The woman I am not

Happiness lies in equality

Have you wondered how rapidly the relevance of ‘feminism’ has surged in the Indian cultural context in the last decade, and moreover in the past 5 years? The outcry of women empowerment and the need to give them the respect and honour that had been evading the Indian woman does quite a bit to question the status of women before the sudden ‘awareness’ wave came about. Every other person wants to talk into showing how he/she is pro women’s rights. On my part, I feel a better way to deal with the ill mentality towards women and their status in the society is by looking in the face of all the challenges and barriers that face us, to collectively upgrade the framework of an Indian woman. Asking someone to respect us is an obligation, which does not serve the real purpose in the long run. Women deserve respect.

I had envisioned my adult life when I was just a little girl, dancing around and making merry, while many people around slotted me as a doll who would grow up one day to become her husband’s responsibility. Like many, I have often reveled in the joy of seeing a future that presents an advanced and glorified version of myself. While some of us restrict our greatness to a dreamy vision, very few go on to actually embody the person we have imagined ourselves to be. ‘I’m not the one to accept dominance. I shall grow up to be a fearless, decisive and independent lady, who will command respect,’ I would often repeat to myself, upon the slightest provocation. As I grew older, I started relegating my future portrait to just my imagination. My reality soon started to look like the reality of the women around me. I almost felt like the frog whose bubble burst as soon as it stepped into the real world. All of this only signaled one thing - it was time to change my reality to do justice to the woman in me!

At first, it was imperative to accept that it was okay to not know everything, even the things that the society has associated with womanhood. The real challenge lied in understanding my strengths to my full potential. It was important to tell myself that it was okay to let out my emotions and cry once in a while, but it was not okay to let anyone tell me what I could and could not do. It meant that I had to train myself into accepting that if I am to be equal to a man, I must exempt men from all preconceived notions that be. And the exercise ought to be applied at the grassroots. It meant that it was okay to dress in short clothes, but it was not okay to think every man was misogynistic internally. It meant that it was okay to learn how to cook, but it was not okay to not do the ‘manly’ chores (read lifting luggage and taking ‘big’ decisions). It meant that it was okay to enjoy gossips, but it certainly was not okay to shy away from discussing menstruation and sanitary hygiene around males. It also meant that it was okay to be the only woman in a group of friends, but it was certainly not okay to label a man flirt and playboy if he is seen around women.

While we largely talk about the bigger acts that work to demean a woman’s self-worth and morality, let’s not forget that they all stem from notions and egos the society has firmly implanted. If the society must really change, at large, then it must learn to let a woman establish her own self-worth and find out her real identity, apart from being a mother, sister, wife and daughter. Do not forget she is a human being, first. Everything else is secondary. And this journey must start right from the time she is born. Give her the freedom to do the same things her brother does. Let her make her own choices and lead the life she deems fit for herself. Instead of protecting for the fear that she might not be able to fight her battles, emphasize the importance of supporting her own living. Teach her how to drive a car before you generalize women’s driving. Make her strong enough to wipe her own tears and continue facing her fears and challenges. Compliment her strengths and skills instead of marveling at her beauty. Don’t fill the canvas of her life only with shades of pink. Let her choose the colours she wants to fill her life with. This will teach her to respect and experience the diversity of life. The only time we can proudly call ourselves feminists is when all women are born as equals, while growing up to think that there is no other way of life.

Things to learn from Rahul Gandhi

As a sucker for humour and sarcasm, I have been fed my dose of essentials for a long time with the fabricated touch of media, but my assumptions were met with a pleasant surprise when I glimpsed a historic hug in Lok Sabha, last week, during the no-confidence motion. Among other things, the speeches given at the session were filled with enough antics to tickle a layman’s funny bone. To give you an idea of the intensity of this laugh riot, through the week that went by, my routine after coming back from work focused on overdosing on all the footage glorying Mr. Gandhi’s actions and speeches from the past. When most people choose to emphasize Indian politics as a source of regular entertainment and hapless tragedy, here’s a few things I would like to take back from his speeches,  other than seeking comical relief, which I have decided to call my learnings from the bachelor.

