Breaking the Shackles of Servitude

Today was the first day-

The first day of her freedom;

With her wings finally unclipped,

Breathin’ an air of tranquillity

Was her first day-

When the world would know her by “her name”

And not by her husband’s.

Basking in this comfort with moist eyes,

It had taken her 18 long years-

18 long years to break off

A marriage -that had brought to her only pain and suffering

In the guise of a 'happily ever after'.

Catering to the needs of his family,

It had been long since she had listened to her own.

Her expectations, her aspirations, her ambitions, her views, her opinions;

had all been sealed along with her marriage.

Today after 18 long years

Was the first day when she’d view

The world as she did - when she was 19;

An independent, pampered, fun-loving girl

Living as if there’s no tomorrow.

After 18 long years-

She would not have to tune in to her husband’s orders,

Do as he would he say,

Eat after he and his family ate,

Sleep after everyone had slept;

She could finally do whatever pleased her-

Without giving second thoughts about the repercussions.

She could cook what she liked

And not what her husband and his family told her to

She could go out without informing anyone,

She could come home late,

And no one would say-

“Daughter in-laws of our family don’t stay out late”

She could finally work,

Without thinking about managing her time between his family and her work.

But all this did not come easy,

Divorce they say is a stigma

As easy as it sounds,

Becomes even more difficult

When you’re a woman

And even more when it’s been so long in the marriage

Because apparently-

After marriage her husband’s family

Becomes her own

His goals, dreams, needs is all she needs to care about-

Waking up at 6 am and sleeping at 11 pm is normalized

So is giving up an identity and

Putting on a completely new one.

But after 18 long years

Today she’s a free bird

“With an identity of her own”.

Healed and Healing

 

Isn't it strange how suddenly and unexpectedly things happen in life? One moment you can be at the top of the world and the very next moment you can be brought down to the dungeons of loneliness and pain. Life is supposed to be unpredictable. Nothing goes on the way you plan. Nothing went the way you planned and nothing will go the way you will plan. Still, you won’t stop building castles in thin air, contemplating small things, imagining how things will be 10 years later, how life would be with the people you’re close to.

The willpower, the confidence, the cocoon of comfort which you had built over a period of years is shattered into a million pieces. And the power to join the pieces lies only within you. But all this will take time. The healing, the withering away of gloominess, the gushing in of new empowering shells -all of it will take time.

Just like it didn’t take a day or a month or a year to build yourself emotionally and mentally the healing will take time. But when you are healed all that’ll remain is a stronger better version of your former self.

Alas! This won’t be the end of your worries-you will face troubles in the future, you’ll forget some in a jiffy while others will scar you for life. But with every time fate decides to turn things ugly for you, you know how each bad experience will only make your healed cocoon stronger. Just like suffering and joy walk hand in hand, they’ll also be joined with their new companion the healing and together they’ll work upon you each day making you a little better than yesterday every time.

1 Day or Day 1

Isn't it strange that when you commit suicide owing to the mental pressure in your head everyone starts posting pictures, IG stories and Whatsapp status saying how he/she was just one call away? But was she?

The answer is quite obvious.No! What many people fail to perceive is that suicide is not a 1-day decision. Rarely does it happen that you have a fight with someone or someone criticises you or mocks you at an instance and the very next moment you go out to buy a rope or sleeping pills? You see, it doesn't work that way-Never did. The journey from one criticism, one mock, one fight, one quarrel to the decision to end life only because it was not worth is a prolonged process and happens over a period of time.

It is sad how we read stories about children commuting suicide owing to immense societal pressure to perform well, family pressure to clear an exam or even peer pressure. We read about people who committed suicide only because they were not strong enough to handle the constant taunts, criticism and incessant mocking. We read about women commuting suicide because of domestic violence and dowry. We have read about these stories so much that it has become a humdrum affair when someone dies. What no one wants to talk about is the consequences that lead to that person taking his/her own life.

Sometimes the lone reason is almost insignificant but the summation of these lone reasons take the form of a tornado consuming in itself every feeling of love, care and concern. What are these lone reasons?

