Live another Day

 ‘Hey, point and shoot! Focus on the job we are here for!’

A ‘yes’ was all I could muster, embarrassed, in the middle of a thick jungle inside the famous tiger corridor of India.

I picked it up, the fickle Sony digital camera hanging from my neck and clicked the tigress out on her morning walk with her cubs in tow.

A couple of clicks and I had forgotten about the camera in my hand already. I was overwhelmed with the beauty and the poise of that ferocious animal as it strutted confidently in its home – the wild.

Before I knew, she had found herself a clearing amidst the tall trees where the foggy morning sun kissed the ground. The dew was still fresh and the occasional gust of wind sent a chill through my spine as it weaved its way through the forest. I needed the warmth, even under the three layers but getting any closer to the magnanimous beast was never going to be a good idea.

But, she had already begun basking in the golden light. Her cubs toddling around merrily, running and stumbling, jumping and clowning while chasing a butterfly. They hit each other with their paws, bit and rolled over fighting over a twig of grass.

It felt as if I was sitting in front of a 2000-inch widescreen curved AMOLED TV watching a 10-D film replete with climatic and physical effects and what not. I was anticipating Sir David Attenborough’s deep silky voice beginning to say “How can they become the most ferocious carnivores fit to be the kings of the jungle? Those bundles of fur, if they looked at you right now, would make you melt. Would you believe that in six months, this little cubs would have had stalked, hunted and ruthlessly killed dozens of other animals just to satisfy their hunger?”

And I would have been in awe of it, just like I am now. But those judgmental thoughts haven’t crossed my mind yet. I was enjoying the moment. As one of the cubs strayed a little further away in its jolly, mama tiger would just snarl a grunt out. The cubs would just leave whatever they were in to and scamper back. We sat there in the jungle, still and quiet spectators, witnessing the beauty of the rustic life of an animal – a beast when it is in the hunt.

That’s exactly when I saw some movement from the corner of my eye. Far to the right of this clearing, were large shrubs and mid-size trees. I could see the rustling leaves giving away the path of another wild being. As it came closer, I could see the sharp tusk of the wild boar heading in the direction of the clearing where the tigers were having their morning picnic.

I almost jumped at the thought of seeing a real wild kill. The predator in its full glory, pouncing on its prey who is no walkover itself. The boar is known to be a tough nut and a fierce fighter. The duel would be epic. The cubs were too young to participate but mama tiger was huge and supple. The boar looked stocky and its thick skin was glowing in the sun that had climbed further up in to the sly.

The boar, running through the foliage with its head down, passed through the bushes and was just entering the clearing when the tigress snarled at one of its cubs. Its ears popped right up and its front legs stretched ahead. And that is when I realized that the way Pumba braked in cartoons all these years was the real deal. The boar froze when it heard the snarl and stood there like it as a piece of furniture. It stood there still staring at the tigress with its eyes wide open.  

The tigress must have already heard the boar coming, its hearing much stronger than us humans, especially the urban dwellers. As she snarled, she looked in the direction the boar was coming in and saw it freezing to a stop. But she was full and unlike the sapiens, animals do not eat or hunt unnecessarily. So she just turned her head around and looked the other way.

That was the cue the boar was waiting for. It just turned around in one swift motion, completely unlike its clumsy demeanor. And run it did. Run for its life, run away from the hunter. Not that it was being hunted, but you could have seen the spook in its eyes just before that cue telling it could live another day. 

That Thick Wide Trunk!

Ohhh Shit… Ohhh… Shit… Shit… Shit… Shit!!! 

All it took was just one peek around that thick wide trunk to know that the game was almost up. It would have helped a little if he would have reined in his mojo. But then who can possibly control a brewing sense of happiness that is borderline elation. 

It all started with a late night, a dinner well past the hour and an attempt to sleep in a bed that isn’t home. The next morning was going to be early, fairly early. The clock had been set for the alarm at that ungodly hour that was not more than a couple of hours to go. It was cold as the winter had set in on the Deccan plateau and the warmth of the blanket wasn’t enough to keep him from the fan-accelerated chill. But, he desperately needed that shut eye. 

Alarm bells rang deep in his ears just when he thought he had fallen asleep. Cursing under the lip, he was trying to pry open those heavy eyelids. Yesterday’s events flashed through in a jiffy. It wasn’t the first time a friend had done him over but what hurt most was that it had severed his relationship with someone he really valued. Sure it has left him sore in his heart, but today’s journey could be the ointment to his fresh scars. And that’s when he woke up. 

