Beautifully and fearfully made

On Thursday, women trainee clerks of Surat Municipal Hospital were, reportedly, made to strip and stand naked for a long period while women doctors conducted medical tests to determine their fitness. The tests included the invasive finger test also. The women trainee clerks were made to stand in a room in groups of 10 where the door was not shut properly and only a curtain barred the view from outside, Time of India newspaper reported on Friday.

This happened in Gujarat just a week after 68 girls in Shree Sahajanand Girls Institute in Bhuj, Kutch were forced to strip to prove their weren’t menstruating. This college run by the powerful Swaminarayan sect has strict rules to segregate menstruating girls and women from others during the course of their periods. They are forced to move to another room in the basement till their periods end. This system is accepted by the girls and their parents and most girls during TV interviews said that they didn’t have any problem with these rules. Investigations into the incident in Bhuj are ongoing.

But, even if the girls and their parents accept such misogynistic rules, it doesn’t make it right. The principal of the institute Rita Rangia in an interview said that when they questioned the girls they found that some of the girls had broken the rules and so saying she justified the segregation rules for menstruating girls in the institute.

Demeaning women

We are living in the year 2020. Isn’t it time we start questioning such archaic practices which are routinely followed in our homes citing religious norms and also to maintain ‘hygiene’?

Since the time I got my periods when I was in class VIII, I learnt that there was a big difference in the way families behaved with menstruating girls and women. While in my family nothing changed in routine life except that we took it a bit easy due to painful cramps during our monthly periods, there were lots of changes in the routine of many of my friends.

I found that girls in my class were not allowed to do puja, enter the kitchen, cook food or even serve food for themselves or to others while menstruating. They also could not touch the water pot even to get a glass of water for themselves. They used separate utensils to eat and were expected to sleep separately. This whole scenario was foreign to me. I found it extremely repulsive that my friends were being treated so harshly during their monthly menstruations. In their homes, even their brothers, cousins and other men would know they are having their periods and would tell them to stay far, calling them names. “Gandi, door rahe”, (Stay away, you dirty person) they were told. I thought this both demeaning and also unfair. I asked them to protest but they would say, “Hamare waha aisa hi hota hai. Yehi revaz hai” (This is what happens in our place. This is the custom here).

Shockingly, these practices continue in most homes in various degrees even today. Yet, most women accept it and don’t question it.

Many girls and women even told me the benefits of such practices. They say that it is a good practice as a woman gets a chance to rest and take it easy during her periods, otherwise she will have to work which can be difficult. But one should note that all over the world women continue to work and function normally during their menstruations and there is no real need to quarantine them for the duration of their periods. Women during these days are made to feel unclean. They cannot go to temples and are also barred from socio-religious festivals like dancing the garba during the Navratri, etc.

Most of us in India are aware of these practices but women haven’t spoken against this in a mass protest. Even most women groups have not taken it up in a serious way to eradicate this practice. In few progressive homes, these regressive practices don’t exist but there hasn’t been a mass movement to stop it like other regressive practices like Child Marriage, Sati etc, which have been stopped.

By belittling women every month you inherently demean her regularly which the society accepts as normal and which she also accepts as normal. That’s why when a woman is scolded or shouted at in public by any male family member it doesn’t even attract any undue attention. I have seen sons scolding their mothers in public over trivial things, calling them names and treating them as lesser humans. Sisters regularly get scolded publically by brothers and this is looked upon with a sense of approval. After all the brother is showing concern for his sister that is why he is scolding her for her own good. , When it comes to how men treat their wives in public, the lesser said the better it will be.

Rejecting patriarchy

In a long line of practices which are patriarchal in nature and which routinely demean women, considering a woman impure during her menstrual cycle is just one of the many things we take in our stride. We let society treat us as unclean when it’s known to all that a menstruating woman is normal. It means she is healthy and fit.

Similarly, treating women with disdain is just another form of patriarchy where women are considered lesser humans like in the case of women trainee clerks in Surat where they were made to stand naked in an unsecure room without a care for their discomfort. These incidents need to be stopped as they continue to demean a woman and treat her as if she has no agency in matters of her own body.

One can’t talk of empowering women and not question such incidents and practices which continue to treat women as lesser humans. Equality has to be at all levels, including in our homes because women are beautifully and fearfully made in the image and likeness of God just as a man is also made in God’s image and likeness.

