Are you sure?

A news piece managed to disturb me more than any other, today.
‘Girl child sold at a few thousand of Indian Rupee.’
The world is becoming pricier day-by-day, a fact for which you don’t have to read to know. The diminishing weight of the wallet as it approaches the month-end, bears testimony to this reality. Vegetables have become expensive, the poor-old-pulses have had an image shift with price rise, and the harmless movie ticket can do much damage to the monthly budget. The list is expansive.
Yet, one thing, which comes cheap in this expensive time is the life of a baby girl. What a mockery of human existence! A priceless baby girl is available at a price which most of us can afford. The political parties blame each other. Officials belittle it by terming it as a certain illiterate community problem. They go further by stating that these tribal communities give birth to beautiful girls. Hence, they get easy takers among childless couples. Nailing her beauty as her crime, just like they said, she asked for rape. The media features it as breaking news.
And what do we do? We sit in few minutes of shock. Next time, our colleague distributes sweets on becoming a new parent, we never fail to ask ‘Girl or Boy?’ If the answer is latter, we don’t hesitate to pick a second piece from the box, sheepishly commenting ‘Then I can afford to take one more.’ If the answer is first, we console with ‘Never mind, daughters are more caring.’ But the tone says it all.
We are educated, at least we believe to be one. Hence, we completely deny to gender discrimination. A daughter and son are both the same but still it’s natural to say, ‘I have a daughter, need to be careful with money.’ Isn’t it so engrained in us?
No matter how much we worship the Godly form of Shakti and name our women after them, till the time we nurture them, respect is far-fetched. The female gender of the humankind is facing a serious threat of extinction, which is a stark reality in some flourishing villages of the North. It’s time to at least admit to it and not smirk with ‘this doesn’t happen to my society.’ It surely does. Not just in some rural belt but every corner of India.


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What's in a surname?

I wasn’t born with a name. Though my parents had a tall list of shortlisted names and just few hours of my arrival, they froze one. I didn’t have a say in it but it has stayed with me all my life. And most importantly, I am known by it (though I ain’t a celebrity to command global recognition).
I worked hard and made a name for myself (in my own little, simpler ways). It didn’t come easy. At school I worked hard to get the teacher shout my name. Broke my neighbour’s pencil or make my work speak, whatever it was, it took time and effort. For the professional world, well, I spent many nights working doubly hard, just to make the boss sit back and notice. So next time, in a crowd he doesn’t just pass an ‘I-know-you-but-what’s-the-name’ smile rather shouts my full name. Hard work isn’t it?
Then marriage happened. Life changed for me. And so it did for the person who married me. I took his surname. Got a passport with his surname, the Pan Card took his name too. It was easy. Nobody asked me the reason then. I too happily went with the wave that ran in my family. My mother took my father’s surname just like her mother did and like every woman I can think of who got hitched. All the women follow this tradition of embracing their husband’s surname as the unwritten rule of the matrimony club. Naturally, I did follow the pattern as I believed I were one of them.
But fate proved otherwise. My marriage failed unlike any other women in the family. The surname became a huge burden. Something, I wanted to get rid of. Gosh! It was easier thought than done. Everybody and anybody got the licence to start an investigation probe on my marital failure. The Government officials didn’t spare me and I was judged at every step. My phone bills multiplied answering uncomfortable questions from total strangers. Every Government office did something or the other just to ensure that I stick to the surname, a little longer. Why blame only them, even a private bank, wasn’t any kinder and refused to open an account for me.
I required all my strength and it was more tumultuous than ending the actual relationship. Anybody less stubborn than me would have given up. I kept following up and after months I managed to part with the acquired surname, despite copies of court order.
Marriage is a beautiful institution and I have my faith in it despite my own setbacks. The successful ones will tell you that you should have enough love and be ready to make sacrifices to be happily married. But why make the woman prove her love by sacrificing her surname? Love doesn’t need any proofs, does it?
Though, every woman reading me is at liberty to decide for herself. But think twice before making a choice and most importantly, remember, it is your choice because it’s your name.


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Is Holi always holy?

A long weekend and a colourful festival. Very few times, life gives such opportunities to breathe easy and celebrate in style. Talking about celebration, I started with embracing every bit of this festival. And graduated to avoiding every bit of it. So much so that I make deliberate plans to go out of town around this time of the year. Unfortunately, I was a wee bit late on deliberations this year and found most destinations pre- booked. The sweet brightness of the mornings and the pleasant chillness of the evenings surrounding this festival are indeed enjoyable.
But, Holi, itself rings alarming bells in the mind. And minds of most women who are forced to move with caution. You can’t blame us for feeling the way we do because nobody enjoys strange hands exploiting your vulnerability. No one can feel wonderful when unwelcomed hands feel you at inappropriate places. Given another day, you would retaliate but Holi is the biggest excuse for molesters who thrive on unsuspecting women. It’s a free-for-all day where even your biggest supporters would make you speechless with “its Holi, you’re overreacting!”
The guy would not only manage to get away but continue his expedition, without fear of being accounted. More cathartic is the fact that most of these men aren't strangers in the first place. They are the uncles, cousins, friend’s friend and close to the circle. Still this is one occasion they manage to get away without being confronted. And all we women are taught is to bear the humiliation. Act as if nothing has happened. It’s an occasion of celebrations, so don’t be a spoilt sport. Don’t create a scene and try keeping a safe distance from the perpetrator. If he still succeeds in coming closer, then let it happen again. Do anything but pretend nothing has happened. Then when Holi arrives in the next season, lock yourself in the indoors, no matter how much you want to get soaked in the vibrancy of surrounding colours. Remind yourself, again and again, that you can’t change the society but you can change yourself. So a festival well-loved gradually turns into something well-dreaded.
Happy Holi, guys! And I wish you all will join to keep it happy for the gals too.

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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