Let's talk

A wife, recently, pulled her husband’s sexual orientation out in the open. It made headlines and more so, made us dread pink. In a country, where marriages aren’t anymore for ever, another marriage failed for a reason that ain’t completely unknown.
Women and men both have suffered in silence in the past too but never before headlines were made out of it. What happens between a husband and wife in bed was entirely personal! Though you can wash your dirty linens in public but you can’t talk about love even in private. The wife in this case suffered and so did the husband. Who suffered most, well, that isn’t the biggest question. Question is why suffer when it could have been completely sorted by opening-up? Pardon me, if two strangers do strip and get intimate when they spend the first night after marriage, what is the big deal about talking?
Agreed, homosexuality isn’t a good topic but let it not be nice if it can save lives from misery and failure. Isn’t it better to speak up rather than come up with excuses all your life?
• I’ve a bad headache/tired
• I am so stressed with work
• I need some time to relax
• I am the shy types give me more time
And aggravates to:
• You’re always horny and just need one thing from me
• You aren’t attractive enough
• You should have married somebody else
What’s worse is that you just kill the person’s confidence to start all over. Fine, our society (include parents too) can’t take your truth but the truth can be shared with the person who’s going to be living with it.
Your life is yours and you’re free to live the way you want till it doesn’t involve another life. Speak up because talking always help. If you can’t talk to all atleast try talking to the person affected most.


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Happy Freedom!

Nation celebrated its Independence Day with much gusto. Our Prime Minister broke all barriers to meet and greet the commoners. We are all brimming with hope. Finally, a man who would change the destiny of India.
One day holiday marked to celebrate our freedom. Maybe, the country has gained freedom from the British rule but are we really free? Free to be what we want. Free to live life, the way we wanted. Think again, if you’re answer is ‘yes’.
We are a country of disparities. Where the rich can touch the sky while the poor are struggling for a foothold! The rich has opened the global market and players are competing ruthlessly to catch its attention. The poor are committing suicide in an attempt to give their near ones a better life. The haves have too much yet they don’t share. The have-nots have nothing, yet, they have to share.
We are free. But our women are still not free to go for walk, post evening. Their homes are one of the most unsafe places because most of the perpetrators are people they have well-known. A woman is a woman in my country and crime doesn’t make any distinction between a baby of seven months or an eighty plus woman. Both face rape and other inhuman atrocities.
We are independent but still dependent on the age-old beliefs of finding a family heir who necessarily has to be a son. So kill daughters till you have an heir to carry the legacy of your kinship. Sell daughters to dowry to get rid of them through marriage. Torture the daughters-in-law for dowry even if you have to burn them alive. A woman isn’t of any use till she bears a male child and gives you enough to add to your financial stature.
My leaders have big plans. Yet all plans fall flat in crisis. Be it the roads choking with sewage water in monsoon, or the open deadly drains beaming with diseases. Sadly, most plans live and die in paper.
Opportunities are opening in our country. But why do some of the greatest brains go outside to explore new opportunities? India is the birthplace of some of the greatest but to become great these talents have to move elsewhere.
Our country is free for 68 years now. Isn't it too much to ask from one chosen person to change scheme of things until we all come together at our own level to do something that could change? An independent India where freedom isn’t the territory of few. An India where every Indian is made to feel proud.


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A lesson no less

He wasn’t dressed for any occasion. The t-shirt was worn out while the slipper was too tired walking and desperately wanted to rest (in one piece). His body odour was everything else than pleasant. You wouldn’t like the idea of having him sit next to you. Who would bear to hold one’s breath all through the journey for fear of fainting in the sweaty smell of a day’s long job?
The place occupied next to him was a complete contrast. The dude was smart, dressed to the tee and had the smell of an expensive deodorant all over him. Even the footwear was making a strong statement of a big brand. The guy was oblivious to the crowd all around, busily glued to his gadget and often flashing few smiles on his own, making the ordeal a little more bearable for the fellow women onlookers.
Definitely the clear portrayal of the evident-class divides in the society where one has everything while the other struggles for even basic things.
Then came a station where again an army of people got into the metro and you can’t blame them because that was the office rush. The already jam-packed cabin was running short of space and with the new pool of people, not an inch was left. Women were sandwiched and most men weren’t doing it on purpose. They had no space to even place their foot safely. Hence, bodies were touching each other and women were hurling abuses under their breath.
Braving the mammoth crowd, an elderly woman made her way up to the two youths. The dude looked at her and avoided an eye-contact trying his level best to act busy toying with his expensive buy.
The old lady was carrying a handbag and a bag. You could see that she was struggling and on her way to lose the battle. The seats weren’t reserved for ladies and neither did it have a sign. So she couldn’t order the men to vacant their seat. But her looks did the talking. She needed a seat desperately. Yet, the world is brutal and our hearts rarely melt. At the end of a busy schedule, you don’t have a heart to gift a space, that too to a wrinkled face. Had it been a young or pretty face, good Samaritans would pour in to save the damsel in distress. Here that wasn’t the case and so who cares?
Then suddenly my perception changed. The guy with not much of a social stature to talk of, got off and gave his seat to the old lady. And he did it even without being asked. He voluntarily offered his seat and just said, “Aunty, you sit down.”
A little gesture spoke a lot about him. That particular gesture broke all social norms and he became a part of what we call “the civilised lot”.
That day, he taught me a big lesson “never judge anyone with the way the person looks”. Thanks for opening my eyes.


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Believe it or not

I work in a make-believe world where nothing is the same to what it actually offers. Before you think that I am evil, of course not, but what to do? After all we all have bills to live with and you need to stick to something that pays for it. And I do write with a lot of guilt, hoping nobody takes me seriously. Even I don’t take advertising words seriously. They are meant to be smart, sassy yet far from facts.
The other day when I boarded the auto, the sticker line wasn’t even close to being intelligent. It was in Hindi and meant something like “The driver of this vehicle wouldn’t disrespect women neither would allow someone to do so”.
I automatically thought, another claim which means nothing looking at the rising crime statistics. I got into the auto and told myself life is all about taking risks. Why fear the unknown don’t I have enough shady briefs to work upon?
The journey began as usual, I was immersed in Sufi Music and too busy to bother about the traffic. That’s the most sensible thing I have learnt while living in this busy capital of India. Worrying doesn’t help because there is nothing you can do other than invite the Blood Pressure to shoot up.
Just then I noticed it. Every time my auto moved, a bike moved with its rowdy rider who was too busy leering at me. Now that isn’t unusual on the streets of my busy city. But what happened next, wasn’t so common. My auto-driver would squeeze in some corner space and get me away from the uncomfortable situation. The bike would follow soon and again my driver would quietly move to hide me within a safe distance. Constantly checking the location of the biker from his rear-view mirror and making that extra effort to duck me to safety. Amazing was fact that he was doing all this without even advertising his heroism. Very gradual and not trying to be James Bond on a mission to rescue a damsel in distress. How different from the world I work and live in!
The bike followed me long and eventually gave up. I wasn’t shaken up because my not-so-educated driver made it a point to not make me feel threatened. Finally, I reached my destination and paid him. I wanted to thank him but even before I could, he honked and left. It came so naturally to him that he wasn’t expecting a “Thank You”.
First time in my life, I felt that Advertising got really, real. Or maybe the guy made every word in the copy of the sticker come true.


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A love story went wrong

“But you said you love me?” she said.
He clarified, “Ya, but that was some two days back.”
She questioned, “And today you don’t love me?”
He said, “See, change is the law of nature. Day becomes night and so. You change your clothes. You change your food etc.”
She looked into the eye, “What do you mean? Come clear.”
He answered without looking, “I loved you two days back. And two days is a long time. Now I don’t feel the same.”
She was shocked, “Whaaat? But I brought all my stuff to live with you and I have nowhere else to go.”
He was furious, “Did you ask me before doing all this?”
She was confused now because she never thought that things can change so much within 48 hours. And here she was feeling just the same for a very long time.
She was lost in a plethora of emotions. Too confused to know whether she should laugh or cry. Lost in her own thoughts, she could feel his arm shaking her and asking, “Now, where do you want to go? Tell, me and I can drop you.”
“But I want to stay with you, why anywhere else?” she responded. He was equally adamant that she has to leave. He kept insisting that he doesn’t want to stay with her. Moreover, it is his life and he has every right to decide what he wants.
“Leave me alone,” he shouted. He has a life. He wants to be with other women and has no place for this particular woman, someone he knew too long.
“Come on, isn’t spending the last 25 years with her enough?” he justified.
After all a man doesn’t need his mother so what if a boy does. He is a man now and not a ‘mama’s boy’ anymore. He drove her to an old-age home he knew and never looked back.
Since then she kept waiting for him. A son whom she conceived with great difficulty and sacrificed three daughters before him in her womb. She produced him to insure her old age because that’s the way this system works. Mothers take care of son till they are old and the role-reversal when mothers get old. How can you expect anything from daughters? After all daughters get married and move to other families. She too was a daughter, long time back. Her parents married her off and neither did they or she looked back, ever since.
“Why go through so much trouble to have a son?” she kept asking herself. Still she kept hoping that he would come back, one day.
He didn’t prove her wrong. He did come to see the end of her lifeless body, long after she was gone.


