A Warm Thank You

Today, my blog has become one month old. I already have twenty one followers, and the number of visitors has almost reached six hundred and fifty. I am extremely grateful to all those who have taken interest in my blog and have been with me till now. I hope to continue with my blog for a long, long time to come. Maybe someday it will become a much more widely read, widely visited blog. My daddy says that it has been a good effort. Also, I am open to any suggestions about how I can make this blog more interesting and attractive. 

Equal? Are you sure?

Men and women are equal. This is what we hear everywhere nowadays. However, a strange suspicion keeps bothering me. Is it really true? Are we really equal?

There are stark proofs against this notion in most of the places I go to. My school is an all-girls Catholic school run by nuns. The teachers and the sisters in school are always emphasizing on how there is no difference in a boy and a girl, and how girls can do everything that boys can. But whenever anything serious has to be done, like signing a report card or writing an absent note, it is mandatory that the father does it.

If men and women were really equals, then why are there special seats kept aside for women in trains and buses? I am hardly someone very well versed in politics, but even with what little ideas I have, it has often been a wonder to me that special seats have to be reserved for women in the parliament. If there was equality between men and women, then I’m sure women would not need special bills to take their seats in the political Houses. 

Coming back to much more regular household matters, we see so few women drivers. Women usually need their fathers, boyfriends or husbands to take them to wherever they need to go, but we hardly ever see a man waiting for his girl to take him anywhere. Whenever I go to the market in this town, I find that the overwhelming majority there are men, doing the shopping. Of course, it might be that some of them are loving husbands helping their wives in running the household, but surely not all of them?

Even the movies we watch propagate this sense of inequality. Most Hindi movies have a very common storyline. Somewhere in the middle, the heroine gets into trouble, and her lover comes running to rescue her. He is the one who does the brainwork or the fighting, whichever is required, while she just gazes wide-eyed or emits tiny squeaks like a cornered rat. Now I am not a cinema buff, but most of the Bollywood movies I have watched follow this pattern. In fact I can think of only one or two movies in which the heroine behaves like anything better than a money plant growing on her lover’s shoulders. Ironically, these movies are old ones, those of Hema Malini and Rekha. Equality was not preached so loudly in those days as it is now, but things seemed to have been better then.

On a related note, girls seem to have made out a very twisted version of equality for themselves. Many girls I know love using swear words. When I tell them not to, their invariable reply is that, “When boys can do it, why can’t we?” According to these girls, it is their right to copy all the bad habits of the boys. The good things about boys can be left aside. They are too difficult to be copied, and would mean leaving behind much of the feminine crookedness and meanness.

In my opinion equality, while it is certainly a birthright of every citizen, should be used with much care, and never bent and remade to suit one’s own selfish wants. A nation where every citizen is considered basically equal regardless of their caste, creed or economic status outstrips all other nations in terms of progress.

Why Bootle?

Some of my readers might be wondering why I have named the blog as I have. The name has been taken from a book called “My Family and Other Animals” by Gerald Durrell. In that book, Gerry had been given a boat for his birthday. Gerry had wanted to name it “The Bootle”, but his older brother Larry had wanted to call it "Bum Trinket". In the end, “The Bootle Bum Trinket” had been decided upon.

In my family, we have shared personal jokes revolving around ‘bootle’ and ‘bum trinket’ ever since I was a baby. We have modified the words and given them a personal touch, and have used them as code words for each other. As a child I had considered the names to be my father’s invention, and had been very proud of them. I had been so sure of them being baba’s composition, that when I read the name in the book two years ago, I remained grief-stricken for quite a few days!

When I was just about to create this blog, I had quite a bit of trouble coming up with a nice name for it. Everything I thought of turned out to be solemn and quite common, whereas I wanted this blog to be cheerful and out of the way. It was then that baba suggested calling the blog “The Bootle Bum Trinket”. Now that was bound to be an uncommon selection. I was all for it from the moment baba put the idea into my head. So unless I find a better, more uncommon name, “The Bootle” it will remain.

Weirdos

I was thinking about the different kinds of people I have met, and the various weird habits and acts I have seen. I see many of these at the time of admissions in baba’s classes. Different candidates and their guardians have different kinds of eccentricities. Often when I was helping out my parents during the admission procedure, some parents have gushed to them, "How smart and mature your daughter is! My son/daughter can't do a thing on his/her own!" It never occurs to these parents that their children can't do things because they have neither allowed nor taught their children to do anything other than "study" for examinations! 


I also keep observing people in  school. My friends, their parents, the teachers, all kinds of people. Some of their habits and antics are really unbelievable. A few classmates of mine asked their parents to allow them to go to and return from school by public bus. Incredibly, all the guardians unanimously said, “No, you are not yet old enough to travel alone.” Most of the girls didn’t even ask their parents why they thought that their daughters were incapable of taking care of themselves even for such a short distance. I suppose those girls themselves were actually relieved to get the “no”. They themselves were sure that they were only “children” of class eight. Only one of the girls asked her parents the reason for not allowing her. She said, “Why, Urbi is my classmate, and of my age, and she travels alone!” The parents got angry with the girl for talking back. They said, “Urbider kotha alada” (it’s different with Urbi’s family). I don’t know how it is different with me. I am of the same age, in the same class, and actually her friend! I appreciated this girl for her guts.

