I, My Dad and Cinema

Recently when my nieces visited us, my dad was watching a film sitting in a reclining chair and I was reading a book sitting behind him in a sofa.  Soon after they entered the room they asked my dad, the title of the film and when he did not respond, they asked me the same question.  I didn’t know what film my dad was watching and he didn’t know that I was also in the same room. My nieces felt it was funny.  This episode reminded me of my childhood.

I was born in the pre-television days.  TV was introduced in Madras when I was around five or six years old.  I am sure the present generation cannot comprehend a situation like that.  Shopping, chatting over phone, or even eating out were not considered entertainment options and video games and computers were also unknown.  The only source of entertainment was cinema. 

A few years before I was born, my parents shifted to the suburbs by building a house in a coconut grove.  They managed to live without electricity initially for a few months.  There were no roads, no water supply, no sewerage facility and not many houses in the vicinity.  My dad had to work for long hours and returned home very late every evening.  Most of the days, I was fast asleep when he returned.  On days he returned home early, he desired to watch a film.  Whenever he expressed this to my mother, she objected.  I wonder why he never went to watch films straight after work.  There was no way my mother could have found out if he had done that.  A friend of mine jokingly says that we should be descendants of Satya Harischandra!  Those days we did not have running water, domestic help or any gadgets at home and managing home was literally a fulltime job. My mother who was very tired with the chores, got angry with my dad for being away from home most of the time and agreed to let my dad watch a film if he had taken any one of us, with him.  (The term “us” includes me, my brother and my sister.)  My eldest brother is not included in this definition, as he was by then quite grown up and independent.  My dad mostly opted to take me with him, obviously because I was the least troublesome.  My mother too agreed, as she was relieved from protecting me from my siblings who were hyperactive, aggressive and mischievous.

My dad filled his shirt pocket with tiny biscuits and carried me on his shoulders and walked through a mango grove which is now the world famous Prasad Colour Lab.  Though it was fenced, literally everyone walked through it, as there was no connecting road to Arunachalam Road (Seeing the plight, L.V.Prasad had donated a piece of his land for a road before the lab was constructed).  My dad then took me to a tent.  I am unable to recollect the exact place where the tent existed, but it was diagonally opposite to the now Prasad Lab.  Most of the days, by the time we reached the tent, the screening had begun.  My dad was not very particular about watching the film from the beginning.  At whatever time we went, my dad was always offered a seat in the last row. He was very much respected in the locality. Most of the audience present there were farmers, agricultural and construction labourers – natives of the Saligramam village or workers in the film studios nearby.  My dad was absolutely not class conscious, even though he was working for the President of India at that time.  He would settle in his chair and place me on his lap.  I would sit facing my dad, turning my back to the screen and eat the goodies from his pocket one after the other and not disturb him for anything as he watched the film.  I never bothered him by asking for popcorn or cold drinks or never cried when there were screams in the film or never demanded to be taken back home while he watched.  I kept myself busy on his lap and after a while would fall asleep.  Once the film was over, he would carry me back home.  Though I accompanied my dad several times to the tent, believe me, I had not watched any of those films.  Probably they were all MGR films.

Coming to the present, my dad and I have very different tastes, particularly with regard to films.  My dad loves action and romantic films, while I can relate only to realistic films.  My dad loves watching the same film again and again and I cannot see the same film twice, unless it is an official assignment.  My dad watches James Bond, Jackie Chan, Sci-fi English films and also Indian films like Baasha, Pokiri, Athadu, Vikramarka, Badri, Parugu, Adurs etc. several times and every time he does, he does it with the same interest of watching it for the first time. 

When my dad now watches his favourite films I still turn my back to the screen and engage in reading or just get out of the room.

Sorry my dear friends!

In the two organizations I have worked till date, the lunch sessions are mostly separate for women and men.  We girls get complete privacy and all of us get into a festive mood, the moment the lunch session starts.  We share food, discuss recipes, crack jokes, plan work, exchange ideas, console each other in times of crises etc.    Despite all this, some times I feel out of place, particularly when my friends start discussing their in-laws; the “mother-in-law” and “sister-in-law”.