Racism, calling someone dark-skinned, body shaming, calling someone short and the list goes on. What may be a joke to you may gravely affect the other person. When you are with your friends or colleagues cracking a joke about someone present/not present there, character assassinating someone may make you appear the cool dude/gal for a transient period but that may also be a seed of self-doubt and self-hate for the victim. If we have a sneak-peek at our life we'll realise how these toxic seeds are all around us.

"Live and Let Live", as simple as it may sound the harder it is to preach.

Let's take a step back from oozing negativity about someone because in most cases negative thoughts primarily stem from " negativity ".So you want someone to end his life 1 Day or you want to take that step back on Day 1 -it's your call! 

The Day he Raped her

The day he raped her. He not only broke her hymen which was meant to be kept sacred as a shrine but he also broke her self made cocoon that the world is good. That the earth has more angels than devils.
For him maybe she was just another girl, just one more sin added to his already existing ones or his maiden one. Whatever it may be his first sin or second or third......but for her, it was the last time; the last she believed that mankind is good.
The transition from being an extrovert, smiling, cheerful girl to a reserved, almost dead one took just bad touch. Aah, the word "just", how inferior it makes the problems of a girl appear. It was "just" a catcall, shrug it off; it was "just" an eve-teasing; it was just a few drops of acid; it was "just" a rape FORGET IT. But what all is she supposed to forget -the night when she was being followed or the silent road she traversed or the broad daylight where people were busy buying vegetables from the Sunday flea market and he was holding her from behind pretending that she was his daughter. What is she supposed to forget the way he trapped her saying that her father was sick or the way he would steal glances in the rearview mirror of the cab she boarded. She was followed, in the subways, in the metro stations, in the malls, outside her school premises, outside food plazas, weddings. Just one wrong move and down she goes, her dreams, aspirations dwindling in oblivion and breaking her piece by piece into a weaker, fainter, version of herself.
Is she also supposed the forget how he had taught her to write and given her chocolates when she topped a painting competition and always brought gifts for her when was in town and that night when her parents were out for a wedding how he had used her, how he had made her feel like a doll-not the ones she had grown up playing with but the one who had no choice but to comply to every wish of her master? Is she also supposed to forget how her parents had reacted when she had told him that she was sexually abused by her own uncle?"Shhh! Don't tell this anyone. We can't go to the police, forget it like a bad dream. What will people think of you, and your uncle? It will be you who will be at the paying end, nobody wants to marry a rape victim".Though broken she knew how the society was. It was fine with a playboy marrying a girl but a rape victim was a big NO.
At least she had the courage to tell her parents and knew about this but what about the one who only knows that 'The earth revolves around the sun', 'Peacock is our national bird. How will she feel about herself when she hits puberty and begins to understand all of it. The tears which she had shed every night while hugging her teddy and saying in a sobbing voice" I don't.... know what .....was.That....uncle...bad......why ...he...put....hand....inside....my skirt.....that hurts....Mumma never....told this...it hurts...

The tears will be back again with a stronger form and will be like a chain pulling her back from succeeding. She will again spend nights questioning her existence, her sanity, her purity, her luck, her integrity.
Now, who is she? She is a daughter, a sister, a mother, a grandmother, a widow, a pregnant woman, new additions to this existing old ones are a female calf, a female goat because over the years we as humans have evolved and have developed a superpower to see the eyes of even a female calf or a 3-year-old child and tell that "She was wanting it".Yes, the goat's eyes were filled with lust. I could understand it by the way she swayed her perfectly arched back. Yes, the 8-month-old girl was crying loudly and wanted me to feel her, she was constantly winking at me, she even made signs calling me. And yes, did I mention she was wearing a skirt which was way above her knees and a small shirt which exposed her belly button and the black kajal in her eyes were so enticing, the way she was biting her lips; it was as if every part of her body was calling out to me, calling out to the societal stigma which would haunt her for the rest for her life.

The day he raped her-he ripped her soul apart and while he would be free-roaming in the streets, she has been crippled by that "just" rape for her entire life.

