Dotted Lines

By Hrishita Bapuram

Between the years of 2003 and 2018, the number of working women in India fell from 42.7% to a staggering 23.3%.

When novice journalist Neha learns of this mind-boggling statistic, she is determined to do something about it. Neha knows how best to communicate the issue at hand - through her first article series with Arkaa

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: May 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637300992

Book preview

Dotted Lines

Hrishita Bapuram

New Degree Press

Copyright © 2021 Hrishita Bapuram

All rights reserved.

Dotted Lines

ISBN 978-1-63676-931-8 Paperback

978-1-63676-995-0 Kindle Ebook

978-1-63730-099-2 Ebook

You need to dream before your dreams can come true.

Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam

Contents

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Note from the Author

Part I

Orientation

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part II

Confrontation

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Part III

Differentiation

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Part IV

Collaboration

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Acknowledgments

References

To my father, for always being there to catch me when I fall.

To my uncle, for nurturing the learner in me.

To my brother, for, in his own way, teaching me what is most important.

Note from the Author

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As a child, I spent a lot of time with my grandmother. A large part of the inspiration I gathered to write this story stems from the countless tales she narrated to me. At the time they seemed like wonderful bedtime stories, but now have somehow become the foundation of all the appreciation I have for Indian culture and history. They also opened my mind to a unique perspective on the drastic changes each generation experienced, including my own. My grandmother showed me her version of what life and this country were like all those years ago. This book paints that picture of India—beyond the Taj Mahal and the food and the music—and illustrates these people and their extraordinarily ordinary lives.

Over the years living in a typical Indian household, I’ve seen how women from my grandmother’s, mother’s, and finally my generation have made great leaps in terms of opportunity and respect. I’ve always wondered what it must’ve been like back then; having limited support systems, little or no education at all and, above all, being trained to silence our voices. That’s the environment in which my grandmother spent most of her life.

While that makes me upset and even angry, I am also inspired by how she cleared every hurdle so that I, the second generation following her, could have access to every resource I need to grow and prosper. Even the smallest glimpse of her childlike innocence and curiosity about what I’m studying, or about stories on the news, makes me wonder at the magnitude of vigor it takes to stay true to oneself.

My grandma influences me with her virtue and strength like no one ever did, and multiple elements in this book tie in to build the beautifully complicated character she forms in my head.

One of the biggest leaps between my grandmother’s time and mine that impacted our lives, and women in particular, is technology. Technology is something that I’ve not only grown up with but also have seen grow, from CDs to pen drives to microchips; from desktops to laptops to palmtops; from simple calculations to artificial intelligence. I’ve been a spectator to this exponential arc technology has made in terms of progress, excitement, bewilderment, and fear.

Technology in our time has seamlessly made its way to the deepest roots of our heritage, and cultures around the world have blended themselves smoothly into its new reality. We now live in an age where technology, communication, and networking are integral parts of our life. The access to information and improved connectivity has changed and reformed the feminist movement worldwide, India being no exception.

While the future potential for feminism and technology was the driving cause that led me to write this book, some facts stunned me beyond measure. It only strengthened the necessity I felt to tell this story. The number of working women in India fell from 42.7 percent in 2004–5 to a staggering 23.3 percent in 2017-18.¹ I was dismayed and frankly disappointed at the story these numbers told. If this was the case after all these years of movements and rights and awareness, it seemed to me that this indicated a bigger problem at the core of what our society is turning into.

We as a country boast greatly of how we reformed ourselves by empowering our girls, educating them, doing away with female infanticides and child marriages, and treating them as equals, and yet it doesn’t have a visible impact in the workplace. Research states that despite a great deal of inclusiveness measures adopted by organizations, women still feel hesitant or insecure to demand better positions.² Our society has systematically taught women to be protective, and avoid uncomfortable situations instead of fighting them. Rarely do we see a situation where, in a conflict, the woman isn’t the first to be blamed.

All of this made me wonder if we’d truly changed and evolved, or if we simply put on a facade of a progressive civilization that is still caught up in the tangled mess of its own tragedy.

This leaves us to figure out what we have to do to make this world better, safer, and a more conducive environment for the future. At some point or another, each of us have faced a similar dilemma: do what is right, or let something wrong prevail because of tradition. Many years ago, we didn’t think a small device in our hands could do everything for us or that we’d be able to talk to someone on the other side of the world anytime we wanted to. But just like technology surpassed our imaginations, allowing us to live the future we once deemed impossible, it is just as important to unlearn what years of living in a broken society has conditioned us to believe.

I’ve always been interested in technology, but less in the technicalities and structure, and more in the language of infinite potential it promised. Most people are confused by its potential, or of anything new or different. After all, different could mean any variety of things.

