What it means to be a woman in India!

Today morning, I woke up to multiple messages related to International Women’s Day. 25 percent off on groceries!’ ’10 percent discount on flowers!’ ‘No making charges on diamond jewelry,’ among others.

And at that moment, I realized that the March Madness had begun. Until three years ago, March Madness for me usually began with a gentle reminder from my reporting authority in the banking sector. Or with an aggressive message from the Boss. They would both remind me that after the end of the financial year, there would be an appraisal process to keep my blood pressure and stress levels high.

As a writer, now, the reasons for stress and frustration have shifted reasons but they have not shifted loyalties like my account’s financial statement. Today, a different kind of seething anger gripped my soul. I wanted to question each of these brands and ask them if that is all Women’s Day meant to them.

And yet, all their propositions felt better than any of the headlines, I’ve woken up to in the past few months- violence, moral policing and gender stereotyping. In a bid to highlight the daily struggles we face as women, I decided to take everyone through the stages of being a female in this country.

Stage one- the birth

Since you are a girl, you don’t get to be born. You are aborted in your mother’s womb, itself. In case, you do manage to make your way to the world, you are either dumped in a dustbin or choked to death. Because what are girls, if not unwanted responsibilities?

Click HERE to read about the 11 stages of being a woman in modern India as I pour my heart out in this piece on women’s web. Because we have, for ages and across generations, fought for ourselves and no matter how much fear you instill in us, remember, we will rise. Like the phoenix from the ashes, we will rise.

N for No means No

Growing up, I used to be a kid with chubby weeks (actually a chubby kid!). Random uncles and aunties would feel that they had every right to pull my cheeks while blurting out “Aww, so sweet!” or plant sloppy kisses on them. If my parents, especially Ma was anywhere in the vicinity, she would politely but sternly ask them not to do that because it hurt my cheeks. Well, consent and children were completely unrelated words at that time.  But eventually, I turned out to be quite a gundi and very soon learned how to keep such people at bay.

Child molestation is the sad reality of every generation. There has been a steep rise in the number of such cases over the years with the level of violence becoming horrific, to say the least. I personally feel that even earlier, most of such cases were brushed under the carpet because the perpetrator, in most of these cases was someone close to the family.

The concept of consent was introduced to me quite early on in my family. My parents would often say that I had every right to stay away from doing anything that made me uncomfortable. Even at my in-laws, my husband grew up with a strong sense of seeking consent.  So, it was but natural that after Tuneer was born, the same idea of consent would be passed on to him. 

It started with me stopping people from pulling his cheeks. While a few understood the reason, others judged me as an overprotective mother. Once he started preschool, I taught him how it was perfectly okay for him not to give anyone a hug or kiss, if he didn’t wish to. Sr. T thought it was too early to teach him these things. But I was an anxious mother trying to give a blanket of security and a cushion of trust around my little boy. 

No, I won't pose for a picture
No, I won’t pose for a picture

Continue reading “N for No means No”

M for Men

My posts in the A2Z challenge started out as a fun-filled narration on my experiences related to school admissions. With time, I realized how my thoughts were peeling off layers of issues hidden under the security blanket of education. The moment a child is born, a doctor announces its gender to the parents first. And there begins the first step of discrimination because the birth of a baby girl is considered as a burden in a lot of families while a baby boy is a reason to celebrate even today. And from there on begins the set expectations from each gender. 

I grew up in a household where equality was the norm. I have seen my father take care of the kitchen as and when required with the same expertise in which he handled his teaching job. Nothing was assigned to be a job based on gender in my home. But the world outside is never so kind. Glass ceilings are a harsh reality for women and I have faced such biases at various places of education and work. But if there was something that I had decided for my son, it was to raise him sans any gender discrimination. But the ‘well-wishers’ can obviously not let me have my way with the child without garnishing our lives with their opinion in generous doses.

As Tuneer learned to play, the first thing that he was drawn to was a kitchen set that I had purchased for him. It used to be his favorite set until recently when the love swayed towards a newly purchased supermarket set. But weren’t kitchens supposed to be a girl’s domain? To those ‘well-meaning souls’, it didn’t matter that the mother hardly entered the kitchen because what was important was to let the child know that he was expected to play with toys befitting a boy. Some went a step ahead and commented on how I was raising him as a girl. With a smile on my face, I would often reply as to how I was so proud of my MasterChef who already knew how to keep his foodie mother happy. 

