Meeting a Doll Called Yasmeen in Dubai -OPINION- Shivani Mohan / Khaleej Times 18 December 2008

On my recent trip to Dubai, one of the various knickknacks I picked up shopping there was a doll for my daughter, Gaurika. This doll caught my eye amongst the many fancy toys lined up at Magrudys in BurJuman, each brighter than the other. It was almost as if the doll screamed for attention. It had a strong presence of its own amongst rows and rows of waif-thin Barbies and Barbie look-alikes.

Her big, long brown eyes reminded me strangely of Gaurika’s eyes in a strange city, thousands of miles away from home. The doll’s eyes pulled me to her side instantly.

Then I noticed her name, Yasmeen. Yasmeen had a thick mane of lustrous brown hair that could be coloured in many shades. Knowing what a fashion queen Gaurika is already at five, I felt it would be the perfect little gift for her. I liked the fact that Yasmeen had a normal, regular woman’s body. A chubby face, wholesome but intensely attractive. She had rounded contours, a warm dusky complexion, a cute round belly, full hips and legs shaped like the hundreds of women I meet everyday. Women who bear children, cook meals and feed families. Women who skip gym if something more urgent and important come up. I could see Yasmeen was her own person. She didn’t have to conform to a warped Western notion of perfect beauty-blue eyes, porcelain skin, a cinched waist, and stick-like long legs. I am sure we have all received that mail about how if Barbie was a real woman, she would be a living freak, a myth, and an airbrushed fantasy. Good that Barbie is a doll. Anyway I decided Yasmeen had far more character than a Barbie clone. I bought it and soon I was dying to show it to Gaurika.

Gaurika loved the doll at first sight. She embraced it with a shy smile almost as if I had brought home a real younger brother or sister for her to play with. When I told Gaurika her name, she was a bit confused, having never heard an exotic sounding name like Yasmeen. When she questioned me I told her that even though there are no Yasmeens in Amritsar, there are many Yasmeens in some other parts of India and the world. And even though the name sounded alien to her, all Yasmeens of the world were not much different from us. They all wanted to be admired and loved for what they are. They all wanted to revel in their unique beauty, their distinct qualities and strengths. They all wanted to be allowed to pursue every dream they ever saw. At this point Gaurika asked, ‘Ma, can Yasmeen be my little sister?’ And I said, ‘Sure, why not?’

I told her that many Yasmeens have to be covered in black burqas as this was the done thing. Gaurika wanted to know if they were all hidden from head to toe in a black outfit, how would we tell one from the other and know how beautiful they were, in their own way. Anyway Gaurika and I decided that Yasmeen could wear the burqa if she so pleased but she should at least have a say in the matter. This Yasmeen, for instance, wore cool blue denims that celebrated her Asian figure and a white and gold tube top. We felt that if Yasmeen ever felt uncomfortable, she could just throw a wrap or shawl over her bare shoulders as and when she wanted. In winters we plan to knit a little sweater for her that’ll shield her body from cold wind. But it is Yasmeen who will decide what she wants to wear and when.

I want Gaurika to be as proud of herself, her lineage and her originality as Yasmeen is. I want her to celebrate her existence as a woman in as many ways as she can. I also want Gaurika to grow up and learn to befriend every Yasmeen she meets without any boundaries, any prejudices or fears.

I want Yasmeen and Gaurika to be friends, confidantes and sisters in moments of bliss and pain. I do not want dolls like Yasmeen to get trampled in a police encounter in the hidden allies of a Jamia Nagar in Delhi. And I don’t even want dolls like Yasmeen burnt to embers in a hotel in Islamabad...ever. I don’t know where to start but for now I’ll begin by teaching Gaurika how to love every Yasmeen she meets, wholeheartedly and fearlessly.

Shivani Mohan is an India-based writer