What Makes A Woman?
“Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out
of the man, and he brought her to the man. The man said, “This is now bone of
my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman’, for she was taken
out of man”
(Genesis 2:22-23)
(Genesis 2:22-23)
This is the biblical narration about how a woman was made.
You may find similar or related expressions in other religious and
philosophical scripts. What makes me to write my title for this piece of
writing is something that has haunted me many times. I would be happy if some
of you find one or two minutes to share your answer with me, in case you have
it already with you. I am not that much lucky to find the answer myself. I am sure I may invite some criticism from a
few sharp tongues by my effort. But that
is the natural product of all real discussions.
Hairpins
Last Sunday I got a magazine by post. The cover holds an aged
couple sharing their bit of love through their fingers with a picturesque
background. The picture drew my attention as it would impress anyone who loves
professionally taken photographs. The resolution was so good that the skin texture
of the woman in the picture was visible from a distance. The camera man and the
graphic designer have succeeded in creating a proper mood that is justified to
the title of the magazine. There was a good colour combination between the clothing
and the background beach. The image would calm down any turbulent mind for some
time and bring a sigh of appreciation. I kept it on my shelf for a later
reading. The next day I found my mother with the same magazine. I was busy
preparing content for my website that time.
I heard her comment, pointing the same old lady of the cover page, “She
is old, but has three pairs of pink hairpins!”
You are wonderful!
It happened two years before. I was on a chat with my old
Nokia keypad struggling to find suitable letters. Prateeksha was on the other
end. She used to remind me that she had a special corner of her heart reserved
for me. That announcement was sweet, but I had to be careful because she would
give me a lot of headache out of her love. The particular chat was special
because I had to pacify her from a recent break-up. I tried my best to convince what really
happened between us. Someone had told me the best way to get a sweet tongue
from a girl is to lend some sweet words on her. And that worked almost
well. Her tone became soft. I added,
“You are wonderful!” She exploded in my
poor ear that was waiting for a sweet kiss. “GET AWAY FROM ME. YOU #@$%#&$#......You
told the same thing last week.” That was the end!
A special
This is a
news article extracted from the older pages of the Hindu, one of the leading English newspapers in India.
[Tuesday, Jun 07, 2005
Staff Reporter
KOZHIKODE: The Interpol has sought
information from the Kozhikode Crime Branch Crime Investigation Department
about Omana Edadan, a doctor from Payyannur who is accused of killing a man and
cutting the body into pieces in Ooty a decade ago. She had gone to Kuala Lumpur
in Malaysia after getting conditional bail. Highly placed sources told The Hindu here on Monday that
the Assistant Director of the Interpol wing in New Delhi had asked the Crime
Branch to verify if Omana was a wanted person in the country. According to the police
investigation, Omana had poisoned Muraleedharan and cut the body into pieces in
the retiring room of Ooty Railway Station. After packing the pieces in a
suitcase, she made an abortive attempt to dump it in a ravine. She then hired a
taxi to go to Kodaikanal. However, the taxi driver got suspicious and informed
the police….]
Another set of fingers
It is Vivek, my new colleague, who taught me some basics of
formal partying. He is junior to me. But we have some kind of rapport with each
other. We used to roam around some unknown corners of the city in weekends. Such expeditions became open platforms for
sharing a big list of things, from Apple phone’s latest release to my
ex-girlfriend Priya. He stopped the bike the moment I spoke about her. He couldn't believe me having such an affair.
I said, “It is all over man, we hate each other now.” I had to explain a little bit more about her
and how we became persons who reached at a point of hatred.
“Where is she now?” He
asked.
“She is working here in the Brigade office of TCS.”
I didn't want to further the topic. He too knew my mood well.
I don’t remember how I hit a car the next moment we put a
pause to our talk. I don’t know how Vivek took me to a nearby medical clinic.
He had no contact numbers of my friends or relatives in the city. What I
remember well is the moment I regained some degree of consciousness in the
hospital room. My fingers were locked by another set of fingers rather softly.
That was Priya sitting beside me!
Fire or water
I remember a street magician who used to make many open
mouths along the dusty road of my local town. In my childhood time he was more
than any other world wonder to all school going boys like me. His main number
was pouring some water on the poor head of his assistant [a boy of our age] and
burning it after placing a piece of cotton over. We young Newtons used to doubt
whether water ignites fire or not!
A related doubt arises when I try to address the question
mentioned in the title.
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