unwillingly single simply because their parents do not have enough to pay for their ‘dowry’. Literally speaking the groom is up for sale with a price tag of dowry.

However not just the poor even the rich sisters of mine in Pakistan meet the same fate. Their Feudal Lord fathers and brothers do not want their lands to be divided by giving the daughter her share. So the daughter is loaded with jewelery , expensive clothes and ‘married to the QURAN’. Yes, Michelle, this is true and I do not exaggerate even a bit.

Once in wedlock , almost half of my married sisters have no control over their own life and body. They cannot decide how many children to bring forth.

Every hour that ticks by, in India, inflicts more brutality on women, with 2 rapes, 2 kidnappings, 4 molestations and 7 incidents of cruelty from husbands and relatives, reveal the latest national crime statistics, National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB).

Similarly, 4 out of 5 women are subject to some kind of domestic abuse—either verbal, economic, psychological or physical violence in Pakistan according to Human Rights Watch.

And the physical violence is not just beating—it could be in the form of physical or sexual violence, torture, mutilation, acid throwing on the face, burning her alive or even strangulating her to death.
And only a minority of cases come into the knowledge of the authorities or in the news, out of which only a handful are proven guilty and punished. Majority of them manipulate to get it seen as an accident and remain Scot free to repeat the same offense with another innocent sister of mine.

We, both in India and Pakistan, are religious communities but unfortunately the onus of upholding religious obligations and principles begins and ends with a woman. She is morally policed and reprimanded if she deviates from the norm, but if the same offense is committed by a man, everyone including our religious leaders turn the other way.

As she grows older, my elderly sister is seen as the embodiment of sacrifice, patience, and morality while the men gallop like stags all over doing as they please. After all it’s a man’s world out there.

She may have worked, however hard, to raise her family or run the household, and is thus called a ‘homemaker’, but she does not get any share in those assets which she assists in her husband amassing in his name. If she is divorced for any valid or invalid reason, she has to walk out of the house with bare hands as all that ‘home’ she has assisted her husband in ‘making’ is entirely his.

She grows old and the command and control shifts from the husband to her son. She is seen as an embodiment of selflessness, sacrifice and patience . The younger girls are shown the glory of her selflessness and asked to emulate her.

Finally, my elderly sister dies a quiet death, without even realizing that she deserved a far better deal in life than was given to her . And hence the relay of her life which began from the passing of a baton from being an obedient daughter to a sacrificing sister to a dutiful wife to a selfless mother, finally ends as a ‘great’ woman into her grave.

This is the typical story of a good 50 % of the women in the subcontinent if not more.

It has been going on for ages and shall go on unless we make some real dent in the situation.

The only way she can come out of this vicious circle is by providing her ‘quality’ EDUCATION.

As a woman gets educated, a whole family including her subsequent generations get educated too. She gets empowered to take the right decisions from the choices in her life—be it her selection of spouse, or her decision to bear how many children or how to raise intellectually superior children.

Education will also empower her to realize that she has her rights too, and not just her duties that are rubbed on her face all her life.

Education will enable her to treat her own daughter as an equal to her son.

Education shall empower her to earn a better livelihood, and make her come out of economic dependence from the men in her life.

Educated woman who is free to make her decisions, is a happy woman and raises a happy family. A happy family brings forth happy citizens. And happy citizens contribute positively not only towards their own homeland but also the whole planet, at large.

Hence, we do not need any rocket science to discover how to empower a woman. Simply ensure her ‘proper and quality education’ and she shall take the reins of her life in her control.

I hope it isn’t asking for a lot, Michelle.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Dr Ilmana Fasih

9 February 2011

Category:

India, Indo-Pak, Pakistan, Social Issues, Women

Female foeticide: A curse of modern times


First published as cover story in The Rationale June 2012: http://therationale.org/June_1_ver/Female.html

The first time I personally heard of female foeticide( abortion of female foetus) being practiced in India, was during my clinical posting in the Radiology department as a Medical student in Delhi, in the late 80s. The patient with third pregnancy, and two previous girls, two girls, wanted to know the gender of the baby in the Ultrasound at 6 weeks.