Zipping through the morning routine, he was out on the motorcycle ready to hit the road with all he had. The plan was simple – hit the road, stay on the road, don’t hit anything and do that all day long! All he had to do was remember that and not get cocky. But. Here we are. One peek around that thick wide tree trunk is all it took to put the whole day’s work into jeopardy. How could he be so careless? 

It wasn’t going to be easy when he had swung his leg over that tall steed in the afternoon and he knew it very well. As the dark black ribbon of tarmac started weaving its way through the lush green sides of the Sahyadris, getting the steed to obey wasn’t going well. Treading cautiously, he knew he had no option but to go through the grind.

So, he went through it, taking one step at a time and making sure wherever he set foot, it held solid. He measured every action, reaction, affect and effect of every parameter. It was the grind that he loved. The romance of that tete-a-tete that filled him with joy, a joy unbridled by the material things of life. As he treaded ahead, one success after another, that little stubbly jig became a full ballet. 

The stakes kept getting higher as the speeds crept up. It was a culmination of that grind which had now made him and the motorcycle one. Things were happening in slow motion. He could see the grade of the asphalt, the undulations on the surface, the banking angle of this corner and the next. He could figure the racing line through those corners on a public road as if he had a helicopter view of the whole road. And that is how he found speed. 

He felt the tingling of the revs on his wrist and the friction of the wheels on his toes. In his thighs he felt the yaw when he opened the throttle while leaned over into that lazy right hander as he neared the red-line in second. The corner will open up, he thought nonchalantly, opening the throttle further open. Shifting into third and getting back on the throttle is when he saw past that thick wide trunk. 

His heart sank. It tightened further. Already in third, he had built the momentum further in anticipation of a straight and there was no turning back now. Going forward was venturing into the unknown. It was that moment where everything just paused for a split second. 

That was the moment that made him. It was that moment he decided to dig deeper and pull out all stops. It was that moment when he leaned over further trusting himself to pull through. It was that moment of clarity where it was only him, the road, the physics and the machine all working together to create that moment of glory when the wrist wrung further as he hit the apex with clinical precision. 

As the motorcycle straightened up he looked straight ahead. The evening rays peeping through the foliage blinded him as they spread over the scratched visor blinding him. But his vision had never been clearer. The four-pot roared through the serene jungle victoriously past that thick wide trunk into a new world!

This beauty is the Norton V4 RR and has nothing to do with the incident above.

Surtees!

John Surtees carried on for his journey yonder and my timelines flooded with RIPs and obituaries to the only man you who surmounted the biggest championships on both two and four wheels. Frankly, even I do not know much about the life of the racing legend, the trivia or the wow stories. But one thing I know for sure is that the man enjoyed his time at the helm of those machines. Under those half face helmets and goggles was an expression that showed the resolve to excel and the happiness of challenging your limits nested in the tiny smirk hidden underneath.
We say there will be no Surtees anymore and that is a sad truth. We, over the years, have taught ourselves to be the ace of one than a king of many. We bury ourselves within the limits of our tasks and not go beyond to learn, to help, to admire. The poignant masturbating nature of social media has added to it. You want to click faster pictures of yourself than take efforts to go faster. Like they say, going to Alibaug is not wanderlust.
It is rare to see the incessant want of going fast, on two or in four. It takes courage to accept that good looking mediocracy is not better than the ugly face of pursuing excellence. It takes courage to not evaluate every move by the measure of success but learning. It takes courage to accept defeat and get back up gathering what is left for the second attempt, or the third, or the fourth. It is a matter of belief, belief in yourself and belief in your goals.
Fanaticism as it may be branded or mere stupidity, it is better than the stoic political correctness and idealism that seems to have riddled our generation, stopping them from clean achievements. Schemes, politics and conceit then arises as a part of the competition and that is why you will not see the Surtees or the Sheenes or the Hunts for that matter. May be we could learn from Surtees and push ourselves to be more capable than acceptable!

http://photos.motogp.com/2017/03/10/surtees_31.small.jpg

Ducati Monster 821: First impressions

  

It is big and red. The signature trellis frame, also in the racy red, lurks below the bulbous tank. The meaty fat twin with the Testrastretta 11 badge and snaky bent-pipes have me hooked. All I need to do is key in, thumb the starter and ride away. But the twin barrel sawed-off shotgun-like exhaust has me distracted. Do I like it? Or not? What I do not like, for sure, is the missing single-sided swing arm – the Monster trademark.