My grandmother died much before I was born and so I have never seen my mother complaining, about my grandmother.  I have seen maid servants in the neighbourhood using foul language and cursing their husbands and in-laws hysterically and always thought that such behaviour was associated with that class.  Alas! I was mistaken.  As my friends started getting married and they settled in their new homes, I started seeing a different picture.  Irrespective of the educational background, financial status or upbringing, the disposition of all the girls when it comes to their in-laws is the same.  Initially, I thought the person cribbing was really being harassed, resulting in her emotional outburst and I remained a mute spectator, sympathizing with her and not knowing how to offer a solution.  Over a period of time, I started feeling that all these ladies are going a little overboard and started to look deeper into the problem.

My observations are;

Ø      Women don’t relate to their husband’s home.  Though they live physically with their husbands, they mentally continue to live with their parents.  Their umbilical cord is yet to be cut and have no sense of belonging with their new home.

Ø      Refuse to graduate from the honeymoon stage and expect the same kind of pampering from their husbands throughout.

Ø      Play control games with inputs from mothers, sisters and like minded friends.

Ø      Magnify or exaggerate and manipulate problems based on others’ experiences.

Ø      No value for privacy.  Thanks to technology, discuss every happening with mothers, sisters and friends, leading to misunderstanding with the spouse. 

Ø      Love has become more conditional resulting in disappearance of the magic in love.

The four major components of a marital relationship are 1) Trust 2) Bonding 3) Love and 4) Intimacy and one leads to another in the same order and it is mutual and both partners are responsible to nurture the relationship.  When one lags behind, the other has got to stretch to maintain the balance and there lies the secret to the success of a marriage.

No respectable man would like his wife insulting his parents or his other family members and that too for not a serious reason.  This will slowly result in him losing trust in his wife and the bond weakens and the love disappears and the intimacy ends.  Though I have expressed it in a very curt manner, this is the cycle of decline of a relationship. 

Whenever I advice, my friends say being single, I have no moral right to advice them and if at all I am desperate to advice, I should do it as a married woman.  My best buddy at work says that if I happen to marry, I would die on the same night of my wedding (please don’t read between lines) as she feels that my stress threshold is low.

Let me tell you, life is a struggle, irrespective of the marital status.  I continue to live with my parents and I face almost all problems the other married women face at home.  When I face problems; I express, I discuss, I explain, I argue, I fight, I protest and at times withdraw.  Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I compromise.  But the difference is, I don’t bitch about my parents and continue to love them and discharge my responsibilities towards them. 

Sorry my friends, I know you would all be upset to read this.  But this is what I feel about the problem.  I don’t want you to think that I am a traditionalist and I am advocating a stereotypical role for women.  No.   You have every right to stick to your  maiden surname, not to wear traditional symbols of marriage, not to move out of your parents’ home or to stay away from your in-laws or to maintain a separate bank account or  manage your time or whatever you want to do.  But for heaven’s sake, please love and respect your partner and stop bitching. When you face problems, handle them.

Let me share a secret with you! All boys stop interacting with their parents by the time they are out of school and start giving importance to them only after the marriage and that too after seeing the wife giving importance to her parents.  When women start bitching about the in-laws, the men’s ego gets hurt and they start giving undue importance to their own parents.  Moral of the story; your bad behaviour results in more respect for your in-laws!

A note to men:  You are transplanting a fully grown adult from a familiar and comfortable territory to a foreign territory and it is your responsibility to induct her into a new life.  She is your better half and please don’t leave her to your parents.  Remember, she is in your home because of you.   

The marriage laws in India are very rigid and marriage is still revered as an institution and divorces are still considered a stigma and hence you are all protected.  Please don’t take your marriages for granted.  The future of a healthy society depends on healthy families and to have them, you need to have a healthy relationship with your spouses and set a good example for your children.

Life is precious – enjoy it to the fullest!

THE VEIL

We see many burqa clad women in malls, shopping centres, schools, airports, railway stations and on roads these days and if we assume that more and more Muslim women are coming out, I think we are wrong.  I don’t have the statistics to prove my point but I make this statement based on my personal observation.

I had recently encountered a burqa clad women in a supermarket. She lifted her veil for a few minutes to speak to the girl at the counter.  Her face was very familiar, but I could not recollect who she was.  In the process to identify her, I started thinking about all the Muslim women I have known.

Right from my childhood, we had Muslim neighbours, but I do not remember any of them wearing a burqa.   The women in those houses too draped the saree exactly the same way my mother and all other women, irrespective of the religion or caste, in the neighbourhood did.  The only difference was they did not wear a bindi on their foreheads.  Only on occasions they stepped out of their homes, they covered their head with the end of the saree and when they traveled, they draped a white hakoba shawl covering their head and shoulders.  They mingled freely with us and they were familiar with Hindu customs and culture.

