Weddings without borders

. From When it comes to weddings, transplanted Indian nuptials tend to be a potpourri of permutations and possibilities cross-cultural marriages to quasi-arranged weddings to traditionally arranged ceremonies where horoscopes are matched, the Indian-American wedding experience has it all. But the most dramatic influence on the weddings is Bollywood.

“Karan Johar has probably had more impact on our weddings than anyone else in recent history,” says Sujatha Suresh, who earlier worked as a wedding and event planner in Silicon Valley. “I’m not just talking about lehengas, mehendi andsangeeth sessions being part of the wedding ceremony. In fact, I once organised a Tamil Brahmin wedding where the bride was so influenced by Bollywood movies that she wanted a Punjabi jago as part of the event. This is where the aunt dances with a pot of lamps on her head. We had to bring in dholaks and train the aunt to dance,” she reminisces.

And if you thought Indian weddings were long-drawn affairs, an Indian-American wedding experience can be even longer — just depends on which route your choose. Deepa Ramakrishnan and her husband Trent German wanted to honor honour both sets of parents and ended up having two weddings: one a typical Indian marriage ceremony at the Livermore Hindu Temple where Trent German and the rest of his family decked up in traditional Indian gear; and then a Christian wedding that was officiated by Trent’s German’s dad, a minister himself. “At first we tried integrating both cultures into one event, but with our respective religions being important to our parents we decided to maintain the sanctity of each ceremony and ended up getting married twice,” says Ramakrishnan adds.

In the case of Samyukta and Shibashis Mukherjee, the wedding ceremony lasted even longer and spanned across continents. It started off with a traditional South Indian wedding in California for just family and close friends, followed by a reception in the U.S., and more wedding receptions in Calcutta and Chennai. The standard cost of Indian-American weddings with a fairly grand reception in Silicon Valley can cost upwards of $100,000. And if you throw in event planners and an outdoor wedding, the cash register can ring up close to half a million dollars.

Dr. Vinay Lal is an Associate Professor of History at UCLA and has published several books on the Indian diaspora. He points out that even though the Indian community in the U.S. is highly educated and affluent, it does not yet have a strong voice in mainstream American issues. “The community is very insular. Compared to other immigrant communities, inter-racial marriages are far less common among the Indians. As far as possible, they tend to stick to their own castes and communities.”

This could be true because the community is possibly one of the youngest immigrant communities in the U.S. Significant Indian migration began around 1965 and has picked up pace only over the last few decades. As the community continues to evolve and find its role in the broader national narrative, weddings become one of the flashpoints for change and growth. On one side are immigrant parents who, despite the many years of living away from India, continue to build and nourish a cocoon of familiarity with a kernel of homeland they remember from the past along with a sense of adventure and patriotism for a land they call home now. And on the other side are children who fly out of these cocoons into mainstream America to grow as individuals with a unique blend of identity and citizenship. And these two worlds diffuse and become far more consequential for future generations, especially as part of the wedding process.

Growing up a second-generation Indian-American typically means straddling a strong Indian cultural identity at home and the greater American contextoutside. “We grow up with the best of both worlds,” says Vignesh Ramachandran, a 26-year-old Stanford graduate who works as a tech journalist in San Francisco. “Most of us identify with the Hollywood culture of dating and getting to know someone before marriage.”

Dhaya Lakshminarayanan, well known in comedy circles in the U.S., agrees. The 30-something multiple-award winning comic is also a two-time MIT graduate who worked in the high-intensity venture capital world before moving into show business. She often dips into her personal experiences of growing up second-generation Indian-American for material for her stand-up routines. “Most Indian families have an hierarchy when it comes to finding a suitable spouse for their kids. If you can’t have someone from your own caste, they’ll settle for at least an Indian. If not, then it better be a Jewish person (they have more doctors and lawyers) or at least a generic white guy,” she laughs.

Digging deeper into the prejudices of the Indian-American community, she says, “For many parents there is religious fear, especially about cross-cultural weddings. These immigrant parents might have left India behind, but some religious and social ideologies have travelled with them.” And some of these biases permeate into the next generation as well. “I’ve had friends who’ve been stereotyped because of their skin colour by their Indian-American peers. Even if we don’t vocalise it, some of these predispositions become part of our sub-conscious.”

