Tag Archives: Women

67: Thrice

8 Mar

I came to this same spot thrice, today. Titles were changed, links were changed, and yet I kept staring at this blank which couldn’t give my inert mind and thoughts the expression they needed. Actually why blame this space, I just didn’t know what to talk about.

Talking about women’s day was something I certainly didn’t want to do. Therefore, my first title was “8th March”, just to make it specifically clear. I love being a woman, I completely and totally do; period pain, hip flab, bushy eyebrows, and all. I’m being obtuse mentioning just physical characteristics, because haha world, we’re a lot more than that, didn’t you know? But I cannot understand the concept of a dedicated day. Maybe one day I will, because it’s there for a reason, right? If I think I know a true feminist well, she doesn’t needday. She doesn’t need any of this bs. If I further these assumptions, which can of course backfire in my face because you know what assumptions can be, a woman in her own right, especially the ones whom we perceive to require internationally sanctioned days like these, don’t need yours, mine, or anyone else’s validation.

Most of yesterday was spent trying to grapple life’s lessons in being an adult. There was that part of the day which begins before my real day does, there was the real day itself – and what a blah day it truly was, there was that part of the day that happens between once I get back from work and when A arrives from office, and of course, there was that part of the day when we’re back in each other’s company again. It isn’t just in four parts, because those sub-compartments are many, as you know. But while this is what life is for you, me, and each and every one of us, yesterday decided to keep me on my toes. From a forgotten ATM visit to the arrival of my gas cylinder (which I had to go to the ATM for in the first place), from a painfully errant internet connection to working with frustrating customer care executives, from skipping my walk because I couldn’t care less to making pizzas (with cheese) for dinner; it was a day that was probably on her period. I’m glad that passed. And so, I came here the second time, and figured I’d write about my boring adulting scene. But the internet died again.

Until it came back and I saw two things –

This video(?) by Kriti Sanon (who?!) who seems pissed off more than anything else.


this piece of sheer magic which I had to share, not because it’s the 8th or because I find the need to make statements on just this one day, but because it called out to me on every single thing that I hold dear to my heart.

The full post can be found here, in case you’re curious or interested.

The thoughts triggered by these posts bubbled away as I sat and stared at my wall, obviously caught up in this entire charade that is the 8th of March. These sickeningly sweet, patronizing gestures screaming haha in my face just don’t cut it for me. They’re not cute, they’re not sensitive, they’re certainly not celebratory.

I asked myself if it even mattered; keep quiet and carry on, I told myself. But when you have all this junk floating around you everywhere, it’s hard to turn a blind eye to it. I tried. It’s past 8pm, almost 10 hours after I usually publish a blog post, and this is all that’s been bombarding me the whole day. It’s impossible to live in a bubble, turn a blind eye, and imagine that there are rainbows at the end of the road. It’s frustrating to watch women get gifts that essentially say “here, take this, you’re a woman, and this is what celebrating you is worth.” Call me a cynic, if you must. I’m okay with all that, I’m not okay with assumptions and patronizing acts.

The women I hold very high in my eyes, are women who do not need you, me, or anybody else to validate them. My women face and have faced the rot that is a deeply ingrained way of thinking carried on by both men and women alike, but have emerged with pride, and not with a sense of victimisation. My women are not beautiful because someone told them so, and they certainly aren’t smart because they meet someone else’s standards. They are aware, they are beyond powerful, they are fascinating, they are crazy, they are magical, they are beyond strengths you and I are aware of, they are self-assured, and they are proud. My women, living in this place that is our own world today, and notwithstanding the chinks in their armour, make being this beautiful gender, sex, or whatever have you, one hell of a ride which no roses can sweeten, and no thorns can puncture.

Happy every single day to us all. :)


47: Small Things

16 Feb

The one place where a woman gets to be a girl all over again is at her mother’s place. It’s not about breakfasts in bed or exclusive luxuries which never were a part of our routines before (we never got to eat breakfast in bed unless we were ill). It’s about realising the little things that get left behind when you move on and put your own home together. The ease to sit down,

the gentleness of her stroking my hair,

our endless bickering over the smallest of things,

her powdery fragrance lulling me to sleep,

the touch of her hands,

that filled jug of water that only I drink from,

welcome post-it notes,

pink lilies blooming at my arrival,

my fluffed up quilt,

and the best of them all…

sound sleep without the care of responsibilities.

It’s all in the smallest of things. Always.

23: When KWK Inspired Me

23 Jan

I just watched the KWK episode with Priyanka Chopra, and I think I’ve found a new role model to add to my list. Oh well, my notes, because I don’t have a list. I’ll admit to never really having liked her, not as an actor because I think she can act, but because she was everywhere, and in a way, that was annoying, and something I didn’t want in my face constantly. But some good has come from this couch show, and I think it’s that in all these years, and through all the things that have been said and not said about her, it was a breath of fresh air to hear her talk.

She made me realise so much that I’d either chosen not to see or missed seeing or was simply latent in me. It also got me thinking about the impact that portrayals can have on our perceptions. By that I mean, not once in all these years of her crossing the seas and breaking concrete, did I get to see from her words, her voice, her thoughts, or even in her silence, a glimpse of her reality. This noise so far, has only been that – noise. And perhaps it was a different kind of noise thing, because maybe that’s how it is abroad. We Indians are super noisy about a lot of stuff too, but in different mannerisms. But I’m not here to talk about cultural differences or white noise or even noise. What I saw on television, and keeping in mind that it was indeed a television show, I felt more realness speak than I’ve ever seen. She is yet another woman who is par strengths that so many of us dream to possess or realise we own.

Watching her on television today made me feel so good, and so proud, all together. How can a person, especially a woman, not feel good about seeing another out there, achieving things that, let’s admit, we at some point have wanted to do for ourselves? I won’t take the liberty to speak for anyone but myself, and I will confess quite matter-of-factly, that she has what I dream of having. And in that identification, I found inspiration. I aspire for goals that are my own, but which come from that same universal dream of getting there, being successful, and owning that success. Who doesn’t want that, after all? I fear failing, and I hate losing. Bumpy roads bring the demons out in me, as much as the awareness that most often success ironically mandates standing out, and therefore standing alone. Thinking of these things scare me, and therefore I do not allow these thoughts to gain strength or even a voice. I don’t think I’ve ever been so really moved and prodded by an episode on tv, except that gratitude/thanksgiving one on Oprah those many years ago.

The Priyanka Chopra I saw today, brought forth the many things I idolise in my world view, and maybe even reminded me to never put them on the back-burner, like I have in some cases.

Be busy working hard, and smart. Make no room for thoughts that debilitate this effort.
Never show the world the chink in your armour. Remember that you’re not perfect, and move on.
What is an obstacle now, will in time, and with experience, be water off your back. (I love this one!)
Each of us has our demons, which in turn have their own voices. Know when to let them talk, and when to silence them.
The world will always talk, irrespective. Keep walking. (I follow this, and believe in it a 100%)
In versatility lies the key of progression, just as change is always constant.
Boundaries are definitive in maintaining best health.
Silence is gold, even when it’s most tempting to give away.

Of course she’s said a lot of things and I’m clearly, but unapologetically bowled over. Enough inspiration and influence for one day, no? :)