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Fear from unknown

One day it finally happened. He died and went away, never to return. Nobody missed him but was scared of his return from the unknown. He had warned his sons of the consequences of not following the death rituals to the tee. The sons too had the right intention but his going was under hostile circumstances. It was past midnight when he took the last breath and the rains were pouring in heavily as if to announce their reluctance in having him up above the sky. Star, he could never reach courtesy his karmas and he was as unwelcomed in heaven as on earth. His family didn’t want him and now the heavens were pronouncing their resistance on his arrival. Still when you die you need to go far without any control on the destination, so the man had no choice. His sons tried to give him a traditional goodbye but weather undid their plans.
Not that the sons shared a special bond with Him or were grieving about the loss. Just the fear of His return made them take some effort. They had lived enough with his tantrums and were now hoping to be left alone. A tyrant in his time, He ensured that life around him would be anything but miserable. He was a man of his own principles and his way or the highway was a written law. The sons listened to him because he had lots of money to bail them out of their miseries. During his lifetime and till his last, He made life difficult for them. Till their mother was alive, she bored the brunt and gave him top rated service because Indian wives are taught to suffer (in silence). Once she was gone they were praying for him to depart. The wait was long and finally He was gone.
Gone away but still every moment they lived in fear. Fear couldn’t get the best out them and they panicked over simplest of things around. If the crow cawed during lunch, they would look at each other. “Is he back?” were the unspoken question and still they were so paralyzed by fear that they couldn’t step out to shoo it off. Days were still better. Nights were nightmares with the feeling of being followed by the dead man. They kept the lights on all the time and were accompanied by escorts to meet nature’s call. That wasn’t enough for them and they kept looking back to double check. Sleepless and tired they just wanted to carry on and enjoy the rich man’s leftovers. But fear was being the spoilt sport.
On an eventless evening, a knock left them moved. Their wives had gone out to splurge on the father-in-law’s wealth. So the brothers were all alone to answer the call. The older ordered the younger to open the door. Reluctantly, the younger brother had to go, first time in ten days on his own. He went and never returned.
The older kept calling, “Who is it? Why aren’t you answering?” No response from the front and silence made him restless. So he went out to check. He could make out his brother lying on the floor even before he reached. Shocked he walked ahead to find his answer. Then he saw. A man carrying his father’s face and built was standing out begging, “Can you please give me something to eat, son? Haven’t eaten in two days.” And the last thing the elder brother could feel was the floor beneath him shaking furiously like an earthquake.


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New pangs

“New shoes, huh? Niceee lady!” most noticed and didn’t take a minute to shower their compliments. Point taken but I wasn’t happy.
Because the new ones were biting me real bad. So much so that I had to seek the protection of good old bandage. I suddenly realised that everything new does come with its own share of discomfort.

Say for instance,
• Remember the first teeth that came and the troubles you inflicted back home. Maybe you were too young to remember but you’re parents can never forget the teething troubles
• New school and the ‘take me home’ kind of feeling
• New break-up and ‘let’s kill all couples around’ feeling
• New car and ‘protect the virginity’ responsibility
• New relationship and ‘does he like me’ psychometric tests
• New house and ‘easy EMI’s’ which is nothing but easy
• New style but ‘old me’ syndrome
• New clients but ‘poor me’
• New kid and sleepless nights
• New recipes but ‘I like my daal-rice’ statements
• New year but ‘same old salary’ syndrome

I keep complaining about the old and look forward to the new. But new can be painful, some times. Then the comfort of the old feels so good. Like right now, I so very badly want to get rid of the new footwear and step into my old bedroom slippers. So what if it desperately needs to retire but it is harmless and doesn’t bite my comfort away.


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Men and Women. Part 2.

Things women always do although they may not agree to:
• Always use tears as an arsenal when the battle looks too tough to win
• Always settles for money over other virtues and say that money can’t buy love
• Always watches romantic sagas and cries if you do not cry with her
• Always feign a headache when the man is in mood
• Always withheld sex as a tool to punish the man
• Always compare the man with her father, even though she never got so well with her dad
• Always hallucinate about the man’s good looking female colleagues who have no other job than to hit on him
• Always think that her man is innocent but his friends aren’t
• Always forgive but never forget and wait for pay back moments
• Always love the expensive because her love will pay
• Always ask “where are you?” followed by “who are you with?” and then “who that female’s voice I can overhear?”
• Always share the problem with the man yet react if he tries for a solution
• Always fight over the remote if the man is watching his favourite sport
• Always worry about her looks and wants the man to lie
• Always feel that the man loves his mom more than her

Things men do but never admit to:
• Always choose looks over intelligence and so dumb women die rich
• Always want to be a boy again and party with friends
• Always have sex in the mind
• Always scan women with ex-ray eyes irrespective of age and when caught vehemently deny
• Always love watching porn and secretly dream of having such a life
• Always find it difficult to control his weapon that’s the reason for most of their problems
• Always love the neighbours women more than his own
• Always warn you to watch out after marriage and that’s why it’s called the bachelor party to forget their own sufferings
• Always find it difficult to ask for directions
• Always think that his woman is too dumb to find out
• Always knows who is the real boss yet act bossy to show off
• Always leaves the toilet seat up, the wet towel on bed, the shoes all around the house yet finds the home absolutely clean
• Always dread the credit card/debit card bills he has gifted to his woman
• Always expect his woman to cook like his mom and takes the risk of comparing them both ending up hungry most nights (in every way)
• Always feel his woman is getting smarter under somebody else’s influence


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Men and Women. Part 1.

Things women never do, atleast they claim not to:
• Women don’t snore
• Women don’t fart
• Women don’t argue, they just say ‘we need to talk’
• Women never nag, they just remind
• Women don’t wrong, you get her wrong
• Women don’t shop, they just don’t have enough
• Women don’t eat, they just nibble
• Women never put on weight, the clothes just shrink
• Women crave for love, but only money can buy it
• Women don’t order, they just tell

Things men never do, atleast they admit not to:
• Men don’t cry
• Men don’t gossip
• Men can’t multi-task because that’s the best excuse so far
• Men never ask for directions so they’re directionless
• Real men don’t cheat but who cares to be real
• Men don’t listen but for sex there are no don’ts
• Men never grow up and why at all if boys can have all the fun
• Men don’t fight, they just stop listening
• Men don’t get drunk, they get banged because somebody else was drunk
• Men don’t look but if they don’t then who will?

The language of silence

When I am quiet you ask me to talk
How will I know, if you don’t speak?
When I open my mouth you press to shut me out
Too hard to speak loud, I barely manage to whisper out
How will I understand, if I can’t hear you out?
When I shout to make you hear loud
You hit hard, oh now you’ll shout?
Woman show me respect, you scream aloud
I whimpered with pains that my body could feel
While the mind is numb bearing the burden of abused
I chose to be quiet because I am never quite right
Haven’t been right but haven’t I been good?
A daughter lesser to cattle you sold
A wife who kept quiet to rape and abuse
A mother who buried her daughters in the womb
A woman who has been abandoned with nowhere to go
A woman who has forgotten all languages of humankind
And embraced silence to speak what ears wouldn’t dare to hear


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Drop the X

“Hello **** I’ll call you back”, said he. She fumed not on the reason that he picked a wrong name. But the real worry was the name he took. The name was an indication that he still can’t forget his past. And does it also mean that he is still in touch with the past?
She did get the call back but it didn’t comfort her. She just couldn’t stop thinking about his X.
“You know she liked this place too and so we use to come here often,” said he some other day when they were having dinner at her favourite restaurant. “Oh Gawd! I’m never going to step in here again,” she took a pledge.
“Please don’t talk to me like that, my X use to do the same,” he complained when she told him to pick up the wet towel from the bed. She made a note of it and from next time, quietly placed the towel to dry without making a fuss.
“Why do you cook this so often, this was her favourite dish too?” he teasingly commented.
It continued unhappily thereafter...
“Don’t talk like X.”
“Don’t dress like X.”
“Don’t shop like X.”
“Don’t shout like X.”
“Don’t laugh like X.”
X became more than an alphabet and was misused frequently, until the day he said, “You look like X.”
Now, you can’t compete with your own looks, can you?
Right then, she decided to become the X. All because he refused to move to Y from X.
Lesson: Even if X-mas starts with X which means the long winter breaks. But X also stands for “ex” which can mean a break-up if you refuse to let go of it. And you’ll end up blaming the X again.