The growing popularity of a variety of mobile dating apps is probably complicating matters further for the millennial generation. Besides the usual Match.com and eHarmony.com, there are others like Coffee Meets Bagel and Hinge joining the line-up. “The availability of these apps gives us an illusion of choice,” says Ramachandran. “It’s as if we can go shopping for the perfect mate. If something does not work out, it creates an impression that we have other options out there.”

As they get culturally assimilated, it’s far more common today to find second generation Indian-Americans living together before marriage — and more and more parents getting on board with the idea as well. “I think it’s important to live with a person to get to know them well so there are no surprises after the wedding. But I also think it’s better to wait until you are engaged,” says Samyukta Suresh, a marketing executive in Chicago. Suresh, who grew up in California and met her husband Shibashis Mukherjee when they were both students at the University of Illinois.

As the Indian-American next gens slowly find their footing in a new world, they are creating their own unique melange of cultural patterns and mores. But inevitably, they are likely to always import a bit of India into their lives at all stages, especially the crucial wedding one.

Irrespective of the kind of marriage — interracial or within communities — one thing is clear. while the path to marriage in the Indian-American context can be distinctly different from a true Indian matrimonial experience, at the end of the day the quest for a “happily ever after” remains the same.

Sarmishta Ramesh is a writer based in Denver, Colorado.

2016 – Resolved!

Like the first page of book, a new year unfurls with the promise of excitement and adventures

A day when ideas get baked in resolve – some that will crumble in the heat of a yet-to-be-born minute and others that will rise with the textures of time and mind

A day when the lukewarm heat of the winter sun tugs at the human need for hope: Today is better than yesterday; and tomorrow a glorious field of possibilities

With the skies and mountains to be conquered, even the majestic eagle pauses to reflect

When a terrier plumps up with a fox-like attitude to chase a herd of mule deer – his conviction captured on powdered snow by those thundering hoofs and frightened antlers that vanish into the frozen woods

A day when the impossible starts to become possible

Dream on for a glorious 2016!

Mallika Sarabhai’s “In Search of The Goddess” – Review

Today, the multiple award-winning dancer and social activist, Mallika Sarabhai showcased her one-woman show, “In search of the Goddess” here at CU Boulder. It was not a classical Barathanatyam or Kuchipudi (Indian dance forms) event by any measure. It was a typical Mallika Sarabhai show – part dance and part street theater with a whole lot of storytelling and social messages wrapped all around it. The premise of the show was to lend a contemporary voice to the devis and the goddesses celebrated in Hinduism. What if they were to tell their own stories, instead of being mere characters created under male penmanship? A fascinating concept delivered by an exceptional dancer and actress. While she was the much maligned Draupadi one second, Sarabhai could transform herself into the haughty Duryodana or the desperate dice-wielding Yudishtra the next. She could be Indra, the ruthless rapist or a misogynistic Brahmin husband and a one-eyed monkey all in the blink of an eye. At 61 she has the fluidity and grace of a 16-year old ballerina! But….

Yes, there is a but…

To me, the show was a let-down.

The trouble with lending a “contemporary” voice to historical or mythological contexts is this: you have to be very careful about connecting those dots. It is easy to relish in the richness of history or get excited over the atrocities committed eons ago. Retrospection can easily become a comfortable couch with a warm blanket on a cold day – it offers you the cushion of time and distance. It can over-emphasize the aura of the past and lose clarity when it comes to the present. It can diminish the point of the show: that the misogynies, abuses and atrocities against Indian women continue even today.

To me, given its modern and contemporary tone, “In Search of the Goddess” luxuriated in angst of the goddesses of the past and failed to capture the anguish of today’s Indian women who seek to find goodness and rise above vile attitudes in a still, patriarchal society.

I probably would not have these expectations if theshow was done by a bunch of amateurs. But if you are a Padma Bushan award winning artist whose claim to fame is your social activism, I expect more. I expect more than the clichéd headlines of Draupadi and Savitri being the victims of patriarchy. I expect more than just creating “awareness” for something that happened in the past. I expect deeper insight into the issues of the “modern goddesses.” And I certainly don’t want to be searching for the meaning of the show.

