Catharsis or Cyber Bullying? Try Confessing!

(This article had been originally written for  Scroll360.in, when the trend of 'Confessions' on facebook was still going strong. Thankfully, that madness has abated. However, while going through the contents of this article, I found ideas and issues still pertinent. I am hence sharing it again on Nascent Emissions. Hope you have a nice time reading it) 

Let me begin this article with a caveat. If you are looking for an objective view on the topic, then understand that you are interacting with an author who is struggling with herself to arrive at objective analysis and later deductions on this debate. However, as someone having suffered the negative side of a recent social media phenomenon, it is obvious that bias will be inherent in words that follow – passion just might overrule the possibility of a rational discourse.

I am here to confess – no, I will desist from using that word unless absolutely necessary, because for me, it has come to acquire irksome connotations. Confessions are the latest fad to have announced their grand arrival on the virtual stage and to have caught the attention of all – the old, the young, the teenaged and the infant-minded. These confessions, which opulently display themselves out on dedicated pages, identified by school, college, department or organizations, are being pursued – whether secretly or in open – by all and sundry. In very little time, they have come to be characterized by the idiom – love them or hate them, but you cannot ignore them. These confession pages are capable of giving you all entertainment you seek in the world – they excite you, they intrigue you, they might make you feel elevated, or they may cause your spirits to plummet. They are increasingly acquiring a weed-like tendency – you uproot (ban) a few of these pages, and a few more than before will sprout instantaneously in its place. So ubiquitous is their presence, that I felt no need to introduce the dynamics and mechanics of this page anywhere in the beginning of this article. These pages, in fact, are not just confined to their virtual domains, but have come to be the ultimate spring of normal day gossip and discussions among students and office-mates. The speed and ease of posting, and then the skill of facebook at spreading the written word have lent these, if I may say, unscrupulous ramblings, the power to make and break images – a sad reality in our world which thrives by feeding on gossip.

My introduction to a confession page was, interestingly, not on Facebook, but via a leading national daily. In an article, a reporter had sought the opinion of a leading psychologist about the then new trend of confessions which involve a large mass of teens and young adults. The psychologist, even more interestingly, was very positive about this whole phenomenon. According to him, the frustrations which are a natural by-product of urban lifestyles, compulsions and tensions, find a helpful and healthy vent through these anonymous online confessions. So far so good. I was happy to read about something which is working to add comfort, optimism and calm to the lives of thousands of youngsters out there. A month later, I am not so sure. If anything, I reckon that anyone who still holds this phenomenon to be positive is perhaps talking without laying on eye on the content which these so-called confessions entail.

As per my understanding, the concept of confessions finds it origin in the Catholic culture, wherein, a man, conscious of his wrongdoings, guilt-ridden, walks into a confession chamber to unburden his heart and purge his soul. It is one aspect of Christianity which I have always admired. Not only does it make one confront his weak moments, where wantonly or unwantonly, he might have indulged in a sinful act, but this one act of confession also strengthens the faith of that man in the infinite mercy of Almighty, in whose forgiveness lies his salvation. Now, one can always trust social media to cash on something so pure and noble, and transform it into a crass and cacophonous nonsense. I might be strong and extremely prejudiced in terms of my expressions, but I have peers who have spent days layered in anxiety and low self-esteem only because of some expletives directed at them from anonymous mouths. I, despite maintaining a steadfast and deliberate distance from any page with ‘confessions’ in its title, have also been embroiled in invectives reeking of misogyny and hurtful envy, if not more insidious tendencies.

