#metoo even though I wish I could say #not me.

I have been thinking long and hard. I have read through every #metoo post that has appeared on my timeline in the last few days. I have felt the pain in each of them, I have understood the anger behind every story, and, needless to say, I see myself or someone I know in all of them. Even though I always knew molestation, harassment, and sexual abuse is rampant, these stories have filled me with a deep sense of helplessness. Or should I say fatigue?

Fatigue of fighting all the time. Fatigue of watching my back every second of the day. Fatigue of looking at every man with suspicion. Fatigue of checking on the eye and hand movements of every friend and relative who is close to me, my sister, my daughter, my niece, my friend, my cousin…

I was never taught to stay quiet about the wrong that was done to me. But I was also not categorically told what to do if someone tried to violate my body. Hell! The subject was never even spoken about at home. And with no elder sister, aunt or cousin, I was left to figure things out on my own. Whether it was the 45 year old, seemingly educated and gentle looking tenant at my aunt’s place, or the doctor who operated upon me at 14 — I remember every touch that has made me uncomfortable. But I did not know what to do about it. I did not know I could tell the elders about it, or share it with my friends. All I could do was cringe and wince, and pray to god that I do not have to face the person ever again.

And so, even though I was never taught to stay quiet, I did. Because I did not know any better.

I kept quiet when my math teacher routinely stood behind me and placed his hand on my back, feeling up my bra strap. I kept quiet when some random man flashed at me inside a museum in Calcutta in broad day light. I kept quiet when the lecherous gaze of my father’s young cousins scared me out if my wits. I kept quiet when I was told that I was too grown up for my age. I said nothing when I was groped in the middle of the road or touched in the dark of a movie hall. I even stayed quiet about the man who stalked me every morning for over a year. In retrospect it was such a stupid thing to do, but at that time I did not think so.

Initially these incidents troubled me — as they would trouble anyone. Later, however, they became a part of life. Sometimes I remembered them, sometimes I forgot about them. But I never spoke about any of them, for I always believed that it was something that happened only to me and hence it should be my fault.

It was much later that I realized how every girl I knew had a story to share. Well almost. The friend who’s uncle regularly felt her up right in the middle of family get togethers. The class-mate who’s cousin almost raped her. The cousin whose cousin who she found naked next to her one night. Everyone had a story to share but none of them had told anyone about it. The reason? The same feeling of guilt and shame, and the belief that reporting it may cause families to break.

I do not know who told them that the family was more important that their dignity or well being, but somehow the belief was conveyed and so like me they had stayed quiet too.

But I also found those who taught me to fight. Like the cousin who chased an auto guy who had passed lewd comments on her and pulled him out of the auto to kick him in his stomach before handing him over to the police. Or the friend who told me how I ought to stand up for myself and fight back the man who was trying to come too close. Even though I succeeded in doing so, and hitting, fighting, and protecting myself, I cannot say the same about the others.

I really don’t know if #metoo is going to change anything. Maybe like most internet movements this too will die its own death. Or maybe it will make a small little dent somewhere. Maybe it will succeed in bringing forth the magnitude of the problem. Every change begins with acceptance and talking is the first step to changing. Or so we can hope.

And yes, #metoo. Like everyone else. And I really hope there are more #notme than #metoo.

In Gods Own Home

Miles and miles of fluorescent green paddy fields covered in mist. A gleaming white Pagoda in the horizon. Impossibly blue skies with cotton candy clouds floating in and out of the frame. Patches of fluffy Kaash phool swaying to mild autumn breeze. And, among all this, the serpent of a road slithering majestically. No, I am not talking about some exotic location in the heart of the Indian Ocean, but a humble highway that is taking me from the capital city of Odhisha to the home of Lord Jagannath, Puri.

I have started my journey for Puri at 5 in the morning rather reluctantly — after a 24-hour long train ride, all I wanted was to sleep — but just twenty minutes into the drive, I am already glad that I have decided to spend my morning on this road rather than in the uncomfortable hotel bed. The hour-long drive turns out to be one of the most picturesque drives that I have taken in a long time.