The annoyed registrar had shooed her away, but then shared with us in the doctors room, that : “She will in any case go to a private clinic, get the gender detected and will definitely abort it of found a girl”.

We as students expressed our dismay, a male registrar retorted in humor: “Evil should be nipped in bud.”

Female foeticide, killing the female fetus in the womb, is a modern phenomenon, as compared to the age old existence of Female Infanticide, the killing of the female new born or infant. It began in Asian societies like India and China sometime in the late seventies, coinciding with the campaigns of family planning, easing of medical termination of pregnancy (also called legal abortions) and with availability of the ultrasound machine to monitor pregnancy. Although, there were other tools available for checking the sex of the fetus  through amniocentesis, but was an invasive procedure, and could lead to complications like abortion. Moreover, unlike the Ultrasound, Amniocentesis was not a tool available to the layman, or semi-trained medical professionals to abuse it to their advantage.

As a medical professional and as a female member this very society, one kept hearing of the news of women asking for gender detection, simply to select the baby of their choice

However, it was the 2001 census which shocked the world. It brought forth the hard figures that the practice of female foeticide was not just existent, but flourishing. The overall Indian ratio of 927 girls to 1000 boys in the 0-6 year’s age group, when in the world the ratio was 1045 vs 1000. The statistics were more skewed in the Northern Indian states of Punjab, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh etc than in the Southern states.

And it went on, quietly, unabated, under the cover of legal abortions, and with Ultrasound getting cheaper and more easily available to all levels of health workers. The trend caught up, rose in numbers and spread to other states.
The census reports for the 2011 nailed the speculation that the trend was catching pace, with the stats now being 914 vs 100 for girls vs boys. In some of the states it has gone to as low as in 800s e.g. Uttar Pradesh (899 girls for 1,000 boys), Haryana (830), Punjab (846) and national capital Delhi (866).
The conditional sex ratio for second-order births when the firstborn was a girl, fell from 906 per 1000 boys (99% CI 798—1013) in 1990 to 836 (733—939) in 2005; an annual decline of 0•52% (p for trend=0•002), reported medical journal Lancet in May 2011.

What also came forth in the 2001 census was that it was more of an urban phenomenon and more so practiced by the upper middle class of educated families.

The Urban and Rural ratios being 946 and 900 respectively, to 1000 boys.

“Declines were much greater in mothers with 10 or more years of education than in mothers with no education, and in wealthier households compared with poorer households.” reported a Study published in Lancet, in May 2011.

Better economic conditions and higher education, instead of improving their thinking, enabled their misogynistic mindset to dispense away the extra income, and abuse the modern technology to their advantage. Thus defeating our age old myths of education, and economic circumstances will increase the plight of women. Perhaps our technological knowhow and economic affluence has developed faster than our brains.

The irony is that it is the same communities affluent, well educated, and even God fearing religious strata of society, who celebrates ‘Kanjak’, the day when young girls are worshipped as Goddesses, has now started to kill their own Goddesses in the womb.

Innovations in bypassing the laws:
In the mid 80s some Indian states began passing legislation like the Pre-Natal Diagnostic Techniques (Regulation and Prevention of Misuse) Act, which banned sex determination tests. In the 90s the same act was legislated in the centre too. The Act carries a three-year imprisonment and Rs10, 000 fines for offenders, prohibiting the gender disclosure of the foetus during Ultra sound. However, tens of thousands of Private clinics with cheaper version of Ultrasound machines had mushroomed till then, all over the North Indian cities, performing the gender detection and the abortion of the female foetus as a ‘package’.

There have been reports that certain clinics in small cities display openly billboards with incentives: “Do you want to spend 500 or 50 lakhs” referring to the cost of abortion against the cost of raising a girl child and marrying her off with a dowry.
The gender disclosure law which was an offence, is creatively bypassed, by using code words like: For girl vs boy as:
Jai Mata Di vs Jai Sri Krishna
Pink city Jaipur vs Blue City Jodhpur
Jalebi vs Laddoo.