1) Choose your career wisely: It is better to understand your capabilities and stay within your limits, while taking a shot at success than to explore options without understanding your interests.

2) Have self-belief: Whether people thrash you for your lack of smartness, boo you for your immaturity and stupidity, or simply relegate you to being a failure, keep your head high and don’t lose your belief in yourself.

3) Practise forgiveness: In the 21st century, it is a rarity to find someone reflect a value as sacred as forgiveness. And when we are to find someone that is ready to indulge in the act in full public view,
we must indeed celebrate the moment. Plus, let’s not forget that by forgiving someone, we, first, forgive ourselves.

4) Live in the present: It’s important to bury the past and look beyond all your actions to ensure that you can exist peacefully in the present. Follies, mistakes and spiteful actions only reinforce the human side to everybody.

5) Make light of every situation: Leading a life with intensity and seriousness kills the vibe. No situation, absolutely no situation, should keep you from having your share of fun and joy.

6) Learn to laugh at yourself: It takes an enlightened person who can laugh at himself. There’s a saying which goes as ‘Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone.’ If the world chooses to mock you and laugh at you, join in the laughter and celebrate the happiness of the world.

 7) Keep trying until you succeed: It’s absolutely human to lapse and experience failure while trying to prove your point and battle hurdles, but it’s crucial to keep pushing yourself harder with every challenge you face.

8) Respect is earned: It doesn’t matter where you belong or which family you are born into, you will be respected only for your own actions.

9) Value your family: The word ‘privilege' for most is restricted to having fame and access to materialistic luxuries. Ask those that have lost their family members tragically and you will know the real blessing of life lies in the comfort of a happy family.

10) Educate yourself: There is a thin line between being well-educated and well-qualified. Choose the former, for it will truly empower you.

The Missing Buttons On My Sweater

                                                                                  Image Source: www.google.com

One of my fondest memories as a child is sitting at my grandmother’s feet and listening to her talk about the experiences and lessons from her life. I could listen to her for hours without getting distracted. My grandmother believed that real education entailed doing things out of the comfort zone and learning to look beyond the barriers set by human minds. “Unfortunately, the the education that we receive in schools and colleges makes us more qualified than educated.  It is important to grow beyond what we are taught to truly become learned and make a difference,” my grandmother often remarked. She wasn't a highly educated woman, according to the standards set by our society, and nor had she ever ‘worked’ for a living, but she was a very disciplined and astute woman, who had a mind of her own. It’s no wonder that her words still ring true in my head.

My long summer vacations during my school years were spent at my grandmother’s house, who lived in our ancestral home in the interiors of Gujarat. Spending my vacations with her always meant learning something new, either by observing her or from the valuable life-lessons she would share. One day, as I sat beside my grandmother to listen to her talk about her life struggles, I saw her opening a small box of fancy buttons. I was fascinated looking at her collection of studs, while she tried to choose the right buttons for my sweater. Little did I know that it was going to be the last sweater she would knit for me. While sifting through the buttons that had been carefully preserved over the years, we realised that none of the fancy studs in the box suited my aqua blue sweater. “Don’t worry, we shall go and buy matching buttons for your sweater, tomorrow,” my grandmother said, immediately, after watching the excitement on my face give way to a frown. 

My grandmother decided to live alone following the untimely death of my grandfather. Despite several attempts to convince her that staying with her children was indeed a good idea, she refused to uproot her life and routine in that small house. She did all the household chores with little help from anyone. “The more you grow dependent the more you let someone control your life,” she would state as a matter of fact. I woke up the next morning in anticipation of my visit to the shopping market. Most vendors in the village market came from neighbouring villages and would set up shop only in the evening. The sight of make-shift stalls selling fancy items, women excitedly trying out various accessories, children pestering their mothers for a gola (ice-candy) and vendors at small eating joints calling out customers to taste their hot-selling dishes never failed to mesmerize me. It was refreshing to feel the warmth and connectedness among the people of the village without there being any need to interact with each other. It was a far cry from the busy, city life of Mumbai.