Things are a little different now.  Independent houses are slowly vanishing and apartments are sprouting in their place and people now prefer homogeneous neighbours.  I feel we were more cosmopolitan earlier, than now.

A decade ago, a Muslim lady used to travel with me in the city bus everyday.  She was a lecturer in one of the colleges in Chennai.  Though I never interacted with her, I saw her almost everyday.  She lived in a house on the main road leading to the bus terminus, where we boarded the bus.  I learnt that she was a Muslim only from the name board on her house.  On several occasions, I had seen her walking the dog or watering plants in her garden in casuals and sometimes in the defacto national dress of our country, the nightie and every time I heard people talking about suppression of women in Islam, I thought of her.  She was apparently very modern and liberated.

Yes.  She is the same lady I met in the supermarket, but I am yet to come to terms that she could ever wear a veil. 

To be honest, whenever I drive my scooter in hot sun, I am tempted to wear a burqa to protect myself from scorching sun.  The burqa probably was designed for that purpose I think, as the temperature in the middle-east is very high where Islam originated. 

I know wearing a burqa is an individual’s prerogative, but I don’t know what motivated this lady in reference to do it. I don’t know whether she volunteered to go behind the veil or she has been forced to by her family. Whatever be the case, I am sad. If an erudite and an empowered lady has to take this, what would be the predicament of those who are not? What would be its impact on women of other religions of the world, particularly when a global culture is evolving?  Will the world be divided into two or will the women be suppressed again?

STATUS – SINGLE

“Chehra gora, baal lambe aur ankhein bade” (fair complexion, long hair and large eyes) says Shabana Azmi to a visually challenged Naseeruddin Shah in the Hindi film Sparsh, while discussing the yardsticks of beauty in India.

Many wonder why I have remained single, though I conform to the beauty standards mentioned above.  It is hard for people to believe that I have chosen to remain single.  I can understand the anxiety of my parents, siblings and a few other well wishers, but cannot comprehend the curiosity of others.  Every time I get introduced to a person, inevitably I am questioned about my marital status.  When I took a decision to remain single, I told myself to be prepared to face the music.  It is not just me, who has got bored answering this question, but my family members and some close friends who are constantly grilled about this are fed up.  What surprises me is that my status is discussed with the same intensity of a national calamity.  There is an adage in Telugu which says a person answering automatically becomes a subordinate to the one questioning. Many times out of respect and out of civility, I become a subordinate and answer patiently.

The toughest part is listening to advice sessions. Strangely, the easiest thing in the world is advising and the most difficult; listening to it.  My family and my best friends, who I consider as my extended family, have accepted me for who I am.  But, some of my acquaintances and relatives feel sad that they are unable to influence me. 

In my previous assignment, the Management of the Organization I was working for had arranged for a HR programme for the employees.  The agenda was not discussed with any of the participants before the programme commenced.    The person who conducted the programme is a reputed HR Consultant and a qualified Psychiatrist.  The programme was designed based on the hypothesis that, productivity at work place is directly proportional to harmony at home, particularly marital harmony.  So, the Consultant was hired to set right the marital problems of the employees, thus increasing productivity. After conducting a few games and when the participants were at ease, the Consultant started discussing problems the participants faced at home.  The participants suddenly became uninhibited and started complaining about so many funny problems they experienced at home, which varied from not getting an extra cup of coffee, to domestic violence, to the influence of in-laws on their spouses’ etc.   Suddenly, a colleague of mine asked the Consultant if matrimony and happiness were mutually exclusive.  A friend of this colleague in reference was unmarried and was apparently very happy.  My colleague doubted whether the friend was really happy or was pretending to be happy and asked the Consultant if a person can really be happy by being single.  Many of the participants, including me thought he was referring to me, but when the Consultant asked if that friend was present in the audience, and my colleague said “No”, I was relieved.  I did not want to be the subject of a public debate.  The Consultant did not want to discuss the subject elaborately, as he felt it was irrelevant, but said he was not supportive of some one remaining single, as he felt that, there would be a vacuum in life, because of which there would be no happiness.  When he said this, my colleagues who kept advising me to marry, looked at me with pride.  For average Indians, anything said from a dais over a mike is a gospel.  I thought my colleagues would take my life off me that afternoon.  Several other problems were discussed; many people cried on the Consultant’s shoulder and he offered them solutions instantly.

