When The Third Eye organised a discussion with three caseworkers from Banda in Uttar Pradesh, we began the conversation with one detail. We had noticed that the caseworkers used the word iqraarnama a lot. The meaning of the Urdu term iqraar is to declare or acknowledge something. The caseworkers use this idea as a tool while negotiating for women in cases of gender-based violence.
What does it mean to counsel a woman while centring her needs? At the time of taking a decision, a woman finds herself caught in a complex web of social expectations that she progressively frees herself from. Many questions stand in the way of making a decision: Where will I live after separating from my in-laws? What will I do?
When people talk about striking a deal, what I remember are the innumerable deaths of women. This is because when a woman is alive, society brokers a deal over her dowry and when she is dead, the deal is over her body.
Marriage is a contract, as much as it is a ceremony. Drawing from her own life and marriage, a case worker writes about the nikahnama as a contract, the terms of which are seldom explained to women by maulvis.
The easiest thing to tell a woman in a violent marriage is to just leave. But is leaving always that simple? From financial vulnerabilities to a loss of kinships, to a turbulent clash of hope and fear, to a complex interplay of love and desire, the decision to not leave and stay in a violent marriage is not simple.
One day, in the process of trying to understand the “digital”, Khushi observed that young Muslim girls around her would only show their hands in the Reels that they made and uploaded on social media.
A young girl employs a clever strategy to get her family’s support for higher education. But she soon discovers that her father is one step ahead of her and thus unravels this love–hate relationship between a father and daughter.
“Chhoti Bahuuu! Arre o Chhoti Bahu!”—is all one hears in the house from dawn to the end of day. Once a mischievous student, Sundari wears many different hats at home, in public, and at work, but there’s one that wears her out.
In the second “Hostel Diary”, Vikas recounts pursuing a crush during his time in Jodhpur with a bittersweetness that can only be afforded by young desire. Although he desperately wants to maintain his “good boy” image, the thrills of Hike Messaging and secret rendezvous might just be too tempting to resist.
As Vikas walks from his own Khatri Hostel to the Oswal Hostel for high speed movie downloads using a newly installed Jio tower, he observes how caste, class and gender divide access to spaces in the city, offline and online.
