Monday, February 20, 2017

Why I’m not a feminist

As a woman living in the modern age, with a fair amount of exposure to different cultures, people, and experiences, it comes as a surprise to many, when I express vehement opposition to the idea of being a feminist.

Of course, feminism means different things to different people in different countries and cultures. Gloria Steinem, the iconic feminist figure brought her ideas on the role of women into the mainstream of public discourse. I suppose, feminism at its roots, began as a powerful movement to propel the understanding that women are equal to men. Feminism benefited from the righteous anger of its proponents and many of its themes struck with a chord with women everywhere. Its heart, it seemed, was in the right place.

That germ of a ‘revolution’ has come a long way since then. In the US and other advanced economies, feminism has now morphed into a hatred of the other. It is now no longer enough, as a card-carrying feminist, to insist that women be treated equal to men, at work and home. One must, now demand special attention, careful treatment and superior advantages over men.  A certain virulent rhetoric has seeped into feminist speech that looks down on women who choose what they deem to be a path of oppression, at best.

As with all things, one finds that the Bible lays out a view in complete contrast to the prevailing philosophy of the world. Women hold an exalted position, created equal to men, in the image of God. In fact, I once heard a preacher humorously point to the Biblical passage that said women were ‘fashioned’ as opposed to men who just got made.

In a world of blurred sexual and gender identities, where gender is nothing more than a ‘feeling’ or a ‘product of cultural indoctrination’, the Bible celebrates the difference between the sexes. Women are liberated from the tyranny of male approval and expectations, when called on to remember that they have inherent worth, and are beautiful, valuable and equal in the eyes of their Creator. The proverbial woman of Proverbs (pun intended) is a clear thinker, a skilled entrepreneur and noble in character, all while being elegant, dignified and wise. Still very much, a woman.

Those who are enlightened with this understanding, no longer feel the need to swing to either extreme – trouncing men on a relentless drive to prove they can do what men can, better, or, spend all their lives striving for male attention through an endless pursuit of bodily perfection.

Women can choose to raise and school their children at home, fully convinced of its awesome responsibility and reward. Or they can pursue a demanding career, fully expending their gifts and talents, while keeping their sight on things above.

It must be added that certainly, a woman without a man is not incomplete, just as a man without a woman is not incomplete. Greco-Roman mythology has done humanity a great disservice by trapping hordes of men and women in a life-long chase, to find their ‘missing half’. Well, two halves do not make a whole, Hollywood!


A ‘whole’ woman is the Biblical ideal. So, on that happy note, I’d love to invite a feminist to my home built by a strong woman and her blessed husband, and hopefully point them to a walk which is definitely through a narrow gate, but is absolutely the better way!

Monday, February 15, 2016

This is Home

You were to be my home, the one I was waiting for
When I was tempted to wander, and sorely embittered,
You were the faint strains of a surging melody;
the tranquil waves of a rising sea
I carried the weight of my expectations until I found you;
but as I waited, I prepared, to also be right for you

My words were few, but you understood
Being knit by a common thread, we saw a common truth
Every untold story was waiting to be told to you
Every battle wound was waiting to be revealed to you

When the fire raged, stoked by the winds of conflict, fuelled by the intruder,
You cut through the haze, and ever rose to my defence
When my doubts abounded, amid the clamor of unresolved questions;
Until clarity dawned, you were my honest answer
Until healing appeared, you were my soothing mender
Because when the sun went down, you didn’t let go.
Sleepless and red-eyed, we stumbled into a new day, but you never did let go.

When time and distance clambered to take their toll,
I rested knowing that you’d never let my heart burn;
Never let my core unfold.


I did not get what I wished for, but was granted even the unstated desires of my heart
For I would choose happiness and accolade over the bitter-sweet sting of sanctification,
That my good Father knew from the start.
And I begin to grasp the love of the God of Jacob, marveling,
When you, my beloved, rejoice over me with singing!

Your love is patient and kind;
Displayed through sacrifice; and a girding of your mind.
You swept the chambers of your heart cleaner
So I could walk in barefoot and trusting
You ploughed in fertile, watered ground, ridding it bare of secrets and stories
So I could find my rest in you, my safe haven in tumult and frothing
You held my interests above yours, empathetic, walking in my shoes.
When you did not understand, you tried harder still, and with all your might,
Long after, when I won’t remember what was said, I’ll never forget, oh, just how you tried.

My solid rock, you never tired of loving.
All this while, I thought I would make you whole,
But as your love compels, moves and covers me,
And in a way that only you can,
I’m more whole than I was ever before, my bridegroom, my man. 


Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Fly-by-night operators in the Customer Excellence Era




In my B-school days, when Amazon was still rising and shining, I’d heard of a legend associated with its founder Jeffrey Bezos. It was said that he listened, really listened, to what his customers were saying and personally solicited feedback. Despite being uber competent, his employees feared receiving the dreaded e-mail from Jeff – a single question mark sent to the concerned department on his receiving a customer complaint.

Doubtless, Amazon wouldn’t be the giant it is today, without its focus on customer satisfaction, and that not merely as a slug line, but by walking the earnest talk.
Cut to a horror story and tell me if you relate.
A ‘business’ advertising its wares with a garish website and flatulent Popeye-esque claims, announcing their aim to please customers. Ergo, customer is impressed. Soon, customer is disillusioned. Now, customer wants the promised refund.
Through a year-long assiduous follow-up, she hears excuses ranging from ‘it’s Bakri-Eid, the staff is emaciated’, to ‘no-understand-English-did you mean refund, we thunk you said you was happy and did not want money back’. Mostly, they just refused to respond. On being written to, the owner spews mindless, blatant excuses, and simply refuses to bother.
The business in question – An online book rental from Mumbai called Librarywala (to be avoided like the bubonic plague).
An important question remained – must I fight to the finish, sword flashing, with the fervor of a Visigoth claiming victory from the Romans, and insist on the deposit they had collected from the customer with an obligation to return on cancellation of subscription…... or simply give up on a petty thief?
Because wisdom can be found in a variety of counselors, I asked for advice. I turned to my not-so-idealistic sister, who suggested writing poor reviews and reporting Librarywala on Better Business Bureau (doesn’t exist in India) and asked me to get over it, with a hint of Wall Street condescension.
The fight was never about the money, but the principle. Be that as it were, I’m finally laying down arms, although not without some patronizing advice of my own. What mama says makes sense. Just because it looks legit, doesn’t mean it is.
If like me, you think, a fly-by-night operator in this day and age, can only look like a dacoit with an eye patch snooping creepily from behind a boulder, we’re both mistaken.
Ask questions, read reviews, and give your custom to the worthy. And if like me, you have a heightened sense of fair-play, ask for your due, even if it doesn’t look like you might win.
In the end, "dishonest scales are an abomination to the LORD" (Proverbs 11:1). I rest my case.

Monday, August 17, 2015

A free-wheeling chat

Last Sunday, I met a dear friend, Pastor Priji Varghese in Mumbai, and he set up a podcast quizzing me on success, failure and everything in between.

You can listen to the conversation by clicking the link below:

https://soundcloud.com/pastorpriji/lifetalk-ajin-abraham-1

And I finally took the podcast plunge.


Saturday, July 11, 2015

Discerning Your Hand





A watching world cannot understand, they clasp their hands over their mouths, and shake their heads

What does it mean to be blessed, if not riches, and health and friends?

Doesn’t praise lead to prosperity, prayer to protection, and piety to prestige?




She counted all loss as chaff, in the light of gaining her Master;

And declared him immeasurably sufficient, unfailingly good, and ever the sweeter



I marvel at the rich welcome that must have been your servant’s when her spirit left an earthly tent,

I wonder at the Son, who rose up to meet her at the gates,

He walked with her, joined by the multitude she moved on earth; and she astonished at mighty answers to prayers, then unseen, but now crystal clear

She didn’t travel the world, didn’t cross the seas, but greater an impact than thundering lords,
Greater surely, must be her God!



A legacy of hardship endured like a good soldier of Christ; assuredly outweighs land and wealth and gold
May her offspring remember, and thus, may her story ever be told.

Lest we reduce life to cause and effect;

Lest we reduce life to actions, equal & opposite reactions;

Asking why the righteous do suffer, and then fret because of evil, passing our days bitterly groaning



But You do not answer our questions with certainties; only offer Yourself steadfastly and beseech us to do the same.

Your paths are beyond tracing out; Your ways inscrutable.

Truly, I cannot place my finger on them, but with granted wisdom, oh let me please discern Your Hand. 

