In feminist organisations and within the academic discourse, we sit with the term ‘safe space’ quite often and roll it in our mouth to reiterate how multifarious and ever changing that term is.
‘Mera Chashma, Mere Rules’, a three-episode podcast produced by The Third Eye in collaboration with Partners for Law in Development (PLD), brought 4 girls between the ages of 18–20, hailing from different religions, states, social and familial setups to discuss the range of adolescent experiences which seldom become the subject of policy discussion.
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.
During COVID, when almost everything was closed in Bhopal, we began delivering books to children by going door-to-door. Adults in the family took to reading those books too.
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.
All education and science is forgotten when a young, unmarried girl misses her period. As doctors, teachers, family members and friends intervene and interpret, conjectures are made and confusion and fear abound.
At the beginning of 2022, I was still a student. Just along the fag end of that identity. At the end of 2022, I was a teacher. On a lot of days, I feel a bit trivial.