Breaking gender stereotypes
A MasterChef in the making at his 1.5 years

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D for Do you also work?

At the cost of sounding like a nerd, I must confess that I have always loved academics. After completing my second post-graduation, I started working as a Branch Head with ICICI Bank in Mysore. In 2015, when Tuneer was born, I was working as a Senior Manager / Branch Head with HDFC Bank in Bangalore. I took a sabbatical in 2016 only to return as a writer in 2017. For me, writing had become a profession for me, not just a passion anymore. This was the time when I had also started toying with the idea of my third post graduation in creative writing (certified nerd now!).

It took very little time for this bubble to burst. In our country, creative fields are great as hobbies but never as career choices. One of the primary reasons for such an attitude is also because of the lack of support and financial prospects in this profession. A Banker can gain accolades as a writer but if one decides to become a writer only’, it is often met with caustic or sarcastic comments.

I realized how much Bollywood had affected my thinking when I went around proclaiming that I was going to change this perception by proving how writers could make it big. But man or rather woman proposes, God disposes. I had a few life-changing experiences that got me thinking if it was time for me to update the CV and start applying for ‘real’ jobs. 

Just to prove that I have a home-office set up
Just to prove that I have a home-office working set up

Continue reading “D for Do you also work?”

C for Chatterjee (or should I write Banerjee?)

Long before Sr. T and I were married, I had made up my mind about retaining my maiden surname for life. Education and work experience in different cultures supported my opinions by giving me a voice. Also, I must confess that I loved my full name. Sr. T was more interested in building a life together than my thoughts related to surname change. A situation of conflict never arose.

Because of our postings in Mysore followed by Bangalore, this never really became an issue. Residents of these cities often had initials as a surname. And people were generally the non-interfering type. So it hardly mattered to them whether I was Sonia C or Sonia B as long as they knew my name was Sonia and I was heading the branch of a Private sector Bank.

At times, individuals develop such tender love and affection towards their partner that they start swaying away from the original decisions. In my case, I took fancy to adding Banerjee to my full name after a year of getting married. Facebook let me do it without any hassles but when I wanted to get this changed in my bank account, I had to provide documents as proof. In about a couple of weeks time, reality had dawned on me in a harsh way. The paperwork involved in getting Banerjee added to my Pan card, passport, bank accounts, and other documents involved time, effort and non-transparent rules. Eventually, my practical brain gave a sane voice to my love-struck heart.

I must also mention a certain colleague who had kindly pointed out that the number of characters in Sonia Chatterjee Banerjee exceeded the number of boxes against the name section in almost all application forms. That sealed the end of any remote possibility of a name change.

Wedding - biye
Evidence of being married to Sr. T (though I have strategically cut his face out of the snap)

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Beauty lies in the grey matter of my brain


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‘Hey Fatso, how much do you eat every day?’

‘Fatso, if you dance, the stage will break down’

‘So fatty, do you purchase two tickets while taking a flight because I am sure you don’t fit into a single seat?’

‘Why is your son so thin? Do you eat away all the food in the house?”

Ah, aren’t these the usual taunts that every girl on the heavier side of the weighing scale has heard at least once in life? Our society has set such ridiculous standards in terms of what gets labeled as beautiful and what goes washed down as ugly that women have been pressurized to follow the norms to perfection since eternity. If one is on the left side of the scale measuring the perfect hourglass figure and the right kind of fair skin, one is believed to be too thin and too dark. However, if one is on the right side of this perfect scale, she is marked as too fat and too pale skinned. To add fuel to the fire, there are corporate houses whose money-making strategy seem to revolve around making young girls believe that the biggest achievement in their lives is to be fair and beautiful or have a skin without acne, pimple, and marks. And some celebrities validate such irrational expectations by being part of such endorsements. There are exceptions though like the handful of celebrities who refuse to be associated with such products or organizations like Naturals Salon who emphasize the true beauty of a woman and also help them become financially independent through employment.