GoodBye Patriarchy

We are always amidst a raging war for rights; feminism has become the new cool and only a sane few voices their opinions on gender equality. But when we talk about feminism each day, we only talk about equal job opportunities, equal pay, equal rights but we often neglect the microscopic levels of Gender Equality.

It is ironical how people claim to be self-reliant and type long messages showing solidarity for the movement and they will be the very same people shouting at the top of their voices while asking their wives to bring tea, water, food or anything. But I can't really blame anyone, because hypocrisy is in our blood and we all have been brought up seeing our mothers, aunts, grandmothers, sisters-in-law, tune in to the voices of their husbands.

It is strange how the world is progressing with leaps and bounds, women have proved themselves in every field but household work continues to remain a woman's forte. For some women it is their choice to be a housewife, cater to the needs of their family, fulfil every wish of every member, I respect that completely. But I have an issue with the other lot-the ones who work just like their husbands, earn for their families; they have fought for their rights, are following their passion, working with utmost dedication, is a devoted employee or an employer outside but when she enters the home she again becomes a housewife catering to the needs of the family and the husband can't do the household chores like washing dishes, washing clothes, cooking, serving because he is the "man of the house" and housework is the duty of the woman.

The same woman who was strong, independent, had dreams, aspirations, ones who were the princess' in their fathers' kingdoms end up becoming a mere slave in their in-law's houses. If she's working she's still independent and is allowed to fly provided that she flies below her husband. I hate men who feel like being a man makes them born with a silver spoon and makes them privileged. But how can being born in a particular gender make you stand out, make you a born king?

The patriarchal thoughts-a woman must listen to everything her husband says, an age-old believer mother-in-law saying it's rude to back answer your husband, till the times these minute cancerous thoughts exist in families, we can say GoodBye to gender equality and feminism talks!!

Streaked'

From snaps of keto salad to cute pet puppies to "I woke up like this" to "No Sleep" to "Up all night" the streaks cover them all.

Every morning when I wake up to snaps of location, time, day; snaps of sun rays entering the room; privacy smirks from the corner of my room only pondering about how we have transformed our lives by cocooning ourselves for our families and being open books for our friends. Then are days when you're trying to stick to a healthy diet and you open at least 50 #foodporn snaps. And then another 50 #workoutdonefortheday; basically a wave of motivation gushing into workout which brings in its wake - guilt pleasures followed by curbing the never-ending desires to eat blueberry cheesecakes and pancakes with maple syrup and choco-chip icecreams and cupcakes topped with vanilla frosting because if your best friend sends you snaps of eating all those high carb delicacies there is no reason why you should be trying a #21daynopastrychallenge.

Then comes the climax, the anxiety that creeps in when the streaks are about to break. There have been times when I used to put reminders to remind me to maintain my streaks. This doesn't end here because then there is a time-consuming session of opening snaps of my peers chilling out on weekends while I attended classes or sulked in my room watching Tripling.

Alas! The tale of sorrow doesn't end here.

Mirror selfies flaunting new dresses, new haircut, new hair colour, hourglass figure all of it would make anyone feel envious. Guilty pleasures, anxiety, envy are just some of the unformidable consequences I faced while trying to maintain streaks.

So I will Forget streaks for good, and say hello to memories.

We'll capture the snaps; all of them with our soul and heart.

This time we'll replace our smartphones with our souls and our DSLRs with our heart. And we'll save them all in our brain's gallery.

To all those who Stereotype Engineers

This is for always those who have stereotyped engineers at some point in their life. Even I was a part of this club at some point in my life.

Engineers lack creativity, they have a layer of monotony covering them, they are surrounded by machines, they are following the herd mentality, they don't like their own work, they just do it to earn a bit more. There are definitely some people who fall in this bracket but classifying them all in a box saying that they don't think out of the box is outrightly wrong. What makes you believe that engineers don't love their jobs? What makes you believe that every engineer is unpassionate about their job?

Some find creativity is an art some in music some in designing doesn't mean the technology is not creative. Engineers are the ones who can transform your imaginations into reality making the world a little easier for all of us.