Christian generosity

Empowered Finally

That day was her worst but it was also the day she got empowered. It was ironic but one that many others in her situation might have understood. As her daughter, I could just marvel at how things were unfolding before my eyes.

But then I had the advantage of hindsight. Even on that sad day, I knew that things were going to be different. The next day, the start of a different era was evident but I felt that it was tragic that a woman in India could only be truly empowered in such unfortunate circumstances.

My father was a good man and he would have even qualified as a great husband as the benchmark is set so low. In India, if a husband just provides financially for his wife and children, does not beat her, does not drink, gamble or womanise it will be enough for him to earn the title of a good husband. If like my dad he didn't shout, raise his voice or swear, he would definitely be considered a great husband and a good man. Then to top all this, my father was a very educated man, a PhD in engineering no less. So he was a great man and a great husband as well.

Most men in my country and maybe fifty percent of the male population of the world would consider that an excellent achievement. And he was a great dad too. He treated both his son and his daughters almost equally, encouraged his daughters to get a good education and to even get good jobs. He was all in support of women’s emancipation. He also controlled the purse strings and made all the financial decisions.

But let’s get back to that fateful day, when dad died in the hospital after just one day and a half of hospitalisation and a brief illness.

That should and would qualify as the worst day of my mom’s life, as it should for any woman who becomes a widow. In India, widows are especially looked down on and it often leaves recent widows almost totally bereft of any sanity. But mom was never like that. She was devastated but not incoherent. It was she who decided which suit my father would wear on his final journey. The shoes which he wore and also the shirt and tie he wore when he made his final journey to the graveyard were chosen by mom.

She told me to get for him the best coffin available. We, children decided that the funeral would be conducted on the same day because it was a Sunday and a good day for a funeral. So despite knowing that most of our relatives will not be able to make it time for the funeral, we, his children decided that papa would be buried on the same day. That left us hardly any time to prepare.

I was the one making all the preparations. To say, it was traumatic, would be an understatement but I have always taken charge of things in my family and this was no different.

I never expected my mom to faint or to be hysterical. She remained true to herself. She cried but with dignity, she walked to the grave with composure and she buried her husband of 43 years with silent grief.

After the funeral we all returned back to the house, each one quiet with one’s own thoughts. The next morning, mom’s brothers and sisters would be arriving and we expected fireworks. It was a given that they would shout at us for burying our father without waiting for them.

In the morning after the funeral, mother went about her own business. She started with clearing dad’s cupboard. The same cupboard that dad had not allowed his children and even his wife to mess around with. He disliked anyone opening his cupboard even to take a pair of pliers. An engineer, dad had all kinds of instruments which he kept in his cupboard along with other nick knacks. It was like a treasure which we children just wanted to explore.

Mother started sorting out papa’s belongings, his clothes, books, dairies, bank account books, instruments and even his .22 caliber rifle. Oh yes, he was the proud owner of a .22 rifle, though it could only kill a bird and maybe a snake but it was a rifle.

First she took out his clothes and put them out on the bed. She asked her younger brother, who is not so well off, to pick up any pants and shirts he might want to for himself. If you knew the difference between the sizes of my father and my maternal uncle, this offer in itself was nothing short of being hilarious.

My father was fat and my uncle thin and tall. So obviously dad’s pants would be loose on the waist and hips and short in length for my uncle. But he measured them and came to the conclusion that if he opened the hems and had them altered they would do nicely. There were after all many new shirts and pants.

After sorting out the pants, he had a go at the shirts while my mom watched the whole process in satisfaction. Here she was giving away dad’s clothes and no one could tell her what she could or couldn't do. I think she must have realised that she was finally incharge then. 

However it didn't strike me as unusual at that time.

Rummaging further into my dad’s cupboard, mom came across various things, torch, tools, magnifying glasses, battery tester and other instruments. Dad was after all an engineer. He had all kinds of instruments. One of his price possessions was an electric drill which he had acquired quite late in life, infact after his retirement.

The electric drill went to my brother’s technical department where it could be put to good use. The blood pressure measuring instrument along with the stethoscope was given to my elder maternal uncle who was a doctor in the village.

Mom, I noticed was having a field day giving away dad’s things with such haste. Things which a day ago, we wouldn’t have dared to touch. Me and my siblings often told our children that grandpa’s cupboard was out of bounds. Dad’s will stated that all that he owned was to be given to mom. That ofcourse was great, since she anyway should be the inheritor of his property.

