EVES GOING PLACES: LOVING OURSELVES IN SIN CITY

(Raili Roy and Malini Banerjee have fun at Las Vegas)

When life gives lemon, escape to Vegas with girlfriends. 

Fashion, self-indulgence, music, gambling, exotic shows and no routine whatsoever. Party until 4am, have sweet indulgences at around 4.30am, a quick snooze and the cycle starts again. Park away reality for a few days because somehow reality is very loyal about not changing too quickly. 

On one of the worst snow days in winter, three friends impulsively decided enough is enough, they needed a break. A break from routine. A break from family. A break from work. A break from snow, frigid temperatures. A break from responsibilities. A break from the life as they know it.
Life in the US for a working woman means commitments outside as well as household chores. Add to that motherhood, constant balancing of schedules, activities, homework and playdates. 

After a full day of work and a 5hr flight we arrived in Las Vegas, checked into the beautiful Venetian Resort and headed for the bar to train ourselves for the upcoming no-routine days.

And what a better way to start off at Las Vegas than a much needed spa treatment. One hour body massage followed by facial and relaxing in a hot tub. Heaven at our feet. Followed by a wonderful three course lunch, adding more pleasure to the pampering routine for sure. We were treated like celebrities that we are and enjoyed every moment of it.

That evening we had an experience of a lifetime: watching the famous Australian show in Vegas “Thunder From Down Under.” It was like a dozen Brad Pitts doing their best to entertain us. There is a 40% chance that they might kiss you (for Raili it was 3 times by 2 different Brad Pitts), but alas! Sadly always on the cheek. But you definitely get a chance to sit on their laps while they act as if ‘they’ were waiting all their lives for this moment.

With this much hyped show a terrible success, the suitcase full of clothes that came from New Jersey with us seemed absolutely inappropriate. They go with our NJ personalities, not Vegas. So we went on a shopping spree and landed at Forever 21.  As soon as we saw that the Forever21 store had a live DJ playing fabulous music, we knew who to ask for a night club recommendation. The DJ did not disappoint us as we joined a crowd of more than a thousand people at the most happening night club of Vegas, “Hakkasan” at MGM grand.

Did we mention that we had a fabulous dinner at their restaurant after which we were escorted by an impeccably dressed, well mannered man to the club bypassing the long line? The music and the energy was nothing we have ever experienced in our life as ‘Hardwell’ played live on stage. We were wooed by men from all races and background and of all ages from 21 to 30. 

And as the saying goes the rest of what happened there has to ‘stay in Vegas.’ Let’s just say, we returned to our hotel at 4 am tired but with a mischievous grin. However, we realized that the best part of this nightlife experience was the sense of safety and security we felt in a packed room full of revelers primarily comprised of men.  
In a constant effort to find someone to take a picture of the 3 of us together, we met the sweetest group of girls from South Sudan now studying in Nebraska and forged an instant connection. As they say trips like this are also about making new friends and we did make some.

We have been to various kinds of buffets in different parts of the world including the famous ‘Bacchanal’ buffet at Caesar’s Palace. The best one was definitely the ‘weekend brunch’ at Wynn. It served great food with a fabulous decor to match. After brunch one of us lost her first ever $20 while another one recovered $17 at the Venetian Casino. That evening we experienced another spectacular show, Jubilee performed by the world famous Vegas Showgirls. A stage full of over 50 performers performing with grace, perfection and precision. Jubilee is an adult topless show where the last thing that stays in your mind as you are leaving the auditorium is the ‘topless’ aspect of it. 

The grand finale of this trip was a dinner at a Japanese restaurant called ‘Yellowtail,’  by chef Akira Back at the grand Bellagio resort. We knew nothing about this chef until we had this culinary experience and literally ran back to the hotel to google him. In the backdrop of the beautiful symphony of the Bellagio fountains, Back’s cuisine took us on a roller- coaster ride of sensory experience leading to a perfect crescendo.

When you have just turned 40, you realize that life is all about responsibilities and dealing with losses of loved ones. You are at a crossroad, with an astute mind in a little older body. A mind which is way more prudent when it comes to understanding what matters. This trip made us realize that a little bit of self indulgence, appreciating ourselves, trust, friendships and letting go, should be included in our lists of priorities to make our lives truly fabulous.

Did we mention that we are dying to get back to our babies???

WE LIVE IN A SICK SOCIETY FOR SURE

(ROBBERS WHO CAME TO ROB A CHURCH END UP

RAPING A 74-YEAR OLD NUN)

For those of us who have been raised in the ’80s and ’90s Kolkata, gorging on Bengali and English books alike, dacoits and robbers have always mesmerised us to the point where even some of us had started worshipping such characters for their generosity, benevolence and their respect for women. I remember stumbling upon Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay’s Devi Chaudhurani while I was still grappling with the curiousity of an adolescent female. As I read through, I fell head over heels in love with Bhavani Pathak, the famous dacoit, tall, fair, handsome, with a deep baritone and a red tilak smeared upon his forehead who mentors the daughter-in-law of a cruel and selfish zamindar to take up arms and show her prowess. For me he was the dream man. Quite surprising, how could a dacoit’s personality draw an adolescent girl into hero worshipping? Would I then always go for the bad boys?