It is not just the men of the family, but the senior women like the mothers in law who coerce the women to resort to sex selection. Many expectant mothers have to undergo multiple abortions, jeopardising their health before the desired boy is conceived.
Needless to repeat it the mindset of boys being ‘assets ’, kul deepaks (the lamps of heritage) , are looked up as bread winners, carers for the old age, continuation of family name, as a necessity to perform the last rites of the parents.
On the other hand the impression of girls as liabilities, ‘paraya dhan’ (someone else’s wealth), ‘bojh’ (burden) because of the expense involved in marrying them off with a fat dowry, need to protect them physically and morally, and likely to bring disrepute to the family if their morality is lost.

UNPFA report “India Towards Population and Development Goals”(1997), estimates that 48 million women were ‘missing’ from India’s population since the turn of the century. The report further states “If the sex ratio of 1036 females per 1000 males observed in some states of Kerala in 1991 had prevailed in the whole country, the number of would be 455 million instead of the 407 million (in the 1991 census). Thus, there is a case of between 32 to 48 million missing females in the Indian society as of 1991 that needs to be explained.”

According to UNICEF, India tops the list as far as illegal abortions and female foeticides are concerned. Of the 15 million illegal abortions carried out in the world in 1997, India accounted for 4 million, 90% of which were intended to eliminate the girl child.

Another study reported in the Lancet journal indicates that 8-10 million females were aborted during the past 10 years,( from 2001 to 2011) mainly to couples whose firstborn was a girl and among the more well-off families. This number is much bigger than all the men and women killed in genocides put together.
Much to the dismay, a recent report published by Toronto Star, talked of preliminary reports of such skewed ratios, in favour of a boy, in the second and third order births among the Indians settled in Canada.

However, this phenomenon is not just restricted to India; another major country facing the menace of female foeticide is China.

The preference for boys, in China too is tied to their religious belief that male heirs are necessary to carry on the family name and take care of the family spirits. A Chinese family worries that if there is no son no one will look after them and keep them company in the afterlife. Confucius said, “There are three ways of being disloyal to your ancestors. Not carrying on the family name is the worse.”

Chinese parents openly celebrate when they have boys, and some even show disappointment when they have girls. Newborn girls are given names like Pandi (“expecting a boy”), Yanan (“second to a boy”) in hopes the next child will be a boy. Six million women bear the names Lai-di (“call for a brother”) and Ziao-di (“bring a brother”).
“Daughters are like water that splashes out of the family and cannot be gotten back after marriage.”, a Chinese saying resonates with the belief we as South Asians have of girls being a ‘guest’ in their parents homes.

The statistics suggest that China did not have a skewed male: female ratio till the one child norm was enforced. After the enforcement, the rate of abortion of female fetuses increased in China, thereby accelerating a demographic decline after 1979. As most Chinese families are given incentives to have only one child, they would want it to be a son. However later the Law was eased especially for those who had a first girl child, hence giving a legal government sanction to the preference of a boy.
In 2005 figures, 118 boys were born for every 100 girls, up from 110 boys per 100 girls in 2000 and 112 in 1990.

Recently in the past few years, Vietnam has experienced an unusual rapid change in the sex ratio at birth.. The ratio was about 106 male births per 100 female births, in 2000 and has it increased to 112 in 2008.

“Currently, China reports higher sex ratio at birth than Vietnam. However, what is striking in Vietnam is the unusually rapid rise of the SRB [sex ratio at birth] recorded over the last few years.” says a UNFPA representative.

There are no studies existent from Pakistan, but as mentioned in by an investigating journalist in the TV program Lekin by Sana Bucha, there are 3,000 single room clinics existent just in Karachi, with one or two employees, performing illegal abortions, 90% of them being for the female child. This is despite of abortions being illegal in Pakistan, unlike in India or China. This could be just the tip of the iceberg.

A 2005 study estimated that over 90 million females were “missing” from the expected population in Asian countries including China, India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Burma, South Korea and Taiwan alone, and suggested that sex-selective abortion plays a huge role in this deficit.

Research suggests that instead of economic conditions, like poverty or education, it is the cultural beliefs that play a much larger role in gender preference and sex-selective abortion. To prove this, in places like sub-Saharan Africa, Latin America, and the Caribbean such deviations in sex ratios do not exist in.