A few days after the funeral,l both I and my mother went about the business of transferring the house and the car to her name. I learnt that this can be a lengthy process. One needs to obtain a death certificate from the municipal corporation, then this document is submitted to all concerned government authorities along with the will and a consent letter from all his four children to get any property transferred to my mom’s name.

We finally got it done, the house transferred to my mom’s name and the car also. Also the pension office was informed of my dad’s demise. Mom went about all the formalities with dignity and mostly kept her self control. Not that she was given to any hysterics. Infact, she just hates public show of emotion so none of us were expecting mom to get all hysterical and she didn’t.

However, what I did wonder about was the way she went about donating all my dad’s belongings. Just a few months before she had cleared her cupboard in the bedroom she shared with dad and put all her clothes in the other bedroom. She emptied her cupboard over some dispute with dad and gave him all the cupboards in their bedroom. Dad happily took possession over both the cupboards though he did wonder at mom’s fit over it.

I remember mom saying, “After 43 years I don’t even have right to a single cupboard. I might as well take my things to the other room. You can have all the cupboards here.”

Also she added for good measure, “In any case, no one is interested in your instruments and all those old things you keep in there.”

That was that, but now she was emptying the cupboard with such vengeance I observed. None of us wanted dad’s rifle because it a lot of responsibility. If you own a rifle, you also need a license. Then you need to keep the police informed in the area. Every time there is a riot or unrest in the city you are required to deposit the rifle at the nearest police station. Also when ever you are travelling, you are required to again deposit the rifle in a police station or carry it with yourself.

All four of us, including my brother thought that it was more pain than gain to inherit the gun so we asked mom to give it to my uncle, dad’s younger brother. Now since my uncle already owned one rifle, he couldn’t be the owner of another rifle also according to rules in India. So we decided that his son, my cousin could have the rifle. That decided, my cousin obtained a license so he could take the rifle. That is how, my dad’s priced possession, the .22 rifle went to my cousin.

As the days went by, I observed that mom was giving away things and many were benefitting from her generosity also.

Sitting alone, remembering my dad, I thought of the futility of accumulating so many things in a lifetime when all is lost on one’s death. Dad guarded his possessions and didn’t let anyone touch them. Now it was being given away with hardly a thought. Or maybe with some thought but I doubt if dad would have approved of this giving away of his possessions in such haste.

Why a human being is so interested in accumulating stuff in his or her lifetime, I wondered. Life was a journey but most of us lived it as if we were here to stay for a long time.

I missed dad. He was a great father. He almost treated us girls as equally as he treated his only son, my younger brother. If anything he was rather sterner with him than us. He encouraged us to study and to have careers. I remember when I was a sit-at-home mom after my first child was born. He told me after one year that I should get a job or else I will get into the habit of being a housewife.

Dad said, “If you want to work you will have to go out there and get a job.”

I remember protesting, “My child is only 15 months old. I will get a job but she is so little at present.”

However, he didn’t agree with me. He felt that if one sits out for too long, it becomes difficult to get back into the job market. Maybe he was right.

I also remember that he had such a progressive outlook on most things. Once when I was just in my late teens, I was going out for a Christmas party. I got dressed up in a straight dress that I had stitched by myself. A maroon coloured velvet dress which had a side slit and a low neck.

Since it was Christmas time my maternal uncle, the one who was a village doctor, was visiting us. When he saw me all dressed up in a dress which I suspect he thought was too revealing, he asked, “Are you are wearing this dress for the party?”

I said, “Yes. What is wrong with it?”

Uncle turned towards dad and said, “Look at her jijaji. Look at what Gulli is wearing?”

All in the house called me by my pet name. Dad just looked at the dress and said, “Turn around.”

I did. He looked at me and smiled. Then he turned to my uncle and said, “What is wrong with the dress. It is perfectly fine.”

I smiled proudly and said, “I stitched it myself.”

Uncle just looked amazed. I suspect he thought that dad was too lenient with his girls. I thought he must have wondered how come jijaji finds the dress okay, it was too revealing. But he kept quiet and I sauntered out of the house in triumph.

Now, days after his death, all those memories came flooding back. I think I didn’t have the time to mourn his death on the day of he died as the funeral was held on the same day and I was busy with the arrangements. But with things settling down, I finally had time to say good bye to dad.