Years later, I realised that the reverence Pathak showed towards women, specially Devi, was a trait that touched me and I didn’t think twice about how the man earned his living, that by robbing others. I started respecting him.

Still I thought it was just a tale and refused to believe that dacoits and robbers can have any ethics. After all they rob, they kill. Even tales of Robin Hood were mere tales for me. Not to be believed in, just to be enjoyed as a read.

But while I discussed my views with my dad, who was the one to introduce me to Bengali books, I got to know a true story, an experience that his grandmother often shared with him and my mother. Dad’s grandmother was the daughter of a famous zamindar of Murshidabad. Her father died young and she was the only child. So she and her mother ran the estates. She remembered incidents where dacoits used to send letters in advance to state they will reach the estate to rob mentioning the time and date. Other than the fright of losing valuables, the women atleast never feared for their dignity. Dad’s grandmother had concluded that robbers and dacoits those days did have a lot of ethics. They came to rob. Women were not their target for sure. Even the leader saw to it that not a single man of his gang dared to touch any woman. We get a similar incident in Leela Majumdar’s Padipishir Bormi Baksho, while pishi travels through the forests and encounters a gang.

And surely, still living in Bengal in 2015, I can no longer hold the same respect for dacoits and robbers. Why in the heart of Nadia’s Ranaghat, at the centre of a bustling town, where a church and a convent not only becomes the target of robbers but also of one of the most henious brutality that India and Bengal has been repeatedly witnessing over the last few years? And it seems the reason for raping the 74-year-old nun of the convent was not because the nun was wearing revealing attire (as most rapists in India justify their action with, being provoked by women’s clothes and their attitude that lead them to rape!). Then why was she brutalised? Just because she tried to resist the robbers?

If so, then surely we live in a sick society. Where everything leads to rape. Rape seems to be seeing a new pattern in India these days. A woman resisting anything, be it a robbery, or be it protesting against rash driving, she is taught a lesson. And how? By violation of her body and in the process her dignity.

We all know for sure rape has got nothing to do with sexual pleasure, it has got something to do with domination, show of power. But what power were these robbers showing? From a place of worship they loot more than seven lakhs and some silverware from the church. If robbery was their only motive why did they need to brutalise an old woman? I wonder how a young woman like Devi would have been gangraped if she encountered the society of today? How Bhavani Pathak and his men would have enacted a scene out of the Delhi Rape Case.

And the adolescent me would have grown up with the sexual visuals of a perverse society where each and every crime lands up in rape. Just like my son is growing up. He sees the headlines every morning and relates stories of gangrape, while I at his age hero worshipped dacoits. After all we really do live in a sick society.  

10 REASONS WHY WOMEN DON'T NEED A 

WOMEN'S DAY 

• WE LOVE CELEBRATING OUR WOMANHOOD EVERYDAY IN THE LITTLE THINGS WE DO... EACH DAY IS OUR DAY.

• LIKE YOU SAY 'WHAT'S IN A ROSE', WE SAY 'WHAT'S IN A DAY?' WHICHEVER DAY OF THE YEAR, IT'S ALWAYS WOMEN'S DAY

•  WE WISH TO BE PAMPERED, LOVED AND RESPECTED EVERYDAY. WHY DO WE NEED THE WORLD AND OUR MEN TO REMEMBER US ONLY ON A PARTICULAR DAY?

•  WITH NATURE'S EVERY BLOOM, EVERY HUE, WE EXPRESS.. THE WORLD FINDS SPRING, RAINS AND SNOW WITHIN US.. WE ARE THE DAUGHTERS OF NATURE, GODDESSES, WHO ARE TO BE WORSHIPPED EVERYDAY

•  WITH EVERY RAPE, EVERY MOLEST AND EVERY FEMALE FOETICIDE, THE WORLD TRIES TO KILL US. YET WE NEVER DIE. WE LIVE ON. SO CELEBRATE LIVING DAY IN OUR HONOUR

• FOR ALL THE HOUSEHOLD CHORES THAT WE DO WITHOUT WAGES, YOU MUST COIN ATLEAST A WAGE DAY. WE CAN'T BE YOUR UNPAID MAIDS FOREVER!

• WE ARE PROUD OF OUR SEXUAL DESIRES AND OF OUR FERTILITY. WITH EVERY CHILD WE BEAR AND EVERY OVUM WE SHED, WE SHALL CELEBRATE FERTILITY DAY.