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Courage

  • Courage is taking responsibility for your actions, especially when you’ve gone wrong
  • Courage is making a public apology, healing hurt without letting the sun go down 

  • Courage is generosity of time, money and effort, knowing it may never be returned
  • Courage is finding rest in uncertainty, solace despite ambiguity

  • Courage is never delaying in making amends
  • Courage is sometimes resisting, sometimes fleeing temptation

  • Courage is walking away, even while it deeply hurts
  • Courage is believing in a greater treasure, even while it’s yet unseen 

  • Courage is choosing not to vent your anger
  • Courage is choosing not to lean on your own understanding

  • Courage is saying what you really need to say
  • Courage is in the stillness of silence

  • Courage is in a long, hard look at the mirror
  • Courage is truth in the innermost person
  • Courage is accepting you went astray

  • Courage is in composure and a steadfastly calm spirit
  • Courage is in forgiveness and a remarkably unbitter spirit

  • Courage is in esteeming yourself, everyday
  • Courage is in seeking a fresh start, everyday

  • Courage is in compassion and in mercy
  • Courage is in giving unreservedly and in empathy

  • Courage is outward looking
  • is hurting release
  • is trusting peace
  • is sacrificial love

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Life. And Love. And Why.

Why does Popeye keep his spinach until the finish?

Why do you catch the bug the night before an important presentation?

Why do you get pulled up for the one lapse?

Why don't we treat others the way we would like to be?

Why is 'life's-too-short' used as the reason to throw it away?

Why is bitterness all-consuming?

Why do we try to change others? People do not change. It has nothing to do with you.

Why do we live as if we'd never die?

Why does disease show up, after it's too late?

Why must it be so hard to avoid hurt, when you can?

Why do you continue to love the one who continues to cause you pain?

Why is it difficult to do the good you want to do?

Why is it easy to commit the mistakes you never meant to?

Why are you asked to 'follow' your heart? You should be 'leading' your heart.

Why don't we see that love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres?

Love is not self-seeking, is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs. Why is love the theme of all songs, yet the least understood?

Why is it that what you fear the most, happens to you?

Why do you fall the hardest when you think you're standing firm?

Why do you hit the ground running when you lose your way?


Nobody said it'd be easy. Nobody said it would be so hard.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

A year older. Two steps forward. One step behind.

Two hours too early to leave on a jetplane - out of namma Bangalore into amchi Mumbai, to 'celebrate' the birthday.

You see, it was the India-Pakistan cricketing blood-bath. Fewer people on the streets than in a graveyard on a full-moon night.

No pearls of wisdom. Some insights, distilled and now brewing over. In no particular order..


- Daily living ought to work out of a to-do list. Write it down. Check it off.

- No matter how many times you fall.. Get up. Every single time.

- Life is uncertain. That's no excuse to not have a plan.

- No matter how you feel.. Get up. Dress up. Show up.

- Hunger for growth. It's the ultimate elevator pitch.

- God is alive and kicking. Why thirst by the fountain-side..

- Make a decision. Stick to it.

- Do right. Sand castles come crashing down.

- People - They'll forget what you said. They'll forget what you did. They will never forget how you made them feel.

- Love as if you've never been hurt.

- Note to self: No chai like ghar ki chai. Dip-dip chai is simply not the same.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Cure for the pain

As I write this, I'm living out the rough and tumble of simple living. My grandmother's home in Kerala has the basic conveniences of modern existence, yet seems to prove the classic adage right- the more things change, the more they remain the same.

Daily living's uncluttered here. Schedules rarely heave. All 'early-to-bed, early-to-rise'rs. Chores begin at dawn, and follow each other in routine humdrum.

Women have an equal share of voice in household matters. Every home no matter how poor, believes in giving their children decent education, sincere in the conviction that a good job holds the key to upward mobility. All hard workers, they believe in earning the bread they bring home to their families. Which is also why, grinding poverty is almost non-existent.

Outwardly, not much has changed. I see the same tea shop, I'd seen as a goo goo eyed girl, with its fresh 'chaya/kaapi ' aroma wafting through the antediluvian atmosphere, mingling with the unhurried buzz of activity around.


This wasn't meant to be a character sketch of a malayalee, but the culmination of an insight gathered over the past week of rumination.

Because, beneath the deceptive calm, there's many an instance of brewing and settled storms. A private grieving behind the 94-year old collection of my grandmother's wrinkles. Unspeakable in its depth, but solid in its reality. A wrenching agony transcending the cherubic smile of a bright-eyed kid, left in the wake of it's mother's passing.

Yet, life goes on. Simply, because there are no answers. Doesn't matter how loud and how often you scream out your questions.

Life, then, is largely an unbroken stretch of sorrow, occasionally interspersed with happiness and ever so sporadically intermingled with bitter-sweet moments, where you think you've lived a lifetime.

