Give it a Miss

In the women’s competition at Wimbledon this year, apart from the umpteenth contest between the spirited and cheeky William sisters for the crown at a grand slam event, the other most notable happening was that Wimbledon has done away with the tradition of calling the women players by their title Ms or Mrs. Is calling someone by their title that offending? If not then why the fuss?

At this point I like to remember the story of ‘Her name and She’ which goes somewhat like this: when born she was called ‘so and so’ and then somewhere along the line she assumed the status of Miss Someone. The title quite an advertisement of her single status that one couldn’t miss in combination with the glow of youth, it was hardly surprising that few chance and awkward meetings with Mister Someoneelse took place. They decided to give it a chance and first names were exchanged and permitted, then few movies and dinner dates later nicknames took over. Things then got so mushy that even new silly nicknames were coined for each other. Sadly but inevitably some stability in the relationship was reached when they started calling each other names. Depending on which part of the world they lived in either they broke up or they got married and lived together ‘happily’ ever after as Mr. and Mrs. Someoneelse.

I don’t really see much of a problem with the initial titles being in place, it seems just like one of the many names different people call a person by, the problem is that for women there is this additional information about their marital status included which doesn’t seem too appropriate in this day and age. In professional circumstances it is downright insensitive to provide personal information of anyone, be it man or woman, which has no bearing on the person’s professional abilities. For women tennis players at least Wimbledon has finally decided to show a little more sensitivity even if it meant going against the British ethos of sticking by tradition. In one of the press conferences apparently Venus Williams when asked a leading question like which trophy she prizes most, put tradition in its place by saying that she has too many trophies and they serve well as make up brush holder. The eyes rolled all around and one could hear a stiff upper lip moving that little bit to utter “ how American”!

June 2009

A Song for the Occasion

When I am doing some mundane thing on my own like walking from one place to another or chopping vegetables in the kitchen and I hear myself humming, it baffles me that how often the song is just so right for the mood I am in. It doesn’t require any conscious thought and yet it is bang on. Mostly the RJ cells of the brain use the limited and oft repeated selection but can sometimes pull up a few surprises too. Like a very long time ago, mid-way my summer internship in Bangalore I moved out of an oppressive environment to a PG, the next day in the factory, in a very filmy way I just burst into ‘aaj phir jeene kee tamanna hai’ with all the cigarette cutting machinery and assembly lines making the back ground score. It was not quite a cinematic or operatic performance but the spontaneity was a manifestation of the huge relief I felt within. I was surprised myself. The song was never my favourite and I don’t remember ever singing it before or after but being a regular ‘chitrahaar’ watcher perhaps I didn’t miss the euphoria Waheeda Rehman felt liberating her aanchal from all the kantas of her life.

Apparently the significance of my humming is not lost on RR senior either, as he has indicated in so many words that he is pretty terrified of my involuntary renditions of “yahi voh jagah hai, yahi voh fizaen, yaheen par kabhee aap hum se mile the”. According to him the tune spells nothing but trouble as he seems to find strong correlation between the specific tune and an impending fight. While I find it difficult to accept that people can read my mind that easily, I do have regard for strong experimental data. RR senior himself is one of those people who consider letting people know his emotions rather beneath himself, humming tunes most certainly ranks even lower. But sitting quietly with long calculations, papers strewn all around and a laptop for company even dignified people have momentary lapses when the results of the calculations seem to match the simulation of the laptop. At such moments RJ cells of his brain play the repeat of literally one and only, that too an original composition. Given the genetic history and we both being educationists, we are trying our best not to read too much into the frequent singing of “we don’t need no education” by the kid.

On a final note, until my “favourite” student does the honour of graduating, my anthem climbing down the steps from office after any meeting will remain“I have a dream, a song to sing, to help me cope, with everything” with emphasis on “cope with everything”.