I hurried my grandmother to leave for the market so that we could reach before the market got crowded. While my grandmother and I strolled, looking at the various stalls around, many a vendor tried to stop us and display their items in a bid to promise us a better deal. “These buttons are so beautiful, Ba! They are also very light and would look perfect on a sweater,” I exclaimed, as soon as I came across some very attractive, hand-crafted buttons. I was, instantly, tempted to buy those buttons, and, much to my surprise, they also happened to be quite reasonably priced. I, immediately, turned to my grandmother, who said, “Do you see that ice-cream stall? It sells the best ice-cream in the village. And the ice-cream barely costs anything. We must go and have 5 cups of ice-cream each, today” she stated in her typically calm tone. “But I usually cannot relish ice-cream beyond 2 scoops, no matter how good it is. And did you forget that we also have to buy my favorite chocolates before going home?” I replied. My grandmother smiled as if she knew it all. “The biggest mistake we make in our lives is that we fail to differentiate between what we need and what we think we need. Just because the ice-cream is good and you can buy as many cups as you want doesn't mean we must have it beyond our capacity. At the end, you won’t benefit in any way. You've over-eaten the ice-cream, that you did not have to, and you also won’t value eating the chocolates you most love, since you've had more than your desired share of something sweet,” she explained in a manner which was indeed delightful. Although it was difficult to convince a young, raw mind to look away from what it had set itself to, for once, I had decided to heed my grandmother’s advice. 

As we continued our stroll in the market, we saw a distressed man lying on the streets. There was blood dripping from his nose and his arms and feet had severe bruise marks. At first, it seemed like the man was involved in brawl with some locals, but it turned out that the man was a construction worker, who had accidentally fallen off the construction site, nearby. It was shocking to see that nobody bothered to reach out to him. All that I could gather from that sight was that there was a man covered in blood stains and crying in extreme pain, and all that the people around chose to do was take a glimpse of the situation and move on. My grandmother handed all her belongings to me and rushed to the man’s aid. With some assistance from the locals, she managed to take him to the only hospital in the village. It was later learnt that the man was suffering from vitiligo, a condition which is characterized by the loss of skin colour in certain parts of the body. In India, especially in most rural areas, people suffering from this disease are considered to be social outcasts, almost to the point of relegating them to the place of sub-humans. 

The man’s family profusely thanked my grandmother for her brave act that entailed putting humanity above everything else. In their eyes, my grandmother was a real-life hero who had successfully battled the demons and unwarranted complexities of the human mind to let her real intentions come to the fore. But to my grandmother, she had only fulfilled her most basic duty as a human being. It was surprising to know how, despite being the most evolved of the lot, humans fail the evolution test every time they are pitted against each other. On our way back home, I kept pondering over the incidents that had transpired through the day. Although, at that point in time, my raw mind could take little more than the disappointment of having to go home empty-handed, there were some lessons I picked up that day that will loom large over my existence till the time I live. My grandmother was indeed correct when she stated that educated men in our society were much fewer than qualified men, for real education encompassed deeds that go far beyond selfishness and competence that degrade the spirit of humanity. One of the things the failure of our work and choices can be attributed to is the bleak division between our priorities and desires.

As humans, we, often, get so engrossed in chasing our dreams that we forget what we had actually set out for. My grandmother did not live enough to find me the right buttons for my sweater, but she enlightened a mind that would have, perhaps, been left untamed in this all-for-money world. As I continue my search for the right buttons for my sweater, I either come across  buttons in inappropriate colours, or those that my wise and ‘educated’ grandmother would have never approved of.

The Missed Matter

The Saturday that went by was chaotic for the mind and the stomach. It seemed like my mind and stomach were tugging at extreme ends with the former the mind feeding endless ideas about the next best option on the menu, while the stomach decided to oppose in what I would describe as a smart way of teaching the mind a lesson. No wonder, the evening’s gastronomy, which was a result of not wanting to make my weekend escapades sound like a waste, chose to mock my desperation the next day.