I have always wanted to write about my experiences related to body shaming. After all, it is never a smooth ride for a fat girl in our society.  From my experiences, I have understood that most of the times, the general perception is to be judged based on how one looks. So I might have earned two post-graduate degrees or have a proven track record of leadership skills, but people will still be more interested in or concerned about my growing waistline. Strangely as a toddler, being chubby was considered to be cute. Unfortunately, it also gave people the liberty to pull my cheeks because who believes in taking consent from a child or even her parents! As I grew up, the words kept changing from plump to healthy and then overweight, fat, fatty and obese.

Continue reading “Beauty lies in the grey matter of my brain”

Durga Puja – facilitating social reforms – Berhampore edition #TheBlindList #SayYesToTheWorld


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I have often written about how my mothers demise changed my approach towards Durga Puja – the biggest festival for any Bengali. But things changed last year after I realized that I need my toddler to enjoy moments of celebration so that he grows up creating memories. This year, our return trip to my home town and also my husband’s native Berhampore was decided months ago because we wanted the toddler to enjoy puja with his grandparents.

Bhattacharya Para Puja
Bhattacharya Para Puja that had 25kgs of gold jewelry

When I decided to go pandal hopping last year, the venue and pandals were predecided evety single day because of my meticulous planning. It wasn’t meant to be any different this year. But like the saying goes, man proposes and God disposes. The toddler who had been unwell for the last one week fell critically ill after reaching Berhampore on Friday. His respiratory infection aggravated so badly that we had to nebulize him. The families were of the opinion that he needed to take rest and might be able to visit pandals only after getting fit which probably meant on the last couple of days of Puja.

It was really difficult to see the disappointment on my son’s face. With new clothes meant to be worn on days designated to be enjoyed, it was so painful to see him sit at home. Day before yesterday when his condition improved slightly, I decided to take him on an impromptu visit to few pandals. Some were the famous ones like the Puja at Bhattacharya Para which came into limelight for the 25kgs gold jewelry  gifted by Senco Jewellrs but some took my heart away through the minimalist approach and some impressed my toddler with innovative Asuras (he calls Asura his friend even today) . We ended up covering six pujas before heading back home.

Abhyudyay Sangha had an interesting theme on Kedarnath
Abhyudyay Sangha had an interesting theme on Kedarnath

Continue reading “Durga Puja – facilitating social reforms – Berhampore edition #TheBlindList #SayYesToTheWorld”

The circle of kindness to keep humanity alive

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Last week onwards, I have started an initiative called the detox day. On a predecided day of the week, I stay away from mobile, laptop, and all social media apps. For these two weeks, it has been Saturday. I spend all my time with my family. Now, I’m the kind of person who promptly responds to a phone message, a DM or a WhatsApp message but I am a little lazy in making and receiving calls. Most of my family members keep complaining about my non-accessibility over the phone, especially the bad habit of rarely returning the calls.

But this week was different. I’d really been affected by the news of the flood-hit Kerala. Quite a few of my B-school batchmates were from this state. After my detox Saturday, I started my Sunday searching for a Kolkata based NGO who were planning to carry relief items to Kerala the coming week. Three numbers were listed. Finding the first two numbers busy, I called the last number.

“Hello Sonia,” a deep voice answered.

A few years back getting addressed by name by a stranger would get me worried. But these days True Caller made that look plausible.

“Hi. Apologies for unable to address you by name because Facebook only had the numbers mentioned. Actually, I have called to ask about the process for contributing to the relief items. I have clothes that could be of help to someone there”

“That’s a noble thought for a good cause. But you need to call the volunteers for this”

“Oh, aren’t you a volunteer?”

“Well, I am expecting some funny reactions to this but I am God. You can choose to call me anything – Bhagwan, Allah, Wahe Guru, Jesus, Almighty.”

conversation-with-god
conversation-with-god-blogadda WOW prompt

“Oh really! Good to see that at least the names belonging to different religions can co-exist. Here we do have a tussle at intervals to figure out whose God is the greatest.” I said sarcastically. This man was wasting my time.

“You still don’t seem very convinced about talking to God.”