Anything said above is not to discard altogether the cathartic aspects of nameless online confessions. Not in my vicinity, but on some confession pages of distant universities, students have posted genuine problems which are difficult to verbalise and have met with encouraging comments and helpful links from their peers. There are youngsters sharing their insecurities and even honest angst against institutional policies, which have led to fruitful discussions and understanding of multiple opinions. However, these instances are exceptions rather than being the rule. Most often, the confessions pages I have seen invariably contain the following – a deluge of expletives, proposals of ‘I like you’ and ‘I love you’ kind, misogynistic diatribes, demeaning explicit comments and obtuse tales of bravado. Now, which one of them can you remotely associate with the word confession? Most will agree on the fact that confessions are meant to purge or unburden oneself, and not to malign someone else. I would never even be able to understand a statement like ‘I made out in the college library’ as a confession. What is the confessioner trying to achieve by posting this? He, clearly, is not guilty of his act, rather proud in fact. What goes down in the process in the name of the institution and often necessitates a disciplinary action by authorities, especially where defamatory comments are concerned. I have personally known an admin threatened of legal action, and another relieved of his professional duties because of careless posts on his confessions page.

So, catharsis or cyber-bullying? My vote is with the latter. At the core of the appeal of such pages lies their anonymity. You can post whatever you wish. The more outrageous the content of your post, the more reactions it elicits. Responses – in the form of likes and comments – isn’t it because of them that we are all so hooked onto Facebook? Earlier, the debate was around the perils of leaving your privacy at the mercy of social platforms like Facebook. Now, via phenomena like confessions, unscrupulous elements go one step further to jeopardize the privacy, as well as the public image of others and not just themselves. With an increasing number of parents and teachers becoming a part of their ward/student’s social network, the harm caused by hurtful and malicious confessions increases manifold. I recently read on a blog that Facebook is being pressurized from many corners to shut the confession pages. I hope earnestly that the concerned people pay heed. 

A Month Down The Line

            In her brief tryst with the world, she acquired many sobriquets. Some called her Damini, some Amanat and others Nirbhaya. As was revealed by her grieving father, her name, actually, was Jyoti. Well, more apt. While receding into eternal darkness, while being embraced by death, she lit a flame which illuminated many.

            A month since the heinous incident, and it makes sense to ask where is it that we have arrived. Protesting multitudes have gone hoarse shouting slogans. The injuries incurred during an unwarranted state response have now been healed. Perpetrators have been nabbed and shunned not just by the public, but by their co-inmates. A deluge of insensitive comments by people in power have been issued to make a mockery of the composite, vibrant culture we show off to the world. Debates on death penalty and chemical castration have mellowed down, but not before they acquired a more nuanced character. Some parents have gone paranoid with safety concerns; others have opened themselves up more to the world and refused to bow down to fear. A committee has been constituted to suggest reforms for greater gender parity and safety. Fast track courts have been established. In the backdrop of all this, a family has been silently weeping for the loss of that brave child, who loved buying new clothes, and who was the promise of light in their life.

            A few days into the protest, a gentle female friend of mine left me a text. She had a concern. While she thought that the protests were okay, she wanted to convince me that it was, after all, the girl’s mistake that she was in that circumstance. It took me a nano second to take umbrage. Callous, barbaric, incredible, pathetic and downright preposterous comments about rape, adequately reflective of our incorrigible patriarchal mind-set, had been emanating from the mouths of almost all in whose face a microphone was thrust. These were the high and the mighty of our society. However, behind closed doors of humble, nondescript houses, in our very generation which has catalysed this movement against rape, there did exist similar ideologies. My friend was but one example. I wanted to shout at her. I was at pain to understand how does a woman not understand the pain, the agony, and the rights of another woman. A moment more, and I did realize, that all this is reflective of the very disease which has conditioned us. Women, before they challenge men to grant them equality, have to liberate themselves from their own subjugated psyches, their own complexes when pitted against the perceived superior males.

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            This article was intended to evaluate how a month of protesting, debating and displaying our anger has altered our environment. The sceptics shall be quick to guffaw and dismiss this collective anger as frivolous, transitory and inconsequential. The believers shall offer a version in absolute contradiction. However, what happened in Delhi on that fateful night has not left anyone of us untouched. We have our takes on it, and it is important that we accommodate the perspectives of each other in a collective understanding of the incident and its aftermath. That is the only way we truly learn.