Dance of the Aspen

When darkness glides seductively to meet the last of the light, you hear the dance of the aspen

A silhouette against the fading sky, wind whispers through its shimmying shadows

Heart-shaped leaves darkened by dusk, strut their steps to the sounds of the summer:

The chirp-chirp of the crickets

The lazy clanks of the wind chimes

The soft laughter of children playing on the street

The aspen, she does her dance

Both a joyous triumph and a sweet lullaby

Summer’s serenade and a soulful sigh.

Eat, Pray, Love – London 2015

Exploring a new place is all about taking in the sights, sounds and smells and being able to weave a story of its people. To me a journey becomes a sensory blip in your memory. As this trip to London approached, I researched Kensington Gardens as a possible place to stay. I reasoned: “If Prince William; Kate, the duchess of Cambridge; their toddler prince George and baby princess Charlotte can call this area their home, hey I might fit in just as well .” But little did I expect the area to be a blend of Berkeley and Ranganathan Street. When you are in the bustling Bayswater section you almost forget you are in London. Rows of shops and restaurants selling goods and delicacies from around the world – Persia, Singapore, Italy, Morocco and more. Halal competes with hookah bars. Forget about stiff upper lips and customary cheerios and ta-tas. I hardly heard a word of English in this neighborhood as languages vaguely familiar and from faraway lands assaulted my ears.

Anytime I travel to a foreign country, my first guide is inevitably a cabbie. Cab rides from airports are filled with chit-chats about where the driver is originally from, good places to see, politics and histories of different countries, commonalities and so on. Today the strapping young cab driver who drove me into London turned out to be an intriguing storyteller. Few minutes into the ride as we talked about where we were originally from, he introduced himself as a “Kashmiri.” It took me a couple of seconds to realize that he’d not called himself an Indian or a Pakistani. He’d labeled himself a Kashmiri – defining himself by a small region; by a sect of people. Intrigued I gently probed the subject and found out that he was from the Pakistani side of Kashmir. Though he’d not suffered any of the brutalities of terrorism we hear in relation to the Kashmiri population in India, years of non-recognition and still being considered an outsider within his own country had left him jaded. He still has relatives on the other side of the debatable border – but he never gets to see them. Shrugging away those imaginary lines of geographic separation, he’d raised walls within his heart. He was just a Kashmiri. No nation. No flag. Just a set of people bounded by their history.

So as I walked through the bustle of the ethnic melting pot of the Kensington Gardens area, I thought of the young man. He’d dropped me off at my hotel after that engaging conversation and said he was headed home for a cup of chai, before his next ride. Funny, I thought, how distances and disillusionment can melt away with a taste or just a whiff of home.      of home.

Climbing a 14er – a Test of Grit

Crossed one off my bucket list recently! On July 3rd, 2015 we hiked up Mt. Bierstadt, a 14er here in Colorado. 14ers are what the locals call mountains that rise at least 14,000ft above the sea level – and Mt Bierstadt is dubbed one of the “easy” ones. But believe me, that mountain does not let you forget that you are scaling the heights of the rugged Rocky Mountain Range. It is a brutal climb, where the gradient just gets steeper and steeper just as the air thins around you. To get to the top, you have to be nimble like a mountain goat climbing over rocks and be surefooted so you don’t slip over loose gravel. Adding to the fun, the trail was soggy and slippery in places because of recent rains and the ice melting from the mountain top. And as we got closer to the summit, the winds blew harder and dark clouds threatened to come pouring down (thankfully it didn’t rain)!

Ascending a mountain is more than a hike. It is a test of your will power – after hours of unforgiving upward trek, when the summit still seems far away, you look up at the skies, implore to the Gods and draw upon your dwindling resources of determination and a healthy dose of stupidity to march on. So behind the smiles you see in these pictures, is a whole lot grit and a constant questioning of my resolve!

Climbing a 14er comes with its own unique set of rewards. Every time you pause to catch a breath, you are astounded by the beauty in front of you. Raw peaks still touched by snow; a spectacular spread of greenery below you; a bounty of wild flowers with bursts of yellows, purples and whites; and as you go higher and higher, tiny vegetation cropping from under rocks; lichens growing on top of them – all a serenade to survival. Nature is its own reward.