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The truth of being free on paper but chained in reality

On the morning of Independence Day. the roads were deserted and Shiv could drive the tractor down from Alwar to Jaipur in just two and half hours. He had planned to surprise his sister Vandana by making this sudden trip. It had been a year and half of her wedding to the family of rice merchants in Jaipur. During this period, Shiv had come only once to meet her during rakhi last year. His younger brother Raj had probably fallen asleep at the rear end of the tractor. After losing both his parents within a period of six months, Shiv had single-handedly taken up the responsibility of his younger siblings. His father, a poor farmer who toiled in other’s fields hadn’t left behind a single penny.

Shiv started working odd jobs eighteen hours a day to finally buy a piece of land for farming. He had been saving up for Vandana’s marriage simultaneously. Raj had started helping him on the fields. After Vandana got married, the brothers started pulling up money to purchase a tractor. The microfinance firm had lent them a tractor loan three months back.

His heart had always been set on meeting his sister but it was she who kept encouraging him to focus on his work instead. She had always been very proud of her Dadbhaisa (elder brother). He was relieved that she had been married to a decent family that cared about her happiness. That’s what she always told him.

Shiv looked at the boxes of sweets that Raj had bought for Vandana and her in-laws. They had reached the destination. He parked the tractor on the opposite road of the lane where lay Vandana’s marital home. Waking Raj up, he washed his face with the water from the nearby municipality water tap. There were three to four people who were probably on their way to celebrate the day through flag hoisting.

jaipur-street-photography-blog-people-on-street
Pic courtesy: Arv

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And she bloomed at the red horizon of life

Om Sarva Mangala Mangalye Shive Sarvartha Sadhike
Sharanye Tryambake Gauri Narayani Namostu Te

Srishti Sthiti Vinashanam, Shaktibhute, Sanatani
Gunashraye, Gunamaye, Narayani, Namostu Te

Sharanagata Dinarta Paritrana Parayane
Sarvasyartihare Devi! Narayani! Namostu Te

Close to fifty pairs of hands folded in unison seeking the blessings of Ma Durga standing on the floor of the man-made puja mandap of the Chowdhury household.

Maha Ashtami was the most important day of Durga Puja for the Chowdhurys . Just like every other year, Uma and Pushpak had the program for these five days of Durga Puja planned well in advance. This affluent and aristocratic family in Murshidabad was known for the conducting the puja for seventy-four long years. This year relatives from different corners of the world were expected to make a visit to partake in the grandeur of diamond jubilee celebrations.  Uma had been supervising the arrangements and decor of all the fourteen rooms in the house for the past one month. Close to sixty people were expected and ten rooms were already occupied by this day.

This year had an extra significance in the family as it marked as the first puja of their newly wed daughter-in-law Srishti. Three months ago, their Chartered Accountant son Ronit was married to Srishti who worked as a Sociology Professor in the city University. Despite staying out of the country for one and half decades, the childhood family friends had decided to return back to their roots to settle down. Uma never got along very well with her radical thinking daughter-in-law. Uma believed in traditions and rituals while Srishti chose the path to question them. Their relation had been on a downhill slope last month when the philanthropic Srishti decided to sell some of her wedding jewelry  gifts to fund the school building for underprivileged girls. Despite her well-meaning intention, the conservative Uma could never forgive her.

Uma had firmly conveyed to Ronit that Srishti needed to abide by the family customs for the five days of Durga Puja. Any deviation would unnecessarily set the wagging tongues of relatives talking. Ronit had assured her of taking care of the proceedings during this period. After Vijaya Dashami that marked the end of puja, Srishti could go back to her way of living and thinking post departure of the relatives. In return Uma had decided not to get involved in their decisions unless it affected her or the family. Last two days had gone unexpectedly well. Srishti had not only taken care of all the guests but also chose to keep her outlandish ideas supporting feminism and criticizing patriarchy in check. With half day of Ashtami over, Uma only prayed that the remaining two days were equally uneventful.

After savoring the delicious bhog (prasad) of khichdi, khyaat (mixed veg), payesh (rice kheer) and rosogolla(a variety of sweet) in the afternoon, Uma went to her room to take an hours rest before starting the preparation for Sandhi puja* to be held around midnight this year. Srishti was expected to sit for the puja this evening since it marked her significance as the chosen one to bear the future heir to this family. Close to thirty years back, her mother in law Sarojbala had prepared the newly wed Uma for this role. Uma’s husband Pushpak hardly took ant interest in family functions and gatherings. Ever since he had retired, the majority of his day was spent in the sitting room playing chess with his childhood friend Paran Ghosh, She had hoped for a friend in her future daughter-in-law but Ronit’s marriage had only aggravated her existing loneliness.