The wide handlebar is flat and the seating comfortable. The big 17.5-litre tank is cut out nicely for the knees. The posture is leaned forward owing to the rear set foot-pegs. You feel the 205 kg weighing on the handlebar until you open the throttle. As compared to the 696 or the 796, the steering is on the heavier side but still easily manoeuverable and relays feedback precisely. Set up on the softer side, the ride is plush. The Ducati was poised all the way and did not lose composure even over an unmarked speed-hump. The Pirelli Diablo Rosso IIs do an excellent job holding on to everything they tread upon – tarmac, concrete, paver blocks whether wet, damp or dry.

The four-valve liquid-cooled fuel injected 90-degree V-twin motor is potent. It develops 111bhp of power at 9250rpm as it revs to 11000rpm before the electronic limiter cuts in. The torque kicks in from almost as low as 4000rpm, peaking out at 89.4Nm at 7750rpm. The Monster hurtles you forward earnestly, making you smile while not really scaring you white. Power delivery is relentless through the gears, across 100kmph in second, nearing 150 in third while you lean forward to keep the Monster on two.

The L-twin crackles to life after a misfire or two, settling into a crude burble at idling and the over-square L-twin settles into a throaty whine while cruising. The note is crisp and loud and the engine internals make their presence felt. You can cruise comfortably at about 2500-3000rpm in traffic, below which, the typical V-twin shudder puts you off. Like all other Ducatis, the crankcase is a stressed member of the frame. While this does transmit the vibrations and harshness from the engine on to the frame, they are almost unable to reach you at higher revs.

The six-speed gearbox is a dream. Pull the clutch and unlike most big bikes that do so with a heart-breaking clunk, the Ducati gearbox eases into first. As you open up, it slides into successive gears with a click at the toe. For down-shifts, you have to get used to the ways of the Monster to realise how easy it is to go down gear after gear. The ratios are nicely laid out and you always find one to settle in. The Brembo disc brakes are wonderful. The front brake has a nice bite when you tap the lever and feels progressive. The 320mm twin-disc setup in the front, coupled with the single disc in the rear, provide ample braking force for you to cut down speed quickly.

The eight-step Ducati Traction control and the three-step Bosch9MP ABS ensure that you get the best of the available grip and are not intrusive. The three riding modes - Sport, Touring and Urban – provide different engine maps suitable for each of the situations. You can switch modes on the fly from 75bhp in Urban to the full 110 horses on tap in Sport.

At 9.56 lakh, the Ducati Monster 821 asks a hefty premium over the Triumph Street Triple or the Kawasaki Z800. The Ducati is as powerful as the Z800. The LED signatures in the headlamp, aggressive but not overt styling and the magic of proportions exude the Italian touch. The Street Triple, with its nimble ways and lighter weight, is quite close to the Monster in riding pleasure but loses out on power. When it comes to spares and service, the Ducati history in India has not been really glorious. But, if I am wanting a boy toy - for a leisurely weekend ride or to look at from the bedroom window– the Ducati will certainly be the undisputed first on my list.

The Factory and the Superpole!

If it is Italian, it has to be beautiful and I am not talking only about the pretty ladies here. The untethered love the Italians put into everything they do just shows. The love makes it exotic. Add a dose of ‘madness’ to it, as the legendary Tom Tjaarda says, and you have to be blown off.
Meet the artsy beauties from Italy – belonging to the distinguished family of the furious lion on its racing flag – the Aprilia RSV4s. I am talking in plural here because not only do we have the RSV4 Factory but someone much more special, much more precious, much more insane and much rare. We have with us the only motorcycle on our shores at least for now – the one and only Aprilia RSV4 RF SUPERPOLE – numbered 276th of the 500 to be sold globally. A special thanks to the Ten Hut for letting me get up close with it and Sanchit for the amazing pictures.
Aprilia, the Italian marque, started humbly with cycles back in 1945 and has grown over the years, racing. Be it motocross, trial bike, MotoGP or WSBK (World Superbike Championship); Aprilia have made a mark for themselves. All Aprilias, true to the Italian roots, have that dash of madness, the prowess they possess to excel at the task. And then there are the Factory bikes. It is known fact in riding circles – ‘You can’t tune an Aprilia better than the Factory’.