Mom has a lot of time on her hands after dad’s death. She used her time to just keep on giving away dad’s things almost with zeal. I think she had her own grief to deal with and also anger at dad. Also with so many relatives visiting due to dad’s death, mom had no work and lots of time to reflect about her life. Dad and mom did have their fights and most times she didn’t win them. But their fights were all very civilised, no raising of voices or calling of names. Mom mostly maintained silence to show anger. So for outsiders they were the perfect pair, the best married couple.

But mom had her issues. She didn’t want to always ask dad for money. She had too much pride. That is why she ensured that all her daughters worked and have an income of their own. What my dad did once hurt her the most, I know that now. It was when dad refused to give her a pocket money of just Rs. 50 per month saying there was no money. It must have been 1995 or 1996 and dad had already retired years ago but he did get a good amount as pension. He had retired as a government officer, top grade after all. But he still said he could not give mom Rs. 50 per month as pocket money.

I remember fighting with my dad over this. I just couldn’t understand his logic. It hurt my mom a lot. It has remained with her since, even nine years after his death. Infact, I think this is the single most remembered incident of her 43 years of marriage. Some hurts take time to heal.

That is why when I saw her giving away dad’s stuff with such haste and no regret; I felt that maybe she was somehow getting even. Now she could do what she wanted, how she wanted. She finally had her way.

At last, the whole cupboard was empty. Mom stood there with her hands resting on the empty shelves. As I watched her with her hands cleaning the now empty cupboard, I thought it was ironic that this was the most difficult time in her life. She has just become a widow. She always had some one to take care of her and make decisions for her. First it was her dad and then my father. But this was also the time in her life when she was finally empowered.

At this junction of her life, mom was a widow but she was also the owner of two houses, a car and land. Mistress of all she surveyed. Finally so late in life, at 65, she has truly become emancipated. But the price was huge and the victory too little and too late.

Foots firmly in their mouths

I am not at all amazed with the various quotes that are being made by religious, political and cultural leaders following the horrific gang rape of a 23 year old doctor in New Delhi on 16 December 2012 which resulted in her death two weeks later. Still it really leaves me bewildered how men who feel there are leaders of thousands are keeping on putting their foots firmly in the mouths with such regularity that one wonders whether they even posses simple common sense. Men of all hues are making such stupid and incredible comments that it leaves most of us, especially women really wondering about the Indian man. We have comments from Mohan Bhagwat, leader of RSS which has millions in their cadre and what does he come up with? He said, rapes take place in India, not Bharat conveniently ignorant of the fact that 74 percent of the rapes occur in rural India. By Bharat, Mr Bhagwat must have meant rural India. He follows that up with other another gem, ‘Women should be housewives’. Not to be outdone, there is Asharam Bapu, who felt that it was as much the fault of the girl who got raped as it was the fault of the rapists. So now we put the brave victim in the same category as the rapists. Why conduct a trial at all, since all are guilty, right Asharam Bapu? Now why should the politicians be lagging in this parade of fools? They also need to prove that they can make remarks which are even more stupid. So we have Raj Thakeray saying that Biharis are rapists, conveniently forgetting that only one of the six alleged rapists in the above mentioned case was from Bihar. Then comes another gem this time from Abu Azmi of the Samajwadi party. He feels that women should only go out with their brothers and relatives. And not be to left behind, the minister from Puducherry announces really progressive measures (I suppose that is what he thinks) to ensure safety of women, make them wear overcoats, never mind the hot and humid climate of the place. And for even more safety, they have announced separate buses with women conductors in Puducherry. I guess now all women in Puducherry are insulated from all unwanted male advances and ofcourse rape and molestation. But before that an MLA from Rajasthan had already asked the government to go in for salwar kameez or pants for girls in school and banning of skirts. I guess, his knowledge is limited to information that only girls with skirts get raped in Rajasthan. Wonder then why women with saris and salwar kameez also get raped and molested in Rajasthan and in India on the whole. Where do all these people live on? Mars? They can’t be living in India in 2012-13. How about telling the men something, like do not think with your dicks. Respect women, they are your equal and not an object who you can vilify, molest and rape. How about teaching men and also boys as they are growing up that women also have the same rights as they have. They deserve the same honour, respect and dignity that you crave and want. How about condemning men for their actions and making it so difficult for men who even misbehave in the slightest manner that one would think hundreds of times before trying to misbehave with a girl or woman. But that might be asking for too much. These men are not even bothered about their own dignity. They are making such stupid remarks that I wonder what happened to their self preservation instinct. They think nothing of inviting ridicule. But I thought all leaders, (that is not what I think of them but what they think of themselves) like to be looked at favourably, they want to be praised and respected. They think highly of themselves. Then why are they making fools of themselves? I know that they are revealing their own misogynist tendencies but at the cost of their own popularity? That leaves me perplexed. Why don’t they all shut up and let us who have better sense just go about ensuring that all public and private space are made safe for women so that we can live with respect, dignity and honour.

