Tag Archives: Women

In the woods. (2)

Contd from.

I heard a rustle I hadn’t before. There was something alive around me. A second step and I realised there was something soft and squishy beneath me. A soft shriek emerged from my mouth. My hand flew to my face, covering my eyes and face. I took my phone out of my pocket to flash light the floor beneath. “It’s okay. All is well,” I murmured repeatedly. Turns out all wasn’t well. I’d stepped on to a pile of leaves soggy from the evening damp but the rustling I’d heard was the bats waking up. The house, or whatever it had once been, now had a bat infestation! Lightning struck again. I didn’t need the flashlight to see the bats this time. Thunder followed slower this time though. “All is well,” I repeated. I pulled the sleeve cuffs of my sweater up to my palms and covered my ears with them. It muffled the sound and the cold out. 

I squatted outside on the porch, back stuck to the brick wall. I tried recalling why exactly I’d stomped out of the room. It was my honeymoon. And I couldn’t get myself to even begin to adore him. We constantly fought. Our match was arranged by our parents. I’d known him for six months and been married eight days. We’d fought enough already that I was fed up of being in the same room as him. Just thinking about him stressed me out! My stress came rushing out in the form of tears. I bawled.

Once I’d cried enough to tire myself out, I checked my phone. It had network bars now but I no longer cared. The winds had calmed down and I’d made up my mind. Trees swayed lesser; I heard a car honk in the distance. Maybe I’d find a road that’d take me away from the resort. Vigor induced in me, I rushed up from the ground and flashlight on I walked towards the direction I thought I’d heard the honk from. Come jaguar or snake, I didn’t care now. I couldn’t fight them maybe but I needn’t sit crouched in fear either. I saw a road, a dust covered grey strip of tar, to be precise. It needed washing. I almost ran to it and found myself looking at what I was running away from. The resort loomed large and at the gates was my husband getting into an open Jeep, possibly to hunt me down. Again.

Gritting my teeth, I snorted and stepped back into the bushes, taking cover behind a tree. I wouldn’t let him see me. I couldn’t. 

Graciously Yours!

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#NationWantsToKnow?

There are some days when life does not make sense.

Then there are more days when your manager does not make sense.

Then come a lot of days when the news does not make sense. Picking up a few of those gems!

What say you? Are you prepared to ruin your good day? Well, or maybe brighten up a bad day? 😛

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Despacito = slowly!

Like the article mentions “Despacito is a song in Spanish about slow love making.” Translated lyrics here. For so many of us Indians and also non Indians out there who think sex is and should remain a taboo, here goes. The song you so love to jive and hum, blabber words you don’t even know the meaning of and think that Spanish is only spoken in Spain, wake up! Life just dealt you a joker. Now what will you do with it?

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Mr. VP – I would wonder about the why rather than the what.

Okay, call me demeaning, if you want. But if this would have happened at a Railway Station washroom, I’d go all, ‘Maybe there have been worrisome incidents in there and there’s a context that isn’t being reported.” But if you tell me that a Church had to take such a step for women’s safety, then well, I’ll return in a while with my argument after laughing my guts out. The Church also needs to be worried about women’s safety in their premises now? Or is this an excuse for men to now make us more worried than we already are about our safety so that they can have a good, authorised peep show. Wonder if the CCTV footage reviewers also have to take the vow of celibacy.

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So I understand we’re going all digital and laptop usage is at an all time high. Yeah, well, you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure that bit out. But what I am left wondering is why is Cambridge scrapping exams due to bad handwriting? We could have done this with the thought of saving paper, contributing towards cutting lesser trees, maybe slow down global warming or at least be happy about having done something to slow it down, even though it seems inevitable now. But no, we’re scrapping it because the handwriting is illegible? How thick brained are we really?

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Yes, that is an iPhone screenshot. Not owned by Yours Truly. Duh.

Oh, yes! News of the week. The iPhone 8 got launched. The iPhone 8S too. And the iPhoneX too. Poor iPhone 8 and 8S. They became obsolete within two minutes of their launch! Need I say more?

Then this happened. Bewakoof.com which when translated in English means foolish, lived up to their name for the first time. They launched a tShirtX. You shouldn’t think so out of the box also. Too much of anything is bad!

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Living up to thy name!

And with that I’ll end my tirade and only ask one thing – does the nation really want to know these news? #NationWantsToKnow.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : What have you come across of recent that you want to rant against? Tell me. Maybe we think alike!

Diamonds.

“Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” they said. I don’t know who the they here are. I don’t mean I don’t know, I just can’t seem to recall who exactly they are. I grew up listening to mothers say it, the advertisers claim it, movies celebrate it. I was brought up in an Indian middle class family. The view our flat had was of other flats, crammed up in a tower like reluctant matchboxes given a balancing act dare. I was told to dream, but within limits. I had wings which could only flap within the cages they had set up. Again, I don’t recall who the they were exactly. One midnight, that of my 23rd birthday, it was decided that I was of marriagable age. The stroke of the grandfather clock above the living room mantlepiece had magically reformed me from a girl who should keep out of talks of adults to a woman who now had to sit demurely among adults and know exactly what and how much to speak.

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Like the films had predicted, I found my knight in shining armour. He came riding a white horse, literally, on the day of our wedding. He looked wonderful. The night was even more wonderful. I was tired but he was magical in bed! Or at least, what he did seemed like magic to a virgin like me. And in the morning, he presented me with a diamond. My first, though not my last. The one I keep tucked away in my closet between the uncomfortable silk sarees I rarely wear. Now the view from my window has changed. I still overlook concrete towers but posh ones. The view came at a price, not the diamonds, no. The price was having to share my husband. That night, two years ago, he was magical in bed, indeed. The other woman claimed so too. Two years and he had never faltered. Until three days ago.

My husband is away for the week. He says he’ll end the relationship with the other woman. I may be young, but I am no fool. I may be good, but I also have my evil in place. I may think white, but I have my black too. I changed the locks of the house. I installed a hidden GPS tracker app on his phone. I hired a PI to track the woman. And I sold the diamonds. At least, half of them.

My hair tied in a side bun, earrings dangling by my round face, cheeks rosy as buns, the shimmering copper of my dress accentuating my wheatish complexion, I smiled at my reflection and thought, ‘Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, they said.’

The phone rang. The cab had arrived. This was the night I’d let my hair down.

Graciously Yours!

 

After All This While? Always.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he said.
“I know. But I am trying to. Doesn’t that count?”
They had started as lovers, failed and then tried becoming friends.

As she sat by him at his hospital bed tonight, she thought of this conversation. Ten years had passed since then. They were no longer lovers and barely friends. But when she came to know he was ill, she dropped everything to be by his side.

Sitting across from the bed was his wife. Her hair had greyed too early. She looked at her, sending the wife vibes of strength. They both knew of their role in his life. And his honesty would bring them together as friends for life.

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Graciously Yours!

 

Some Salsa Spice!

One of my fascinations has always been ballroom dancing! Though not strictly ballroom, salsa is what my feet dabble in these days.

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Salsa, believe me, teaches you life lessons! And so much about interpersonal relationships. No, no! Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Read on.

 1. Twirl the girl!

So salsa, like most other ballroom dances, requires the men to take lead. So, my dance partner, gets to take me forward, backward, left, right, all at his own will. Boot up, men! You get the girl and also get to make her dance and spin at your own will. Does your girlfriend or girl friend allow you that otherwise? 😉

Also, you find it’s not so easy taking command of the ship, don’t you? So value those who do. 🙂 Irrespective of their genes.

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2. Actions speak louder than words!

Now that you get to twirl and spin the girl at your own free will, how do you tell her what your will is? You can’t tell her, ‘shush, left now’, ‘no, no, anti-clockwise twirl’, ‘go, right, right, not left’ in the middle of the song. Who’ll count the beats, feel the tune and dance freely then?

So what do you do? You gently direct her, lead her with that hand of yours on her shoulder, and not say aloud! It requires practice, patience and response. Also gives you a life lesson!

3. You make mistakes and you accept them!

You will miss counts, step on your partner’s feet (sometimes on your own feet too!), become clumsy after doing very graceful turns – all of that’ll happen, whether you’re in the first beginner’s class or almost completing your advanced classes. But with the music still playing, what do you do after committing a mistake? Accept it, apologise and move on! Improvise.

4. Helps avoid the mirroring psychology.

Wikipedia says,  Mirroring is the behaviour in which one person subconsciously imitates the gesture, speech pattern, or attitude of another. Mirroring often occurs in social situations, particularly in the company of close friends or family.”

Note, mirroring happens subconsciously. You don’t realize when it’s taken over and you are slowly blending into the crowd and losing your uniqueness.

But when you’re dancing with your partner and you start mirroring them, i.e. you start looking too graceful as a man, or too macho as a woman, you consciously start tearing yourself from mirroring. You start holding out your own self, accepting yourself as you are and hopefully even loving it.