A look at them and I don’t know where to start. The sharp angular lines fuse into a curve that wedges through the air like an aerofoil. The red and black livery of the RSV4 Factory APRC is mean to say the least. The black paint masks the ample use of carbon fibre in the panels to keep those pounds in check while the red accents give the touch of insanity. If you have ever been on the superbikes a decade ago, you will appreciate how compact the RSV4 is in spite of being a litre-class bike. As I swing a leg over the saddle, it feels like a 600cc – small and tucked in. All the mass of the Factory has been wrapped around the compact V4 motor leaning on the 43mm upside down custom Ohlins Racing forks. The titanium nitride coated golden forks are fully adjustable for preload, hydraulic compression and rebound damping. The rear suspension packs an adjustable bespoke Ohlins TTX rear shock setup low using an APS progressive linkage on the double braced aluminium swing arm. The upswept ultra-thin tailpiece makes the front weight bias more pronounced.

If you thought you could take your girl out for a ride on this one, you would rather buy something else. Not because Aprilias are sexist, but because the designers had built the bike without a tail-piece and then added a minimalist tail to fit in the definition of a production superbike and an almost non-existent pillion seat and footpegs that Aprilia prefers giving you in a box. The riding position is aggressive – something that most hyper-sports riders are used to – but is quite comfortable. The well sculpted tank and the saddle work in unison to give you grip to hold on to under heavy acceleration, braking or when you are leaning all the way to glory. The split handle bars are adjustable to help you find your sweet spot. As if all the possible permutations and combinations of the available adjustments were not enough to help you tune the perfectly tailored track tool, you can also alter the centre of gravity of the motorcycle by adjusting the engine placement thanks to the adjustable mounts. You can absolutely live with this motorcycle all your life and keep tuning it for different circuits and riding styles and not get bored of it.

And if you still got bored fiddling with the variables, all you would have to do is turn the key and thumb the starter to bring the V4 to life. The engine cranks with a blip to remind you of the monster within. The chief architect of the 999.6cc 65⁰ V4 is Claudio Lombardi – the man behind the power plants of the WRC winning Lancias in the 80s, team manager for Ferrari F1 in the 90s and the one responsible for the Ferrari V12 engine that is still one of the best for the last two decades. Superbikes have seen V4s before, but this thoroughbred 999.6cc 65⁰ V4 is nothing less than epic. Though they started with a 60⁰ V4, the balance of the V65 turned out to surpass the 60V and even the 90V by a margin and also allowed them to fit in a perfect shaped air box for the kind of power Aprilia had been looking forward to. The V4 layout has made the engine very compact – 225mm as against the 400mm width of an inline four.

If at all you think the 180hp and 115Nm torque the Factory V4 makes is not enough, take a look at the RSV4 -RF Superpole. The grunty factory motor has reworked internals and weighs a hefty 2.5kg lesser than the Factory. But the best part is that it now breaches the 200hp (201 hp) barrier to enter the league of the ultimate superbikes. And it is not only the extra power but the way those horses kick in that makes the Superpole even more special. The V4 is industrial – it is coarse and harsh but sweet at the same time. You find a harmony of notes between the cacophony of the tings and dings and the clunks – we call it music.

Twist your wrist to open the gold butterflies and the engine gets noisier. It resonates near 3500rpm almost rocking the motorcycle with it and if you thought it is the beginning – you are wrong. You open the throttle further and the engine starts smoothening out – settling into a symphony that has two base guitarists playing all the time! When you open up inline threes and fours, they become quite harsh as you approach the red-line. The power is delivered in a burst concentrated more at the peak of the power band. The V4, you can say, is more of an opposite. The engine smoothens out as it revs by virtue of the dynamics of the layout. There is quite a bit of torque at the lower revs and it keeps on building to its peak at 10,500rpm post which the power takes over all the way to 13,000rpm. And now you will not be surprised when we tell you that this is the same basic motor on which the WSBK champion and the current MotoGP CRT engine is built upon.

This is the age of technology where electric pulses get you everything you need within less than even a blink of an eye. Yes, I am talking about the electronics and to begin with – it is one of the best systems available today and yes, this too has been derived from the system they had built for the RSV Cube MotoGP bike. The Aprilia Performance Ride Control (aPRC) as they call it is a comprehensive package. It includes the Aprilia Traction Control (aTC), Aprilia Wheelie Control (aWC), Aprilia Launch Control (aLC) and the Aprilia Quick Shift (aQC). There are 8 different settings for the aTC with an option to turn the traction control off. The aWC is a unique system that identifies if the front wheel is up in the air and controls the power output to keep you safe unless you are Max Biaggi! It can be set to three modes to help you unleash the last of the horses as you bang the throttle wide open.