While scaling the 2,850ft Mt. Bierstadt certainly left me accomplished, I still question the legendary mountaineer George Mallory’s sentiment. When someone asked him why he climbed Mt. Everest (three times!!), he famously responded, “ because it’s there.” Really? A day after tackling a 14er, all I want to say is, “Job done. Now show me just flat grounds for a month”

       

Eat, Pray, Love: A Venetian Affair

The last stop on our week-long Italian adventure was Venice. Once you’ve been to a few cities in Italy, you think you know what to expect. But no amount of pictures or videos ever really prepares you for Venice. It’s not just another city. Venice is an EXPERIENCE!

Imagine coming out of the train station (we traveled within Italy by train and found it very convenient) and where you usually expect to see roads, cars, scooters and such, you see a canal – a canal that’s bursting with life: boats, people, sounds, colors and energy. Too many things hit you at once and you stand there not really sure of what to take in. Venice assaults your senses. The beauty of buildings emerging from water, Gondolas, speedboats and Vaporettos (public transport) all jostling for space and somehow functioning like it is all meant to be.

Venice is actually a group of over 100 islands all connected by canals and bridges. When you see a city rising out of water, the first thing you probably wonder is how did they even manage to build it? Somewhere around the 5th century, with the downfall of the Roman Empire, Roman towns were attacked by enemies from the north. Venetians (who are believed to be of Celtic origin) escaped into marshlands and islands just off the mainland. Eventually these islands became home and collectively called Venice.

To construct the buildings and grand palaces and cathedrals, Venetians had to drill millions of thick wooden stakes in to the water and lay wooden platforms upon which they built the entire city. Hmmm…wood is supposed to rot, right? So how have the buildings managed to last the ravages of time? The secret to the longevity of Venice’s foundation is the fact they are submerged so deep underwater where microorganisms (which primarily cause the rot) can’t grow because of lack of oxygen. Whatever the reason, the city still stands tall and proud living up to its title of the “haughty master” of the Adriatic.

While it’s easy to wax poetic about the beauty of Venice, I’ll let the pictures below speak instead. But what I will share are some practical tips and trends if you are planning a trip to this side of Europe.

1. Be prepared to melt: if you are planning your vacation in the summer, be mentally prepared for the sweltering heat. Whether it’s Rome or the Tuscan countryside or coastal Venice, the heat and humidity do not let up. So pack cottons and ladies, brings your sandals (it’s sooo in!)

2. Selfie sticks are the rage in Italy: Everywhere you go, you find people smiling into the end of a rod; hawkers peddling pious poles outside the Vatican or in front of Byzantine buildings. Some thrill seekers go the extra mile to add depth to their selfie expressions: check out pictures of a man who attached his selfie stick to a fishing pole! 🙂

3. AC and Wi-Fi: While most hotels promise you AC and Wi-Fi (especially if you book on Expedia or other travel sites) be prepared for flaky services. But I have to admit by the time we got from Rome to Florence to Venice, both our AC and internet connection got really good. So you can be guaranteed of great connectivity by the time you are ready to go home 🙂

4. Traveling within Italy: Even if you are traveling for a week, you can pack several cities into your Italian vacation so you get to see the amazing diversity this country has to offer in terms its culture, food and people. And inter-city trains, we found, are the best way of doing that. FYI – you can book train tickets within Italy online.

5. Get ready to go home with a cappuccino convert: When you have a spouse who has always sworn that the best coffee in the world is his mom’s “degree kapi,” do a 180 and fall in love with the Italian invention, you know it’s time to throw out the Taster’s Choice at home and invest in a cappuccino maker. (Suggestions on good cappuccino makers are welcome.)

Until then, as the Romans say, Arrivederci!!

 

Eat, Pray, Love – Under the Tuscan Sun

Tuscany – the birthplace of the Renaissance Movement; home to some of the best wines in the world; and a region that boasts of many historical sites including the leaning Tower of Pisa. Its picturesque hillsides rich with acres and acres of vineyards, and undulating farmlands bursting yellow with sunflowers continue to draw filmmakers and painters from all around the world. But don’t forget that Tuscany is made of distinct regions that have historically never seen eye-to-eye. So what binds this place together? What makes it tick? Here’s a tip: Passion.