Complicated Surgery: Crash course in God’s Love

Complicated Surgery: Crash course in God’s Love

This one I must begin at the beginning but the fact that I am writing about my weakest moment which actually turned out to be my strongest one, shows that I am doing fine. It was a crash course in knowing God’s awesome love for me. Now I do not remember the pain, the three months of trouble, all that is a vague memory. What I remember is how God taught me so much about his character and how he fulfilled his promise made to all of us actually….. “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Recently I underwent a complicated surgery to remove a gastric band (it’s a band tied to the stomach surgically which reduces your stomach size and therefore reduced your consumption so one loses weight, or so the theory goes…because it did not work for me.) I had this surgery seven years ago in Ahmedabad. I was actually the first one to have a gastric band installed in my stomach at the first ever obesity surgeon’s conference in India held in Ahmedabad in 2003. I got operated by an Italian doctor. My dad did tell me that I was being made a guinea pig but it was a free surgery and the band alone cost Rs 1.25 lakhs at that time so I thought it was a great opportunity.
To get back to the story, my gastric band eroded, meaning it cut into my stomach lining and caused a lot of abscess. I had inflammation in my stomach since December but the doctor I was seeing then was not able to detect what was wrong. I had a small operation in Ahmedabad by the Indian surgeon who was part of the team to install the gastric band 7 years ago but he only removed part of the band which was imbedded superficially which is called the port of the adjustable gastric band. He removed it through local anesthesia and left the wound open since there was infection. He said it would heal eventually. So we keep bandaging it for two months yet it did not close completely and oozed pus. Abigail, my elder daughter, was the one who did the dressing daily. I was consulting a surgeon in delhi who was known to the Ahmedabad doctor. He said the wound would heal.
Meanwhile another swelling I could detect deep inside my stomach near the wound. I showed that to the doctor but he said it was just edema and would eventually subside. Instead slowly that swelling erupted on the surface, very near the first wound. It was a very large boil with many heads. It was very painful. I couldn’t sleep on my sides. I could only sleep straight which also gave me a back ache. Again I showed the doctor and we decided to drain the pus in Fortis Jessa Ram. We decided to claim my medi-claim so though it was going to be done under local anesthesia the Hospital made a Rs 55,000 bill. But since it was a Saturday evening we were not able to get approval for the small surgery and I returned back home.
I was so disappointed and in lot of pain. I wondered what was God’s plan in this. But it was a blessing that the approval did not come on that day or else I would have been operated to drain the pus and the larger problem would have remained undetected. Maybe it would take another eruption of abscess before we could have figured out that there was a much larger problem inside. So one of the lessons I learnt was that sometimes God does not answer our prayers because he knows the truth. We can only ask him from the little knowledge we have of the situation but he has the whole picture.
Okay, so that was March 6. The doctor was going off for a wedding to Ludhania. He would only return on Tuesday evening. I returned back and just took some antibiotics to keep the abscess in control. Again this was also a blessing or God’s way of directing me to the right direction. On March 8, Women’s Day we (meaning members of the India Women’s Press Corps) went to Rastrapathi Bhavan for tea since the President had invited us. I talked to the press secretary of the President and asked her to recommend me at AIIMS so that I could get treatment swiftly. I knew that to just get an Out Patient Department card made at AIIMS people line up from the previous night. The press secretary talked to the director of AIIMS who asked me to come the next day, so on Tuesday, March 9th I went to AIIMS bypassing the long lines. I really feel sorry for all those sick people who come for treatment at AIIMS and have to wait for days to just see a junior doctor. I also had to wait but mostly hours outside the doctor’s room, not days.
The doctor looked at my stomach and immediately said I should get an upper abdomen endoscopy since it looked like a case of band erosion. That was the first time I heard about band erosion. I learnt that the band can cut inside the stomach lining and get really entangled inside. I went for the endoscopy and sure enough the band was visible from inside my stomach. So the doctor asked me to get a private room at the hospital so that he could operate me. I went for the room to the medical superintendent. The date given to me was April 28, almost a month and a half away. Again I went to the director and got a recommendation letter and was given March 19th as the date when I could get admitted. I informed the doctor; he told me they would operate on me on Monday or Tuesday so I got admitted a day later on Saturday, March 20th.
Let me tell you something here. I have been a journalist for a long time so I am used to being in a position of power, but these days I do not have a job so no power. I started a new media and communications company in November, did one assignment only and since December I was sick and unable to concentrate on work to a large extend or pitch for new projects, therefore I was practically jobless and without money. That is a real tough situation to be in especially if you live in a rented house with two children to support singly in a city like Delhi. I was praying about deliverance. I kept asking God that now I am weak and Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12: 10b. “for when I am weak, then I am strong.” I asked God now I am weak so when will I be strong or when will I feel strong.
Actually I was struggling with finances big time and paying bills and taking care of my wounds, I was just not prepared for a major operation. I just had no money of it. I was probably down to my last Rs 1000 with the rent and the car loan not paid, fees of both the girls not paid and many other things like my insurance, and an insurance which I took in Abigail’s name not paid, I was wondering where I would come up with the money. I told God that he has to do something. I did not take up a full time job as a journalist because I could have more time to serve him so I started a company but then I was waylaid with this infection in my stomach.
The bottom just fell off my world when I knew I would have to go in for a major operation…. I just went lower than where I was already and I had thought it couldn’t get any worse than this. But God was working all the time.