Aprilia’s track focus is further stamped by the aLC. If you are on the track and racing, you have to have a perfect start every time and the aLC ensures you get the best of the starts. All you have to do pop the clutch, twist the wrist and shift up to the next gear. It is available only in track mode and in has three presets. Last but not the least we have the aQS – the quick shifter. After the launch, you can forget the clutch and slot in the next gear without losing absolutely any cutting the throttle. The system is designed to adapt to shifts at different revs to cut the exact number of revs for the particular shift. Riding purists generally tend to hate too much electronics and with the list of rider aids Aprilia has, you may be sceptical. This is where Aprilia excels again. The rider aids kick in so seamlessly that you actually do not even feel them. The aPRC that is being fine-tuned since 2009 provides you with just the right amount of assistance so that you can go faster than you have ever imagined.

The aPRC has three riding modes depending upon your usage. The Road mode is for city riding where the throttle response and the maximum power developed are restricted to make managing the motorcycle easy. The Sport mode unleashes all the power but keeps the throttle response slightly easy to help you carve out those highway corners. And then there is the Track mode that unleashes the beast within. The throttle response is almost instant with the ride by wire technology. The throttle is direct and when you get a hang of it, you can extract the exact amount of power you need at every point of time. The crisp throttle response at all revs is also because of the electronically controlled variable length intake ducts. The duct length reduces by as much as 35mm as the revs climb to enable faster passage of air to the intake chamber, ensuring enough oxygen for combustion in the high compression combustion chamber (13.1 : 1). The Aprilias also get a slipper clutch. The engine braking – managed by the state-of-the-art Magneti Marelli ECU – is different for every riding mode.

An engine of this capability and pedigree and the electronics package to get the maximum out of it needs a chassis that will not just hold all of it together, but also do justice to it and what better than the chassis that has 18 MotoGP world titles! Derived from the 250cc Aprilia MotoGP motorcycle frame, the aluminium chassis is a congregation of cast and pressed components welded together to keep the weight in check and at the same time get the right amount of stiffness and flex. The swing arm, built with the same construction technology helps keep the unsprung weight low. The forged wheels have lost another kilo of unsprung weight. All of this combined with the Ohlins trio (forks, rear shock and the steering damper) and the Pirelli Diablo SuperCorsas adds to the handling. I have ridden the RSV4 aPRC before and fluidic is the least that I can say about its handling. The motorcycle changes direction so eagerly and easily that you wonder if it is really a litre-class motorcycle. With the mechanicals of the RF, I am certain it is going to be much better.

So, here we are, still looking at the Aprilia twins. The shiny aluminium finish on the chassis, the silver gloss paint on the tank, the Aprilia signature splashed across the body, the shiny red powder coated rims, the golden shocks, the Italian flag on the belly and the ‘#be a racer’ decal is something that makes the Aprilia RSV4 RF Superpole stand out for the bike lovers out there. The 65V4 engine, the MotoGP chassis, the innumerable suspension adjustments, the variable engine mounts, the adjustable wheelbase and the signature Aprilia triple headlamps of the Factory as well as the RF Superpole appeals to the automotive geeks. And then we have the ride and handling package the RF offers that impresses even the best of the riders. I would again say that, we at are very very lucky to have one amongst us – to be revered and loved the way those designers would want them to be!


PS: I wrote this almost an year back and cannot thank Ten Hut enough for this! The memories of looking at her for the first time are etched deep on my heart! 

Why Ken Block is not a circus joker

This is an era of posers. The people who can pretend to be good and pull off a few moves to their credit. The people who can gauge your nonchalance towards the real. The people who can lie to themselves. Surprisingly, because the percentage of such people is steadily growing thanks to the moronic nature of social media and your alter egos on the web, posing has become mainstream.

You may not be liked by the people at work with because you didn’t bother to ask them about the utterly nonsensical deep quote they posted yesterday night. You may not be considered to be ambitious because you do not cry those eyes dry when you err. But eh, that’s not the point. The point here is Ken Block.