            So, have these protests stopped rapes? No. They did not. They couldn’t have; because, no matter how motivated a group of young protesters, it is still not sufficient to weed out what has been a part of our society since centuries. Yes, rape has been a part of our society. There have been Kings known for their penchant for ‘deflowering’ maidens. Why? Because a woman’s body has been seen as something to be conquered, controlled. So, when not fighting wars, these Maharajas would love sorting out virgins and violating their honour, and, interestingly, even keeping souvenirs from their conquests – which could be a stained bedsheet or a nose-ring (worn primarily by virgins). It is understood by most now, that there is nothing sexual about rape. It is more of a measure for ‘disciplining’ the weaker sex, of showing them their place. Yes, the rapes have not stopped, but this understanding has been put their in the open. A month down the line, we have grown up a little.

            The most instant response to this incident of rape were deafening cries of a quick and definitive death penalty for the convicts. Did that happen? No. It did not. I do not know if it will, and I don’t care if it does. The government, the media and the judiciary took note. Emotions and rationalities collided. And today, even though the debate rages on, it is perfectly understood that perhaps death penalty is not the solution to this problem. If anything, it will worsen the situation at hand. A rapist might be tempted to kill his prey, in an attempt to dispose off evidence and the conviction rate for rapes, which is an abysmal 26% now, might fall to as low as 2%.

            There is no clear cut solution to the problem at hand, but if any, our only chance lies in working at the very roots. The feeling of superiority is infused in the male since his early childhood, when he is treated preferentially over his deprived sister. He knows he can shout at his mother and get away. The same treatment, unfortunately, is carried forward to schools. Girls are singled out in schools to ‘behave’ themselves when seen in male company. The feeling of being exclusive of each other’s environment is inculcated at the step when a teacher attempts to segregate the sitting pattern to create a clear line between girls and boys. Sex education is still a far fetched dream in most educational set ups. The chapter on reproduction is taught like a forbidden secret – to be heard and forgotten – no questions asked. I do not know how can it be done, but boys and girls are not taught to be comfortable with their bodies at the very age when it is changing and is perhaps the single biggest source of anxiety for them. Many of you might have had parents who shed light on these topics, but trust me, most girls discover the meaning of word ‘periods’ in hauntingly embarrassing situations in schools.

            How is all this relevant to the rape talk? Well, if not this, then what is? When a passing car stopped by me, passed comments at me and wanted give me lift lest my ‘gora badan’ be tired of walking the distance at home, I knew I would not tell my parents about it. The reason is simple enough. It is ‘my’ freedom that would have been curtailed, while that car would have roamed free. ‘I’ would have been the person bearing the brunt of someone else’s perversion. These are ideas ingrained in us. A girl in class fourth was being inappropriately touched by her classmate, and she felt not anger, but guilt at his invasion. Why? Who taught her to be guilty? She suffered in silence till she fell sick. Why could she not talk to anyone about it? She knew something was wrong, but what, she had no clue. Perhaps if her teachers or parents had been better sensitized by counselling, or whatever means, it might not have been a dent for life on her psyche. Sensitization. Of parents, peers, police, judiciary, of everyone. It is a long term solution, but perhaps our only bet. What has to be weeded out lies deep within the mind like a tumour. A noose around the neck will just not do the trick.

            At the end, I cannot help but quote Dushyant Kumar in what seems like the most perfect context –

“Sirf hungama khada karna mera maqsad nahi
Meri koshish hai ke soorat badalni chahiye
Mere seene mein nahi toh tere seene mein sahi
Ho kaheen bhi aag lekin aag jalni chahiye.”

"I Am Ashamed To Be An Indian Today"

It is the first emotional response, but this is what it needs to be. What kind of madness has been put on display outside the Rashtrapati Bhawan in Delhi? The Delhi police is acting like hired goons of the party in power. Tear gas shells and water canons are being unleashed on thousands of young protesters. And what is it that they are demanding? Not money, not jobs, not the sun and moon, but something as basic as protection.

This issue has flared beyond just a sexual assault case. Its an eye opener for the kind of polity we live in. Did someone just call our state a 'mecca' of democracy? I am sorry, our democracy, if anything, is hitting the nadir. Those brutal rapists used rods, and our honorable police force uses lathis - is there any visible difference to boast of?  And yes, the government issues statements asking protesters to maintain peace - those very protesters whose are hurt, both physically and mentally, at the kind of insanity and idiocy the state is treating them with.