As scientific progress furthers and the technology becomes more affordable and available to the common man, the curse of Female feticide, is likely to follow the course it is following currently. There are already available on internet, home monitoring kits, to detect the sex of the new foetus from blood or even urine samples. With abortion techniques getting more medical than surgical, the situation may simply go out of hands of the health personnel even..

The affluent and the educated who perform this would realise its curse only as it will be going to bite them back when their sons will find it extremely daunting task to find brides, and will be forced to stay bachelors.
It is estimated that by 2020 there could be more than 35 million young ‘surplus’ males in China and 25 million in India.

This has actually begun to be seen in smaller scale in various states in India and China. It is already happening that single men are more involved in violence and crimes, resorting to drug addiction and alcoholism, after being frustrated to find a suitable spouse. Women once again are being punished with a rise in rapes, in prostitution demands and through other crimes against them. In some places there have been reports of women being forced to share husbands (polyandry).

In India, the legislation prohibiting gender-selective abortions has so far been evaded easily, and there have hardly been any prosecutions. One wonder what is it that will change the mindsets if education and affluence could not. Would any activism, any mass media campaigns, any icons be able to change this?

My heart shudders to imagine, where and when shall this stop, if at all.
Are we just going to learn it the real hard way?

Dr. Ilmana Fasih
19 May 2012

Category:

India, Indo-Pak, Published, Science, Social Issues, Women

Mosaic Festival 2012~Day 1 : Fashion Show & Mushaira


Mosaic Fest 2012 opened up on 16th August 2012, in Mississauga Art Gallery, with a substantial poise.

Yes, it was the “Woman of Substance walk”, in partnership with Indiva,  a renowned Fashion House from Yorkville.

What was thrilling was the scintillating line of beautiful models, from among the  women who make a difference in our Community. With the same poise and grace, that they have walked on the ramp of their professional lives, did these stunning models display the ensembles they were wearing from the renowned South Asian designers like Malani Ramani, Rohit Bal, Satya Paul, Ashley Robello, to name a few, all brought to display courtesy Wendy Dias, of  INDIVA.

The models line up of distinguisghed women, merits them all to be acknowledged for their accomplishmnets:
1.Linda Thomas: Ex. Dir. of Mississauga Arts gallery, a grandmom .
2. Indira Naidoo Harris: A journalist, a former Liberal candidate.
3.Shehla Khan: Engineer,with Canadian Nuclear Industry, designed Union Station, TO, and Karachi Airport.
4. Zehra Abbas: Founder, Ex Dir of YGTA, A youth led NPO, mobilising youth for Social Justice through arts.
5. Viera Kononenkova: A financial consultant
6. Angelie Sood: Host on XM Radio, heads a NPO ‘Share your light’ for the underprevilleged children
7. Salima Syereh Virani: Editor-in-Chief of MyBindi, SA hub for arts entertainment and lifestyle.
8.Atiya Khan: An ex-model in Pakistan, and now in direction & production in Canada. Promotes Sufism.
9. Surbhi Guleria Joshi : Co-founder of a Marketting Consulting Firm
10.: Bonnie Crombie: An elected councillor, from Ward-5, a community leader.
11. Anu Vithal : an entrepreneur, and Mosaic festival Director.

A few of them walk down the isle here, without giving any clue to their not being professional models:



Talking later to Bonnie Crombie, the politician, I asked her, “How did Bonnie, the model feel, walking on the ramp?”
‘Well it was an extremely exciting experience, and an honour to be walking down the red carpet, along with other distinguished women from the Community, whose resumes and accomplishments in real lives are far more elaborate than the dresses they were displaying.” Said Bonnie almost instantly.

Show casing on the sidelines was the Artist of Mosaic 2012, Misbah Ahmed, displaying her stunning pieces of hand crafted jewellary. It was mostly crafted of porcelain, visibly painfully hand painted, each piece was a unique piece of craft.

“It looks a real hard work” I could guess.
“I haven’t slept for a week” said Misbah, modestly.

It was hard to choose, which ones to pick for a photo  for the blog, and even harder still, which ones, not to buy. Though I went there as a blogger, but ended up becoming one her clients too.



