Hippity Bippity Hop

“What is that god awful sound?” I think to myself as I watched the kids in the colony go crazy. Apparently it’s called hip-hop. The kids these days will listen to all kinds of rubbish. My wife tells me I’m getting old. Sometimes I think she’s hit the bull’s eye.  

Watching the videos on TV these days you’d think there was a shortage of cloth in the world and I have to check the date repeatedly. You see I grew up watching post apocalyptic movies and in all of them the human race was clad in rags or some weird sort of battle armor…  WITHOUT ANY CLOTHES so to speak. Ever seen Land of Doom? How about She Wolves of Wasteland? If you have, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, it’s not worth a watch. Most of the music videos on TV have the same generic look and feel. Black rapper with a scantily clad woman on either arm, gyrating to a hip hop beat, mumbling words frequently interspersed with various slang for the rear of a woman’s anatomy.  I don’t care much for hip-hop, that’s true.

But they say music is the purest form of communication. By that logic hip-hop is possibly the purest form of abuse or it’s a fact that we all are horny, depending on the song you’re listening to. You only need to hear “Candy shop” once to know this. Every time I see a hip-hop video I want to rush out and donate some of my meager salary to cladding the poor lasses. Not so the gents though. They're clad to the point of being over clad  Loose pants, over-sized shoes, vest, ill fitting t-shirts topped off with huge jackets. Even their teeth are clothed in gold. And don't get me started on their jewellery. Mebbe they should give some of their clothes to those poor gyrating girls. Of course, some of the songs make no sense. Take Snoop Dogg’s “Drop it like its Hot”. Drop what like it’s hot? A brick? A red hot poker? A marshmallow? I couldn’t be bothered to look up the lyrics.

Ok so you’re still here bristling and calling me a frump but that’s ok. I understand everyone has their tastes and their opinions and I’m sorry if I’ve ruffled your feathers but I just don’t get hip-hop. Sure I know about the history of hip-hop and the cultural background it comes from. I listened to the Sugar Hill Gang. I understand the music in its infancy represented the voice of the youth from low-economic areas. I understand that the hip-hop culture reflected the realities of their lives. However most of the songs I hear or see on the tele have something to do with a woman’s bottom or being proud of being a gun toting delinquent. That and the lack of clothes.

Yeah I don’t get hip-hop today. I think maybe you should get in line behind my wife and call me an old man. I’ll just plug in my headphones and listen to some “Frank Sinatra” or “Astral Projection”. Peace.

The predicament....

I was on my break when I got the call. The best I could manage was a feeble and hardly discernable squawk though my Medu Wada filled mouth. My wife told me she was pregnant with our first child. For a few moments I was blank as the words didn’t quite compute. Don’t get me wrong, a child was something we both had decided on and had been trying for a few months, but still sometimes thinking about it and discussing it doesn’t really prepare you for “The Real Thing”. After the first few minutes of going thru various stages of confusion, cold sweats, happiness and of course mild doubt. It could be a false alarm after all. So I finally managed to take control of my feelings and went home to celebrate and congratulate my wife.

After the first few days of excitement, I began to worry. I was happy but I began to worry. And I began to pray. I began to pray my child would not be a girl. I prayed not because I didn’t want a girl child. I did. I prayed because I was afraid. I was afraid of the trials and hardships she would have to go thru all her life. I prayed because I would not be able to shelter her from them. I prayed because of the terrible things that happen to women in our country and around the world.

Am I paranoid? My friends definitely think so. Maybe I am. Or maybe I’m not. But here are some things that make me worried. According to a UN Index in 2011, India ranked 134^th out of 187 countries, the index included details from women in politics to sexual health to education and employment. India was ranked lower that China and Saudi Arabia. Yes you read that right. I live in Mumbai and I’ve always heard people say what a safe city this is. Seriously? My women friends tell me quite otherwise. They are groped on buses and trains, auto rickshaws, followed and eve teased. Or maybe this is paranoia. But then why would most of my lady friends, even my wife make this up. A few years back an ex-boyfriend threatened my sister with acid, and demanded two lac rupees to keep the details of their relationship under wraps. She promptly told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine and that was the end of that. But I shudder to think of the consequences. My friends tell me this is part of life in the city but I am unconvinced. My lady friends tell me they ignore it when they can. But is that really the solution? Why should our women, our mothers and our sisters, our wives or our daughters, have to put up with this?

I don’t know the answers. I only have my questions…. And my fears.

My daughter was born on the 9^th of July 2011. I love her and hope I can do my best to give her a balanced childhood and the strength to face the dangers of this world. And as a father I can only pray that God looks down on all his children.