Uma had come out of the room dressed in a white tasar silk sari with vermilion red borders. Her jewelry adorned frame looked elegant. Spotting her son and daughter-in-law in deep conversation on the sofa, she felt annoyed. Srishti had still not dressed up for the puja due to begin in about an hour.

“Ma, we have been waiting for you. Srishti wanted to talk to you about a complicated issue” Ronit sounded a little uneasy.

Deep within, Uma was getting mentally prepared for another confrontation. She had half expected Srishti to create a ruckus at the end moment.

“Aunty, I have just started my period. I don’t know how to handle the situation right now.” Mother in-laws were never referred to as aunty, but Ma in her family but the U.S. returned Srishti had made it clear on the first day of meeting her that she and her husband would always be aunty and uncle to her. She couldn’t imagine calling anyone else Ma – Baba other than her own parents. However much it hurt, Uma had decided not to force her against her will.

“Srishti, in that case you can’t attend the puja.”

“But Ma, how will you manage? Everyone is expecting Srishti to start the puja. If you sit instead of her, it will raise a lot of unwarranted questions now. If you tell the truth, it will only mean putting Srishti in the spotlight for reasons beyond her control. If you don’t, the obvious assumption will be an over bearing mother-in-law taking away the limelight from her daughter-in-law. I don’t want either of you to go through this.” Ronit had sounded disturbed.

“I fail to understand why you even need to be a part of this female oriented conversation. Your darling wife could have spoken to me in private instead. I would have still advised her to refrain from attending the puja. I am going to justify her absence on a sudden migraine attack since most of them are aware of Srishti suffering from it. As far as being labelled as a manipulative mother-in-law is concerned,  couldn’t care any less. Now if you two are done with such trivialities, I would want to leave and start arranging for the puja.”

“But aunty, I know this day is very important for you. In fact I was hoping to make you proud.” her voice choked with emotions as Uma was surprised by this sudden outburst.

Uma rushed towards the puja mandap. Almost everyone was curious about Srishti’s sudden disappearance. Uma politely informed everyone about the migraine attack rendering it impossible for Srishti to get out of the bed. However the incessant whispering about the assumed bitter relation between her and Srishti didn’t fail to reach Uma’s ears.

The arrangements were completed in time. Uma decided to pay a visit to the restroom upstairs before sitting for the puja. It was going to be one long night. She was surprised to see the door of her son’s room half-open. At a glance, she could figure out the tall frame of her son sleeping on the left corner of the bed just like most of the other male members in her family while the women slogged it out. Srishti sat at one corner of the bed holding her white muslin silk saree with red and orange border. Uma had gifted her this saree to be worn on the auspicious occasion of puja tonight. Srishti was weeping silently. Uma’s heart skipped a beat as she felt familiarity with the same scenario many years back.

The past –

Jaya Jaya Devi

Chara Chara Share

Kucho Jogo Shobhito

Mukta Hare

Beena Ranjita

Pustaka Haste

Bhagwati Bharati

Devi Namastute

 

The loudspeakers from the neighboring puja pandals had been playing the Saraswati puja hymns since morning. Little Ronit had just turned two and half years old and was the center of attraction today. He was to be introduced to the art of reading, writing and alphabets through the ritual of hathekhori. Uma had been running around in her crease free, new white silk saree with golden red border getting all the puja items in place before the priest arrived. The ritual demanded that Ronit sat on her lap during the puja. The mother was the one responsible for helping him transition into this new phase of learning. As she stood up to light the lamp, she felt the unexpected flow of blood just like it came every month at the beginning of her menstruation cycle. Today wasn’t even her due date. Uma rushed upstairs. Her mother-in-law Sarojbala had been observing her keenly. She went behind her silently. As Uma hurried to take out the sanitary napkin from the almirah, all hell broke loose.