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When nothing is the same

“If life gives you lemon, you make a refreshing lemonade”, said the wise. But me-not-so-wisely keep questioning, “why lemons?” They still come cheap. Instead why can’t life give me diamonds so that I can make some jewellery out of it? After all I have every right to feel priceless. Moreover, I am a girl and diamond is my best friend.
Certainly, I would love to believe that I am valuable for the organisation I work. Hence, I ought to be paid, handsomely. This is the mother of all season – THE APPRAISAL SEASON. We all eagerly wait for it more than any IPL or World Cup season. Because unfortunately most things in life come at a price and for everything else well there is the time-tested ‘letters of appreciation’. Fact is such letters don’t pay our bills and so money is the honey we all are sucked too.
This season witnesses a lot of change. Even the best friend at work turns green with envy, if the percentage hike isn’t the same. The harmless junior gives you a look which tells you to watch out if you don’t put a good word where it matters. Everybody is busy minding other’s business because all of a sudden the whole office has adorned the task of “a secret agent on mission to know how much the colleagues have earned”.
Suddenly, the bosses become extra important because one word can make or break your proposed abroad trip. Like a hawk your eyes follow them to decipher the meanings of unsaid emotions. A lot cooks within the work stations with speculations over who gets what. And the day you get to know the results, “bombs explode”. Bombs of discontentment, waves of civil war, arguments of mass destruction and everything that makes you think life is so unfair.
The non-performers create the loudest of explosion because even the terror outfits justify their action as Godly, isn’t it? Such is human nature. We are bad judges of our own doings and keep thinking that the world isn’t for us. “I work so hard yet nobody sees me working, is that my fault?” Girls fill buckets with tears and guys brood in public.
And if you’re a performer, well you know everybody hates you more these days. They think you do nothing and still take the cake away. The world is partial to you is their final verdict.
But what remains standard is the APPRAISAL time which is undoubtedly the mother of all season.
Watch out guys, the season is on. So better be careful.


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Is your question right?

“Honey, do I look fat in this?”
“No baby. You look okay.”
“Just okay? That means I look fat. Why can’t you be honest with me? Say that I am fat and you find me ugly. You don’t find me attractive anymore, just say it.”
Silence for few seconds. Then a reluctant sound to break it.
“When did I say that I don’t find you attractive? I love you the way you are and it doesn’t matter to me whether you’ve put on few inches here and there.”
“That means I’m fat, right?”
“Baby, we all are aging. And it is not possible for you to keep looking the same as you were in 20. I don’t expect it either.”
“Oh! So now you mean to say that I am old too. Quite natural, when you are surrounded by young babes all through the day who keep camping around you.”
“Come on! Those girls work with me. They report to me. What do I do if the company hires young executives? I can’t say no and moreover I don’t entertain with them.”
“Whaaat? Now you want young girls for entertainment? You want to bring them hooome?”
“Gawd! When did I say this? Listen, you know what you mean to me right? I am not getting any younger like you and we will grow old together.”
“Good you’ve realised that you are aging. It’s not only me you too are no more the same.”
“I know baby. I am old and tired too. Let’s forget all this and eat. I am hungry.”
Over the dining table.
“Have this pulao. I made it the way your mom makes it.”
“Did you like it? Is it like your mom’s?”
“Hmmm...it’s nice.”
“Have some more then?”
“No. No. I am fine.”
“If it’s nice why can’t you have some more?”
“I am full, darling.”
“I know you didn’t like it because I added a twist to it and it doesn’t taste like your mom’s.”
“No. No. It’s nice. Although it’s slightly different from back home.”
“Oh...home? Then what is this? You don’t consider this house to be your home? Fine, why don’t you go back to your home and enjoy your mom’s cooking for the rest of your life?”
She got up and dumped the food in the dustbin.
Moral of the story (for women): If you ask wrong questions then be prepared to get the wrong answers. So re-phrase your questions in such a way that you can only have answers in your favour. Remember, women are better communicators.
Moral of the story (for men): You can lie better. Remember how good you are in lying to your boss. Ditto at home. After all you know who is the real boss after office, don’t you? Most important, if you don’t have anything nice to talk better to turn mute. Atleast that’ll ensure a peaceful sleep!


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Nari and Sari

Today, I draped myself with the nine yard after a long time. And it suddenly struck me that whoever talks about the Indian culture and tradition maybe needs to give a good look at our sari. It is indeed one of the most sensuous outfits in the world that enhances the beauty of a woman like most couldn’t. It highlights the curves and hides the flab quite intelligently. That is the reason I have hardly met women who look ugly in a sari. Whatever weight, height you are, a sari just embraces you and celebrates your form.
Sari is also an extremely liberating outfit. It is open and doesn’t suffocate you for lack of space unlike some figure clinging dress where the fit demands you to hold your breath, else the zip might wide open. Even better that you can judiciously flaunt your curves and continue looking sexy through that off-shoulder blouse or the navel display. What could be more cinematic than the southern beauty Sreedevi adoring the pleasing chiffons making both men and women go breathless! Remember?
The draping wonder is a myth-breaker too. Contrary to the belief, that India is a conservative society, sari is progressive which will never go out of fashion due to its unique character. It shows off the skin and worships womanhood. When in the West, it was a taboo to display the navel zone (to an extent it still is), our gutsy sari made the Indian woman take a stand of her own, freely endorsing the forbidden and telling the world her reluctance in following the social dictum. Wasn’t it valiant then and now when the world has acknowledged the sari-power?
Sari is generous too. It is constantly evolving with the modern times and giving the newer generation something to look forward to. It gives you the immense flexibility to wear it the way you like with a blouse that compliments your style. The flashy women can add their backless blouses while the not-so-one can pin up its many layers to hide the obvious. Something for someone, like I have written in many advertising communications.
My only issue with sari is that though it makes me look my best. Why does it have to be so complicated to wear and later manage? Also, sari must think of making itself more city-friendly something which the jeans have managed to do. Sari needs to take a step ahead from elegance to comfort. It should make itself adaptable to urban lifestyle of working professional like me who jumps, hops and runs most days to work. If it manages to become one, nothing can beat our good old sari.


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

A life I wanted

Just a normal life is all I wanted
Too usual like the neighbourhood I’ve moved in
Where mornings greet with a familiar busyness
Cries and calls of help from the dear ones
Racing with the school bus for the kids to get in
Juggling between chores for sanity to set in
Waving goodbyes at the passing cloud
Waiting to greet the sunset of time
A story too ordinary for books to feature in
And all I got are twists and turns
Bleeding heart with struggles unknown
Too infectious to open the wounds
For fear of losing even more
Forlorn pain has seized my sight
Numerous loses have failed the tears
Lost I move to search for life
A life as normal as yours
All I wanted is to live the same
Same as the women I’ve known
The wives who dream of a future bright
The mothers who smile at the brighter side
The familiar ups and downs
The known tiffs of love
The comforts of your loved one
All I ended up is a life so strange
Too strange for me to live again



Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Mom is the word

As typical of me, I forget important dates. So this Sunday wasn’t any different. My momma called up and demanded, “Wish me!” Confused, I probed further. “Today is Mother’s Day,” she clarified. Obviously, she left me with no choice. It’s not that I don’t love her; every day of my life is hers, then why one particular day?
When I was young she was one person I could die for. Her approval was mandatory in my life. Whatever I did, she had to be informed. That time, there was a fear factor too which stemmed from my intent to impress her. My whole world that time depended on one nod of approval from her. She was the one who never forced me to go to school. Rather, my “not going to school today” comment was never contended and unlike others she never asked the reason. If I didn’t feel like doing something she never forced and later that became my personality trait. You just can’t force me to do something I don’t like! Bunking days were thoroughly enjoyed by both of us. We even played cricket together where she was the bowler all the time, without a single hint of complaint.
In my teenage times, she was my style guru who did my wardrobe from the colour to wear to the jewellery to adorn. She knew my exact measurements and got my clothes stitched while I was too reluctant to visit the family tailor. She was my hairstylist and vehemently fought many battles with the hairdresser to give me that perfect look. I was the most beautiful star in her orbit and home grooming sessions were conducted to make me look so. Needless to say, like every mother to whom her child is the best. There were moments when competition did strike between us because she had me young. Quite naturally, she looked like my elder sister when I wanted to her to fit the role of my mother. She toned down her styling to please me and erase the passing comments that made me feel older. She entertained my guy friends and cooked delicious meals at home (something she continues to do even today). She held my secret close to heart and didn’t even pass it on to her better half (my dad) till the time I asked her to. It went to the extent that I showed her the very first love letter written to me in college. She laughed and looked extremely pleased of the attention I could manage from the opposite sex.
Now, the time has changed and so has our relationship. She is more the friend who supports me in good and not so good times, like only a mother can. She is my strongest pillar when I need support to lean on. So much so that she is ready to fight for me because she says and I quote, “I know my daughter and she can do no wrong because my upbringing wasn’t wrong.” She is proud of me and doesn’t hesitate to show her affection in public even if it embarrasses me. She still calls me “amar shona (my gold)”. She is willing to break the societal norms just for my happiness. She fights even with dad for me.
Not a day passes that she fails to speak to me, no matter which part of the world she is in. Where can you find a person who is happier than you in your happiness and sadder than you in your pains? So can one day do justice to this very special person?
Yet, just for the records, here’s wishing Mumma “Happy Mother’s Day!”


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Age? Am I Cheese or Wine?

“You know his wife is so young that when they walk together she looks like his daughter,” commented a colleague of mine. “How does it matter as long as they don’t have a problem?” pat came my response. A reaction which later stirred many debates raised many eyebrows on my sense of judgement.
I fail to understand the big fuss about the wide age gap and our reluctance to accept. What is it that such a couple is incapable of doing compared to others with less numbers between them? Are they incapable to make love or fight? Strangely this is a very Indianised take on relationships. A criteria where the woman should be younger than her man and more so the man shouldn’t be older by years to her. And if the calculations don’t match up to the set norms, you run the risk of being a threat to our culture.
A recent case of a famous politician being with a journalist of much lesser age is a classic case still afresh in the minds. He became a laughing stock and many a joke was floated on social media over his relationship. The less feeble hearts would succumb and sacrifice their happiness. The brave ones, like this politician, accepted and ignored the hullabaloo over his affair.
Get a life, people. If two people are happy despite everything, who are we to make life unhappy for them? Let’s not forget that every day such couple do fight the fear of losing a partner to old age and being left all by themselves at the end. So who are we to scream, “See, how old he looks with her.”
And that isn’t all. If the woman is older, we never shy away from saying, “see he is with an aunty.” Life and love is certainly not all maths. So why are these calculations so important?
India is going places and Indians are making their presence felt all across the globe. This presence won’t leave a mark if we continue to live with past mindsets. It is time to change. Time to live with and let others live too.
My apologies for the preachy tone, but just couldn’t help viewing the ghastly reaction of educated India and encroachment on personal lives. Folks, if your life doesn’t hold much interest to you, then, maybe do something about it. Do whatever but don’t bring volcanoes in other’s lives.
And next time, when you open your mouth. Think, what would you have done if the love of your life was thrice your age?


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

The Missing feeling

The very next moment, when I turned my back it went missing. A precious one and my heart sank. It was tiny but too important to miss. I went on a massive manhunt. Scanned every possible corner that I could think of but without any success.
This was my cherished companion of last two years and obviously difficult to let go off. It was my constant partner in good and bad days. My only solace among the phirangi dazzle. One I could never thought of ever parting ways with. But strangely it went missing today.
My heart ached that I lost it not in some foreign country but a country I was born in. When I had held it so tightly over the years and travelled together over the seas, how could I be so careless to let it go at the familiar surroundings of my home? I just couldn’t stop blaming myself. How could I? Especially when I know that it is too vulnerable to hold its ground strong.
I was on the edge of going into a depression after losing a loved one. And about to shed tears in grief. Just then something happened. I caught a glimpse of it lying timidly on the floor, battered yet trying to hold strong. I quickly lifted it with all the tender care. Cleaning it and blabbering few words of affection. Placed it carefully at the place it was meant to be. Instantly, my nose glowed with its glimmering shine. After all it is my nose pin, that too, not an ordinary one. It is a rock called Diamond.
And whoever said “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend” perhaps exactly meant what I felt that time. I prayed and my prayers read “till death do us apart”.



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The Bong Factor

It’s the Bengali New Year today. Wishes come pouring in and nothing is complete in the Bong culture without food and music. Not to forget the good old aada with friends.
Although I have been raised outside Bengal but my roots are intact, courtesy the parenting of my folks. They ensured we spoke Bangla and nothing else at home. They developed my taste for authentic Bengali cuisine and an immense hunger for Bengali literature. To top it all, the exposure to Tagore songs at an early age, though, honestly I couldn’t understand Him much then. But with every passing age, I kept on falling in love with this great man whom words fail to describe. I often wonder how could somebody relate to your deeper emotions and pen it down so perfectly that he becomes an integral part of your very existence. The pain of my first heartbreak, the soft caress of the first monsoon of my womanhood, the sweet pain of love, the sadness of betrayal...you name it and this great genius has it with a haunting beauty that never ceases to leave your side. My non-bong circle would never know what they are missing and to this my heart goes out especially for the women because no other man I have known who could understand women so well. Ah! Hope language didn’t come as a barrier.
My outside-Bengal upbringing has made me a cosmopolitan. Yet, sometimes I do get to hear, “You still are a bong no matter wherever you’re from”. So here’s to my bong-ness, the things which make one:
• My huge eyes with which I can petrify you and one feature which is universal in bong-women (atleast most that I’ve met)
• My addiction to speaking my mind, even when not asked for, I still love to put my point of view which usually isn’t popular and runs me to trouble
• I am not the fish-curry types but there are days when my craving for it makes me travel far in search of fish, immediately head to the kitchen with fish in hand, cook it and eat it with such impatience as if the world is going to come to an end (mind you I don’t even go to the loo till I complete this ritual at the least number of breaths)
• The constant bathroom singing which my neighbours dread and yet I don’t stop humming the Tagore numbers (even if the lyrics can offend any pakka Bangali or Mr. Tagore might come down to punish me)
• The calculations and planning of outfits to wear during the Pujo days for months before. Saving the new dresses to wear in the mornings and evenings of Durga Pujo. The sudden plunge to wear sarees during those special days with matching accessories. And mind you nothing should repeat. The emptiness when Maa Durga goes back with Doshomi celebrations. The moist eyes bids farewell to Her as if She is a part of the family to be seen only in the next year.
• A funny nickname which means nothing. Weird to sound but I respond to it instantly when called from anywhere in the world.
• My strong affiliation to rice (bhaat). Whether I diet or die, I need rice atleast once a meal. I can eat rice with anything and everything. I need no reason or season to eat rice.
• My attraction towards people who are intellectual rather flashy. People who speak well and read well. I always liked people who made a lot of sense though I fail to make sense at times. My partiality towards the big jhola, spectacle and 100% cotton look.
• My love for Rabindranath, Sharad Chandra, Satyajit which makes me keep coming back to them.
• My aversion to the winters and the tendency to layer myself with clothes to beat the cold. I would have worn a monkey cap (the signature bong look) had there been no peer pressure.
• My hunger to save money and keep going for trips to lesser known destinations. Even you would agree that no matter which part of the world you go, you will always see a Bong.

Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Have you seen Her?