My mom was not able to come since she has just had a pace maker installed in her heart and would not be of help in Delhi. My younger sister who is very resourceful was eight months pregnant so that ruled her out, my brother was just recovering from a major illness so my mom sent my elder sister who is not so resourceful but can manage the house and take care of my younger daughter Sera. Mom told me not to worry about money. We even contemplated selling some of my gold. My brother sent me Rs 20,000 so I had some money to atleast get admitted to AIIMS. I estimated that I would need around Rs 35,000 but eventually we needed Rs 50,000. But family, friends and many totally unexpected sources gave or lent me money.
But the amazing part is not just finances, on the day of the surgery; I was totally calm, though I knew that it can be dangerous, getting operated in general anesthesia since I have hypothyroid and also high blood pressure. But all my parameters were normal. I learnt another verse first hand on the day of my operation, March 22, Phil 4: 7 “And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” When I went for the operation, I had a Christian friend with me, as Abigail (my elder daughter) had gone with Sera (My younger daughter). Sera had to appear for an entrance exam at Carmel Convent. My friend prayed with me. When I went inside, I did know I would live after the operation but I also knew that anything can go wrong in a surgery. Amazingly, I had the peace of God and I knew that if anything happened to me, God would take care of my daughters. So I went for the operation with a great peace of mind, no tension.
Just then my doctor, Sandeep Aggarwal came. I told him not to mess up my stomach with scars but he told me the greater worry for getting the band out which is a very complicated operation. He told me that they were lucky that they had an Australian doctor which them who was experienced in band surgeries and their removal and that he would be also helping them in the operation. So God was planning for me way ahead. How could I know I needed a more experienced Australian doctor for my surgery? I knew that Dr Aggarwal had done only two previous surgeries where the band had eroded. Before the anesthetist could knock me off, I told her I needed to pray so I prayed loudly and committed the whole team, the instruments, their hands, their wisdom and my body to God. At least some ten doctors including residents were present there. After the operation I was just fine, lots of pain but fine. Doctors told me I would be okay though the operation was complicated. They told me the operation would take about 45 minutes to an hour but it took three and a half hours.
I discovered what God was teaching me all along that He alone was enough. It was like He was saying to me, “I alone am enough… You do not need anyone. I learnt the meaning of another verse from Isaiah 49: 15, “Can a woman forget her nursing child. And have no compassion on the son of her womb. Even these may forge, but I will not forget you.” I used to wonder how a mother can forget her children. Being a single mother and spending all my time, effort and money on my children I used to wonder about this verse. But I learnt it firsthand during my surgery. My mother was not able to come but God was there for me. I had so many women from the Apostle’s Methodist Church come and support me that I am totally overwhelmed. I mean women from the church who I do not know so well came and did intimate tasks for me. They took me to the bathroom, helped me gargle my mouth and spit in a kidney tray which they had to throw away. They had to measure the urine for record…. Things I would not expect even some of my family members to do but they did it. I was overwhelmed that Jemila ( a lady from the church) came despite not having a car and a driver, she had to travel by two buses back to her house. Shreedevi (another church member) came when I was still not able to go to the bathroom on my own and Kamla Prabhakar (another church member) took leave from her government job. My dad was a government officer; I know that one does not take leave just to look after some person in the hospital who you do not even know well. Pastor’s wife Mrs. I C Singh also came and so did many others. Also Rina (another church member) for making such a wonderful chicken soup as such short notice. I found that though the women of my house, my mother and sister was not able to come, I found for the first time what it means to be a part of the family of God in AMC. I really want to thank the women of Apostle’s Methodist Church, some of my other friends and the pastors for visiting me and giving me confidence and all the other my friends and family praying for me.
After the operation I was not allowed to drink water for four days since they wanted to check whether there was any leakage in my stomach wherever they had stitched all the ruptures caused by the band. So after four days when Jemila was with me, we went for Gastrography test which showed that I had not leakage and that now I could drink water. Actually God was working every step of the way. First we did not get the date for the Gatrography test and it would have been done on Friday but God intervened and despite everyone saying it was not possible, the test was done on Thursday and from that day onwards I could drink sips of water…
When I couldn’t drink water, I learnt the meaning of another verse from Mathew 4: 4, “Man shall not live on bread alone but on every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.” When I could not drink water and therefore was not able to talk due to the dryness in my mouth I thought of this verse and understood. Doctors would say I was on IVs so I was well able to survive without water but the dryness in my mouth was another thing altogether.
Despite all that God was doing I still showed little faith. I was scared when doctors did not come to find a new vein so that they could give me injectable medicines on the fifth day and I behaved rudely when all I needed to do was just ask God. Even on the day I was being discharged I thought since it was Sunday we would not have enough money to pay the final bills but we had enough money.
On top of it, my younger daughter Sera who performed badly in her entrance exams which she gave on the day I got operated was given admission in Carmel Convent despite her poor scores and we again had enough money to pay her fees. We paid two rents, the car loan, the insurance, fees of both the girls and all other bills. My sister told me that God sometimes had amazing ways to help us. I went through the surgery where I learnt so much about God and how much he cares for me. I knew that he is always in control, but I experienced in first hand in his very interesting ways of solving my problems. So now I am rid of the band, most of my debts are paid, I do have some new ones though to family members and I know God will be there to guide me in the future also.
My mom also had any amazing vision while she was praying for me during my surgery. She said she saw Jesus along with the doctors peering into my stomach when they were performing the operation. She said she saw that vision for one whole hour with her eyes open. From that time onwards she knew I would be fine and nothing could harm me. And I am fine. No post operative complications.