Well, coming to the jokers – the jokers are probably one of the most talented artists out there. Making people laugh is not a joke – especially when you cannot speak a word. I know. I know. Rahul Gandhi has that unfair advantage because ‘sab jaante hai uska baap kaun hai’. But on a serious note, the joker has to have a repertoire of tricks up his sleeve, the tricks which he has mastered. Well, he has to master them because you have to pull out a trick to match the mood and constantly read the crowd and not waste a moment on the trick itself.

You might be thinking that apart from the headline, I have mentioned Ken Block only once and gone all about posers and jokers. Am I trying to establish a correlation between the three? Hell yes, I am. Yes, I cannot even properly drive a car. But being born in India, I have the divine right to judge. Like we tell Sachin how to play out the nervous nineties.

And I pass that judgement for my own reasons. Ken Block is an immensely skilled driver. No two ways about it. The kind of car control he displays is flabbergasting and kind of stunts he pulls off is mind-blowing. But then that is the catch. He, methinks, is a master of stunts. My definition of a great driver is largely influenced by my Youtube education in Group B rallying. The way the Vatanens and the Mikkolas ran riot in those death traps is the mark
of a real driver.

The pedigree of a driver, methinks, is defined by the ability to sustain unrelenting assault of pure pace over a distance where your body wanes out towards the end but you still do not cut pace. And here is why Ken Block’s Race of the Champions or RallyCross wins do not count for me. The ultimate proving ground for him is WRC where he has failed to succeed at the highest level more often than not.

No doubt the Gymkhanas are a visual treat, a wow thing for those who do not feel the nuances of the art of driving. And I am immensely pained when a young kid comes up and says, I will be a great racer like Ken Block. Has it all boiled down to what a good show I put up?

Why #IAmCapable is not feminist?

We, in this modern age of easy access to information and opinions, have come a long way from what we all were a decade back. Ignorance and illiteracy had kept us away from what happened on the other side of the globe. With social media now offering internet as Free Basics, the web has spread deep amongst us. The question is – are we mature enough to grasp the gist of the trends that are catching up.

Feminism, in my very frank opinion, is one of such trends. There are no two ways about the much needed gender equality, absolutely not. But feminism is not gender equality. In fact, in my opinion, feminism has done more bad than good in the case of gender equality. Feminism is exactly what is wrong with Deepika Padukone’s video or Priyanka Chopra saying ‘I need a man only for the sperm’.

I see the poor side of feminism in every relationship I come across. Let us take the case of marriages. The ladies want a man that is successful, rich, older and taller and can take good care of the lady. This is totally acceptable and if the girl is pretty, that can be her only achievement in life for such demand. But if a guy says I am looking for a girl who earns more than me, is fairer and an inch taller than me – he is labelled a loser, gold-digger, a good for nothing twat.

I see women justifying reservations for them, a bogie in the locals, seats on the bus, education and what not. Yes, it is a male dominated society and we guys can’t help because we are born into it. And if you ask for reservation, you are going to be looked down upon because you get it without deserving it. We all hail Darwin for his theory of evolution and the theory of survival of the fittest. We use it to add weight to our arguments at the high teas, the card clubs and the kitty parties. But we fail to understand what lies beneath.

Survival of the fittest is the nature’s law for self-improvement. It means that the weaker species or weaklings in a species are wiped off the radar so that the world grows into a fitter tomorrow. If we ask for reservation, the first thing we give out is the lack of ability. And then if you talk about equality you can imagine what kind of a hypocrite you turn yourself into. The women today can very much run conglomerates and probably in a better way. But this is not a game of one-upmanship for the genders. This game of one-upmanship has been running since forever and the results are here to be seen.

The want to prove that you are at par itself defies the claim of being equal. The equality has to be felt within and not spoken or written about. If you feel inferior, that is not because of physical ability but more of a mental block. Men feel inferior to other men and even women too and that may be because of stature, status, personality, strength or ability. And if a woman feels inferior, there has to be one of these reasons only. Attributing it to one’s gender makes you more sexist than you can think.  

The idea of feminism should ideally be replaced by individuality. You have to fight for your own sake, take your own decisions and make your own roads. Blaming your generation older parents or society will not help you anyway. They have been brought up that way and the change you want will not happen overnight. The mentalities will change over generations. And imbibing individuality in the coming generations will turn fare much better than feminism.

Imagine your kids learning ‘We all are equal’ and ‘Women are as capable as men’. Your choice here will define our future, the future that #IAmCapable wants.