Wednesday, November 11, 2009

The Airport Grandma

She seemed to have lagged mountains in her past.

Her hunch told a story of pots of chicken, soy sauce, disgruntled children, greedy siblings

There was a rush in her saga

That would not tolerate the embarrassment of her name being called out on a public speaker system at the airport

While six of her grandchildren, her son and a daughter in law

Moved forward the queue without her

She moved proudly behind them,

She seemed to have cooked, and had not been cooked for

She seemed to have listened and had not been listened to

She seemed to have made space where her own had shrunk every day

Will drawn up, lands given, silverware gifted,

She only had a gold chain to hold on to…

She died when the bird took off

Generously breathing her last offer

To the skies and God…

 

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HOME

Crumpled like an over-used dinner menu over a weekend dinner
Trampled upon like a fig under a pair of obscene, obstinate pair of legs
Crushed within a palm of strong straight lines
She breathes, defiant of daunting rubble of rules
Stumbling over burning puddles and pebbles
Risking blisters and burnt toes
She returns to her home
Without a name, noise or nag

Nov 11,2009

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Monday, November 2, 2009

Women in Business 2009

What is it that makes a woman an issue? What is it that makes the men talk about a woman? What is it that makes the world discuss gender parity at a time when a woman is at her most sensitive state; sensitive about bias, discussion and even special attention? Her history is not one which may be corrected; the path she crosses can never be revisited; her struggle is barely noticed and yet she has chosen to be the one to be talked about in a business summit.

This was a summit organized by Standard Chartered in collaboration with Group Women Council in Singapore.  Three of us had made it to the place to simply listen and to brainstorm about womanhood and potential. That she is a good debtor is no news; that she braves her personal storms is not unusual; that she lives in a world crossed by chauvinistic challenges is no surprise.

Yet she needs to be discussed and addressed.

The first evening at a dinner date at the Marina Mandarin, in a restaurant that hosted almost 125 beautiful women and hardly three men, we all looked at each other, networked and enjoyed our moment. The reality came sooner than expected next morning when Lehmann Moment became the key issue of the opening phase. The part to discuss was the recovery phase. The Q3 GDP Growth in China, the land of the Impossibly Capably Aggressive had stood at a 9% while the Q4 growth had dipped to a 7. UK, alas, had reported a -1.4% and USA at this point was riding on a 3.5.  Apparently, the conservative stimulus pattern had led to the frustration in the UK and therefore the country was working on an extended stimulus now. Discussion centred on the reality of the recession not yet having reached the V stage and the world probably not seeing a V curve in a long time to come. Voices concluded that we would all be looking like an incomplete V, rather a square root and would simply have to pat each other at the back and smile through the semi-yet-tried the hardest phase.

At a time like this, what were the women doing, especially in Korea and Japan, where profession becomes a zero right after marriage? Well, the story does not end there as most of these women trade in the funding currencies like Yen, US Dollar and British Pounds from home and are busy. Japan, the country that had 2.2% negative growth and Korea, the country which had ironically 2.2% positive growth definitely had women who were not to be labelled as passive. As far as the world of women could stretch from Far East to the Extreme West,starting from one having a house husband down to another having an extra supportive husband to single mothers, starting from ones having begun their careers after fifty down to some who had always had to work, starting from ones who have grown their own business initiatives down to the ones who had grown their family businesses…all that morning had one voice and one conviction: they all had a choice and they had all pursued their passion. Whether it was to have raised half a dozen kids and then having stumbled upon a neighbourhood bank next door pitching a business, or whether it was all about slogging twenty hours a day at a store, all had one vision and one mission to cater to: Growth.

Well, how will the Bangladeshi women respond to this creed of Growth which meant sustained progress?

By 2014, the world is going to be poised to salute the better half as the earning power of the women will reach US Dollar 18 trillion, which is more than twice the GDP of India and China put together. In a country like Bangladesh, since gender banking has indeed become a focus with the Central Bank announcing a single digit commercial lending rate for women entrepreneurs, all commercial banks should share the spirit. After all, lending to women has always been beneficial; after all, women have always been responsible clients; after all, businesses need to move from micro finance and unofficial enterprise credit to institutionalized platform, don’t they?

Though the world in 2008 witnessed the Falling-off-the Cliff feeling, Bangladeshi women have perpetually lived there, prepared to take the fall in the form of a divorce mantra recited thrice in the village or an elite insult or bias. While most of the Western world has been recovering with currency adjustments, more aggressive policy responses and increased confidence, and through exiting the stimulus bubble, the East has been watching the role reversal. To put it simply, the west saves while the east spends more today. On one hand, the world has been oscillating between multiple shifting gears, on the other the steering wheel has rested safely with the women. Why though? It’s simply because women define Smart Economics the best while negotiating a fine Work-Life balance.