Head into a medieval town called Sienna and you will understand what I’m talking about. Built around the 10th century, Sienna’s seat of power, central plaza and a very large cathedral – El Duomo de Sienna – that still dominate the city’s landscape, are some of the lavish gothic architectures you will ever find. In fact, well before Italy became part of the Roman Empire, each of its cities were separate kingdoms. Around the 12th and 13th century, Sienna had about 50,000 people living within its walls and was part of a major trade route in Europe. Because of its coveted location, the citizens of Sienna found themselves constantly under attack. And do you want to guess Sienna’s #1 enemy? It was Florence, the capital of Tuscany today. The story goes that with the emergence of the Renaissance period, Florence fast became the art and cultural hub of Italy – and backed by the Medeci family (highly influential bankers, who later became kingmakers and then part of royalty itself!! The Medici family is supposed to have had 3 popes, two queens and various other royalty in its lineage) – Florence had set its sight on Sienna and what that location could do for its coffers. So after a long-drawn siege, Sienna finally surrendered to Florence. But believe me, that loss from centuries ago has never been forgotten by Sienna and the locals still nurse the hurt. Florence is still considered the arch enemy – especially during the football (soccer) season. Going by the locals’ reactions, I guess those games would be like an India-Pakistan cricket match, where people take a day off and cheer their team in front of TVs.

Also if you are ever in Tuscany, don’t miss a little gem of a town called San Gimignano. Perched high up on the mountains of Tuscany’s Chianti wine producing region, it is another medieval town that has been declared a UNESCO Heritage site. But if you can take a little detour, how about lunch in the middle of a vineyard? Maybe one that makes some of the best Chianti wine in the world? As you sit under the shade, with sultry breeze blowing through those Mediterranean olive trees and look down at rows and rows of priceless grapevines, you realize these are not just some of the richest vineyards in the world – besides all that science and engineering that goes into harvesting these grapes, these are fruits of pride and passion for the entire Tuscan region. Take this from someone who’s just heard an earful: you get a Tuscan started on the wines from his region at your own peril. Chances are he will never stop talking about it or beaming with pride.

No trip to Tuscany is complete without seeing Michelangelo’s “David.” While you get to see his other masterpiece, the “Pieta” (Mary holding the body of Jesus) at St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, keep in mind it is exhibited behind a glassed enclosure and it’s pretty much like watching animals at the zoo. But with David, you get to admire Michelangelo’s sheer genius at close quarters and from all angles. The almost 17ft David is male perfection in marble. You are suddenly transported in time and you see David as the man who brought down the giant Goliath; you see the intensity in his eyes; his poise speaks of passion; every muscle, sinew, bone and vein is defined with perfection under Michelangelo’s chisel. Is it said that unlike other sculptors and painters of his time, Michelangelo never believed in “outsourcing” his work to his students. Every crevasse, every bulge, every frown and every little hollow and shading you see on David was imagined and created by Michelangelo himself. Here’s a tidbit you might enjoy: Michelangelo was so passionate about his work, that it is believed that he had secret access to dead bodies so he could better understand the human anatomy and physiology. Talk about commitment!

Of course, when passion flows like a thick cup of cappuccino, something’s got to give, right? Maybe that’s why they could never get the Tower of Pisa NOT to lean. Because it was built on soft ground, the leaning tower has been getting more and more lop-sided over the years. Terrible mistake, right? But then what did those passionate Tuscans do? They got the tower recognized as one of the Seven Wonders of the World!! Oh well, you can’t beat those Tuscans, can you?

Eat, Pray, Love – A Roman Holiday

Time is a curious creature here in Rome. In the blink of an eye, it can stretch and shrink with stories of its magnificent past that reverberate through the ancient cobblestones, ruins and majestic edifices that are a salute to the religions, reigns and violence the region has seen; and then, in that same blink, it can stand entirely still during the afternoon siesta when much of Rome seeks shelter from the oppressive heat – except for foolish tourists (like us) who don’t want to miss a minute of this fascinating city.