Mosaic Musaira :
At the other side, the Amphitheatre had An Urdu-Hindi-Punjabi Mushaira, The Azadi Mushaira, by  Canadian South Asian poets. They shared their poetry, amids the da’ads ( applauds),  on diverse topis from love to peace to humour.

Some of the verses, form very few poets, that I could note down, while being engrossed in their narrations are here:

Sandeep Singh, shared his poem on ‘Aeena’ . I share a few verses of his  Hindi kavita poem):
Tasveer dikhayi deti hai ek, shaksh ki ghar Aaine mein
Thoda jana sa lagta hai, kuch pehle dekha aaine mein……..
Shuruaat mein to aksar us se, nazarein mil jaya karti thi
Koi baat chubh gayi hai meri, hai nazar churata aaine mein!
…………..
Socha ki badal daaloon nata, aise ranjeeda mehmanon se
Yeh soch makaan badal dale, par tha wahi wahan aaine mein!

…………..

Uzma Mahmood, who came to Canada from Lahore, in 1993,  also a Homeopathic doctor and mortagae agent, narrated:
Guzre huwe zamane ke hawale mein reh gaye
Ab who tamasha dekhne walon mein reh gaye.
Khamosh lab se baat ki tardeed main ne ki
Tab unke sab khwab sawalon mein reh gaye.
Itna taweel pehle na tha daur-e-intwezar
Wade naye visal ke sawalon mein reh gaye.
Karbne gaye the Alam-e-arwah ka safr
Who log jo asman waalon mein reh gaye.
Masroofiyat ne kerne ki taufeeq jab na di
Uzma who mere kaam khayalon mein reh gaye.

Poonam Jain Kaslimwal, who works at peel district School board recited her Hindi Kavita:
Rat thehri chandni munder pe
Poocha main ne, tu kaun desh se aai hai
Bata to zara kya koi sandesa laai hai
Muskurai, ithlai bole
Kyun kya hai koi us oppaar
Jo tujhe yaad kerta hai
Main ne kaha pata nahin
Per sochna bahut achha lagta hai.

Though I had gone there to blog about it, but seeing them recite, I too plunged to recite  my poem on India Pakistan peace, in my debut Mushaira.
A few of its verses are:

Nafrat ki gathri ko mein ney
Phenk diya hai gireh laga ker
Hasrat se ab khol rahi hoon
Yaadon bharey iss thailey ko
Pyaar ki taaza hawa lagaane
Aman ki roshan dhoop dikhane.

Tum bhi aao, kholo apni
Saari gaanthein, saare bull
Tum bhi apne jholey mein se
Bujhe huwe woh deep nikalo
Un yaadon ke, un baaton ke
Un qisson ke, jo itne zyada
Dohratey the jab Nana Dada
Chehre unke damka jaate the
Ankhein unki chamka detey the….

Film Festival : As part of the Film Festival for Mosaic, with a line up of some really wonderful films,  the visitors were  treated with Reload and Jab We met.

With a lot more to come on the remaining three days : http://www.cre8iv80studio.com/index.asp

Category:

Art, Indo-Pak, MOSAIC 2012, Social Issues, Uncategorized

King of fruits~ a twist with the taste !


Hindu Gods claimed it to be the Food of Gods, the emperors and nawabs called it the King of fruits, poets like Ghalib called it pots with honeyed juice , scientist call it Magnifera indica, with all the special names given by special beings.

To the ordinary, however,  it remains a simple ‘Aam’ ( which itself means ‘ordinary’).

What generous qualities is this wonder fruit not bestowed with—soft silky texture, gorgeously golden color, a mesmeric aroma for the olfaction, and a heavenly sweet delight to the taste buds. And not just the quality, in the peak of its season, it comes in abundance, making Aam ( mango), yet another symbol of generosity. And as if these qualities weren’t enough, it comes in hundreds of varieties.

I love the way, when in abundance, mango sells at a reasonable price making it affordable to many if not all the poor.
“Till last week, in Delhi, some variety of mangoes were being sold at as low as Rs 30 per kg,”, tells my Mom. Still in this world of commerce and trade, India though  the greatest producer and remains the largest consumer of mangoes too, with 99% being consumed locally and only 1% is exported.