In India, it isn’t common for children to leave their homes as they do in America, so what’s an accepted practice somewhere is a social anomaly elsewhere. I think that’s what makes accepting differences difficult because we don’t understand what they really are. In this book, the perspective on technology allowed me to examine the lives of women in India in a deeper sense. This curiosity about finding my place and role in this world compelled me to write more than anything else.

Through this book I’ve put into words my journey, as well as my mother’s and grandmother’s, in an attempt to understand everything that has changed and in anticipation of what lies in the future. Seldom do we talk about the small things, but most often, these small things make all the difference. In this book, I explain the confusion, fear, and excitement of figuring out your life and discovering your purpose for the first time. Also, the role that education, information, and support play in empowering an individual by putting a human face on technology and by drawing a parallel between them.

In a much broader sense, this book is about change and how to not fear it. Avoiding change and running away from it is like stepping on own opportunities for growth. And growth is the only way we can find our place in a world that is constantly changing.

This book is for anyone who wants to learn about the Indian culture—its diversity and undeniable spirit, and its celebration and vibrance—not as a tourist, but through the eyes of someone who understands the simplicity and intricacy of the people and their lives.

This book is a tribute to the all the incredible women I’ve known in my life; all the women who go through similar experiences each day; all the women who fight to stay and prove themselves, despite everything that told them otherwise; and to those women who are going to change the face of the world as we know it.

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1 Deepa Krishnan, As India Advances, Women’s Workforce Participation Plummets, Strategy+Business, May 15, 2020.

2 Tara Mohr, Why Women Don’t Apply for Jobs Unless They’re 100% Qualified, Harvard Business Review, August 25, 2014.

Orientation

Chapter 1

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It had been a long day. My feet were killing me, and if I stood for any longer, I swore I’d collapse. I pushed the key through the door and twisted it clockwise. It didn’t open. I pushed it counterclockwise. The door slowly unlocked itself with a soft click, and I walked through, reminding myself for the hundredth time how to unlock an uncomplicated door. It’d been over nine months since I’d moved here, and it was rather silly that I still couldn’t open my door without making a mistake.

Nine months ago, I’d packed my bags to go to Mumbai, chasing the dream of becoming a political journalist, and leaving behind everything familiar to me. That familiarity was at my home in Bangalore, surrounded by my family. I’d never lived alone before, so I didn’t know how I managed to convince my parents, and most of all myself, that I could do this. Yet here I was, living in the only apartment I could afford, which was almost an hour away from my work. I had looked at this opportunity with so much excitement, and with the hope of finally seeing my dream come true. All the excitement had worn off, but I was still chasing that dream. The hope of finally seeing my name under a column of Arkaa magazine that might somehow change someone’s life was the only possible explanation I could use to explain this madness.

I switched on the lights that welcomed me to my dull, lifeless living room, which was half decorated, mostly plain, and an annoying shade of beige. It smelled like plaster and paint from the construction nearby. I collapsed onto the tiny, brown couch with a disgruntled sigh. The whole living-on-your-own thing was already starting to feel like a terrible, terrible mistake. Maybe I should’ve gone home for the weekend to remember what it felt like to be human and alive instead of the mechanical zombie I was becoming. Before I could continue with that internal monologue, my phone rang. I didn’t have to check who it was.

Hi, Ma, I answered in a monotone as I laid on my back uncomfortably.

Were you sleeping? Said the sharp voice on the other end.

No? I said, knowing full well that my mom knew exactly where I was and what I was doing right then.

Sometimes it felt like my mother had cameras watching me. Either that or she was psychic somehow. She always had a way of catching me in moments that didn’t exactly inspire the confidence that an Indian parent would need to believe that their child was doing well living alone in an entirely different city.

Then why do you sound like you were sleeping? She said.

I sat up straighter and sighed. I could almost see my mother’s judging, disapproving look—her pointed stare through her glasses and her scrunched-up nose. It was like she was right there.

I just got back, and I’m exhausted, I whined.

After the day I’d had, the last thing I needed was for my mother to give me a long speech about how I needed to learn to manage my time better.

Fine. Did you freshen up? Eat something? She asked.

Not yet. I will, in a bit. I think I have some leftover dal from yesterday. Maybe I should make some rice, I said, wondering if I did have any leftovers.

I thought you’d made that dal the day before, she said.

How did she even remember all that? Her psychoanalysis of everything ever mentioned to her was slowly losing its lovable charm. The other day, she listed all the chores I was supposed to get done because if I didn’t keep up with the routine, Everything’s always going to be a mess!

Oh well, maybe. I have to check if it’s still edible … I said, trying my best not to sound irritated. The food I cooked wasn’t safe for consumption, to begin with.

"I’m sure it’s spoiled by now. Make some poha