Jagannath Puri, or Puri, as it is commonly known is a tiny town at the eastern edge of the country. Geographically, it is just another coastal town like many others in the state of Odhisha. But, historically, spiritually, and religiously it is one of the most important places in the country. It is, after all, the abode of Lord Jagannath, and one of the oldest cities in the Indian subcontinent.

All roads in Puri, naturally enough, lead to only one place — the Jagganath Temple. And all action is concentrated along the main street called boro dhandoo. at the end of which stands the imposing three-tired Jagannath temple.

We arrive at the main street, boro dhandoo, a little before seven and even though I want to drive all the way until the temple, we realize that cars cannot go beyond a certain point. It is holiday season and I expect the street to be narrow, claustrophobic, crowded, messy and chaotic. The breadth of boro dhandoo however defies whatever I have seen and experienced about temple towns until now. What I see along its length however is starkly similar: beggars, lepers, hawkers, vendors, policemen, rickshaw pullers, food sellers — all seem to co-exist comfortably along the margins of Puri’s lifeline. Soon we become a part of them.

According to folklore, Puri is believed to be the home to Lord Vishnu. It is said that the idol of Lord Jagannath, another form of Vishnu, or Krishna, had manifested itself at the shores of Puri in the Vedic times. Later, when Adi Shankaracharaya was laying the foundation of the four dhams, he made Puri the home of Vishnu. Some other estimates claim that the temple is more recent, and that a local ruler had built it about 900 years ago, in the 12^th century. But everyone agrees with one thing — the temple has relics of Gods, which are the life force of the idols here. Those who frequent the place, also claim that unexplained energy can be felt inside the sanctum sanctorum of the temple. Being a sceptic, I have doubts

The temple stands along the Bay of Bengal, built on high platform enclosed by a high boundary. Four gates, one on each side, guard the complex. The Lion gate, or the Eastern gate, happens to be the main entrance and is adorned by large Lion statues and a tall monolith pillar called the Aruna Stambha. It is flanked by umpteen shops selling prasad and flowers, doubling up as shoe stands. There are cows too, scores of them sitting leisurely watching the world go by. The interior however, is surprisingly clean and organized.

What I find interesting about the place is its unique form. The sprawling complex is divided into several sections and hundreds of small shrines dot the complex, each complete with its own deity and priest. In front of every shrine I see a congregation of people — mostly poor — with their hands folded and heads bowed, as if asking the Gods to rid them of their miseries. I wonder if God can really help them.

Whether or not God can help the pilgrims, the priests here surely claim to help people get closer to God.

The priests happen to be most powerful set of people inside the Jagannath temple complex. They are infamous world over for extracting huge sums of money as dakshina from innocent pilgrims in lieu of helping them connect with God and thus getting rid of their miseries.

Even as we walk past the shrines towards the main sanctum, a group of priests appears out of thin air. They ask, in Hindi, if we’d like to pray for our ancestor’s peace, or our children’s prosperity. Upon refusing, they insist that we do: what is the point of travelling so far if you do not worship? My husband’s knowledge of Oriya comes in handy at this point and he tells them off quietly yet assertively.

The main hall of the temple happens to be much less crowded than I had expected it to be. With its walls, pillars, and ceilings covered in traditional pattachitra paintings, it looks pleasantly vibrant. The sanctum is different too — a large dark hall devoid of any ornamentation and decoration. Other than a sea of people — this part of the temple is crowded — there is nothing between the Gods and you.

Unwilling to fight the crowd of devotees and priest, I decide to stand at the threshold of the sanctum, and directly look into the eyes of the deities. Even as I look at them transfixed by their sheer magnitude and grandeur, I can feel the energy and the power of this place in my gut. I now know why they say that the Gods reside in Puri.
*

This post first appeared in The Week. 

This Mental Health Week, Learn How To Tame Your Mind

-->

It happens so quietly that you cannot prepare for it, and before you know, you are enveloped in its grip so tight that escaping seems impossible. So what does one do? Does one sit in a corner with the head bowed, eyes shut, and arms tightly wrapped, waiting for it to leave, or does one stand up and fight?