Thinking of mangoes, mind goes instantly to a few cues—of mango orchards in Rataul,  where one went to eat just mangoes, or of childhood visits to grandparents where buckets of mangoes soaked in cool water waited for our arrival, and of mangoes being brought home by parents in pettis( wooden boxes) and tokras (baskets) not polybags.  Abundance was common to all.

Beyond eating them as it is, mango shake or mango lassi are universal favorites too.

Right from unripe green to a pulpous ripe fruit, mangoes are worthy of being used in a variety of recipes. The strong mango flavour that obstinately stays even after cooking or mixing with other ingredients, makes it stand out and still remain the main ‘hero’ of any recipe.

The itch to break the monotony and use them in different recipes had always been quite intriguing. Having experimented with various recipes, there are some which have hit really well with my folks at home. And now each mango season, their demand is refreshed.

I share here those  household favorites

Aam Panna:  An age-old traditional drink, that elderly claim beats the heat stroke or LOO (in the desi jargon. Made from unripe or semi ripe mangoes, boiled and pulp sieved, which can be used as either sweet (with sugar) or sour ( without sugar). Adding a dash of chunky chaat masala( desi spices), and a twig of mint leaves makes it a great delight. The resultant sweet n sour drink is a great thirst quencher.

Mango-Avocado-Crab Salad: Layered as avocado cubes with crushed garlic at the bottom, mango cubes with ginger juice in the middle, and crab meat sitting on top. The outcome is pretty cool, with much economy of labor and time.

Mango Salsa &  mango chutney with barbecued chicken:
Mango salsa includes tomato and mango cubes, red onion and jalepino pepper with lemon juice and mint or cilantro garnished. The resultant is a colorful, crunchy mix that is hot, sweet and sour.
Mango chutney is made from green mango pulped, and cooked with sugar and achar masala (pickle spices). Vinegar is added as preservative, after it cools.

Mango Crepes &  Waffles: Hot Crepes or waffles with mango cubes and whipped cream or custard.  Kids love it for a weekend breakfast.

Mango Rose: This is almost a decade long favorite dessert  in the house, a must inclusion in the parties arranged in  mango season. The recipe is an in-house creation and hence kept secret :). Got to eat before ask for the recipe.

Happy mango season !

Category:

Food, General, Indo-Pak, Personal

Nirala Sawera


Dedicated to the events :  

Pledge for Peace Launch in UTM, Mississauga, ON.  https://www.facebook.com/events/398846800175596/

Aug 14-15, 2012 Pakistanis, Indians, celebrate Independence Day for Peace
https://www.facebook.com/events/185174041611282/

https://www.facebook.com/groups/amankiasha1/#!/events/243690589069619/

Nafrat ki gathri ko mein ney
Phenk diya hai gireh laga ker
Hasrat se ab khol rahi hoon
Yaadon bharey iss thailey ko
Pyaar ki taaza hawa lagaane
Aman ki roshan dhoop dikhane.

Tum bhi aao, kholo apni
Saari gaanthein, saare bull
Tum bhi apne jholey mein se
Bujhe huwe woh deep nikalo
Un yaadon ke, un baaton ke
Un qisson ke, jo itne zyada
Dohratey the jab Nana Dada
Chehre unke damka jaate the
Ankhein unki chamka detey the.

Usee dhamak ki roshni mein tar
Usee chamak ki lau ko lekar
Mein bhi apna deep jalaaoon
Tum bhi apna diya jalaao
Roshan phir se rahon ko ker dein
Taaron se  khwabon ko bher dein.

Apna apna diya jalaa ker
Saare apne dard bhulaker
Mil ker jab sub saath chalenge
Haath me lekar haath chalenge
Dhal jayegi ghurbat ki sham
Ho paayegi khush haali aam.

Lekin saw nahin, hazaar nahin,
Saath her ek ko chalna hogaa.
Sirf mera ya tumhara nahin,
Diya her ek ka jalna hogaa.
Karoron diye jo saath jalenge,
Dil mein nai umang bharenge.
Pher door jab andhera hogaa,
To kya nirala yeh SAWERA hoga.