At some point in my life, even I found the Streotypying engineers stand up comedians funny. But now I don't. When you study Science and you go into the depth of it, you realise how beautiful and fascinating it is. How victorious it feels to get answers to all the questions you had piled up in your mind since childhood.

People who get into Engineering aren't dull. People who aspire to be an engineer can't be stereotyped. Having a passion for engineering can also be the end result of more than an amateur interest in knowing the science behind things, having a keen interest develop new prototypes from the existing ones.

I condemn people who shrug off engineering as a creative career option. Those who shrug off engineering as going with the herd choice.Those who shrug off engineering as a safe future option.Those who shrug off aspiring engineers and label them as conventional.Those who shrug off budding engineers as moneymakers.

Because your existence is because of engineers.The civil engineer who was behind the building of your house and office. The mechanical engineers who come up with new machines and design your Air conditioners, elevators, lifts and the list goes on. The only thing that remains common is how vital their role is and how easy they make a life for us. So, scraping them off and tagging them and making memes out of them is wrong, thousand times over!

End of Patriarchy

With the end of a generation, will patriarchy end?

With our grandparents no longer with us, will these ancestral norms of society cease to exist? Or will there still be people who will be modern in their outlook but deep inside will be the carriers of the patriarchy they inherited from their forefathers? Will a son and a daughter be treated as equals again?

Will a son and a daughter get the same fair level of education?

Will the end goal of a girl's life change to supporting her family just like her brother?

Will she be allowed to study after she turns 18?

Will she get equal wages like her male counterpart?

Will she be stopped from being looked at as a burden?

Will she be considered a boon or will she still be considered a bane?

Will she be free of the chains that hold her back?

Or will the newer generations also curb her wishes?

Will the mother whose wishes were curbed, who was married off at the age of 18, dropped out of college also make here daughter drop out when she turns 18?

Will she be married too?

Will the mother whose sister was killed while still a foetus also kill an unborn girl child?

Will the father who was a witness of her sister's death who was thrown in the river on the day that she died also kill her daughter in the same way? 

Will the father who saw her sister cry on being made to do all the household work, also make her daughter do the same?

Will parents stop telling their daughters about how they will be married off someday?

Will parents start telling their daughters how they would become strong pillars of society and bring a change?

With the end of a generation, will our outlook towards things change?

Will the mother who was ill-treated by her family stand up when her daughter is ill-treated

The answer to this only lies within the end of the generation.

What the newer generation has to offer and how rational they become when it comes to changing the way society perceives things.Because ultimately it is they, you and me who make a society. With a generation's death, we would have an unmoulded clay to shape and redefine patriarchy to equality.

No Netlfix, Still Chilling

Since I was a child I had this strange fascination for life in villages. I would read stories about how life in a village is.

How happy and self-sufficed they are staying away from the luxuries of life. Undoubtedly we have everything at the click of a button.

You are craving a pizza? Hello, Dominks one large-sized Farmhouse pizza with coke on the sides, please.

You need groceries? You have BigBasket to your rescue.

You need to get your haircut done? Guess what, we have UrbanClap offering their Edward Scissorhands.

But all this one click away deal comes with a very hefty price. Come to think of it, I feel that all of this is slowly taking us away from Mother Nature.

When was the last time you saw the morning sun caress your face (sunkissed pictures are not counted)? When was the last time you soaked in the tranquillity of the moon? When was the last time you heard the bee hum? When was the last time you inhaled the fresh air filled with the aroma of the seasonal flowers? When was the last time you danced in the rain? When was the last time you walked down the pebbled path without your headphones on? When was the last time you.......and the list continues.

It is strange how the steps we need to take to get close to nature lie untaken. There is a long route we need to traverse back. The above might sound impossible to you. And you are justified. In a city, people hardly bother to make use of the free gifts bestowed on us. Because sunsets are only meant for days when you are down or you need a picture-perfect background.

So this time when I visited my village I was in a pre-decided notion that after so many years of the industrial revolution this place must have come close to living in a city or bordering on the lines of the township and the village life must have been on the verge of decline.

But I was wrong. Everything was the same.