The long tresses caressed her face just like the clouds holding the moon tightly in its arms, making her more desirable and irresistible. The dark eyes are an invitation to take a dip, deep down. Yet, something about her wasn’t worldly.
It was well past the time when women would dread being out (courtesy crime rates scoring high). And he was returning from work, tired after the long day. Tomorrow too didn’t look any different. Work was sitting in the pipeline already. Life had gained such monotony in the recent times that he had to fight hard to earn the regular sleep hours.
And today sleep was catching up fast. He was struggling behind the wheels to keep himself awake. The accident happened right then. Before he could realize and press the brake, she came right in front of the car. The car took its time to recover and climbed the pedestal with a huge lump in the bumper. He knew from the sound and sleep was too shaken to bring him back to his full consciousness.
He got out of the car to scrutinize the damage. The bumper was badly hurt to which he had an idea from the experience of long years of driving. But what he feared most was the damage caused to the human figure that had hit upon the car. He found her sitting on the pavement. “Are you all right?” he enquired and offered to take her to the hospital.
She looked back and nodded her head in negative. Her face had a weird appeal that left him speechless. Few conversations later, he heaved a sigh of relief in the knowledge that she was unhurt. The hours were too oddly to leave a lady on the street and he offered to drop her. To this she readily agreed and together they went on with the journey.
He tried hard to have a close look at her but something just came in his way and after a point he gave up trying. All he could see was that she was a woman of great allure. A woman who had a unique charm yet a certain grace that secludes her. She was distant and relaxed without any hesitation of travelling with a stranger. Though he never had any intention of causing trouble to her after such a lucky escape but it was strange for a woman to be so composed and oblivious to the situation. Not for a second she looked unnerved or shocked by the mishap. Rather she was as calm and engrossed in her beautiful world.
They hardly spoke to each other inside the car. She kept looking out avoiding his gaze and he concentrated on the road, too awake from the jolt. The mounting bill on repairing the bumper occupied most of his thoughts. The insurance won’t cover the damage and he was calculating the expenses already. Thank God! The casualties didn’t surmount any human injury or a police case. Next time, he would be more careful he pledged.
Right in the middle of nowhere, his co-traveller asked him to stop. He was lost in this own thoughts so didn’t hear her first. When she repeated again he couldn’t help but ask, “Here but why? I don’t see anyone.” She replied coolly, “Yes I know you can’t see but I can see my friends here. So please stop.”
Her voice had a sudden authority that made him to stop. She got out and thanked him. He asked her again, “Are you sure because I don’t see a life?” She smiled back, “Offcourse I am sure. And you’re right. It’s natural to not see something that doesn’t have a life. So have a great life till the time you have one because once you’re dead you’ll go unseen like us.”
She walked and disappeared into the darkness from where she had emerged. He couldn’t feel a thing and his mind went blank. If she were what she told him, shouldn’t he be very scared?
Years later, he hasn’t changed his job, neither the route. Nor does the oddly hours leave him aside. But his eyes keep searching for her whenever he passes by.

Pic Courtesy: Google Images

It's never easy to forget

The couple in happier times


Love comes at a price. Sometimes at the cost of your life. Experiences have taught most of us and those who are living in denial “Heard of Nitish Katara?”
Justice in his case was delayed but not denied whether it was just is a debatable issue to which I don’t intend to join. While we don’t spare a minute in expressing our disgust over the tragic end, we also don’t lose a minute in criticizing his ladylove. The love that betrayed him at the time he needed her to testify.
She is a part of India where being a woman itself is a life sentence. Where education is nothing more than an accessory to attract better prospects in the marriage market. Where it is fashionable to have wives who are tuned to spend most of their days in the kitchen and nights welcoming the husband with legs apart whenever he pleases. In between her busyness, she also has to deliver an heir to the family who has to be a son and till the time her goal is achieved she either keeps producing like a manufacturing unit or the husband marries more. And whatever time is left, she does have to impress the guests with her hospitality that includes few (easy to understand) English conversations.
Let us admit that such India does exist, even today. Unfortunately, that India isn’t too far from us. And the lady here is a part of that India. She is a victim herself with unsaid trauma that we would never get to know. Not only has she lost her love but forced to lose her voice too. Betrayed by her own people, she has lost the most precious possession of life – freedom.
Her denial to even acknowledge her relationship with Nitish was hard to take. But how hard it must have been to continue living without a thought about the lost love? The slightest of upheaval scars us for lives and our memory gets too stubborn in erasing those. Can she ever erase the memory of the end of her love story under such brutal circumstances? Not a day in her life would have passed without remembering him and her helpless situation to bring justice to herself. Because what was committed wasn’t just against the Katarias, a particular Yadav too was made to suffer. The silence and haunting loneliness in her eyes would have spoken, if they could.
Life couldn’t have been any same for her. Nitish must have been the hope for her. The hope of things better to come. The hope of freedom from a society that kills her before her birth. The brutal end would have killed her in ways more than eyes could meet.
Wish she had a mother like Nitish’s. A mother who would teach her to fight and give her an indomitable spirit. Isn’t it strange that India is a country of paradoxes? The same country where a woman’s sheer grit and determination booked the powerful culprits for life. While on the other hand, another woman was forced into silence without even given an opportunity to grieve at her loss.

Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Not for SALE

It’s hot and getting hotter. Men wait to get heated up with anticipation of the fairer sex shedding clothes and displaying curves. Women are delighted with Season End Sales. Now, the love of SALE is legendary among my tribe. And how can you blame us? After all we do it for you. And no matter how much men crib they still eye at the summer fashion. So who cares as long as you enjoy and we love it too.
But the scary part is that SALE is at the brink of losing its sheen. Unlike yesteryears, Sales last almost all throughout the year. From occasional goodies you love to indulge, they have now become the inevitable sweets running the risk of adding weights. Loading the wardrobe, unloading the cash and cramping your space-even women are beginning to loathe them. Wouldn’t that be the end of shopping?
Remember how we loved the word and would crowd the shops to soak in the heavenly bliss? Because they were such few in numbers and their arrivals were less frequent, we celebrated. Sadly, now the word doesn’t hold the same charm. All days are for SALE in this age of super consumerism. It doesn’t fall on an occasion or holiday or season change. Else, who could have thought of weekend sale? Come on, aren’t there enough chores to finish on a weekend that you need one more errand to run and shop. And even if you do get tempted, all you get to see is redundant stock with the hideous word “UPTO” to grieve further. If you still manage to pull out something worth a try, how would you brave out the long queues outside the trial rooms? Look carefully, most people are as disappointed as you and are doing exactly as what you do. Try clothes and more clothes till you get tired and at last throw them in the baskets lying outside the trial rooms. Babies cry and men get crankier. Women get disheartened and tired. So it is a no win situation for anyone.
Companies need to wake up to the growing threat in the popularity of Sale. Sale is a woman’s best friend much more than diamonds. Even best friends give you space to relax and time to be on your own. So for the friendship to continue, SALE shouldn’t barge so often. And disturb the financial status or create rifts in other relationships with no-space to fit in the homes we live.
For men, no need to be happy on be rescued from accompanying your women to sale. Just imagine what the world would be if women don’t feel the urge to buy new outfits and the etceteras to dress well. What would you look at? Boring plain Janes?

Pic Courtesy: Google Images

The knot – tight or loose?