Ilmana Fasih
June 6, 2012

Category:

AmanKiAsha, Hindi Poetry, Indo-Pak, MY POETRY, Peace, Personal, Poetry, Politics, Social Issues, URDU POETRY

Pangs of an Indian Pakistani


On departure at Indira Gandhi Airport, New Delhi her father, a man with steel nerves, exclaimed with a mask face, in a matter of fact manner,
“Now that you are going across, own the place, own the people, and own the problems the way you have owned the man from there.”

Without a trace of extra humidity in his eyes, he turned back towards the exit, without waiting for her to cross the immigration line for the last time as an Indian. The daughter, with a heavy heart, stopped to watch till the silhouette of her father, her mentor, blurred into the fog of the pre dawn.

Half a day later, the same day, in the same time zone (with a mere difference in half an hour), the same season, she stepped onto a ‘different’  land she was advised to “own”.

The faces, the attires, the language, the snail-pace of the custom officials was quite similar, with only minor difference in salutation of “Namasteji “ there on departure, while “Assalam Aleikum” here at arrival at Jinnah Terminal, Karachi.

But for her the smell at the airport was distinctly different, so was the taste of water she drank from the cooler, and as she moved out, the afternoon breeze that slapped her for the first time was quite hot and humid, unlike the cool breeze she had felt early morning in Delhi. The feeling within was weird, impossible to explain. It was neither regret nor its antonym.

The details of experience that each of the five senses from smell to touch went through, are still afresh as of today.

Today, it is a bit over 22 years from that day of February 19, 1990. A couple of years from now, she would have lived almost as many years as a Pakistani, as she lived as an Indian. A lot has happened in these 22 years. A lot means a lot.

From a dogged patriotic Indian, who cried hysterically on even a hint of anti Indian sentiments from the countless paroxismally patriotic Pakistanis, she gradually graduated into someone who now feels as hurt or happy for Pakistan as for India.

It did not happen overnight.

“You will find a plethora of stupid reasons to with fight each other, and to vent outside anger at home, but for heaven’s sake, never make India-Pakistan as one of those silly reasons. This will neither make India nor Pakistan any Heaven, but will certainly make your home a Hell.”

This singular advice from a cousin uncle in Karachi, in the same situation, did not mean much to her, when it was said. However the golden words found numerous occasions to rebroadcast themselves in her head, pleading reason to maintain sanity.

More than anything else, what must have really transformed her was perhaps the dignity and poise with which her Pakistani spouse literally faced and braved the reciprocal mocking and even bullying from patriotic Indians, relatives or otherwise. If she got perturbed and came to his rescue, he would set her aside with a whisper: “Oral diarrhoea, beyond their control.”

For those who wished to discuss India Pakistan with a level of objectivity, and understanding, they both reversed their roles. They were, and in fact still are, the unsaid ambassadors of the other side in their countries of birth, attempting to bust the myths, and distortions piled up over decades.

However, they still find a sizable ‘visionaries’ on both sides, which never seem to budge from unseen prejudices. Their dogged convictions tend to take comical discourse…

“I know it. I am telling you….”
“How can you be so sure? You haven’t been there. I have lived there.”
“No, but I am sure. I know.”

One wonders if she has still learnt to laugh it off, like her husband. But certainly the pangs of the pain are a lot less.

Not only did they not fight at home on this, they even gave their children the space to choose their preferences through experience. Unlike a typical mother, who would glorify her mother’s side, while demonise her in laws place; it was a conscious effort on her part not to confuse the identity of her kids. It was perhaps as a concerned mother, that she wanted her children to love their homeland as much as she loved hers as a kid.

Seeing is believing, and her two grownups now take pride to announce “We love India, but we own Pakistan” not just in words, but in their actions too.(The wrath the two of them have faced since childhood, because of their parents identities,  till date, would be another saga, best narrated by themselves).

However, not being a super human, what she has really not learnt to laugh off is the message of ‘not’ belonging to Pakistan or to India, which she receives, off and on, bluntly or subtly.

Cricket matches, which boil passions on each side, almost always place her on a pedestal where her allegiance is questioned, at every expression verbal or facial, both home and abroad.