After binging on the choicest bites the previous evening, I needed some serious motivation to get out of bed the next morning. My stomach felt just as heavy as it did the previous evening. It felt like my mind and stomach had been warring the entire night with my mind just refusing to accept that it had pushed my stomach to a far edge.
Here’s a sinful extract from their conversation:
Stomach: Everything doesn’t seem fine.
Mind: It’s alright! You don’t binge everyday.
Stomach: You don’t realize the pain of suffering from loose motions.
Mind: You are not the only one with problems. So, just relax.
Stomach: Don’t you realize that I’m suffering because of you!
Mind: Whatever.

One of the most comforting feelings in the world is to wake up on a day off and know that you can still go back to sleep. Just when I decided to sleep a little longer, my mother stepped in and brought along a bout of animated stimulation. ‘Good morning! Can you please come in the kitchen and assist me in preparing the breakfast? And I hope you don’t have any plans for lunch. We shall be going out for lunch, today,’ my mother said in an unusually hyperactive tone. It turned out (quite predictably) that our domestic help hadn’t turned up for work.

My morning was clearly not a usual one. After spending some 25-odd minutes in the toilet, I arrived at the conclusion that I had been punished. All the talks about how futile life would be in the absence of what is possibly the most valuable pressure situation suddenly held true for me. Sitting in one corner of my drawing room, I observed the morning frenzy in my house to keep myself from envying the ‘flushed' joys of those that were excitedly acting on their Sunday plans. My mother was stirring the contents in the cooking pot and talking away to glory on the phone, simultaneously, while my father was anxiously awaiting the arrival of his newspaper. For years, now, my father has been used to carrying the newspaper every time he makes a trip to the toilet to perform the big chore. My dog, after returning from a long morning walk, chose to sit across from me and stare at my me with a wide grin. For a tummy that was clogged, grumpy and truly desperate, everything around tried hard to convince me that I was one unlucky soul and I needed to achieve orgasmic satisfaction on the toilet seat to feel complete.

After downing a glass of milk only to lose hope, the steaming hot Manchow Soup at the lunch table filled my heart with hope, once again. Although my constipated stomach hardly gave way for a constipated expression, all I could think of through the day, be it lazing at home in the morning, devouring the hot soup in the afternoon or reading my favourite Jane Austen novel in the evening, was about the pleasures of being relieved in the true sense of the word. A bunch of Sunday evening visitors only ensured that food remained free-flowing, which, for once, did not entice me one bit. While the guests preferred to sip either on tea or coffee, I, with all my hope and food from the previous day all intact, within, flaunted a glass of warm milk. I was sick, uncomfortable, pained and almost on the verge of blasting out. And what got things even worse was the fact that I could only see cheerful faces around. Just when my little cousins looked thrilled to spot my milk mustache, my stomach decided to give up. Thankfully, after spending what seemed like an eternity in the washroom, I had achieved the fruit of my labour. My matter (I so missed it!) was finally out, ladies and gentlemen! And, for one, I couldn’t be any happier to announce its safe exit.

Survival

                                                                                                         Image Source: sapiensoup.com

If you are emotional, sensitive, over-thinking, anxious, or worrying, you are truly human!

“Will I be able to say what I’m thinking?”, “Would I be able to continue writing like I have been doing?”, “I hope my words don't get misinterpreted as lies”, and “Would they bother if I just disappeared?” among countless other passing thoughts, decided to make way, one fine day. Imagine thoughts like these piercing your actions and routine activities. And no, they did not just appear like a bolt from the blue. They were a result of a series of small, ignored upheavals, which could no longer be forced into silence and neglect. I couldn’t suppress my anxiety any longer, menfolk and womenfolk.

We may use the term ‘independence’ very commonly in today’s day and age, but little have we tried to extend its importance to our mental and emotional existence. I decided to become ‘independent’ the day I learnt about my existence in a patriarchal society. I have seen my mother emphasize the need to be financially independent if I wanted to have an identity of my own. I have been at the receiving end of complaints about how being a mother, wife and daughter-in-law is akin to filling a bottomless pit; it just dilutes your essence as a human being. Should I consider all those times when I was taught the importance of being able to travel alone and crack my own deals in the guise of independence? My father always treated me as someone who was equal to his son, if my level of independence was anything to go by. People who know me well know that I’m not the one to shy away from enjoying my share of limelight and attention. My independence adds to my overall confidence. So it may seem surprising in such a case to see a someone’s hand shiver, while holding a pen in front of a few people. How can a person that looks sound fear not being able to reach her destination that is just a few meters away? And this brings me to some important questions - Is physical and financial soundness of an individual enough to evade all the battles of life? If not, then why was I fed lies all this while?