During the lunch break, my colleagues pounced on me as I had anticipated.  They complained that I don’t take them seriously and quoted what the Consultant had said about singletons and advised me to take him seriously and plan to marry.  Though I had remained a mute spectator throughout the programme as the problems discussed were irrelevant to me, I had listened to every problem that was discussed and analyzed the solutions given by the Consultant.  When a participant, complained about harassment from the society in general and her in-laws in particular about her being childless for several years of her marriage, the Consultant was very empathizing.  He consoled her by stating that, Indians are very conservative and cannot accept the fact that a couple can lead a happy life without procreating and that she has to learn to live happily with her husband, forgetting about what the society and her in-laws say about her condition.  He also told the audience that he was childless, but still leading a happy life.  This was a clear case of subjective thinking.  Taking a clue from this, I argued with my friends.  I told them that the consultant had married at the appropriate time and hence, he didn’t have the experience of being single, but he has managed without children, so he was confident that people can lead life without children.  I told them that solitude was beyond the Consultant’s imagination. They were speechless. 

THE JOY OF GIVING

My most favourite mythological character is Karna.  I don’t know whether it is the screenplay of the Tamil film “Karnan” or a story I read as a young girl that influenced me.  The story goes like this;

A rich man, who is also a connoisseur of art, organizes a Harikatha (a composite art form comprising story telling, poetry, music, dance and philosophy) before an invited audience at his home.  Impressed with the performance, he decides to reward the performer and gets into his room, opens the safe and brings out some gold coins and places them in the tray with the Tamboolam (Betel leaves with areca nuts given to a guest traditionally). Within a few minutes, the host changes his mind and replaces the gold with silver and again silver with a few currency notes.  Observing this and understanding the wavering mind of the host, the performer narrates an episode from the life of Karna, extempore.

A poor Brahmin visits Karna’s palace, seeking alms.  At that time, Karna, who is known for his generosity and righteousness, is massaging his body with oil from a silver bowl.  On seeing the poor man, Karna offers the silver bowl in his left hand, spontaneously.  The Brahmin objects to this and requests Karna to use his right hand for donating, as using the left hand is considered inauspicious.  Karna justifies his stance by stating that the human mind is always wavering and while he changes the bowl to his right hand, there are chances of him changing his mind and refrain from gifting such a precious bowl to a stranger and that gifting/donating should always be spontaneous.

The host having understood the hidden meaning in the story narrated out of context and rewards the performer with gold, as planned originally.

Giving results in joy for both the parties concerned.  I thoroughly enjoy giving or rather sharing.  I was induced into this activity mainly by two persons; i) my neighbour’s father and ii) my father’s friend’s wife.

My neighbour’s father “Tatagaru” (Grandpa) as we all addressed him was a farmer, who shifted from his native village in coastal Andhra to Madras with his only son, who was into publishing and film production.  The son established his office in the first floor of his residence.  Those were the pre-computer days and all manuscripts were written by hand and composing was done manually and there was a significant wastage of stationery in both the publication and film production departments. Tatagaru visited the office every evening after office hours and salvaged one sided papers, small pencils, pens, refills etc from the bins.  He sorted out the one sided papers and made note pads with them.  He sharpened the pencils, changed nibs or caps for ink pens and took all these and waited outside the gate of a nearby public school.  The students, most of them from lower middle class gathered around him to collect the scrap note pads, used pencils and pens from Tatagaru.  Tatagaru also filled his pockets with toffees, candies and pepper mints every time he stepped out of the house and was chased by young children on the road with raised hands shouting “Tata Tata” expecting to receive the goodies and Tatagaru happily gave it to them.  I saw the “joy of giving” in his eyes.

The other person who inspired me is my father’s friend’s wife.  She never sent any visitor to her home empty handed.  When I went with my father to their house as a small girl, she gifted me a few hair clips and a pack of kerchiefs, which I preserved for a long time.  I enjoyed receiving them from her and I decided I would spread the joy I experienced, to the people around me.

I love to see the sparkle in the eyes of people while they receive gifts from me.

Though I have never discussed “Karna” with my parents, they are worried that, I would emulate him.  My parents, particularly my mother doesn’t approve my spending on gifts.  She feels that, I am suffering from some compulsive disorder and just the way Lord Indra and Lord Krishna took away the Kavacha Kundalas (Body armour) and the Punya Phalam (fruit of good deeds) in disguise and tricked Karna into losing the battle with Pandavas, I would be exploited and that I should be adequately protected. 