Strangely a Woman Anywhere has, at any point, a unique tale to offer. She is a silent partner to the growing family business, a quiet mentor for her children, a partner for her ambitious better half, a symbol of aesthetics for her home and workplace, a friend to many like her, an aspiring academic having to put away her laptop or her worksheet the minute her husband comes home…yet she has never been waited upon, and yet, she does not complain.

Time to track back to Here and Now:

 In Singapore, Standard Chartered shared a success story with the participants in the summit. It was the story of Kaniz Almas.

A woman from Bangladesh, Kaniz is known to be one of the most resourceful women in the country. Her investments were all in the beauty sector. She ran salons and spas. We watched her story during dinner. Kaniz had no capital to start with. Her funds came from Standard Chartered, Bangladesh. At a time, when most of us were complaining about our interest rates still not coming down to a single digit (for women, finally it has) Kaniz had borrowed at 17% and has grown her business all over the city with 1200 employees. When she began, she had less than 7 to assist her and today when she looks around she sees her colleagues, her family, her customers and her love.

By her side, her husband, an ex banker, beams with pride and photographing our moment. Kaniz, ever polite and ever humble stands for a simple statement of confidence. She took a leap of Faith when she couldn’t see the bottom and landed on a higher plain. Kaniz is a simple story that teaches the women in Bangladesh never to despair and never to settle for plateaus. Surely mountains were made for women and plains for men?

 

The Skies, on board SQ 436

Nov 01, 2009

 

 

 

 

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Tuesday, October 28, 2008

fact(w)o(r)ry

i visited one of the factories today…a factory that has only 4 sewing lines and 300 workers. it’s small, clumsy yet efficient. the workers had stopped working three days back asking for a raise. now that’s what i call offence. apparently they had asked for ’sir’ or ‘madam’ and would not listen to anyone else. so i went. it was easy getting into the cabin sitting down and listening to the compliance guy. sure….he made sense. these were all people from the cutting and finishing section who had been with us for years and who had suddenly been converted to the religion of protest and violence by some ‘other’ NGOs. so i sat and listened and listened and…listened. none of the workers had come in to meet me. i figured that perhaps they wanted me on the floor. so i went and sat and sat and sat… suddenly i saw all 300 faces all around me, trying to talk to me all together. the noise killed me, the frustration hit me and i decided to ask questions. some said they had written innumerable letters addressed to me which had never reached me; some said the nurse was a bitch who didn’t give them more than one medicine a day; some said the GM Productions had told them that the only way was to protest and get their due raise; some even said that they were always penalized for being vocal. so i told them my story. i told them that every morning when i am on my to the office, i try and dodge my chef at home. i don’t want to face him as i know his obvious demands. more money for more dishes. frankly, i don’t mind my aloo bharta anymore. i still don’t want to dish out a few hundreds for a fancy lasagna that we all can live without. i don’t need the salsa dip; i don’t need the pita bread; i don’t need the rich filling anymore. at a time when there’s no vegetable selling at less than Tk 32.00/kg (except papaya), we all might as well say a special prayer and have only one dish per meal. so i told them that i understood what they were saying. they listened and listened. they understood and made me promise that i would go back and talk to them at least once a month. i promised that i would. after all, my office was only 5 minutes away from theirs. am surprised how i have so far managed to take a vacation and be gone for so long, so far away from home. home’s where those 300 and i would like to be.
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Saturday, October 18, 2008

arts and masks

It was strange to find Shomiron landing up at my doorstep. He’s an artist who has pride and a lot in his strokes to take pride in. Shomiron’s paintings sell at almost 80k in the local market. I presume 50% is taken by the galleries which do him the favor of providing the walls to hang his absolute beauties. Long ago, I had promised him a photograph of my best friend which he was supposed to translate into charcoal or color. That never happened. So, I assumed that he had come to me just to remind me of my broken promise. But I was wrong. Shomiron had come for a different purpose altogether. He was here to share a grief and perhaps, a mass of regret.

He had come to ask me if I would like to take a look at a few abstracts that he had in his studio which were created by a Norwegian artist he had met in
Norway, during one of his exhibitions. I was surprised. But why would he carry paintings from the West for sale in Dhaka? So, I probed. He gave in finally with tears welling up in his eyes.  Those art were all his. He had simply chosen a Norwegian name to put his mark on the canvas. I couldn’t have been sadder. He explained. Apparently the art critics were addicted to European names or desi high selling masters. Names like his which only painted women artists were not of interest to the art circle. So he had reverted back to his old habits of painting abstracts. And they were beautiful. Those pieces were rare and rewarding for any audience that sought beauty and meaning in art. I was told that the circle in the gallery was divided about his creations. Some said they made sense. Some said they were brilliant strokes of a Norwegian master. Some said they would be able to sell them at nothing less than half a million.

I heard Shomiron out and convinced him to go back home, change the signatures, re sign and claim his beauties back from masked walls. He deserved to be real.


 

On board Z5 001, September 21, 2008

 

 

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