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5. Feminism, much?!

Yes, salsa requires the men to lead and women to follow. Isn’t that what the whole world is screaming about? Or at least half of it. But. Everything in life isn’t about feminism. Sometimes it’s okay to let the men lead not because they’re men, but because the dance requires it and women are inherently more graceful at spinning and twirling than men are. It’s okay to let go and trust your partner. And even if he does fail you, help him get up and succeed together!

Also, I am not a feminist. More, a humanist.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : Keep dancing!

11 outta 10!

Scene 1.

A mother-daughter duo peacefully watching a Tom Cruise film. He’s just started to run.

Mother gets a call. Daughter gets to hear only one side of the conversation.

Mother : Hello ji. Salutations!

Mother : All well, yes!

Mother : Oh! No, not really.

Mother’s tone is now changing. On the screen, Tom Cruise is running faster!

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Mother : Of course!

Mother gives daughter a look. Daughter knows this look. A storm is approaching.

Mother : It’s not a problem at all!

Mother : See you! Buh-bye!

Tom Cruise is still running. The man needs to learn when to stop! Mother pauses his film. Cruise is cruising in the air.

Scene 2.

Half an hour has passed. Mother is in the kitchen. Daughter is cleaning up the place. Guests are coming over for lunch, having self-invited themselves! Time to refurbish the house!

Daughter looks around the hall. Pleased with herself at having cleaned up early.

Daughter : Mom, it’s done! I’ve cleaned up the place.

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Mother (peeks out of the kitchen) : What’s done? Fluff those cushions. Put your shoes back in the rack. I still see things on the dining table! Why is your mobile on charge? And will you shut off the music! It’s getting on my nerves!

Flabbergasted Daughter : Umm, Mom? I’ll go out in an hour, remember. Why put the shoes back then? And the things on the dining table? They’re called cutlery. In which you’ll serve them food. But if you want, I can get banana leaves! And my mobile is on charge because it is very normal to charge mobiles! Like we stay here, remember? And Kishore Kumar is getting on your nerves?

Mother (barely audible over a running grinder) : You’re not going anywhere. Not when  I have guests over! And do what I ask you to do!

Daughter (sighing in exasperation) : Of course, I am not going anywhere now. Time to shut you down today, Cruise. Mom’s not going to be watching you save the world today. She’s too busy going bonkers.

Mother : Will you get me the vegetables from the refrigerator?

Daughter (laptop, speakers, mobile, chargers all under her arms) : Well, if you’d asked me to, then I would. But you never did.

Mother : Keep these devices away. And get me the vegetables now!

Daughter : Yes, Madam!

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Mother : And hurry up!

Scene 3.

The guests have arrived. Lunch has been had. Now is the wait. The wait for them to leave.

Guest 1 : The food was so good! How did you manage to make it so soon?

Mother : Oh nothing of the sort. I was as it is planning on making something special for lunch today.

Daughter (thinking to herself) : If only they knew that the lunch special was two minutes of maggi!

Guest 2 : Then we should come over more often!

Mother and daughter look at each other and then smile at the guests.

Mother : Why not!

Daughter : Why? Umm, not.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how worked up is your mother when guests are to arrive? Mine is 11! 😉

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is NOT coincidental. Any character and event depicted here is NOT fictitious. Similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is NOT coincidental.

 

Grabbing eyeballs!

The security check queues at the airport can be long, more so if you’re travelling just at the outset of one of India’s most celebrated festivals, the festival of lights, Diwali; also if you’re travelling from Bengaluru, the second home of most Calcuttans, to Calcutta, obviously their first.

What better way to pass the time than to Sherlock around a bit? Presenting to you a list of the kinds of women we came across in our fifteen minute queuing up experience!