Lots have been written on the difference between both the sexes. It’s a topic that never ceases to go out of fashion.
One stark difference I chanced upon between men and women is the perception about “marriage”. The marriage season never goes out of season in my country and I do encounter a lot of newly-weds on my business of living. The women are all bejeweled with every inch of their body covered in expensive gems and stones. The hands proudly display their newly attained status with more than dozen of bangles while the neck flashes the diamonds. Her every moment is made in an attempt to catch attention. She has the airs of a star and quite obviously she manages to attract the attention of quite a number of women. The married ones look at the jewellery pieces and try to gaze her financial position while the unmarried ones look at her in sheer envy, hoping to be in her shoes soon. Often, I have caught many unmarried ones making faces at the new wives. One good look and you could read their mind which shouts “When will my turn come”?
Quite opposite is the men’s take on marriage. They sympathize at the newly wedded couple where the husband is jostling with excess luggage (courtesy his wife’s shopping) and the woman looks blissfully happy, adding finishing touch to her already heavily made-up face. The much experienced men don’t shy away from giving the man their heartiest condolences through the unspoken expressions. And few brave hearts, even mutter their best wishes to the man for the luck he needs to walk through the marriage.
The remarkable approach speaks it all. Marriage implies different connotations to both the genders. In India, marriage is a road to freedom for the middle-class urban woman especially if she is living in a nuclear set-up. She can cook what she pleases and run errands, whenever she wants without an explanation. She runs the household without taking permission and goes shopping without being budgeted. Even socializing in the husband’s absence doesn’t seek any explanation. Atleast superficially, she lives free till the husband is in office. She is happy to make the most of it in the bargain of marriage and this keeps her happily-married. So what if she isn’t financially independent but she does have the scope to make some pocket money or steal few bucks from the husband’s pocket. And if she is really lucky, she ends up with a man who will happily bring his salary to her and even let her boss around. This newly acquired freedom is what the woman looks upto her entire life and what the unmarried ones aspire for. So, can we blame our women to look upto marriage?
For the men, marriage is the road that leads to ‘the end’. Till marriage, they were under the pampering of their mothers who were over-feeding and under-asking questions. They could come and go anytime because they were free. All the education and domestication were the expected KRA’s of the future wife. And society proudly announced, “Let him get married then he will change.” Even the parents would give him a free hand saying, “Let him enjoy till he gets married.” Now, when the society grooms men so anti-marriage how can you expect them to love it?
Whatever little remained unsaid were fully expressed through actions by the new bride. From the day she enters his life, he has to answer her. Whole day she calls not by his name but by screaming, “Are you listening ji?” The story doesn’t end there. He has to take her shopping, something he just despise. Suddenly, he can’t look at other women because the wife keeps watching him all the time. He has to not only share his bed but TV channels and even his bank statement with her. Sad part is that she doesn’t want to share the good things like his huge porn collection, playboy magazines, sports channel, chilled beer, chaddi buddies etc. It would have been still better if the matter would have stopped there but she bullies him to forego all these. Aww! So marriage begins with a lot of giving ups and what for, “free sex and freedom lost?” He regrets on being married and gets sadistic pleasure on seeing other men changing their status. “Why me alone?” he smiles in sarcasm.
Both the genders have reasons to their beliefs. It is intelligent not to blame them because such is life.

Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Beware we bite

And if you thought that it’s only dogs that bite, you are not exactly right. Women of the human species do bite. They bite only during a specific time of the month when nature takes a toll on them. The worldly tag it as “menstrual cycle” but it’s much more than only two words can describe. The cramps block their feeling of self-worth and suddenly a woman awakens to the fact that “it’s a MAN world”. But the rebel in her is hard to pacify so she goes on a noble cause of making a place for women (like her). Don’t know about the whole world but she does try to shake things around her. Ask any man who has to live with her during those days and he’ll have his own horror stories to instill the fear-factor.
If she goes through so much discomfort, she does ensure that people around live in some uneasiness. She tosses, turns and cries. The pain might leave her at times but depression doesn’t. Any form of human touch is shunned down brutally and don’t even try to come close to her. She wouldn’t shy away from heralding few abuses or hitting you hard (where it hurts the most). She suddenly transforms into the “Chandi” that every man is scared off.
• The bosses are scared to give her work in fear of being getting burnt by irritation
• The spouses try to make themselves invisible and even the most forgetful ones remember the tentative dates in preparation for Emergency rule
• Sex becomes a taboo and affection faces curfew for few days without any relaxed hours
• The sub-ordinates plan calculative leaves to avoid proximity to the shoot-out area
• The friendly street dogs can sense some trouble and stay away from wagging their tails
• The house-helps noiselessly finishes the allocated tasks and avoids all interaction
• The neighbours finish their business quietly without a word
• Even the woman feels it would have been easy to be a man
Life tries to run as quietly as it can but the hormones fight for change. She erupts at slightest reasons or sometimes for no-reason at all. World fails to empathize and that is why they have only one word to define call “period”. It is more than a period for women, a period that makes them all the same. Irritable, dangerous and not easy to live with. But every woman just needs the same thing-love. Love which is unconditional and platonic in kind because those are the days when she can’t bring herself to love the self she was born to.
So, is it too much to ask if she begs you to bear with her for those few days when she stands by you for the rest of the month? The past too granted her leave from the daily chores during this phase. Our mothers and their mothers have tales to support. They narrated numerous rituals of secluding the women and putting restriction on her movements. She was barred from entering the kitchen, religious places and food were room-served to her. In certain ways, it was a dictatorial society where women were sheer subjects. But if you look at it from today’s busyness, it sure did give our women some respite from the daily hardships. Seclusion meant some time for her to relax and take a break from bearing the load of running a socially active household. Maybe, that was an indirect goodness that women enjoyed out of social evils.
To implement the older methods of living isn’t realistic neither would it be morally right especially when women have become a major contributor in the economic status of the household. Hence, official offs and taking rest isn’t plausible. So she goes taking such days as it come, disgruntled and exhausted. While men teasingly comment, “Oh! She might be going through those days of the month.”


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

How mean!

“I am angry so don’t talk. When I’m angry I’m not hungry so don’t bother me,” said she. He took her words very seriously and stayed away from her.
The next morning she felt better and hungry. She confronted him, “You didn’t even ask?” She continued, “I know you don’t care about me anymore.”
He was confused. He resisted, “I care and so I followed your instruction.” Now, you couldn’t blame him. His experiences of women were limited. The only woman he had in his life before her was his mother. His mother always expected him to follow his orders without any question. And he did exactly the same, listened to her without a word. Then why the fuss?
The entire week she sulked. Never let him forget and forgive. That would have still been okay if she wouldn’t have carried the bitterness to bed. She made him sleep hungry every night for few weeks. Finally when her mood changed, he was happy in the belief that the past was forgotten.
Then one day he learnt a new lesson.
He came back early to surprise her. And he himself got the surprise of his life. He found an unknown man in his house. The man hurriedly left without a word.
He was angry and asked, “Who was this? What is he doing here with you?”
She coolly replied, “Remember the last time when I complained about you being busy and not spending enough time with me?”
He didn’t have much clue because he couldn’t remember.
She took her time to reply, “You don’t remember, do you? Anyways, you said to find another man who can spend enough time with me because you’re busy supporting me.”
He went pale, “So?”
She patronizingly answered, “I followed your instruction without a word just like you followed mine when I get angry.”
That day he learnt that women never forget neither do they forgive.
So, men, watch your words carefully when you’re with women.



Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Which stage are you in?

PHASE 1.
I just want her to be mine, forever. God, please I won’t ask you for anything else.
He is the one for me. I will leave non-veg if he says yes. God, please just this one thing for the last time.

PHASE 2.
I am so lucky. She is the best. Thank You, God!
He is the one I’ve been waiting for so long. Thank You, God for sending him!

PHASE 3.
Why do you take so much time to dress up? We’re always the last to reach. Oh God!
Why don’t you put the toilet seat down? Why do you create so much mess? Oh God!

PHASE 4.
She was just fine when we met. I just can’t recognize her anymore. Why God?
Do I look fat? I know you think I’m ugly. But you weren’t like this when we met. Why God?

PHASE 5.
You must spend some time with your parents. What will they think of me that I don’t let you go?
But who will take care of you if I go? And what makes you think that I’ll let you have those bachelor parties in my absence?

PHASE 6.
I can’t live with her. Oh God! Why didn’t you make me see?
I wish I could leave him if kids weren’t there. Oh God! Why did you send this man to me?

PHASE 7.
Did you take your medicines? Are you feeling alright? God! She has to get okay for me.
Who will take care of him in my absence? God! He can’t even find his towel without me.