Why would Pranab babu not come out? Is he afraid of being lynched or raped? It was never about a rape in the first place. It was about the way we allow the authority figures to trample on the perceived secondary groups in the society. The male dominates and feeds off the female, whom he perceives is nothing but a secondary accessory to him, who is here to satiate his needs. The state walks all over its subjects, thinks of the public as mere roadways to power, whose importance is understood only every five years. For rest of the time, they may rot, cry, suffer - unless their plight can become a political agenda, nothing about them matters.

Mrs. Dixit cried two nights ago on tv. But how could she cry alone? So now, she and her friends in the elite circles of Delhi ensure that the whole city cries with them. Tear gas shells. How does this idea even enter the heads of the police force? Are anyone of the political bandhs treated this way? Will tomorrow parliamentarians who protest and upset the function of the prime organ of democracy be treated the same way? Does the police even know why it exists? To protect PEOPLE. Yes. People. Here, however, a new tamasha, a new definition of the police is being invented. This is a force which protects just the state, the authority figures, the political class against the most vicious threat that they could ever face in life - public out rage. Our police is not longer a civil force. It is a state force. And these are the ones from whom we expect promises of safety. We sure must be a mad lot.

There were no politicians, even from the opposition, who took an immediate stand on the theatre of lunacy being played out on the Rajpath. Now, that is understandable, isn't it? The sons and daughters of India need to be protected, but that can happen only after press statements are cut to perfection, political agendas perfected, game plans initiated and party high command consulted. I heard such authoritarian tactics were employed in the North east and Kashmir region of our country. As a resident of the National Capital Territory of India, who thought her city is capable of being called the best in the world, my heart goes out to all those people who dare to stand up for what is right. Solidarity is the least minimum we can show, and that we will. Tweets are coming in from people associated with the protest, urging people to get out and join them and not let the movement fizzle out. I reiterate, it is not about a single girl falling prey to sexual inclinations of few perverted animals. It is about an entire generation falling prey to delusions of power.

The rape infants. They rape our elders. Now they rape democracy.

Hah. They are protecting themselves against the people who put them there. Theek hai. Galti toh hamaari hi hai.

Can't Stay Mum

Everyone is talking. Yes. Everyone. On facebook. On twitter. On TV news channels. On other mediums I do not care to surf. Something so repugnant has happened in city that our collective conscience has been shaken and invoked. There are cries of 'hang them' echoing across from some sectors. There is the customary government bashing which has begun. There are 'statements' from political leaders which are being circulated with a mock grin. There are silences which are being criticized. The world around me has plunged into rage and fury so deep that it has begun to asphyxiate me. Till a moment ago, I wanted to stay mum, and cut myself off, and hide from all this brouhaha. But how is that even possible when a woman my age, with bright possibilities, is battling for her life after suffering a deplorable and painful incident, one which is likely to alter the way she lives her entire life? I am pained, but what is my pain in comparison to that woman's, whose life is now the matter of public debate, of national shame?

A fresh chill of fear runs down my spine each time I think of the incident. Only a few days back I was thinking of rebelling against the evening curfews imposed on me, so that I could fall in love with the night-life of my city - one which I dearly love and pride upon. However, even my logical arguments now will have just one answer - I would be condescendingly reminded of the Munirka victim, and there closes my case, my attempt to be liberated from one among numerous restrictions. Honestly, I am not even sure if I want that bit of freedom now. What if its me the next time? What if its my sister, my friend? That's how we understand the magnitude of an event - by placing ourselves in it. The shudder comes again. And lasts a little longer.

