I had the strangest experience recently: we were at rehearsal, and the play on stage was ‘A Movement, a Folder and some Tears’ by the Tamil writer Ambai. It’s a heart-wrenchingly sad story that really makes you want to scream, because there’s nothing else you can do against the injustice that we’re all, as women, subjected to everyday.
We’ve all studied the concept of catharsis, and heard of cathartic experiences. But for a moment, just as Shreya was Sakina, describing the sight of a poor Muslim woman trudging along with her two children, clutching a tricolour flag in her hand as a talisman; as Pradipti was Selvi consigning the effects of their women’s organization to a warehouse that “rarely sees the light of day”; as we all sat there, watching them play their roles, I wanted to weep.
The story is deeply bitter about the circumstances of women, but it is also painfully realistic in how devoid of idealism it is. Watching them there, as women, as people I know playing roles like those of Sakina and Selvi was just… beyond anything I’ve ever felt. It’s like all the pent up anger and frustration from all those times that being a woman was brought home to me in the worst sense of the phrase…just bubbled to the surface.
How can it be so? How can an entire half of the population of human beings on this planet be so maligned, misjudged, mistreated and misrepresented? Over centuries?
Sometimes, especially when we’re discussing stereotypes or gender roles in Women’s Writing class, I just want to throw everything away and give in. I feel so defeated – we’re up against centuries of prejudice and indoctrination; I know that my own penchant for strong, masculine men in the vein of Mr Darcy or Mr Rochester or Lord Worth is a tribute to the fact that I have been indoctrinated to believe that I need a man to take care of me. To protect my naive, innocent self from the evils of the big bad world.
It’s disgusting, but it’s true. And every time I watch Ambai, I feel helplessly angry because as much as I am aware of how wrong it all is, I’m very much a part of the same world, and I think along the same lines every single day.
0 Responses to “and the Road goes ever on”