While it’s obvious to look at the Vatican as the catholic hub of the world, I think it’s far more exciting to look at its history through the prism of art. In fact, the beauty of the Vatican – the awe-inspiring paintings of Michelangelo on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basilica with its grand Baroque architecture and the papal quarters that boast some of the magnificent Raphael brush strokes – can be told through the rivalry of these two great men of Renaissance. It was the early 1500s. Raphael was younger than Michelangelo by about 10-odd years and was an up and coming artist in his twenties already making waves in the art circles. And Michelangelo was an established sculptor who brought the realism and beauty of the human form to the Carrara marbles he touched. The story goes that the Pope of the time commissioned Raphael to paint his private quarters and Michelangelo to paint the Sistine Chapel. Raphael obviously thought he’d received the higher honor. In the meanwhile, Michelangelo was horrified by the papal proposition: “Me, a sculptor – commissioned to PAINT??!!” Legend has it that Michelangelo ran away to Florence for two years – maybe to think about it – before returning to Rome (Vatican) and taking up the offer.

When you enter the Sistine Chapel you are not allowed to take pictures. But when you tilt your head to look up at the ceiling – your eyes tracing the vivid colors and images of the Creation, Adam and Eve to pictures of Noah’s Arc – you know you are looking at the cornerstone of Renaissance art. In simple terms, what Michelangelo introduced was 3D to a very flat form of art – a very common concept today, but revolutionary in those times. If you are ever in the “walled” country of Vatican, don’t be contended looking just at the Sistine Chapel. Sneak into the papal quarters and you will be delighted by the Raphael’s creations as well (see some pictures below). Mural after mural extols the greatness of Constantine, the first “Christian” Roman Emperor, the bloody battles he fought and of course stories from the Bible.

But step away from Vatican into the ruins of ancient Rome, you will experience the hypocrisy of its very existence. While Constantine is celebrated for establishing a Christian kingdom, keep in mind the grandeur of Rome came at the downfall of Paganism. Some of the amazing Pagan temples you will still see standing in the Forum were architectural marvels that have withstood the test of time – even before the birth of Christ. The reason the Colosseum and the Forum are in a state of disarray today is not because of natural ravages or some major calamity. It was one religion trying to decimate another and its very existence. Ask the locals and they will tell you that the large bronze door and Bernini’s central bronze pillars you will see at St Peter’s Basilica were ripped out of Pagan temples and buildings. The gold finishes on the moldings and ceilings were plunders from their Pagan past. And the millions of holes you will see on the Colosseum walls are the fingerprints left by the Romans trying to reuse large iron nails that held the Colosseum together.

If you stand inside the Colosseum, letting your mind wash you through time in to a pre-Christian past, you just might hear the blood-thirsty roar of the poor Romans cheering on gladiators and exotic animals, and booing them if there wasn’t enough gore. This was their entertainment. The papacy systematically put an end to such gladiatorial entertainment – but the hunger games were not really over. With a new religious order, persecution just became subtler and confined to more secret quarters. And then you blink your eyes open you realize time has not really changed after all.

The “Right to Pee” Movement for Access to Bathrooms Is Gaining Momentum Across India

Posted: 12/12/2014 11:28 am EST Updated: 5 minutes ago

In October when Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, wielded a broom and passionately swore to clean up the streets of India and improve its sanitation within 5 years, he became somewhat of a demigod. Well, maybe not the sword-swishing, six-pack touting Hercules you are thinking of; but his cult status certainly shot through the roof capturing the attention of Indians who elected him to power earlier this year.

For several years now citizens across the country, grassroots movements and the media have been raising a stink over the appalling amount of waste that goes untreated. According to the Center for Science and Environment in New Delhi, less that 30 percent of sewage in India receives proper treatment and almost 80 percent of the wastewater ends up in rivers and lakes. What is even more frightening is the rapid rate of urbanization. The McKinsey Global Institute projects that India’s population in urban areas will soar from 340 million in 2008 to 590 million by 2030. Imagine the amount of waste that will be produced. In fact just the city of Mumbai is today estimated to produce 12,600 metric tons of waste in one day. That’s about 28 million pounds of waste from one city in just 24 hours.

Complicating matters is the lack of access to bathrooms. Recent census data shows that more than half of Indian households lack access to a loo. Juxtapose this information with a United Nations report that says more Indians now have access to cell phones than toilets.

