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Correspondent

23 August 2024 at 4:29:04 pm

Red Romance

For long, the Naxalite in news was recognisable by the gun. But the more insidious version of Naxalism has never needed a rifle. It has thrived in varsity classrooms and newspaper and magazine columns, fostered by men and women sympathetic to it. These academics and other members of the so-called intelligentsia have long enjoyed their status as ‘respectable dissenters’ even when their politics offered intellectual alibis for Naxals carrying guns. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s recent...

Red Romance

For long, the Naxalite in news was recognisable by the gun. But the more insidious version of Naxalism has never needed a rifle. It has thrived in varsity classrooms and newspaper and magazine columns, fostered by men and women sympathetic to it. These academics and other members of the so-called intelligentsia have long enjoyed their status as ‘respectable dissenters’ even when their politics offered intellectual alibis for Naxals carrying guns. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s recent Independence Day warning about “dimaagi Naxals” should therefore not be dismissed as another political label. His larger point was that an insurgency does not survive on ammunition alone. It survives on ideas and people willing to make violence appear morally fashionable. The most revealing feature of India’s Maoist movement was never simply its brutality. It was the strange attraction it exercised over sections of the metropolitan Left elite. The Naxalite with an AK-47 could be transformed into a romantic revolutionary while the policeman he killed became an instrument of an oppressive state. This was not merely naïveté. At its ugliest, it was the intellectual laundering of political violence. The fantasy of the romantic revolutionary has always been seductive. In this narrative, amplified through sympathetic media priding itself on telling ‘truth to power,’ India was not a constitutional democracy struggling with inequality and corruption but an inherently illegitimate state waiting to be overthrown. In the minds of this elite Left, Maoist violence has often been recast as resistance while attacks on infrastructure as blows against capitalism. The armed overthrow of the Indian republic was the liberation they craved for. Some of India’s most celebrated intellectuals have flirted dangerously close to that moral inversion. The issue here is whether intellectual prestige can be used to sanitise an ideology whose practitioners have murdered civilians, policemen and public servants and terrorised some of India’s poorest districts. A university cannot be the place where Maoist romanticism acquires the legitimacy of a fashionable campus cause. Professors who turn armed insurgents into heroic revolutionaries are not merely exercising academic freedom. If they knowingly excuse violence, they are helping to construct the moral vocabulary that makes violence possible. Let’s be clear here. A professor who criticises the Indian state is not a Naxal while a journalist who exposes state excesses is not an enemy of India. But an intellectual who repeatedly excuses, glorifies or rationalises political violence cannot hide behind the word ‘dissent.’ India has paid an enormous price for the Maoist fantasy. Thousands have died. Entire regions were held back by fear while development was obstructed. The people supposedly being liberated were often the first to suffer. The armed Naxal is now being pushed towards extinction. But the Indian republic cannot afford to leave behind the romantic mythology that made the gun respectable. A democracy can tolerate dissent. It should never be expected to tolerate the glorification of those who seek its violent destruction.

The Power of a Name: Why a Woman’s Surname Should Remain Her Own

A woman’s surname is not a tradition to be surrendered—it is an identity to be honoured.

AI generated image
AI generated image

In every culture, names carry stories—childhoods, histories, places, belonging and identity.A surname is not just a word on certificates; it is a quiet record of one’s origins, the echo of generations, and the imprint of a life lived so far.


Yet tradition created a strange rule: when a woman marries, she must surrender her name—as though her identity were an object to be moved or a page rewritten for someone else’s story.This expectation is old, deeply rooted—and unnecessary.


Today, more and more women are questioning it. And rightfully so. A woman’s surname is not a temporary gift from her birth family.


A girl grows into her surname. She writes it in school, signs it on her work and uses it to build her world. Her surname becomes part of her identity long before she understands marriage.


So why should marriage demand she abandon it?Does her life before that moment become irrelevant?Does marriage erase who she was, who she is or who she hopes to be?Of course not.


Patriarchal Roots.

Historically, the practice of a woman changing her surname arose from patriarchal systems in which she was treated as property—transferred from her father’s household to her husband’s, with the surname marking that shift.We no longer live in that world. Women study, earn, build, and lead—yet this symbolic chain—the expectation to surrender her surname—still lingers.


When society says, “After marriage, change your surname,” it is not merely asking for a new spelling.It is asking for an identity shift, implying her individuality is secondary and that she must now “belong” elsewhere.That idea is not only outdated—it is disrespectful.


Why should a woman be the only one asked to change?Has anyone ever asked a groom, “Will you change your surname after marriage?”No, because society sees his identity as fixed and hers as adjustable.This disparity reveals the stereotype clearly.


If a family truly believes in equality, why is the surname conversation always one-sided?Why cannot a man take his wife’s surname, or both keep their own, or children carry either, both, or a hyphenated version?


The truth is simple:If a demand is made of only one partner, it is not equality—it is gender bias.


A woman honouring her story

Keeping her surname is not rebellion, disrespect or “attitude”.It is a woman saying, “My identity matters. My story matters. My name matters.”She preserves the memories tied to it—her parents, her childhood, her achievements, struggles and growth.She reminds the world that a woman is defined not by marital status but by the life she builds with determination, compassion and dreams.A retained surname sends a clear message: a woman is not an object to be renamed but an individual to be respected.


Partnership, not a renaming ceremony

Marriage is meant to be two people walking together—not one person bending to adjust everything, from home to habits to surname.If marriage is built on love, trust and mutual respect, why should a woman’s name become a test of commitment? Why should giving up her surname be seen as proof of devotion?Love does not erase identity. Respect does not rewrite personal history. Partnership does not ask one person to shrink so the other may remain whole.A woman keeping her surname is not rejecting her partner—she is simply honouring herself.


Redefining the norm

Across the world, women now choose to keep their surnames—doctors, teachers, entrepreneurs, artists, writers, professors, homemakers, mothers, dreamers and doers. They show the next generation that identity is non-negotiable.They teach boys that marriage is not about controlling a woman’s choices.They normalise the idea that a woman can love her partner and also love the name she grew up with. And slowly, society is changing.


Because the real question is not, “Why is she keeping her surname?”It is: “Why was she ever asked to change it?”


The practice has no logical, emotional or ethical basis; it is simply a tradition repeated without thought.And every tradition must face one test: Does it respect human dignity? If not, it must evolve.


A woman keeping her surname after marriage is not rebellion—it is evolution, self-respect and equality in its simplest form.Her surname is a poem of her past; marriage is the journey she chooses for her future. Why should one erase the other?Let her write her life with her own name—the name she was born with, grew with and stands strong with.Her surname is her story, and no story should be renamed.


(The writer is a tutor based in Thane. Views personal.)


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