• AND HOW WILL YOU CELEBRATE ONE DAY FOR US? WE ARE SO  VERSATILE, IN THAT CASE YOU HAVE TO CELEBRATE A MOTHER'S DAY, A DAUGHTER'S DAY, A SISTER'S DAY, A LOVER'S DAY, A MAID'S DAY, A BIRTH DAY, A SUCCESS DAY, A HEAT DAY, A MENSTRUAL DAY, A SENSUAL DAY, A COOK'S DAY, A PLAYER'S DAY, A READER'S DAY..... THE LIST DOESN'T END.... WE CAN'T BE BOUND WITHIN ONE DAY.

•  WHY DON'T YOU NEED A MAN'S DAY? BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU ARE OMNIPRESENT AND OMNISCIENT? IF YOU DON'T NEED ONE, WE WOMEN TOO DON'T NEED ANY. DO WE ALWAYS NEED TO REMIND THE WORLD THAT WE ARE WOMEN AND SHOULD BE GIVEN SPECIAL STATUS?

• LET'S CELEBRATE EVERY 8TH MARCH AS HUMAN DAY, WHEN YOU MEN WILL LEARN TO LOVE US MORE THAN YOURSELVES, WHEN YOU WILL LEARN TO RESPECT US MORE THAN THE GODS YOU WORSHIP AND WHEN YOU WILL LEARN NOT TO VIOLATE OUR BODIES AND INSTEAD GIVE US THE PLEASURE THAT WE DESERVE, NOT THE ONE THAT YOU ONLY THINK IS YOUR BIRTH RIGHT......
•   

VRINDAVAN WIDOWS PLAY HOLI

(BREAKING THE SHACKLES OF SOCIAL STIGMA)

She was wearing white, her hair cropped short, she was still young, may be my age, a blank pensive look in her eyes, as she stared at the innumerable women in colourful cholis and men in white kurtas all smeared in colour passing her. She was asking for alms. I knew she was the famous widow of Vrindavan, on whom so many award-winning documentaries have been made across the globe. But she stood still the same, bound by the age-old shackles of a society where women have always been swept behind the doors to suppress her beauty. Yes, she was a widow, she had thus no right to be at her sexual highs, she was not supposed to be the centre of male gaze, she could corrupt men and force them to commit a crime! So she cannot play a colourful festival like Holi, else the colours might make her look sensuous.

Couple of years back I was at the holy land of Vrindavan during Holi, for I was keen to view the world’s most colourful festival being played in the most exciting way. Vrindavan, the land of Krishna, Radha and the Gopinis is said to celebrate Holi in the most innovative way since hundreds of years where the whole town gets engaged for a whole week playing with flowers and vegetable dyes, instead of the gulaal and water we are used to play with in urban lives. Getting drenched in the stream of colourful flowers and their fragrance, to join the human flood of devotees who all had colour almost everywhere on them, would have been a welcome experience for sure.

As I wandered the colour-smeared streets around the Banke Behari temple (considered to be one of the most sacred temples of the area and where Holi is played in style), I saw her begging for alms… the widow of Vrindavan. She was almost my age. Could have been a model if decked up in style, she had a lovely figure, at the surprising peak of her fading youth. She looked at me long, and broke into a heavenly smile. She asked me in broken Hindi, if I was from Bengal. I said yes and she was so happy that there was someone in that land with whom she could speak in her mother tongue.

I asked her why she wasn’t entering the temple where Holi was being played. The streets were all colourful, white clad men and colourful women, all smeared in coloured water passed by. She looked at me with a blank face and was quite taken aback at my query. She asked: “Jano na, amader khelte nei” (Don’t you know we are not supposed to play Holi?) My husband and son were still within the temple. She asked me “Tumi khelbe na? Ekhane darun moja hoy” (Won’t you play? It’s great fun here) For a minute her eyes lit up, might be the image of her playing Holi played on).

I said, “No, I don’t play. I just came to watch.” I gave her a 500-rupee note. She thanked and blessed me and said I gave her enough to sustain for a month, the money she had to pay to the head of the ashram where she stayed. I knew if she couldn’t pay the headman of her ashram, she would have been forced into prostitution to earn it. She held my hands, put them on her forehead and said again, “Tumi abar esho.” (Do come again). I told myself, “If my society doesn’t allow you to play, then I will not play either, that’s why I lost all interest in Vrindavan’s Holi that had always attracted me even as a child.”

She was wearing white. I too was wearing white. We were the only ones whose clothes had no colour on them.

So when I got to know that widows in Vrindavan will finally play Holi, this year, thanks to the NGO Sulabh International, I was excited. Thousands of widows living as recluse in ashrams in Vrindavan, Agra and Varanasi have started celebrating a special four-day Holi. So now I have a reason to visit Vrindavan again during Holi and maybe some day I shall play with her, the widow I last met in the Holy Land.