Looking back I can now see how India has always a troubled relationship with its toilets.

Growing up in Chennai in the 80s and 90s, my neighborhood was a typical middle-class residential area. There were apartments and independent homes on either side of wide streets dotted by sweeping Gulmohar trees with their iridescent red blooms; tall coconut and mango trees laden with their fruits and the backs of random men standing against compound walls…err peeing.

As far as I can remember there were no public toilets in our neighborhood. There was a government bathroom that came up years later. But it came with a catch — one had to pay to potty. So as you can imagine, people in nearby slums and commuters generally chose to skip the paying part and answered their call of nature out in the open. China might boast its Great Wall and Jerusalem its Western Wall. But our neighborhood’s claim to fame was the “peeing wall.”

And we were “privy” to this peeing wall ’round the clock. You see, this particular wall was across the street from our house. It was a tall compound wall for an apartment complex made of coarse black stones. I’m not really sure why this wall became the chosen one. Maybe because it was tall enough to shield miscreants from the residents inside or maybe the presence of a constantly overflowing dumpster next to it somehow legitimized its pee-ability factor. Whatever the reason, my childhood memories are unfortunately and inextricably interwoven with a parade of men who brazenly defecated out in the public.

To put an end to the “peeing wall” episode, our neighbors decided to take action. First they painted signs on the wall that banned any kind of littering. Then they even planted a row of bushes to disarm the would-be pee-er. While some of these interventions worked, hard-core nature embracers would not give up.

For the women in nearby slums, the issues were far more challenging. I remember our maid telling stories of waking up early to take care of her bathroom burden either out in the open or in the public toilet in shadowy hours of the dawn. In fact many women in India are estimated to hold their bladders for more than 13 hours because of lack of access to bathrooms. And there are varying statistics on the number of women and girls who could have escaped rape if they had toilets in their homes.

The first time I empathized with the plight of poor women and girls in such situations was when I met our maid’s daughter. She was a young girl who was about my age. She often came to our house to help her mother with chores around the house. Murugamma was a dusky beauty. When she cleaned up — which was once a week — she had an impeccable sense of dressing. Her cheap plastic bangles and earrings would match her simple cotton half-sari.

When she casually mentioned fighting with the loo-keeper over the amount of rupees she had to pay to use the facilities, I remained a mute participant — merely taking in the information without any teenage wisdom to spare. But the gravity and injustice of her situation hit me hard only when I visited a village in southern Tamil Nadu during a summer break. I was thirteen years old, and this was supposed to be a bucolic retreat right off the pages of Malgudi Days — the perfect summer with cousins, and their cousins and whole lot of friends. We stayed at a sprawling old Agraharam house with large rooms, tall ceilings, teak wooden doors and banisters. The house even had a granary to store sacks of rice and legumes from the recent harvest. The only thing missing inside the house was a bathroom.

Getting to the toilet was an adventure on its own — you had to crisscross several rooms and open verandahs until you came face-to-face with the only privy for this large household. There it stood, a small nondescript outhouse in the backyard near an expansive banana grove. I generally avoided going to this bathroom at night. The dim flickering bulb that lit the area did nothing to calm my fears.

As a child you learn to ignore these inconveniences — that is until you fall sick. When fighting a painful bout of diarrhea, running to the outhouse in the middle of the night while imagining ghosts and thieves hiding in dark shadows is not part of a summer vacation. During those few days as I recovered far away from home and my parents, I thought of Murugamma and her everyday toilet travails.

Today there is a growing social justice movement that is gathering momentum across the country. In Mumbai 35 non-government organizations have come together to start what is being dubbed the “Right to Pee” movement that demands equality for women in accessing public toilets. Check out this social experiment on what happens when a woman tries to pee by the roadside.

Murugamma is now long gone. She died almost 20 years ago following complications from childbirth. But as the nation now starts talking about sanitation and the challenges women in particular face, I can’t help but think of Murugamma and how her short life could have been different if only she had a toilet in her house.

This blog post is part of a series produced by The Huffington Post in conjunction with the launch of HuffPost India (December 8, 2014). To read all posts in the series, visit here.