Much chatter about Sexism.

“That’s rich!” Saha scoffed at her father as she crossed the room and took her scarf off. She plonked herself down on the sofa and glared at her father. It was difficult to make out the expression on the patriarch’s face. It seemed to be the start of perplexity and the end of anger; or maybe an unsavory mix of both. Not that Saha cared really. If there was one thing she hated more than sexism, it was the justification of it.

“What exactly are you angry about?” asked Vimal, the patriarch in question. He knew his daughter meant business and he was already wary of the transaction which would follow. But Saha wouldn’t let go so easily. Not before she made her pitch, laid out her wares and shut the deal down.

“You cannot talk to Nanamma like that. I’ll say this once, Pa. It is not concern. Not really, not at all. It’s condescension masquerading as concern and you don’t see it. You don’t have to talk on her behalf.”

“I am tired. Can we have this conversation tomorrow?” he retorted.

“Sure. My sound mind will prevail tomorrow. But then again, so will your privilege. Good night.”

“Okay wait. That’s below the belt.” The expression now on his face was one of anger and anger alone. If anything, it got only more unsavory. “I don’t quite know what you mean but this is no way to talk to your father. You say things which are meant to hurt, don’t you?” Vimal asked.

“I am sorry. But what you did was not cool. Not a wee bit.” She took a deep breath and let out an exasperated laugh. “Do you really not see what’s wrong? You told your mother that she wouldn’t understand the movie I suggested we watch, just because it was in English.”

“That’s what you’re angry about?!” Vimal laughed. “Let’s be honest. She wouldn’t understand and I am not mocking her. It’s just not a skill she possesses.”

“Its Pride and Prejudice, goddamit! She’s been reading the book for a month now, Pa! She has a notebook where she makes notes. A dictionary and a thesaurus which she refers to every two hours and she now has started reading The Great Gatsby! She does this because she wants to learn, because she couldn’t! And she couldn’t because you and Chinnanna were in school! Why is this so difficult to understand. Its English, isn’t it?! You got her to Chennai because you wanted to take care of her. Is this how you do it?!” Saha snapped.

Silence followed. Vimal did the most intelligent thing, any man in his position could do. He blinked. Twice. The truth was he didn’t know what his mother did through the day. He never thought about it. He assumed his wife and she would sit talking about this and that. He tried to say something but his voice had gone for a walk. He looked at his wife who looked back, pityingly. She then turned to her daughter and measured her words carefully.

“Saha, you’ll get it when you’re older. That what men mean when they say they want to take care of their mother. They mean they expect their wives to do it.”

“This just keeps getting richer and richer, doesn’t it Pa?” smirked Saha.

“Okay don’t gang up on me now!” Vimal responded. His voice had come back quicker than he thought it would. “Also from when is it okay for a child to speak to her father like this?” He realized however, that though he was sure of the words he uttered, his voice had become meeker.

“Vimal,” Kriti said cajolingly. “ Amma was widowed when she was 22. That’s Saha’s age. She studied alongside you and Prakhar. She got a job and till date lives off her pension. She’s a proud woman. You tell me she’s orthodox, I’ll take it. But don’t talk to her, or about her like she is a nitwit. That’s not concern. That’s cruel. And if your daughter is right, she’s right.”

“Also, I know I can be cutting and I am sorry about that. But I don’t talk to you like you are stupid.” said Saha gently. “Even when you actually are.” She added even more softly.

Saha walked again and sat down next to her mother. Her mother and she; both looked at each other and sighed. Vimal knew the sigh meant more than annoyance, more than anger. It was disappointment. Disappointment hung in the air for a while and Vimal felt his 6 feet self shrinking by the second.

“Let’s call it a night.” Kriti said, sensing her husband’s embarrassment. “We’ve yelled enough for a lifetime.”

“That’s what we say always.” mumbled Saha.

They all got into their respective beds, silently. But no one fell asleep soon that night. All three heads mulled over something completely different, so removed and yet so similar, so intertwined. Kriti wondered if the potential failure of what her daughter called “feminism” would leave Saha bitter. Saha thought about the twisted, vile ways in which privilege worked. Vimal, however pondered over the most important question of all. One that he had mulled over before and would do so even after.

“Did he know the women in his family? Did he know women at all?”