Her fears are based on a preconceived notion and are not correct.  In fact, I receive more gifts than I give, many times more valuable.  Gifting is contagious and I have initiated many into it.  In the past few years, I have not purchased any clothes for myself.  I didn’t feel the need, as I have received several as gifts.

When we gift, we need to keep in mind, the sentiment and dignity of the person receiving the gift.  One should ensure that the person receiving should not be made to feel small or hurt by our gesture.  One should also not discuss the details or boast about the gifts with others or as a matter of fact, speak about it to the recipient of the gift.  An aunt of mine had once gifted an alarm clock to another aunt and for several years, every time they met, the aunt who gifted the clock enquired about the working condition and its utility, forcing my other aunt to take an oath never again to accept gifts.

Whenever my mother advices me to stop gifting without an occasion, I tell her that there is only one occasion when one can neither give nor take i.e., when one leaves this world.  All of us leave this world empty handed.  All exchanges have to take place before that.  I sympathize with the tightfisted persons, as I feel they are missing the joy of giving.

I always pray that I have enough to share with my loved ones.

Bless me!

 

CONVERSION

Globetrotters associate the term “conversion” with currency.  Many Indians generally use the term in religious contexts.

In the past few years, another significant conversion is seen; conversion of relationships/friendships and events into money.

I feel it is the side effect of IT revolution in the country.  Though statistically the economy has improved and per capita income has increased, the IT industry has widened the gap between the rich and the poor and the urban and the rural, further.  The neo-rich, a byproduct of IT revolution have set a high living standard and are apparently giving a complex to non-IT urban working class and this in addition to the rising inflation, is forcing many to take up direct marketing/selling, to supplement their incomes.

There is nothing wrong in taking up additional work or even direct selling or marketing per se, but targeting known persons certainly is, more particularly when the product or service is not of much use to the buyer.  The targeted buyers often end up buying, unable to say a firm “NO”, resulting in a hole in the pocket. 

Direct marketing is almost a parallel economy.  Every second person I have met in the recent past is involved in it.  The range of products vary from airtight plastic containers, cosmetics and beauty products, soaps and detergents, bands, gloves, vests, socks etc with healing properties, chit fund schemes, gold schemes, nutritional supplements, juices of exotic fruits, fat blockers etc.   None of these products are available in shops; so not covered under Shops and Establishment Act.  They don’t raise invoices; so they don’t attract VAT or service taxes.  Whether the income generated is accounted or not is not known. The selling price of the products is very high.  The persons selling are trained to convince that the product quality is much higher than the branded ones available in the market. 

They motivate us to become members in their team, so that they can earn commission on sales done by the members they have initiated into the group.  All this is done with a missionary zeal and the tone is certainly evangelizing.  Once these people taste little profit from this kind of business, they go about targeting more people. Attending social gatherings or functions are no longer pleasant.  We are chased by these people everywhere.  When we do not yield, they get annoyed and stop interacting with us, so much so they don’t like to have an eye-to-eye contact or refuse to acknowledge our presence.  People selling “fat blockers” and “food substitutes” start their work early in the day.  They target us when we go for our morning walks. 

Last year, I was suffering from a gynecological disorder and visited a gynecologist practicing near my house.   When my turn came, I went into her chamber.  As I started explaining to her my problems, she showed little interest.  “These doctors are weird” I told myself.  Though there were several patients behind me, she kept on asking me questions about my family members, my work etc. She spoke about several things and when she paused for a minute, I started explaining my medical condition to her again.  She tried to convince me that it could be because of my obesity and sympathized with me for not being able to reduce my weight in spite of my efforts.  (The doctor had seen me several times on the road during my morning walks)  I was for a minute happy that there was someone to empathize with me.  She then asked me how many colleagues I have in the office.  Though I felt it was irrelevant, I answered.  She was not impressed with the modest number.  She prescribed a scan and blood tests for me.   I knew she was cornering me for something, but was not clear.  I got all the prescribed tests done and went to the doctor with the reports after a few days.  After quickly glancing through my reports, she said everything was “okay” and that she was going to put me on a special diet.  I listened to her with curiosity.  She went into another room and brought a pack and said it contained nutrients extracted from herbs and is a food substitute, which means I should totally stop eating and mix this herbal powder and drink as many times as possible.  I was furious.  Was that a solution to my specific problem?  I told her I wasn’t ready to take it.  She said she would get it for me at a cheaper rate if I became a member and the rate would reduce if I get more members (read scapegoats) into the chain.  I said I had read that such products were carcinogenic and hence I was not keen about them.  She argued that she being a post graduate in medicine knows better.  I said I would take a second opinion and revert and left the clinic.  I decided not to go for it.  I told myself that in a country where starvation deaths are still prevalent I would never spend for not eating.  I am still sticking to my conviction.