Rape is an act of a diseased mind. It has little to do with sexual appetite, and is more of an expression of a violent streak, of a male ego needing that sick satiety of domination. That girl is a medical intern, who found just some time for entertainment. Medical students have a hectic life; a life they willingly devote to the cause of others. Little did she know that a hospital is what she would be immediately rushed back to, only now in a different role. And oh, not immediately. After suffering 45 minutes of excruciating pain, humiliation and violence. 45 long minutes. Her boyfriend, who came to her aid was brutally beaten and discarded along with her, reminding me of how hard is it in our society to stand up for something right. Shushed, maimed or murdered - people who dare to right a wrong meet similar fates. In that moving bus was being played the theatre of a severely rotten, barbaric psyche, while the city around continued to put up its façade of civilization.

Its immaterial what the CM of Delhi, or the Chairperson of NCW say on this incident. It is not their daughter who has suffered this humiliation. I, on my part, have no interest in determining the merits of capital punishment contextualized to such cases. I am more interested in knowing what is the psychology which makes man a predator on fellow human being. The humiliation of the Guwahati victim is fresh in my mind; and I cannot even begin to imagine the agony of that girl who had been repeatedly raped for several days by students of Jamia Law faculty. These are one-off examples. Unfortunately, there are an infinite number of cases which never even surface, which go unreported. It has been testified in many researches that many women have their first tryst with sexual violence at home. In most cases of molestation, the perpetrators are known to the victim, are her kins. This unleashing of sexual prowess has even come to be accepted as a matter of fact. Yes, ours is a patriarchal society, ascribing to the worst definition of the concept. The male world conveniently ignores the identity of the female world. Till there, albeit is should not be, it may be acceptable, but this male world also feeds off and preys upon its females - now draw lines somewhere, will you?

There are many parents with bright daughters who will sit down with them, tell them to be back home early, to be safe, to keep themselves, covered, to not travel alone, and who will also perhaps buy them a pepper spray. However, I do not know if there are any parents out there who will also sit down with their sons, and talk about this incident, about consensual sex, about respecting their female counterparts. How much can the authorities do when out entire value system is corrupt and ridden with worst kind of sexual politics? In this very world, coexisting with us are fathers who abuse their daughters (sons too), brothers who abuse their sisters and mothers who helplessly watch. The role played by women in this sexual politics is abhorrent as well - for it is them who meekly accept their status as the inferior, second sex, who do not fight for respect. In my little journey of life, I have been reminded of my weaker stature in the society more often by women I came across than men.

She, and I am glad her name is not being juggled around by the media, I am sure, was a girl with bright possibilities. earnestly hope and pray she recuperates well and soon, and comes out a winner a in life. Yes, I know it is too much to expect, but I still hope she turns those possibilities into opportunities and becomes a daughter whom her parents are proud of. The word 'daughter' reminds me of a small incident. A friend's mother was ecstatic when she delivered her, when she was blessed with her first daughter. Beaming, she went to share this news with the principal of the school where she worked. Matter-of-factly, the Principal responded - "Koi baat nahi, agli baari ladka ho jayega." Where in the world are we going wrong?!

To hell with all of you. Women are grand. Daughters are glorious.

A portrait by - Priyanka Tampi

And Innocence Cried

“Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.” -  Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

            There are subjectivities in life. Subjectivities are not distortions, but beauties which the Creator has lent to this world so that we may enjoy it in myriad ways, with no scope of monotony. Our great misfortune, however, lies in the fact that we standardize life. We think our way of thinking supreme. And once convinced, we seek to impose our way on the rest of the world. One category which always emerges at the receiving end of this order is that of minors. Their innocence breaks our heart, but more often than not, we come across cases where the same innocence, or lack of worldly knowledge and etiquettes, becomes a reason for them being subjected to rigorous and cruel castigation. Corporal punishment, of which we have gotten used to reading in papers, is perhaps the worst way employed to shape a child’s psyche or to do the so called good deed of disciplining him.

            In a leading national daily, I recently read a horrifying account of what the cane-approach to disciplining a child can do. It can lead to his death. Yes. And the death of a child is an enormously saddening loss of potential and possibilities. A stray incident of callousness enraged a hapless child’s father so much that he dealt a quick blow at the back of the child’s tender head. The father, of course, by being a stickler and allowing no room for inconsistencies, was in his way, ‘disciplining’ his child. The only loophole which emerged in the whole exercise was that the child died. At this is the kind of incident which does not gain media mileage like instances of corporal punishment inflicted on students in large public schools do. Mass memory is short lived, yes, but can we really forget those many cases in which a teacher’s short temper led him to physically abuse a child and in the process severely dent his psychological well-being as well?