That Saraswati puja was etched in the memory of every single person in the Chowdhury household. The entire household had been witness to Uma getting abused and shamed for something as normal as her monthly cycle. Sarojbala ensured that every single item that Uma had touched in her house temple was replaced by a fresh one immediately.  She was not ready to take any chance with her deity. Every visitor was made aware of her inability to be a responsible daughter-in-law that day. Little Ronit was snatched away from Uma’s embrace to be plonked on the floor during the ritual. The chanting of mantras was submerged by the crying of a toddler craving for the security of his mother’s lap and love.

Uma had been too scared to even question the ritual or stand her ground that day. Till the time her mother-in-law was alive, she had carried out her duties with diligence. But she had promised to be a better mother-in-law for her future daughter-in-law. But Srishti was so difficult to handle. She had never let Uma bridge the gap in their relationship. but looking at her tearful silhouette now, Uma felt a tug in her heart.

She walked inside silently. “Why are you still awake?”

Srishti was taken aback at the sudden entry of Uma,”I was just about to go to bed.” her eyes were a shade of red from continuous sobbing.

“Do you want to go downstairs Srishti?” Uma asked her gently.

“How can I go near the mandap? I am impure as you say.”

“Do you believe that you are impure? I  have heard you tell so many maids in the house that monthly period is nothing beyond a physiological change in the body. You keep encouraging them to lead a normal life even during those four to five days.  So why are you lying low now? Doesn’t normalizing period instead of making it a social taboo hold good for you? I feel you should preach only what you can practice.” Uma didn’t know from where she mustered the courage to put forth such a strong opinion.

“Of course I don’t belive in such prejudices. Beyond these five days, I wouldn’t even given it a second thought. But, today it would only embarrass you further in front of the family. I know they keep taunting you for my addressing you as aunty instead of Ma. I would rather not add to your woes.” Srishti sounded tired.

“But why would they need to know? It is just a normal body function. Just as there is no need to hide, is there any need to declare it as well? There’s no rule in the vedas that states that a woman can’t be involved  in rituals during her monthly cycle. I am sure you know it better than me. Come on Srishti, if you feel that there’s nothing wrong in being a part of the puja today, why are you letting the society decide your course of action?” Uma meant every single word that she spoke. Probably it was her way of trying to reclaim her own life through empowering Srishti. “Get ready fast. We will go down right away.”

Sristhi stood in awe of  the bold and courageous opinion of her mother-in-law. Suddenly their past differences seemed too insignificant. She got up to drape the saree as Uma went to freshen up.

Dressed in identical sarees, Srishti walked down the stairs with Uma. A bunch of overtly curious relatives couldn’t stop themselves from asking about her sudden reappearance.

Srishti held Uma’s arm firmly – ” I guess Durga Ma has chosen me to perform the puja. That’s why she probably sent Ma upstairs to check on my health. I have slept for two hours after taking the medicine and I feel much better now. When I heard Ma’ s voice, I knew that it was time for me to partake in the puja.”

Uma have a shiver run down her spine on hearing the word Ma from Srishti’s lips. But she couldn’t just be sure yet.

“Oh, we weren’t aware that your mother is here tonight. Where is she?” one of the relatives queried Srishti.

“Not my mother, I am talking about my other Ma – the one who became my mother not just by virtue of my marriage to her son but by her love and support for me.” Srishti walked ahead with her hand refusing to let go of Uma’s arm.

As Uma picked up the conch shell to blow, Srishti sat down in front of Ma Durga.

Uma silently prayed, “Durga Ma, I am sure as a woman you would understand. Forgive me for keeping this a secret from those who would never understand menstruation doesn’t make a woman impure. “

The dhakis (traditional drummers) had arrives to start the playing of drums. It was indeed time for the rituals to begin.

*Sandhi Puja – It is done at the exact time Mahashtami ends and Mahanavami begins, with rituals performed for the last 24 minutes of Mahashtami and for the first 24 minutes of Mahanavami. The legend behind Sandhi Puja comes from when Durga was engaged in a fierce battle with Mahishasura and was attacked by the demons Chanda and Munda. Goddess Chamunda emerged from the third eye of Durga and killed Chanda and Munda at the cusp of Ashtami and Navami.