It has been disheartening, moreover, after I developed and reeled from severe anxiety, to know that in a nation like India, mental health issues still carry enough stigma to make serious conjectures about one’s identity. As a child, I remember being scared into sanity with a warning of having to be taken to a psychologist/psychiatrist. “You must go visit a psychiatrist” is still a commonly used phrase, doubled as a joke-talk in many a friend circle. The problem is that we have seen our minds as closets. They cannot be revealed to everybody, and the contents of one must carefully remain contained. It is usually our association of independence with what meets the eye that decide our joy and sorrow. And till this persists, most of us may just refuse to address the elephant in the room.

The Day I Grew Up

It was a usual Thursday evening, when my mother took her regular stroll in the garden behind our house, while I queued up behind a bunch of kids, who awaited their turn to sit on the bumpy slide. There was a bright, attractive passage that connected a spiral slide and a bumpy one. As they inched closer towards the slide, the kids usually experienced an adrenaline rush before beginning to jump up and down with excitement. I, with my childlike enthusiasm, always waved, excitedly, at my mother from that little passage before sliding down but, that day was a little different. I heard collective laughter of the kids around me, when I got off the slide. Something was certainly not right for I had grown up a little.

On our way home, while my mother tried to wipe my tears, I could barely comprehend what had transpired. The ten-year-old child in me refused to think beyond anything except for having missed out on my playtime for what was going to alter my body and actions for the rest of my life. "Now onwards, I expect you to know how to take care of your health and body. I cannot be with you be all the time,” my mother stated, in a calm tone, before asking me to change my clothes. Terror struck as soon as I entered the washroom. I, for one, had always associated blood with wars and fights, but what I experienced that day was far from what I had imagined. From playing with dolls and jumping around in the park without a care in the world to transitioning into womanhood and suddenly monitoring my actions, the change almost felt like something was thrusted upon me and I had no choice but to eventually make peace with the change.

I refused going to the garden with my mother for the next few days following the sudden bout of emotional and physical chaos in order to save myself from any further embarrassment. While the girls in my class giggled and excitedly discussed their anticipated participation in the different sporting events that were lined up in the school through the year, I had slowly begun to keep a check on my physical preparedness and allowances. Things around, still, seemed pretty much the same except that I had grown up a little. The environment that I existed in, too, remained pretty much the same except that the people that co-existed in it chose to look at me a little differently, now, maybe as someone who had lost her innocent with puberty. While I grappled with the harsh truth of growing up, the tears that welled up in my eyes reflected the sorrow of losing all of what I cherished as a carefree, ten-year-old girl including the moments when I happily piggybacked on my father and took pride in roughing up my male friends, when they tried to tamper with my bicycle. What I took the longest time to come to terms with was the fact that I grew up even when everything else was constant.

Today, at 24, when I look back on the immediate transition, there is a strange sense of pride in having overcome the emotions and mental pandemonium, which came partially from having to deal with the anxiety of what lay ahead and majorly from the thought of having to part with my indeed apparent childhood, or so I thought. That’s the sad part of life; nothing remains forever. What had taken the coming together of countless precious moments needed nothing more than the ticking of the clock to turn it all into memories. A girl that once made a raw, innocent sight had turned into a woman embracing maturity. Nonetheless, everything was the same except that I had grown up a little that day.

A Princess World

A magical wand and a dazzling white gown,

The eight-year-old became the talk of the town.

With her crown sparkling and eyes twinkling,

The father’s little princess could barely stop smiling.

Sailing paper boats in the muddy puddles,

Silly pillow fights only meant more cuddles.

The sight of a small wound in her toe,

Became her braveheart’s biggest woe.

A graduation hat adorned her head pretty fast,

Even when the list of memories seemed vast. 

The man who never refused her a piggy-back ride,

Now shook her hands with utmost pride.