            Our educational set up follows the dogma of in loco parentis, whereby the school authorities have the same rights over a child as their parents. In a bid to mentor and shape future of children with similar zeal, teachers have been known to use infliction of pain as a tool to make them follow rules absolutely. A slap on the cheek and cane-blows on fists are thought to be miraculous devices which can, with minimum effort, reform a minor and make him a good student all of a sudden. These physical assaults are many a times reflexes of a teacher who prides himself for his no-nonsense attitude. At other times, public shaming is also employed as a pre-meditated and rationalized method to set right what could have in actuality been simple acts of naughtiness. The effects of ignominy are not entirely unknown to school or parental authorities. Rather than reform, they cause a child to withdraw, to be distrustful and to lose faith in himself. Incomplete homework, talking while lecture, inability to answer in class, low scores or committing mischief – any of these can invite severe retributions, disproportionately higher than the supposed ‘crime’. Yes, plain naughtiness or intrinsic incapabilities are crime for today’s students who are expected to ace the break-neck competition with their peers. Besides inflicting obvious punishments, I personally feel it is a great folly on the part of teachers when they establish gradations in their batch of students. Yes, it is good to set examples from within students, but not to the extent that it fosters disharmony and ill-will. There is some talent inherently present in each student; a teacher (and even parents) are responsible for helping their pupil realize and nurture it.

            I was lucky to have studied in one of the best public schools in Delhi, which honored tradition as much as it endeavored to keep pace with the racing times. I, personally, have not witnessed any incident where my teachers resorted to corporal punishment of any sort to ensure compliance. In fact, my school was the kind where talents were given a fecund climate to prosper and each child identified for his merit. However, I have known friends whose teachers have left no stone unturned to make them feel like they are a liability on this planet. I also know parents for whom red chilli paste is the formula for ensuring highest grades. At other places, in the name of tradition, students/minors are not allowed to embrace changing weather of the day. They are curbed, controlled, shamed and two firm deductions which I can draw from all the above is –

1.       Using reprimands, coercion, imposition, control, etc as devices to curb students from treading down the road deemed harmful for them is almost like making sure they go there. Nascent brains are supple and obdurate at the same time. Yes, they can be and should be molded, but putting them under sudden pressure just makes them go on the defensive, eventually closing them to any contradictory (and right) opinions.

2.       Even when he indulges in a wrongful deed, for once trying to understand why a child did it, using forgiveness in place of rebukes opens up an opportunity for an elder to mentor him for better actions in the future. When he sees concern and not anger, a young adult would feel secure, and then not just listen to your advice, but may be seek it too.

            This is not to say that elders are always right, but as far as I go, I feel they have an exclusive responsibility towards understanding the psyche of the generation they are nurturing towards maturity. A child can do wrong. He will do wrong. He has to do wrong – otherwise, how will he learn, grow and mature? 

Are you all aware of a helpline (1098) dedicated to protecting children against abuse, which includes harassment by his teacher? And here I was thinking that it is school is supposed to be that protective environment in which a child may explore his infinite possibilities. Ironical, isn’t it?

A child has often been likened to clay. He is like putty which bears and impression of everything it comes in touch with. He sees and observes and derives conclusions for himself. He trusts easily; but when chastised without explanation he can be confused and disoriented and can end up hating the very forces which are in a position to shape his future. The impressions a child’s mind forms in his early years of life are carried on throughout life. They go on to shape the person he eventually becomes. The responsibility on the shoulders of parents, thus, is superlative. This responsibility is not to control – which is what it is mostly misconstrued as – but to allow blossoming of a child’s potential. Given the present scenario, I do not think it is a child, but his mentors who need to be set right. 

(Originally written for Scroll360.in )