Battling with anxiety, stress, and depression can be hard, but it is not impossible. With a little care, awareness, and self love, you can manage, if not overcome, the perpetual feeling of despair. How do I know? Well, I do it every day.

Stress, anxiety and depression are the three demons of modern times trapping more and more people in their clutches every passing day. National Institute of Mental Health describes depression as "a common but serious mood disorder that causes severe symptoms that affect how you feel, think, and handle daily activities, such as sleeping, eating, or working". According to a WHO report almost 36% of people in India suffer from some form of depression, most of them young and at the peak of their lives.

Here are some things that really work.

1. Accept.

Acceptance is the beginning of healing. You can, of course, ask 'why me?' or gloat in self pity, or you can take it in your stride and move ahead. Mental disturbances are no more than physical disorders. They are often caused by chemical imbalance in the brain, or external triggers just like physical disorders, and just like physical disorder, they can happen to any of us -- some are affected more than the others, and some deal with them better than others. Accepting it makes a whole lot of difference. So breathe deep, smile wide, and embrace yourself wholeheartedly.

2. Share.

Having someone who understands makes a lot of difference. If you are not comfortable sharing your feelings with immediate family, spouse, or even close friends, reach out to a support group. There are numerous mental well-being communities worldwide that extend help and support. Look them up online, connect with them on social media, or be an active physical member, the choice is yours. Knowing you are not alone always makes you feel better and more confident.

3. Identify Your Triggers.

Most episodes of extreme stress, anxiety, and deep depression are followed by a trigger. The trigger could be an intangible feeling or fear, or a more concrete situation. Is it fatigue, or feeling out of control that does it for you? Or is it coming face to face with an unpleasant situation or person that pushes the wrong buttons? Recognizing what triggers the discomfort and despair helps not only dealing with them better, but also preventing the feeling to a large extent.

It feels good when people understand you. Or at least try to. When they trust you and believe you. When instead of doling out advice, they listen. Sometimes all you need is someone to talk to without the fear of judgment.

4. Pursue A Hobby. 

Doing what you love doing is a great and easy way to feel good. Investing time in yourself is proven to make you feel more positive and happier. Recall a long forgotten passion and revive it. Music, arts, dancing, gardening, philately, travel, writing, poetry, pottery -- all of them are ways of healing and feeling positive. Join online and offline communities and connect with people who share your love. Creating something new, even as an ametuear, gives you a feeling of accomplishment which goes a long way in ensuring metal well being.

5. Walk. Run. Work-out. 

Picking yourself up and stepping out for a run is the last thing you'd want to do on a bad day, but trust me, once you have overcome that hurdle, rest will be much easier. Studies have shown that physical activity helps the body produce endorphins, hormones that promote feeling of happiness and euphoria. According to NCBI "Exercise improves mental health by reducing anxiety, depression, and negative mood and by improving self-esteem and cognitive function." If running or working out seems impossible, just step out for a walk in the park -- looking at the green grass and blue sky will do you more good that you can imagine.

6. Love Yourself. Unconditionally.

We live in times where loving ourselves is not the easiest thing to do. The perfection portrayed in the media, films, and social media makes it even more difficult to appreciate our imperfections and flaws. The trick is to understand that what is portrayed is not always complete, and that perfection may not always be possible. Knowing our limitations and capabilities helps us appreciate the flaws in others too. Love yourself unconditionally no matter what and the rest will follow.

Note: While these are ways and methods to manage your condition, the importance of professional help cannot, and should not, be ruled out. Seeking medical attention, or help from mental health practitioners -- counselors, psychiatrist, phycologists -- is important to ensure you feel and perform at your best.

Calcutta’s Must-Try Street Food in Durga Puja

Come Puja and the city of Calcutta turns into a life-size food court. Streets are lined with stalls, people queue outside eateries, and plates full of food are passed between family and friends. Then there is bhog, the most important part of any Puja. On some days it comprises of simple khichdi and labda, on others it is a lavish fare of mutton curry, luchis, sweets, rice, and payesh, the Bengali version of kheer. While most of the country fasts during this time, Calcutta feasts and why not, food after all is an integral part of any celebration—in Calcutta no celebration is bigger than the homecoming of the goddess and her children.