It was the day when her future awaited her across the aisle,

She firmly clutched his hand throughout the mile.

A perfect hero in her eyes through the years,

The father’s little princess could barely hold back her tears.

10 Popular Indian Food Items In Literal English

Building An Appetite For Indulgence

“I have heard a lot about ‘paav bhaajji.’  I want to know what it tastes like,” my 10-year old cousin from the United Kingdom stated, when she came to India for the first time. Starting with the description of pav, I said that it was a ‘thick piece’ of bread mostly consumed while eating pav bhaji. “What is thick bread?” I was asked. “Eh, a joined, two-layered piece of thick bread. Okay, wait. It is a joined-on-one-side, double-layered piece of bread,” I hesitantly tried to explain. I wonder if my cousin ever thought about my obsession with the word ‘thick’, after I tried explaining the constituents of bhajji. “A thick gravy of varied mashed vegetables topped with raw onions and lemon,” I said, while being certain that I had left room for doubts. As a stickler for chaste English, I felt ashamed of not being able to phrase the description correctly, which led to what I would like to call, a full-blown, challenging battle with words to come up with a translation for every Indian food dish possible till the time the English bug in me was not satisfied. 

Here goes the list of some of the popular Indian food dishes translated to English meant to compensate for my momentary lapse. It’s an attempt to try and make every dish sound as interesting as possible before an American can go, “Can I get some dough-zaa?’’

1) Pani puri (pronounced paa-nee poori) - Minted Chilly Water Crisps

An elliptical, crunchy puff made from semolina with a hollow in the centre filled with squelchy chick peas, mashed potato and date sauce, all of which is topped off with its peculiar, green water oozing out.

2) Vada Pav (pronounced va-daa paa-v) - Potato Dough Ball Sandwich

Potato fritter in the size of a big dough ball squeezed in a bread bun and garnished with spicy, chilly sauces and a generous serving of butter.

3) Samosa (pronounced samoh-saa) - Flaky Potato Wraps

An evergreen favourite with Indians, it is a supple, glazy dough of potatoes and peas deep-fried to form a thick, flaky crust around the mixture.

4) Kanda Poha (pronounced kaan-daa poh-ha) - Onion Shreds In Rice Flakes

Imagine the divinity of pink, sautéed onions mixed with rice flakes flushed in oil and turmeric only to give your taste buds a true feel of deliciousness. 

5) Gulab Jamun (pronounced gulaab jaa-moon) - Sugary Berry Ball

Made out of milk solids, Gulab Jamun is a representation of an Indian doughnut that is dunked in sizzling, sugary syrup to give one heavenly feels till the time its taste lasts.

6) Sabudana Khichdi (pronounced saa-boo-daa-naa khich-dee) - Pearly Pot

Tapioca pearls tossed in a rich assortment of peanuts, green chillies and cumin seeds ensuring a delightful sojourn for your oral glands, while exploring the taste of the varied ingredients, collectively.

7) Chole Bhature (pronounced chho-le bh-toora) - Palatable Peas & Bumper Bread

Beguiling, juicy chick peas drenched in a hot, red gravy served with deep-fried, leavened bread meant to seduce the consumer one dripping bite at a time.

8) Jalebi (pronounced ja-ley-bee) - Spiral Crunches

Hot  and crunchy delight spiralled in a deep-frying pan before being amply loaded with sugar syrup so as to stimulate your sensory glands. 

9) Pav Bhaji (pronounced paa-v bhaa-jee) - Bunned Hotchpotch

An assortment of vegetables mashed in a cooking pot to form a stocky, red gravy before devouring it with a bread bun garnished with butter and then more butter.

10) Dhokla (pronounced dh-o-klaa) - Gujarati Cake

A scrumptious and spongy piece of floured finery pairing up with green, coriander sauce in order to tease your notorious taste buds.

A Woman's Quest To Find Her Lost Identity

The seven-year-old was finally declared dead after a long battle with pneumonia. The mother of the child, who was sitting in the waiting room, was subsequently informed about the passing away of her only child. The nurses covered the body of the dead child with a thin sheet of white cloth only to show the child's little face.

