‘Cool’ or ‘Misogyny’

It had been two days since I had rinsed my cellphone. The boredom that had plagued me initially waned with the discoveries of nature’s bounty and the joy of spending time with friends. Even though I was enjoying myself, anxiety was killing me; it had been two days since I had spoken to my mother. I checked out the window sill the parts of cell phone were neatly laid out to get maximum exposure to sunlight not unlike the pieces of mangoes kept out to dry in the sun for pickling. I assembled the components and switched on, lo and behold my cell phone was working once again, and I tried making a call it got connected but then got switched off. Encouraged by the progress I disassembled the device once again and left the components to dry in the sun.

It had been a boring day; each lecturer came on time leaving our chances of momentary freedom to wither in the Indian summers. The Microprocessor lecturer took no pity on the Jam packed classroom of 120 students sweating in tropical summer afternoon. The occasional soft sighs from the different corners helped only to magnify the drone of assembly level commands.

As we scribbled the diagrams with disgust a further disgusting face of the Principal’s secretary appeared with a disgustingly thick pile of papers. The micro processor lecturer skimmed along the papers and then followed the secretary.

The silence gave way to whispers which gave way to a loud noise. The decibels from the corridor told that similar was the situation in other classrooms. People all of a sudden started remembering the books which they had lent out to fellow students of other classes, some were reminded of their bursting bladders, still others of their parched throats. In a short while the jam packed classroom was anything but populated.  A couple of pony tailed, bespectacled girls sat correcting their already perfect diagrams. I along with a few others was listening to the wonderful mimicry by Kartik of a comedian from the previous night’s movie, a boisterous voice boomed.

“abe teri mAl A ri hai!!!”

We turned back to find a greasy haired Manoj grinning by the door, while poor Ramesh turned purple when a fair, haute girl entered the room. Before Ramesh could return to his normal shade a commotion followed with a loud announcement:

“The devil is back.”

Sure enough we could see the checked paunch of our Microprocessor lecturer amidst the scampering students.

The period ended soon, to be followed by two more no less boring periods. At last the much awaited 5:00pm bell rang to mark the end of the day. Frantic looks at the watch made the teacher leave the topic unfinished. She had barely reached the door by the time the sleeping class was jiving around.

We were guffawing at Ramesh when a shrill piercing voice said “Don’t you guys have any shame!”

It was the terrorist. We wondered what we should be ashamed of. Perhaps our blank looks said more than our mouths, for she continued.

“What do you think girls are? A piece of entertainment!

You call yourself educated, but have least signs of even literacy.”

I was tempted to show my certificates at this juncture but restrained, having learnt a couple of lessons from my previous experiences.

She continued – “You could have said ‘teri girlfriend A ri hai’ or perhaps ‘teri prmikA A ri hai’.”  This was too much for anyone to remain silent.

“Who says ‘premika’ nowadays? Come on! do you want Manoj to sound right out of some black-and-white movie.” I interrupted.

Her tone rose, “okay if not premikA then pyAri, dulAri or perhaps just her name. But what do you mean by ‘mAl’.”

Now she had come to her point, just one word and we have to bear this torture.

“Come on! Just ignore it.” I said

“Ignore!” she distorted her face to resemble a wringed towel and continued.

“Ignore the misogyny! The disrespect shown towards the poor girl.”

“Hey! Now you are going too far. How was that disrespectful leave alone misogynist?” Manoj defended.

“How would you feel if someone told shouted ‘XYZ tera mAl a rA hai’ upon seeing you Manoj?” she questioned.

We had no answers, but the idea was enough to release a bout of laughter. Very patiently she waited till the last smile faded and she continued with the rarest sign of humor on her face.

“Do not laugh, I am serious. The word is overwhelmed with misogyny. ‘mAl’ is used for non living things usually by businessmen to mean goods. Do you guys think we girls are goods to be dumped in a godown?”

“Oye! I never meant that. I was just joking while maintaining the cool lingo.”  Manoj was exasperated.

“COOL! How could you ever think it cool? Are you out of your mind? That is the kind of language used by rowdies. If that’s cool for you why are you sitting in this classroom go ahead and join some gang you might seem ‘HOT’ not just ‘COOL’. And what you said was not a joke, it was a jibe, mean in every aspect! And all of you are no less bad, laughing at such indecencies and atrocities towards girls.”

“‘Atrocities towards girls’, it sounds like Shabana Azmi/ Sushma Swaraj speaking in Parliament for women’s rights.” I thought to myself and knew better than expressing it aloud.

The terrorist had not stopped, “You guys are not worthy of receiving education. You should first receive some morals and etiquettes. Etiquettes are to life what grammar is to language.”

“arey meri mA ! English kA grammar kam pad gayA hai kya, ab life kA grammar pakdi hai!” I was getting restless.

“Do you people have any idea of the pain she might have undergone? I would have a word with her about her relationship with you Ramesh, you senseless fool.”

Ramesh’s mouth was agape but another hoarse voice said, “ammA tALAlu veyyAli ammA!(I need to lock the doors dear!)” it was the peon with a big bunch of keys in his hand.

With no second word we left the classroom to get some air before we fell into the depths of our own guilt.

* The words from Indian languages are spelled according to the Harvard Kyoto convention for romanisation.