So whether you are busy hopping from Pandal to Pandal appreciating the art, craft and beauty of the festival, or walking miles in search of a taxi and cursing the drivers for quoting obscene amounts, food remains a constant companion throughout. It however changes forms depending upon which part of the town you are in – the posh south or the more down to earth north.

While eateries in Calcutta are open all night during the Puja but even at 2:00 AM you may not get space to sit in a restaurant. Street food therefore is your best bet. It is fresh, it is authentic, and you’d never have to wait for more than a few minutes.

Here’s a list of things you must try this Durga Puja.



Rolls, Chowmein, Chops & Cutlets

Everyone who knows Calcutta knows about its rolls. Flacky parathas filled with chunky chicken, fried egg, and sliced onions, seasoned with ketchup and chillies, and wrapped in a butter paper are found everywhere, especially during the Puja. These rolls define Calcutta in one bite. The huge griddle is also used to dish out spicy noodles tossed with julienned vegetables, eggs and shreds of meat and topped with chili and tomato sauce. No one makes roadside noodles like Calcutta does.

Chops and Cutlets are slightly more subtle. Made with Chicken, Fish, or vegetable mince, they are coated in bread-crumbs and are deep fried before being handed over to you with kasundhi, salad, and rock salt. The egg devil however, is a different devil altogether – boiled egg, coated in spicy potato mix, rolled in breadcrumbs and deep-fried. Think twice before you order the second helping of this one.



Puchka, Jhaal Muri, Alu-Kabli
No trip to Calcutta can be complete without the three essentials — puchka, jhaal muri, and alu-kabli. While Alu-kabli – a mishmash of chopped boiled potatoes, chickpeas, onions and cucumber, seasoned with green chilli, cumin powder and tamarind water – is the city’s favourite snack, the Puchka needs no introduction.

Calcutta’s Puchkas are in a league of their own – large, crisp, and filled with zingy potatoes and tangy water. Every pandal has at least half a dozen puchka sellers lined up, and each one of them has at least a dozen people waiting their turn. That’s is a lot of puchkas!

Jhaal muri comes next. A mixture of various textures and flavours in a base of puffed rice, peanuts & potatoes, the bhel like mixture hits you hard if you are not used to it. The secret is in the raw mustard oil added in generous quantities. The jhaal muri is the quintessential snack that keeps you company as you walk through the Pandal, or during the day-long adda session outside a pandal.



Chicken Korma and Biryani.

Calcutta loves Biryani like no one else does. No, not even Hyderabad or Lucknow. And in Puja, the demand for it hits an all time high. When the popular joints struggle to keep pace with the city’s insatiable hunger, the street side vendors spring in action and set up stalls outside the pandals. More often than not their Biryani is better than the most famous names in the city. This Biryani, kept on low flame in giant pots, is had best with chicken korma offered by the same stalls.

These Succulent pieces of chicken smothered in thick gravy, pan fried and doled out on steel plates can also be eaten with rice or luchi, but as I said have it with biryani for complete Puja indulgence.




Sondesh, Mishti-Doi, Rosgulla

It is hard to say if the Durga Puja started earlier in Bengal or does the love for sweets of the Bengali predates the love for celebration of the Godess’ homecoming, but one thing is for sure: there can be no celebration without Mishti. 

Every street in Calcutta boasts of its own sweet shop, and every neighbourhood has a favourite Mishtir Dokan. Make the most of the city’s sweet obsession and gorge on the famous Mishti doi, Rosogulla, and Sondesh. While at it, also try the local version of the Samosa, Singhara, and some lesser-known sweets like Shorbhaja, Ladykeni, and kacha gola.

Remember though, that sometimes these shops maybe hidden behind the pandals. Do not hesitate to ask a local for the nearest sweet shop, chances are they’d walk you there themselves.

A version of this post appeared on The Huffington Post.