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

The fairy tale love

I need some love, today. Some real, unconditional love.
• Love that would eagerly wait for me and greet me with a warm hug
• Love that would follow me everywhere and make me feel special
• Love that will tell me that I’m the most beautiful so what if I’m dark and fat
• Love that wouldn’t depend on the way I smell
• Love that won’t leave my side even when I go to the restroom
• Love that shows in the eyes and needs no word to express
• Love that doesn’t shy away to kiss me every 5 minutes
• Love that doesn’t seek answers and saves me from despair
• Love that cures my depression of being unloved
• Love that makes me look forward to going back from work
• Love that tells me you’re my world even without uttering a single word
• Love that just makes me feel good about being loved
Maybe that love can’t buy me diamonds. Or buy me expensive gifts. Maybe that love can’t buy me worldly pleasures.
Maybe all this is too much to ask. Maybe it’s time to have a dog. Because only a dog can give you so much love. Even without being asked…


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

What women needs

I learnt (from experience) that being a woman isn’t easy. And writing for a woman about a woman isn’t easy, either (thanks to a client). We, women are so difficult to please.
Be it the corporate or the personal spaces, we women are no easy job to handle. Maybe, nothing came easy and hence we are on a mission to ensure that nothing gets any easier for others. The flight for equality hasn’t been a smooth ride and whatever seat we’ve managed to get, we want to tighten our seat belts to a suffocating success. Just to make sure that irrespective of the flights fate, we do manage to land unscathed and unhurt. Well, isn’t it an impossible task? I say impossible because we’re humans and we are sure to make mistakes. So why push ourselves so hard that we become Godly? Don’t we have enough Goddesses to worship and spare the country of add-ons?
I don’t know about others, but as a woman I don’t ever wished to be worshipped. All I want is to be recognized as a human being with similar needs and wants like my male counterparts. I don’t need reservations because that is upfront discrimination, when I think I am no less than a man then why treat me special?
Yes, reservations are required though, not for the urban women like me but for the less-urban women in my country who are seeking independence, emotional and financial. The urban woman has acclaimed her financial freedom. Most of us are in pursuit for emotional freedom. Freedom to lead the life they want, freedom to do things without being questioned, freedom to demonstrate love without the fear of what the society will say and many other freedoms.
But the sad part is many women like me in their quest for freedom have stopped acknowledging the fact that they are different from men. They have stopped being themselves trying to ape the stronger sex. A woman is unique in her own ways and what she brings to the table is something only she does. Trying to be tough is her call but just to succeed like a man is a futile effort. Why can’t she be her own self and still succeed like the way only she can?
In our journey to prove to the world that we ain’t any less, let us not lose ourselves and find ourselves in the missing files. Let us not get so cold that even the best of forces can’t track us down.
Don’t forget to be a woman, women!

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Agency Facts

We fight, pretty madly. We never miss a chance to blame. We are mad. But despite the madness we feel for each other.
Thank God for it!
So if one meets with an emergency, the whole lot drops their deadline and run to rescue. The bosses help with monetary support while the rest don’t shy away from moral support. Support never runs short.
If one needs a drop then the other waits (even at odd hours) to ensure that you’re dropped. While the rest of the office calls you at whatever time, just to ensure you’re safe.
If one gets fired for reasons beyond his control, the whole team puts in their paper without a thought. Just to claim their solidarity. And together the group then searches for jobs.
If one goes through a personal crisis, then the whole group combines to cheer you out. Without a question we render our support and most are understanding enough to keep your secrets, well-guarded.
Even the lowest in the rank is an important member. His thoughts and reactions are as important as the top rankers.
Loyalties are hard-earned. Boss isn’t always right here, atleast, we ensure he isn’t at times. Designations don’t necessarily earn respect but good work does. So don’t expect orders to be followed every time. Rather we prepare you to deal with mutinies at critical junctures.
Appraisals don’t happen regularly but appreciations do follow at regular intervals. Fed by appreciations, most of us don’t ask for more.
We have no cubicles but the space to turn around and say, “I can’t”. We have no flashy workplace but the freedom to do our own things like sketch in the middle of an important con-call or write a post about work in the middle of work or listen to loud numbers when client is blasting loud.
This is my work-world where every hour is different. Filled with stress and steep commitments, this is the bug called “advertising”.



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Who pays to copy?

When I was a kid, I wanted to be another ‘Kiran Bedi’ because my folks thought that would be best for me. And all I wanted to do was please them. That point of time I didn’t know about the big hurdles like clearing the competitive exam where everybody is more prepared than you, maintaining the ideal body weight for which you need hours of physical exercise and so on. All that interested me was Ms. Bedi’s smart demeanor and the dress code.
When I was a little older, I wanted to be a doctor because that is what my dad thought I should be. It is prestigious and well-paying, I thought. By that time, I knew the importance of money due to the strict parenting policies of my folks. As a rule, one chocolate a month and one eating out per month was allowed. They believed that children should be made to realize the value of money. And the fact that they belonged to humble families, might have forced them to curb my childish desires.
When I was a teenager, I started thinking of the glamour world. I thought I was God’s blessing to mankind (like every teenager does). Hence, I’ll be a boon to the entertainment industry. My folks knowing my plans bashed me royally and the idea boomed.
During college days, I started talking to myself. I realized academics aren’t cut out for me. The fact that I wasn’t good at it was another issue all together (something I hated to acknowledge). Either, I slept off during the classes or decided to save myself from the torture by bunking them religiously. But then the big spoiler was the low attendance letter hideously appeared at my doorstep. I tried a lot to hide the news from dad but failed in that too. Obviously, I was induced to some heavy shunting and a threat that ate my carefree days. He threatened that he would marry me off to the first guy he set his eyes on, if I continue to ditch classes. And marriage for me meant end of freedom, plenty of examples existed within my family to scream out the danger signs. So, the fear factor got me thinking about a career that made my presence at home minimal.
Today, I am a Copywriter and I take care of my own bills. I don’t know how I became one because a decade ago I didn’t even know what it meant. Writing was like breathing to me and I started it as long as I can remember. But I was told writers don’t get jobs because it isn’t considered a job. It is a hobby which doesn’t pay. So I tried to find out one that pays and bumped into writing for advertising. As to my folks, they still think that I copy and write. They haven’t been able to figure out why would somebody pay you to copy? Isn’t copying an offence?
I don’t even try to explain because my profession makes sure of my frequent absence from home, social gatherings and anything that I want to make an excuse of. The perks aren’t great but it gives me the freedom to think, write and above all dress without any code.

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Comma may go to coma

Oye Maa!
The learned of the language are dismissing the use of comma and planning to send it on voluntary retirement. They say that comma has served its purpose and needs to be bidden farewell.
As a copywriter, my world and work has generous seasoning of comma that only a comma can do justice to. Maybe in English, comma needs to rest but in copywriting how else can you write without a comma?
• We use it when the clients expect us to talk of different things that has no relation to each other, all in one sentence
• It rescues us when space troubles us and we need to deliver the junk, so no scope for grammar just keep adding words along with commas
• It works when you want the reader to pause and go easy on your labored work
• It is the savior when no other punctuation is available and all you can think of is the non-fussy comma because it is wholesome
• Life or clients may never give you a second chance but our dear old comma is forgiving. It keeps giving you chances to make mistake, all you do is scribble something and keep using it
• Comma has a huge fan club because of its humbleness, hence, most prefer to use it other than the rest
Personally, I love comma in every font. Rather I chose fonts based on their representation of comma. Comma has added a touch of class to my writing. It has become an inevitable part of my writing. Wondering, how will my writing survive without it?
Oh God! Comma should never die…


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I, Me and Myself

Most of us love our space. Yet, if there isn’t someone to share the space, we hate it. This hatred towards life grows further if people around have someone special in theirs. It’s funny, how the bitterness takes the best out of us seeing others happy. We don’t intend to but we end up wishing ill.
And those who deny are living in self-denial because no one can live alone. Men have a little edge in handling loneliness as they are brought up in a certain way. Their upbringing trains them to spend more hours outdoors while women are groomed to be “ghar ki sobha”. Resulting in women facing bigger challenges to fight being on their own.
Here are some of the tips which might help considering my immense experience of being on my own:
• Invest in friends who are for life-long and to whom you can pile on whenever you want.
• Develop a hobby and spend hours in it, no matter how stupid it might look to others, such as gardening, sketching, dancing or plain simple bathroom singing.
• Try to be your best friend. Go on regular dates with yourself. Do things on your own even if people might find it odd like shopping all by yourself, going for a movie, eating out alone.
• Join some social group and make an effort to attend their weekend programmes.
• Don’t isolate yourself from your family and difficult as it seems, make some time to be with them.
• Pamper yourself. Whenever you feel low, visit the all-friendly neighbourhood salon cum spa and just indulge. Don’t worry too much about the bill because you’re spending on yourself.
• Travel as much as you can. Take frequent breaks and venture out.
• Exercise in any form does help. It could be long walks, sweating it out in the gym or whatever you’re comfortable with.
• Most important treat yourself well. So cook for yourself, sometimes elaborate meals too. Dress up nicely and make every effort to look good. You never know when you’re going to bump into that special someone, so always be prepared.
• Appreciate yourself. Buy gifts for yourself. Why depend on someone else to buy you expensive stuff? When that special one comes he’ll spoil you with gifts but till then keep showering the goodness on yourself.
• Try to watch a lot of mushy romantic films because it’ll give you hope. It will ensure that you never stop dreaming of better times ahead.
• Get on the net though watch your steps closely because you might run into trouble. But make the most of the information age. Connect with people or read extensively. Choice is yours!
• Good old reading helps to ward away boredom. When you’re tired of the sounds of the idiot box, switch to books. It makes you intelligent and you can impress others with your intellect.
• Be neighbour-friendly. It will give you the advantage of dropping into their places whenever the loneliness gets too much to handle.
• Being single has one huge advantage – you’ve all the time to yourself. Do good to someone. Get involved in some social work like teach the helper’s children, babysit animal orphans, read to the visually-challenged etc. The satisfaction is immense and adds up to your sense of self-worth.