The people, the sunset, the people seeing the sunset. It was as if this place was still the same as it was 7 years back. And maybe taking a step back from the modern luxuries have brought them a step closer to nature and humanity.No wonder this place is still untouched with "Netflix and Chill".

Paradise or Illusion

Silent walkways, desolate streets, empty parks, pure air to breathe, working from home which includes slouching on a recliner eating caramel popcorns with one hand and making  Ppts with the other.

Living a near-perfect life.

This was the perfect idea of the perfect life I had read in a lot of articles.

Whenever I was stuck in long traffic jams in my city-all I craved was an escape

An escape from this mad rush

An escape from the chaos

An escape from this choking air and the foul smell of the litter lying scattered on the pavements

On days when the park was full of children

All I wanted was a quiet place.

Today all I can do is look back 

On the days when I would go up on my terrace

For star gazing

Only to find the sky covered with smog

On the days when I would make a resolution of saying No to restaurant food

Only finding myself indulging in the  cheesiest lasagna, the drizzling maple syrup  on the pancakes

But today I cook all my meals on my own 

Mostly organic food 

From roti to chawal daal and all the Indian dishes I despised the most I have learnt to cook it all.

If we set aside the lethality of this lockdown and me finally completing my #2weeknojunk challenge.

I feel like a part of me is missing.

I never knew the crowd of the city, the honking of the cars, the kids in the park, the thick smog, the scoldings of my boss would belong so much to me.

I feel like I am in a perfect paradise.

Or more precisely a Paradise -an illusion.

And something here feels like imprisonment.

I am finally living a life I had only read in books and the ones which I would dwell in when I was low. But in reality, all of it is killing me.

Maybe we as humans have adapted ourselves to all of this. Maybe all we want is chaos outside but calmness inside.

Maybe this Eutopian lifestyle is not meant for us.

Maybe chaos, hustle-bustle and entropy are what we need more than these quiet places.

A letter to Facebook

Dear Facebook,

Thanks for making me so insecure. Thanks for making me believe that the number of likes estimates my self-worth. Thanks for making me so impatient that even a 1 min wait reply seemed like a fortnight. Thanks for making me another of your victims. Thanks for creating a rift between my real world and your virtual world. Thanks for making me indulge in imbecile FB wars on some random post. Thanks for taking me out from the fictional world of Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and slamming my face down into this quagmire of virtuality and oblivion. The world full of memes, likes, reactions, comments, friend requests and suggestions has left me obliterated.

Glued to my phone screens most of the days I always felt that how could XYZ manage to have so many likes on the cover photo or how does she have so many followers. Just like English is a parameter to judge someone’s intelligence the number of followers you have judge your calibre in India. Just because I don’t have 1000 FB friends and I don’t talk to hundreds of people each day doesn’t mean I am an introvert. It’s just that I prefer making friends in real life to any random guy or girl 200 km away from me. It’s just that I am more concerned about preserving old friendships than building new ones. If I don’t have a blue tick o my account and I am not recognized under your terms and conditions doesn’t make me less lovable to the people “who really care for me”. You are responsible for estranging kids from their parents. You are the reason why the youth has become so self-conscious about their looks. We no longer discuss new TV shows or books during our lunch breaks anymore. A senior’s post with 500+ likes is what fantasizes us more these days. You have stolen our peace of mind. Even the silent nights are passed scrolling through a Holi picture of a guy living in some far-flung corner of the city or anxiously waiting for that one person to come online. Life has become monotonous. Now I hardly remember even my brother’s birthday. Gone are the days when I used to listen to my grandpa’s stories. Today I have basically shut myself inside in this cocoon.Secluded.Isolated.Desperately craving attention. Facebook you proved to be a drug worse than opium. You succeeded in transmuting the book-lover in me to a “Facebook addict”.