Celebrities have started selling telecast rights of their marriages and other important events.  They might start selling “honeymoon” rights in future.  Going by the telephone tapping incidents and the subsequent exposure of scams, our optimistic politicians might soon start selling phone tapping rights. Sky is the limit for making money.

I wonder what these people do with the money they earn and how happy can they really be after converting all the friends, relatives, neighbours and colleagues as their clients.  Obviously they land up at the feet of God men, who for a fat fee advise them to lead simple and humble lives and extend unconditional love for salvation!

I very often think of what Mahatma Gandhi said; “The world has enough for everyone’s need, but not enough for everyone’s greed”.

TWO TITLES

A “title” is an identifying name given to a book, play or a film, which in a nutshell conveys the essence of the work.  Many creators are successful in providing an apt title for their work, while some make the audience/readers speculate the relationship between the title and the work.

I have always wondered which comes first to the mind of a creator; the title or the story.  I think both are possible.

I have till date watched many films and read several books.  Please rest assured I am not going to analyze or review them with respect to their titles.  I am going to discuss a film I have not watched and a book I have not read.

I was a very obedient and a submissive person in my formative years.  The very fact that I have used a simple past to describe my behaviour obviously explains my present nature.

For a very long time in my life, I didn’t feel the need to rebel or oppose, as I grew up in a very protective atmosphere.  I was adored at home, at my neighbours’ homes, at schools, at college and wherever I went, which boosted my confidence and self-esteem.  Things were no different when I started work.  My bosses loved me and protected me just like my family members.  But life is not a fairy tale and every person faces setbacks. 

As time passed, I had to tackle rejections, failures etc.  I was certainly not geared to handle them.  Added to this, I had a bullying colleague. 

Though I am perceived to be an aethist by people around me because of my rational and non-ritualistic approach, I am a great believer in God and feel God is omnipresent and provides us with solutions to all problems in an objective manner and it is up to us to choose the appropriate one.

In mid-nineties ( I don’t remember exactly when) one afternoon, I settled down to watch a film on TV and within a few minutes of commencement of the show, there was a power interruption which lasted for a few hours and I missed the film.  This happened in the pre-cable/satellite TV era and so there was no chance of a repeat telecast.

I should confess, no other film title impressed me as much as this one – Salim Langde Pe Mat Ro.  I don’t know what the story is about.  But, I assumed from the name Salim that the protagonist is a Muslim and Langde is some handicap/disadvantage of the protagonist and ‘Mat Ro” an advice, not to crib.  Many times in life, we keep complaining and cribbing about our failures, as a result of which, we either remain where we are or deteriorate further.  On that particular afternoon I did not take up any other work, hoping for the power to resume and in the meantime, had a thorough introspection and decided that I will never crib about any of my handicaps and I am happy I have not violated my decision.  We are as big or as small as we think we are.

When we are surrounded by well-wishers, one thing we will certainly not learn to say in any language is “No” as we always feel compelled to please them, as a result of which at the end of the day feel exploited.

In my earlier assignment, when most of my colleagues were very cordial, there was one particular person holding a responsible position in the office, was different.  He made fun of me, created obstacles at work and harassed me at every possible opportunity.  I analyzed the problem.  He was prejudiced against women, against my community and was very uncomfortable about the fact that like him, I too had access to all the top bosses.  Though I understood the backdrop, I was not at all conditioned to handle the crisis.  One day he called me to his room and made me wait and started conversing over phone.  When I attempted to leave the room, he signaled to me to wait.  As he kept on talking, to kill time, I took the book kept on his table into my hands and read the title “Don’t Say Yes When You Want to Say No”.  I took it as a solution to my problem and interrupted him and said politely “If you are busy, I will come again”.  He disconnected the phone and tried to dump me with someone else’s work as usual.  Motivated by the title of the book on his table, I said a firm “No” much to his surprise. I have never tried to read that book.  But the title made me more assertive.  Since then, I have uttered the word “No” whenever I did not want to say “Yes”.

I don’t want to exaggerate the role of the “titles” in my metamorphosis, but they certainly have played a significant role.