I have no answers. My pain is also my remedy.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Random thoughts & Catharsis

1. Soar:

I like how a plane soars into the sky. The one moment in time, when that most marvelous of engineering feats, leaves the world behind. I drop whatever else I do, and that singular point of take-off & lift-up holds my undivided attention. It holds poignant significance for me.

2. Travel:

As I write this, I'm far from being a globe-trotter. But I've realized over the past year of intra-country travel, that visiting far-flung places, features eminently on my 'Things-to-do-before-I-die' list.

3. The Unnamed & The Unknown:

There have been people I met in my walk, who fulfilled a purpose - with a timely word, a helpful hand, or an unforeseen insight. I was grateful. I was responsive to their need too. Then, I moved on. That was okay. A natural drift. I made no effort to 'stay-in-touch'. On another time zone, can one meet someone, who's nothing like you in a most likely way, and you let that fierce guard down, and wonder, "if those walls you built up, were just glass on the outside?" Some relationships don't have to have a name. Someday, I'll heartbreakingly know..

4. The known:

You cannot walk on hot coals and not be scorched.
You cannot walk through fire and not be burned.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

A real short story

He had big brown eyes - the color of earnestness. 

His soft, wavy hair fell over his forehead. He spoke haltingly, the words tumbling over each other, but he did so passionately. He was standing at the intersection of the busy road, vehicles streaming from all directions. 

He must have been looking at me, but when I caught his eye, he blinked away. Maybe he made up his mind, and he stood a few paces behind me and my friend. 

I turned and looked at him. He smiled,” Muhje paise nahi chahiye”. 

‘Ask and it will be given to you’ 

“Toh kya chahiye?”, I asked. He pointed to a few notebooks in his hand. “Char subjects hai school mein, teen book chahiye har subject ke liye”. 

I looked at my friend, who seemed moved but said he’d go with my intuition on whether the kid had a genuine need. I considered the boy and gave it a thought…but only about which bookstore to go to. 

‘Seek and you shall find’ 

We walked, navigating the traffic. He studied in a “gohmment” school in the 5th standard. His mother worked in a hotel near where they stayed and he didn’t have a father. His brother studied in the third standard, he said, sticking 3 proud fingers close to my face. All his words were punctuated with vigorous nodding of the head and pointing of fingers. Every expression was honest and endearing. 

We arrived at the bookstore and bought notebooks and a box of pencils for him. He’d taken a bus to get there, only knowing that he had to get notebooks. His childish mind saw no barrier to the achievement of his desire. I asked why he chose to travel all the way from where he stayed. He didn’t want his mother to be ashamed, he said. 

‘Knock and the door will be opened to you’

He clutched his new possessions close to his chest and promised to study well and grow up to be a good man. I gave him my number. 

I wouldn’t be too surprised if I heard from him, after many, many years. 

And I wouldn’t be surprised at all, if I never did.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

When I’m weak, then I’m strong






The last 2 two years have been the hardest, in my living memory. I’ve felt elated and abandoned. Strong and exhausted. Felt the presence of God and stony silence.
Much of what I’ve been through, I felt, doesn’t make sense. I’ve argued, bargained, rationalized and went still.

Be good and you get good, right? Isn’t that how it should be? But then, God, as I’m discovering, is more interested in our character than our comfort (Rick Warren).

By grace, I’ve become more outward looking. Your own problems seem insignificant when you take a good, hard look at someone else’s suffering. And your life, a bed of roses, in comparison with someone else’s.

It’s been a month, since I’ve been visiting children living with cancer, at a cancer institute nearby. These are kids, of all ages, shapes and sizes, sharing a ravaging disease in common – at different stages of invasion. They seem bright-eyed, eager to learn and content in their little drawings, games and stories – unaware of the devastation within their bodies. They know only joy, innocence and the daily routine of medications, which they handle in a matter-of-fact way.

They’re from different parts of the country, different schools that they don’t go any longer to, and different families – each with a private grief of its own.

Being part of their joy adds to mine, as I bring them books, help them read, write, draw, play with blocks, color and sing. Do they ponder why they lose hair, have bulging stomachs and protruding veins.. I find myself wondering what goes on in the little expanse of their guileless hearts and look up to see an ear-to-ear melting smile..

I don’t know what tomorrow holds – but knowing I’m significant, of great and eternal worth with a purpose while here on earth, gives me strength to plough on and face tomorrow. Whether or not I have the answers to all questions – disappointment with God is better than disappointment without God.

“This is the true joy of life: the being used up for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one, being a force of nature, instead of a feverish, selfish little clot of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy” (George Bernard Shaw)

(These kids can use storybooks and funds – if you find it in your heart to contribute – please drop me a line)