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It does hurt

Love is in the air. But in our present times, love has a restricted entry only on a particular day. The market is buzzing with greeting cards, gifts, chocolates, flowers and even personalized items to get soaked in this fever of love. And whenever we think of love, heartaches are complimentary.
Relationships have gone complicated but it still hurts:
• When you see the rich going on a shopping carnival at the cost of depriving the ones who work for them. Ditto a famous industrialist who recently rolled out a whooping amount to shop a Cricketer for an upcoming cricketing tournament. While his employees are running from pillar to post to make him pay their wages.
• When you read a new born baby of few days dumped on a garbage bin or in public transport by a family member just because it is a “girl”.
• When a toddler is raped by no stranger but someone she knows and depends upon. She is too young to even realize her pain but the perpetrator is well-prepared and planned.
• When a tribal woman is punished for falling in love to an extent that suddenly the entire village men gets the license to enjoy her. Sadly, they are her own people and the torture is carried to such greater lengths that she has lost all account of how many times they violated her.
• When a young life was wasted just because he belonged to the North-East and looked different from the region he migrated to gain education. And mind you, it wasn’t even a different country.
• When political parties are busy washing their dirty linens in public, accusing each other and giving us no reason to hope for better.
• When a veteran artist awarded with Padma Vibhusan has to plea for years, without any success, to find a home where she can spend the rest of her life.
• When a brave soldier gives the ultimate sacrifice and his family has to do the rounds with the influencers to keep their lamps burning.
• When the talented have to leave the country to make a mark in the world. We have the best brains but still face the problem of brain-drains.
• When a life is lost and nobody even gets to know until nature’s law starts spreading the decomposed smell. Sometimes, even the neighbour’s have nothing to divulge, not even a name at times.
• When many precious lives are lost on roads failing timely assistance by the passers-by due to fear of law enforcer’s harassment resulting in delayed medical attention.


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Oh no! Not again…

Some people just love to give “gyaan”. Hours and hours of lecture on anything and everything. Be it the office meetings or personal ones. They never miss the slightest chance to preach. Whether people are asking for it is immaterial as long as they get an opportunity to display the greatness through tortuous hours of sermons.
Believe it or not, the higher we climb up in life, the higher inclination to preach. And the lowly mortals (for reasons of their own) are held captive to long speeches. The circle is vicious, hence, when these lowly mortals, get their time, they preach downwards to find closure to their torture. The idea is not to do good to someone, but, rather to inflict what you’ve suffered.
Even funny is the fact when people give you personal advice without knowing you personally. Sometimes you can’t resist fearing the repercussion of non-adherence to authority. So all you do is nod and nod some more. Because if you don’t you will have to suffer added hours of torture. Wonder why didn’t Hitler use this technique in his concentration camps? How could he miss such an effective weapon?
The sufferings are sure to get worse if you have the company of someone who is a good orator. Communication skills can be a burden then as the orator would love to practice the skills on you. Haven’t you heard, the more you practice the better you get? So be aware when in the company of people who speak well.
The best part about these “gyaanis” is that they can build everything in air like a castle, an international career for you, country’s future, rupee hike, inflation fall etc. You name it and they can do it. But they come with a big term and condition (as most retail outlets selling Hot Sale Deals where the word ‘upto’ is hideous). Their rule is simple, they build only through big talks. They are forever on planning mode and have no time to think of worldly details like execution.
Another point of observation is that it is always their way or no way. They think they have the best solution even when you haven’t asked them for one. Quite obvious, when the Earth rotates according to their advice, how dare you to refuse this precious commodity? Nothing is more knowledgeable to them than themselves. They go to the extent of preaching the little Master of Indian Cricket on how to hold the bat, the Tagore of literature on how to hold the pen, the Maradona of Soccer on how to launch a kick and so on. Then who are we?
The preachers come in all age, shape, size and gender. The minute they open their mouth, you just know you’ve run into one. They don’t charge a penny for their service but can render you redundant if you keep listening to them for long. Don’t ever expect them to help because they are incapable to act. They don’t like disagreement so keep agreeing to whatever they say to safe your sanity. If you don’t, well, risk the chance of losing your mind.


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Are we educated enough?

“Hey, chinki!”The guys screamed at the two girls from North-east origin. The girls so used to the term did what they always did, simply ignore the lusty eyes. This was a regular scene some ten years back in the Delhi University area where a large population of the North-eastern came to get educationally-equipped.
The recent case in the capital where a young life was lost due to a racist brawl, tells a tale of stagnant times. When technology is changing lives, global education is expanding our horizons, middle class is gaining power- our awareness about our own country hasn’t increased. India is a land of diversities. How sad is that we Indians are so challenged in our knowledge about our own country? And this has been happening from times immemorial.
In Delhi, anybody from the North-east is termed as “chinki” courtesy to the similarities of their physical features with people from China. People from South are termed as “madrasi” because to the north, only Madras now Chennai, exists in the south. People from East are called “Bangladeshi” because of language similarities although “Bangladesh” is not even a part of sovereign India. And amazingly these are some of the popular perceptions of the educated lot in the capital.
The complete lack of knowledge about India persists in the corporate culture too. I was once shocked to hear a colleague confidently declaring that Gujarat is a part of Chennai. And when corrected, he seems too reluctant to acknowledge the blunder. If this is the state of general knowledge in the capital of the country, God bless those from the remotest areas.
Indians, world-wide are a huge number to reckon with. Many people of Indian origin are making it big in their respective careers (without being discriminated). At the same time, many lament about the racism they have to counter in their daily routines. Media brings those cases to highlight and we unite in discontentment. But what about the rapid racism our own people have to go through just because the larger lot is geographically-challenged? What about the complete lack of apathy towards people who have migrated from their place of birth to the big cities for better opportunities?
Maybe our education system needs to be re-structured to include a more basic knowledge about the country which is home to people of interesting diversities. Till the time we fail to know each other well, nothing can be attained. Till the time, our own people keep meeting such end, in their own country, future looks bleak.
Let’s atleast get to know each other better before we venture out to pick international accents, international cuisines, international careers. Because without knowing our own people well, we just can’t know the world, better.
Hope the eve-teasers stop teasing Northern-eastern women with a term they have no link to. Hope our knowledge of South grows beyond Madras (which has ceased to exist long time back). And pray, we don’t claim another country (Bangladesh) as ours because we have enough population of our own to adopt the people of a neighbouring nation.

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Have you failed?

Sometimes it’s just not enough. No matter how much you stretch, how well you crack or how well you present-you fail. And whatever age you are in, you just hate failures. Failures feel the same. They hurt badly, much worse than the cuts of an accident.
The many failures of our lives that we have to deal with, the pain still persists for most:
• Failure to express and you see the special one being stolen away by somebody else
• Failure to make the relationship work, no matter how hard you tried
• Failure to say “no” and keep toying with other’s ideas knowing it’s bound to bounce
• Failure to negotiate your happiness (for me my salary too at most times)
• Failure to get a break of your choice even when you’ve given your best shot (like I lost St. Stephens on just 1 mark)
• Failure to attract the one you’re attracted to and attracting the ones you want to evade (why does love, love the triangle shape?)
• Failure to kill people with killing looks (why do lookers have it so easy?)
• Most importantly, the failure to launch – making people realize that you’ve arrived (why can’t everybody be a hit like the Khans of Bollywood?)
• Failure to write because you want to write (why does it take so much of an effort to get an idea, I mean the real one not some mobile service provider)
• Failure to save the loved ones from diseases and witness them perish right infront of our eyes
• Failure to ask anyone for anything while the rest of the world enjoyed the gains as they’ve demanded openly (for me I’ve never known the delight of spending pocket money because I’ve never asked for it)
• Failure to ask people for help because we’ve been taught to do things on our own


Sharing the failures isn’t easy. The pain doesn’t go but it certainly lightens the burden carried by the soul. Try it, it works!


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