Activists urge Centre to decriminalise sex trade

Activists urge Centre to decriminalise sex trade
By SONAL KELLOGG
Pune, Feb. 18: Social activists working with sex workers want the government to decriminalise the trade as they feel this pushes the trade underground and prevents the sex workers from seeking health services. It also has been detrimental to the human rights of sex workers.
Explaining the complexity of the situation, social activist Meena Seshu, who has been working with sex workers for 15 years, said in a talk on "Between Vice and Victimhood" here, "Sex workers are asking for their ‘services’ to be recognised as work allowing individuals involved in the trade to demand their business rights, human rights and occupational health and safety regulations. Most of them do not want to be thought of as victims who are in need of being rescued."
This is where the situation gets caught up in the myriad complexities. This is true even of the government position. The Human Right Watch’s report on "Epidemic of Abuse: Police Harassment of HIV/AIDS Outreach Workers in India" said: "In practice, one branch of the government, the public health service, relies on the non governmental sector to provide condoms and information to persons at high risk, another branch of the government, the law enforcement establishment, abuses those who provide these services."
The problem stems from the stereotyping of sex workers, said Ms Seshu. She said, "Either sex workers are perceived as social outcasts, exploited victims or as vectors of diseases like AIDS and STD. The popular belief is that no women wants to be in this profession and that the only way to give them their rights is to ‘free’ them of their trade." But she said that after working with sex workers for years, she has learnt that they want their sex work to be recognised as work and that it should be decriminalised.
She said that this perspective helps sex workers articulate the violation of their rights as sex workers and helps them claim worker’s rights.
Government policy is also not cohesive, she said. "The Immoral Trafficking Protection Act," said Ms Seshu, "is largely used to abuse sex workers and the backlash of this is that it threatens HIV prevention efforts and forces people underground. It halts work and discourages people from accessing services. Also, it has been detrimental to the human rights of sex workers."
However, being outcasts and not being recognised is not just an Indian problem. Increasingly, this language is being seen in international discourses on sex work, specifically in the US HIV strategy and the UN policies, said Ms Seshu. She said that the US anti-trafficking lobby has institutionalised this claim by linking it to HIV funding. The Prostitution Pledge, as it is called, of the US has to be signed by all those who want to have access to US funding to fight AIDS.
The pledge is: "Prostitution and other sexual victimisation are degrading to women and children in the sex industry, trafficking of individuals into such industry and sexual violence are additional causes of and factors in the spread of the HIV/AIDS epidemic."
Brazil as a country refused to sign this pledge and refused $40 million of US funding for AIDS. Ms Seshu said the problem is that this makes it appear that sex work, trafficking and sexual violence are one and the same thing, which is not true. It is difficult to work with sex workers if one is going to equate sex work with sexual violence and consider it degrading, which is not how sex workers see themselves, she said.
She said, "We ask sex workers to form a collective so that they have a voice and can ask for what they want and what the government can do for them. They can get out of being marginalised and exploited if they get organised."
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Activists urge Centre to decriminalise sex trade