- Once a bookworm

Superheroes

Dear ALL,

Thanks for making our generation believe that you need a cape to be a superhero. Thanks for making us believe that without killing a dozen villains and smashing a car or two you aren’t even qualified to be a superhero. Thanks for making us fallacious that you need to be extraordinary and outshine the other 7.6 billion humans to be one.Thanks for making a feeble woman debilitate by making her feel picayune. Thanks for making the belief dawn on us that you need a costume to prove your worthiness as a superhero and a muscular body seems to top the criteria list to be one. Thanks for making us believe in the illusion that after giving your all for the people and doing acts of heroism fame awaits for you where your heroic deeds will be acknowledged by millions.

But does a cape really make that evident a difference in your role as a superhero? I see superheroes everywhere. I see them in different shapes and sizes-some young and some old. I see them in their old rags. I see them wearing formal suits and attending business meetings. I see them wearing burkhas and protesting for their rights. I see them wearing a simple sari and moulding the souls of future denizens. I see them wearing a military suit and fighting in the Siachen glacier making their country safe. I see them cooking for their families, doing all the housework and making their kids a good human. I do see a lot of them every day. I see a superhero in every individual who does their job with utmost devotion. I see a superhero in a loyal husband who loves only his wife throughout his life. I see a superhero in a woman who dedicates her entire life to the needs of her family. I see a superhero in a young boy sharing his candies with his maid’s son. I see a superhero in a young girl teaching her maid’s daughter A….B…..C….D.I see a superhero in a Hindu feeding the Muslims during a famine. I see a superhero in Sikh feeding langar to his Muslim brethren on the occasion of Gurunanak Jayanti. I see a superhero in a cricketer playing for his country with pride. I even see a superhero in a prostitute who literally sells her body to feed her family. I see a superhero in everyone who dares to break the stereotypical norms of society. YES, I INDEED SEE A SUPERHERO IN EVERY FIELD. A superhero in everyone. BECAUSE superheroes don’t need capes or costumes to prove their heroism. They need to have a pure soul as their first criteria rather than supernatural powers.

– Once a Marvel fan

A letter to Indian parents

 

Dear parents, 

If you are one of those thousands of parents who think that bestowing all the gifts and giving whatever their kids' wishes is love. You all are thoroughly mistaken. There’s a difference between showing your love and buying all the goodies for them this is for all. Her mom used to buy her a new dress whenever she went shopping. Her dad bought her a bar of chocolate or a cake whenever he went to the store.

Pencils.Pens.Notebooks.Paint.She always got the best ones. A new brand of pen or for that matter any cool stuff was launched: her dad brought it for her the very next day. Most of her wishes were fulfilled. (most because she was just a 12-year old girl .and even she wanted her parents to bring the moon to her balcony). You all must be wondering that despite having the majority of the things of the children in the world is deprived of why did she despise her parents, why was she rebellious to them. The answer was quite simple…………..her parents never spent time with her. On one hand, when all her friends celebrated their parents’ anniversary in restaurants, planned surprise gifts for them. She was hesitant to even wish them so making even a simple card was out of her league. Her parents bought everything, gave her all the materialistic happiness. But somewhere along the lane it is the love and cares that a child years for. LOVE.CARE.AFFECTION.These emotions were far beyond her means. Life was too mean to her and chose to keep with itself these expensive gifts. Her mom was too busy in her worldly affairs to spend even a minute with her. She was happy. Oh! Wait that was just a pretence of happiness. Behind her smiling cheeks camouflaging her real self was a weeping philosopher. She loved her parents, loved them a lot. But there is a distinct line of difference between loving them and being close to them. Her mother never sat with her and asked her “Tell me beta, do you have anything to share?” and neither did her role model-her dad. She distanced herself mentally and day-by-day she was going far away from them. Every day she craved a hug from her mother. Every day she craved praise for all the laurels she used to win but evidently, life was too hard on her. This was muddling up in our heart, getting piled up and finally changed into loathing intense loathing. AND FINALLY, THEY HAD SUCCEEDED. SUCCEDED IN TRANSFORMING A JOVIAL, YOUNG GIRL INTO A REBELLIOUS TEENAGER. SOMEONE WHO LOST FAITH IN LOVE, CARE AND FAMILY ALTOGETHER.

-Once an “ideal daughter"

P.S. Your valuable comments regarding the improvement of this article will be highly appreciated.