Another classmate of mine used to come to school in her car escorted by her parents and grandparents every day. The parents were afraid that their daughter might “become bad” if they did not accompany her. This girl has now escaped to a boarding school in Mussoorie, a thousand miles away from her parents. I wish her luck for her glorious days of freedom.

A certain woman I know of always boasts in public about the fact that her daughter, though a working woman by now, never disobeys her mother, and leads her life exactly as her mother orders. This daughter will be getting married in a short time, and will have her own kids. I can guess what kind of a mother she will be, and thank my lucky stars that I’ll never have to be one of her kids.

When I started going to school by public bus in the beginning of this year, it was just me and another girl two years older than me. Now, it is almost twelve girls who travel together. That in itself is good because of the safety it provides. I would have thought that my parents would have been relieved to know that I was travelling with so many senior girls to look after me. But it has turned out to be quite the opposite. In fact, the mother of one girl two years older than me has told my mother that she is not worried about her daughter because her daughter is with me. A girl two years older than me has been left in my care!

A student of baba’s came armed with his bag and accessories all the way to our house the other day only to say that he was feeling ill and wanted to go back home!

These are the same people who stare at me like I was some alien when they see me doing the shopping alone in the market, or reading a book even when examinations are not near at hand. In fact, one woman actually asked me what I was doing with a book after the examinations were over! These people are quite convinced that I am the one who is slightly unhinged. Really!

  

Basketball

There is going to be a basketball match in our school this year, in December most probably. It is going to be an inter-house game. Girls from classes eight through ten will take part. There might be girls from classes six and seven too, but chances are slim. Selections from class eight A was held the day before yesterday. Our P.T. teacher saw some of the girls play, and selected some of the girls. I was selected. It was a dream coming true!

The first basketball matches in our school had been held two years ago, when I was in class six. At that time, I was just beginning to learn the game, so I was not selected for the team. I practiced the entire year so that I could take part next year. There was no match in class seven. I practiced another whole year. In the meantime, I kept growing taller, one big advantage for a basketball player. So this year, when I heard that there is going to be a match, I was one of the first people to enlist as an interested candidate. The entire month of April, and some of the days of May before the summer vacation, we practiced every single day. There were, I was quite surprised to find, many girls from my class. I was surprised because many of the girls were those who had never before shown any interest in sports. I guessed that they were the kind who had just come with the herd. I was right. The number went down drastically in about a week. That was better. Those girls didn’t want to do anything that needs hard work, and were just proving themselves to be nuisances. After school reopened in May, we started again with double vigour. We were now carrying sports shoes and shorts with us, and those of us who have basketballs were taking them as well. Our teacher kept giving us useful tips every now and then. The few girls who have learnt the game earlier in some club (and I’m pleased to say most of them are in Violet House, my House!) helped us with the rules. So by the time selections day came, we ourselves had a rough idea about who would be selected and who won’t. Nothing came as too big a surprise. Now that we are quite certain about our team members, we are concentrating on team strategies. Regular practice will go on as usual. 

There is going to be some competition, and some spitefulness in the air. I am rather ashamed to say that games in our school are not played fairly. The last time we had basketball and kho-kho matches, one particular house had got itself known as the house of cheats. Of course, many of the girls who had played at that time have passed their ICSEs already. We have new players now. I am hoping this year’s match is going to be more enjoyable. My best friend is going to play against me (she is in Gold House), but we have promised to each other that we are not going to let any enmity on the field ruin our friendship. Of course, I will be very glad if we win, but then, winning is not the only reason I am going to play for. I will play because I enjoy playing. I am looking forward to a very nice first experience. 

Making a Beginning

Writing is something that I have enjoyed from childhood. The first of my little stories involved a certain “Ram Babu” and his travelling anecdotes. My parents tell me those were quite entertaining. Unfortunately, I have lost all the loose sheets in which they were written, though many of my later short stories are stored safely. However, it is not just formal ‘stories’ that I enjoy writing. Anything that catches my eye in day-to-day life, any particular incident that has left a deep mark on me, even the review of a good book I read, all get penned down in my diary.

My father started his first blog in 2006, and a second one last year. I am a very regular reader of both, and some other blogs listed there. The idea of starting my own blog has been revolving in my head for quite some time now. The blogs that I read act as inspirations. I was not very sure about whether my starting a blog would really be appropriate, as I’m hardly fourteen yet, until very recently. My father himself suggested that I do it. After getting his unasked permission, there is no stopping me. Here, I shall open my heart and write about anything that comes to my head. The good thing is that there is no specific word limit or time limit that will constantly be nagging me and poking me at the back of my head, and telling me, “It’s time to stop!” I am looking forward to many happy hours of writing. I also look forward to comments from more competent and worldly people correcting and guiding me with their ideas and thoughts on life.