Activists urge Centre to decriminalise sex trade
By SONAL KELLOGG
Pune, Feb. 18: Social activists working with sex workers want the government to decriminalise the trade as they feel this pushes the trade underground and prevents the sex workers from seeking health services. It also has been detrimental to the human rights of sex workers.
Explaining the complexity of the situation, social activist Meena Seshu, who has been working with sex workers for 15 years, said in a talk on "Between Vice and Victimhood" here, "Sex workers are asking for their ‘services’ to be recognised as work allowing individuals involved in the trade to demand their business rights, human rights and occupational health and safety regulations. Most of them do not want to be thought of as victims who are in need of being rescued."
This is where the situation gets caught up in the myriad complexities. This is true even of the government position. The Human Right Watch’s report on "Epidemic of Abuse: Police Harassment of HIV/AIDS Outreach Workers in India" said: "In practice, one branch of the government, the public health service, relies on the non governmental sector to provide condoms and information to persons at high risk, another branch of the government, the law enforcement establishment, abuses those who provide these services."
The problem stems from the stereotyping of sex workers, said Ms Seshu. She said, "Either sex workers are perceived as social outcasts, exploited victims or as vectors of diseases like AIDS and STD. The popular belief is that no women wants to be in this profession and that the only way to give them their rights is to ‘free’ them of their trade." But she said that after working with sex workers for years, she has learnt that they want their sex work to be recognised as work and that it should be decriminalised.
She said that this perspective helps sex workers articulate the violation of their rights as sex workers and helps them claim worker’s rights.
Government policy is also not cohesive, she said. "The Immoral Trafficking Protection Act," said Ms Seshu, "is largely used to abuse sex workers and the backlash of this is that it threatens HIV prevention efforts and forces people underground. It halts work and discourages people from accessing services. Also, it has been detrimental to the human rights of sex workers."
However, being outcasts and not being recognised is not just an Indian problem. Increasingly, this language is being seen in international discourses on sex work, specifically in the US HIV strategy and the UN policies, said Ms Seshu. She said that the US anti-trafficking lobby has institutionalised this claim by linking it to HIV funding. The Prostitution Pledge, as it is called, of the US has to be signed by all those who want to have access to US funding to fight AIDS.
The pledge is: "Prostitution and other sexual victimisation are degrading to women and children in the sex industry, trafficking of individuals into such industry and sexual violence are additional causes of and factors in the spread of the HIV/AIDS epidemic."
Brazil as a country refused to sign this pledge and refused $40 million of US funding for AIDS. Ms Seshu said the problem is that this makes it appear that sex work, trafficking and sexual violence are one and the same thing, which is not true. It is difficult to work with sex workers if one is going to equate sex work with sexual violence and consider it degrading, which is not how sex workers see themselves, she said.
She said, "We ask sex workers to form a collective so that they have a voice and can ask for what they want and what the government can do for them. They can get out of being marginalised and exploited if they get organised."
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