Power to the women

I live in a bubble – so the first time I ever heard that there was something called International Women’s Day was five years ago in my first newspaper job. The company organised a luncheon for us at half the price. So I paid Rs250 instead of Rs500 for a plate for noodles. I surrounded by a mob of hungry noisy women. I had to take leave for two days to recover from the experience. The next year, at a publishing house I was gifted a pressure cooker. It sure beat last year’s lunch, but I still don’t know what to do with the pressure cooker. The year after that, I drifted back to the newspaper industry – journalists are loud, chain-smoking alcoholics, but I like them – and we were treated to a buffet in the conference room. This time, though, the men rushed to the food, and finished it off before we could blink. Last year, a beauty company gifted us bottles of pink nailpolish.. Maybe this year they’ll give us nailfiles.

PS: The editor of the national newsdesk suggested that women head the different sections of the newspaper. Many of men agreed rather enthusiastically. They had visions of heading to the Press Club to down a few drinks. Luckily, the editor of the newspaper said he was against tokenism.