Having strong opinions on political and social issues and a compulsion to vocalize critical views has its own price to pay, if you happen to be a ‘fortunate’ Indian Pakistani. Objectivity is not your prerogative, and to presume “You’re being biased”,  is everyone else’s.  They are always right, and you are always wrong.

“We thought you became a Pakistani”, “Didn’t you give up your nationality?”, “Does it not happens in your India?” “Worry about your Pakistan.” are just few of the judgements that are hurled at her, time and again.

Is it that being a Pakistani by birth, better than being a Pakistani by choice?

Is it that the passport being taken away makes her twenty four years of being born, grown up and groomed as Indian meaningless? Does the soul to be an Indian, also needs a passport?

Or is it that possession of passport of one side bars one to belong to the other side by virtue of birth.

Or is it  being both an Indian Pakistani at the same time, an anathema, worthy of being distrusted?

She would be lying, if she said she accepted these meaningless comments with a big heart. It pains, it really pains. Sometimes it pains a lot more.

Time and again, such off hand comments serve as a reality check for her that ‘no matter how much she may boast that she belongs to both the lands, she is owned by none’.

Going back to her seemingly emotionless father, she was later told by her Mom, on the way back home, he had remarked in a heavy voice:

“The loud mouth that she is, she will certainly be a loss to us, but she will not be a gain, and more of a pain for the other side.”

P.S. This cry is not directed at any single person or incident, but at a pattern of reactions that shoot, off and on, owing to an identical mindset which many many on both sides share. However, it is  the  understanding & acceptance from  friends both ‘real or ‘virtual’ who make our ordeal worthwhile.

Category:

India, Indo-Pak, Pakistan, Peace, Personal

Moin Bhai Dilliwala, a tribute to Moin Akhter


As if the year passed in a stroke. It is hard to come to terms that one year has passed since Moin Akhter left us.

A stand up comedian who took the art to a level whose altitude is hard for any other actor  to surmount.

As a family friend there are countless small and big moments to cherish,  which are no less pleasant and hilarious, than his performances.

Actions speak louder than words, hence Moin in action, not words is the best way to pay tribute to him.

I pay homage to this monument of Comedy called Moin Akhter through my favourite piece.

The episode touched me, and related to me in more than one way.

First it was one of the million brilliant performances as a Dilliwala by Moin Bhai, who often chose to speak to me exclusively in a Dilli wali wisko, jisko dialect.
Being a Delhiite, what could be more pleasing, than see his genius turn into ‘mere sheher wala’ at a flicker, both on and off the screen.

Secondly, being an Indian-Pakistani, this Indo-Pak collaboration where Moin acts as a Dilliwala who migrated to Karachi,Pakistan, and the brilliant comedian Javed Jaffery representing a Dilliwala residing in Delhi, India, I found it so close to my own life.

Thirdly, it is a perfect example to showcase how the two Delhi cultures survive thousands of miles apart, and yet distorted  in their own ways.

Fourthly, the interaction between these two Dilliwalas also showcases the ground reality of how the two countries relate to each other in a love-hate relationship through cricket.

Last but certainly the most important reason, why  I emotionally fell for the episode, is the of Indo-Pak visa, and how the Indian Dilliwala,  used cricket as an easy way out to jump the grueling process of obtaining a visa to meet his near and dear ones on the other side of the border.

For those who have to go through this ordeal can very well relate to how the visa process acts as a heartless wall between the loved ones conjoined in heart, yet separated by the political border.

Friend or no friend of Moin Bhai, Dilliwala or no Dilliwala, cricket match new or old, I am sure everyone will be as thrilled to watch it as I am even after having viewed it over a dozen  times previously. (Many will  find it exaggerated, but perhaps comedy is always so  🙂 ).

P.S. My special apologies to my non-Urdu/ Hindi understanding Blog followers and friends.  I wish I could translate the episode, and could share with you the thrill of watching the pure genius, the king of stand up comedy in Pakistan, who was also a personal friend, mimic like a typical  resident of the walled city of Old-Delhi, my city.

Part-1

 

Part-2

Category:

Art, Cricket, CULTURE, Humour, Indo-Pak, Uncategorized