  1. Apparently effortless : These women are my favourite! Combining style with comfort, book in hand, hair tucked behind ears and travelling light! At 7 in the morning, when you see such women moving around like they were made to travel and early mornings at airports are a daily commute for them, you envy them a little. Just a little. Because that’s followed by the thoughts of my room being in a mess due to packing and unpacking every weekend for the past three weeks. Then I settle in my place of grass in peace!
  2. The young moms : Every time I travel, I come across young mothers with their first borns cuddled in their arms, trying to put the babies to sleep, or entertaining them with clucking noises, pointing out interesting looking people, or randomly distracting them from crying! A few lucky moms have such friendly, quiet and smiling babies that their travel turns to be a anecdote filled one, a blessing in disguise!
  3. Oh so prim and propah : These are few and far between but can be spotted from a mile away! We were lucky to land one such sighting. They look like they’ve landed out of a fashion magazine. They behave like they’ve been landed right out of the sky. Some times their expressions are so contorted they look uncomfortable in their own skin! They are prim and proper, mostly rich and extremely out of place in a bunch of commoners. So much so that the one we saw was actually maintaining a hand’s distance from the women in the queue.
  4. The shaded beauties : You’re inside the airport. The sun isn’t at its’ best. The light isn’t too bright for shades to be used. Yet, you do. I wonder why? Are you hungover from last night’s parties? Have you been crying your eyes red? Are you trying to avoid letting people know you’re seeing them? Or are you, oh my God, escaping the world? Take those shades off, for light’s sake!
  5. The casual chic : Me! And many like me! Simple three step process : Get out of bed. Put on clothes. Dab kajal. Brush your hair (and teeth). Done! Okay, I know that’s four steps not three. But whatever. My style. My rules.

Diwali Bonanza Offer!

The queue jumper : Need I say anything about them? Except that the one I met yesterday very cunningly crossed over the ropes to go join the next line when the guard wasn’t looking. She saved all of two minutes! And earned a lot of angry glances.

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What does the men’s queue look like? Any takers who’d care to elaborate? 😉

Graciously Yours!

 

Picture Courtesy : Colorbox

Ideas in collaboration with : Sakshi Malhotra!

Marmee!

She’s flawed. Yet she’s perfect.

She’s elegant. She’s hardworking. She’s barely tired. She’s always concerned.

She taught me to accept nothing lesser than what I deserve. She made me bold. She proved women are at par with men.

She put me to sleep on long days. She stroked my hair telling me how proud I made her. She let me make up my mind about what is right and what wrong.

She taught me life. She learnt from me too. She shared her mistakes, overlooked mine. She broke rules. Yet she respected them.

She let me fly free. She brought me back to the earth when I lost my way. She cried at my success. She held me through my failures.

She fought for me. She let me hold her when she was weak. She showed me her weakness. She became my strength.

She’s my ‘Marmee’. And I couldn’t have asked for any better!

Some days, I miss you here. Other days, I write about you! 😉 Love you, Mom!

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Graciously Yours!

The Hope?

He sent his father away for breakfast. It was ticking 10 AM. She would be coming over  any time to the shop now. And there she was, clad in a sari, hiding all possible parts with the six yards of cloth. She had a beautiful body, one she should have been flaunting had it not been marred with red, blue, purple and brown. Her eyes showed what the clothes hid.

His eyes lit up and smile broadened whenever he saw her. And when she looked at him and smiled, his wings fluttered to fly! She handed him a list of groceries required. Their hands touched. Neither pulled away. They both knew they wanted it. It was her console and his concern.

 “How are you today?” he asked, while slowly picking out items from the shelves. There was no hurry. There never was.

“Same as yesterday. Same as every day. Existing.”

She was morose today. Anyone in her shoes would be.

“You’ll start living soon.”

“Will I now?”

“Yes,” he said with a conviction she admired in him. He was the reason she had more purple than red.

“He touches you again and it’ll be all over, okay?” he asked her, handing her the packet.

He took the money she gave him and put it aside in a drawer his father knew nothing about.

“I’ll give him a week at the most. He’s a rotten fellow.”

“A week it is then,” he said, looking at her. Her sad smile spiked a pain in his chest. He knew she wasn’t an infatuation. And he let her know. Every damn day.

“I love you,” he said, his parting words.

“I do, too,” she said softly, her day already feeling better and brighter.

He watched her walk away. She was married. She was elder to him. Theirs was a match the society would frown upon.

But he had taken to her like salt to sea. He was her only hope and she his beacon of light. Together they would alight the horizon.

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Graciously Yours!

The Ideal?

Her eyes teared up as she wrote another long, lying letter to her mother. A letter which would give away nothing of what was happening to her, which killed her bit by bit from guilt every time she thought of her mother.

Her mother had always been her best friend. She still was. But this time she couldn’t share her happiness with her mother. Or her pain. She looked at herself in the mirror across the bed. She saw her blurred self lying on the bed, papers piled up neatly on a hard bound dictionary. She covered her bosom with her saree. The red marks around her neck didn’t need a mirror as a reminder.

She was in love. With a man not her husband. She was in pain. With a man her husband.

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To be contd…

Graciously Yours!

Picture Courtesy : Pinterest.