"Today, I have been relieved of all my responsibilities. Now, I shall probably have the opportunity of coming closer to finding my real self. God bless you, my child, one last time. I hope I did justice to you during our time together. May you be happy wherever you are," the mother exclaimed with an unusual calm on her face. It probably felt like the calm before a storm.

It was a cold winter evening, when Leena was all set to elope with the man of her dreams. Anish and Leena were neighbourhood friends, who eventually fell in love before deciding to get married. Leena went against her parents' wishes to marry Anish. A few years into their marriage, Anish was involved in an extramarital affair with his colleague, which left no stone unturned to tear his wife's world apart. He soon started to stay away from home and his wife and child for long periods. Everybody around the couple, including Leena's parents, had learnt about Anish's relationship with another woman. Leena, whose parents' had permanently closed doors on her, was rendered helpless and had nowhere to go. Leena often regretted her decision to marry Anish and snap ties with her kin until one day, when she decided to walk out on him.

The beaches of Goa have a unique way of talking into your sorrow. Every wave brings a new hope that tranquilizes your worries about the future. Leena had shifted to Goa soon after she lost her child. While the mornings and afternoons were spent attending theatre classes, Leena would end her day by spending long hours at the beach trying to adjust to her new-found freedom. After forsaking her identity all her life to be someone's daughter, wife and mother, Leena was left grappling with a huge void, when the focus of her life had shifted to her own existence. Sometimes the things one has long-awaited are often the ones that create maximum turbulence to enter your life. Having constantly lived on the edge, while fearing the loss of a loved one, a life devoid of pain, uncertainty and suffering was something Leena could only dream of ever since the time she walked out of her parents' home.

As days started passing by, Leena's past was starting to become a distant memory. Although there were times when Leena would have sudden bouts of loneliness, there was never a moment when she felt compelled to look back. Going on the stage and getting into the skin of a character transported Leena into a world which was a far cry from the world that had presented Leena with only misery and rejection. She started channeling her agony and sorrow to add depth and nuance to her acting. The opportunity to revel in the pleasure of being someone else, albeit for a brief period of time, had always been fascinating for Leena since she was a child. Little did she know, back then, that her own life would be reduced to short stints of drama.

It was a winter evening in Goa, and all of Leena's theatre friends had gathered for a house party. It had been ages since Leena adorned her body with carefully selected drapes and accessories. She had forgotten what it felt like to socialize. That evening, Leena sported a pink lace dress with a black shrug to complement her black stilettos. She had braided her hair on one side and ensured that she carried a handbag, which went with what she was wearing. As the evening proceeded, Leena chose to let loose in the company of booze. The trauma of her past had haunted her enough to yearn for a celebration of what lay ahead. "I found my first family when I was born. I was very happy living in my small world with the people I most loved. Things soon changed, when I started dating Anish, my ex-husband. My family, who was against my relationship with him, chose to disown me the day I eloped with him. I had probably assumed that having my knight in a shining armour by my side would bring an end to all my life's miseries. Breaking ties with my first family, whom I had refused to share with anybody, at once, only meant that the brightest part of my life was erased. I lost my second family the day my child departed from this world. The child that I had brought into this world gave me something very special while leaving - freedom to find my own self, which was somewhere lost, while being a daughter, wife and mother. The family that I have found, here, has known me as a woman who is on a mission to find her real identity. Today, I can proudly say that I have found a family that has accepted me by choice. I hope that we always stay like this. Cheers to my you all," exclaimed an emotionally charged Leena before all her friends engulfed her in a warm hug.

Months had soon turned into years. Leena, who was bestowed with the prestigious Best Student award, had earned an entry into a leading theatre group, which performed plays with a social message across the country. Before she knew it, Leena was traversing the country for numerous shows every year. Her past was now visibly distant. The agony of her betrayals had drowned deep in the roles that she played. Or that's what she portrayed. She was slowly getting accustomed to a life, which demanded bringing the best out of her. She was now living for herself and had slowly started to find what truly held the power to make her happy. And it wasn't really all that much about finding success and becoming independent as it was about learning to find happiness without the fear of losing it that made Leena value her worth. She had become a hero in her own eyes, a far cry from resorting to a man in her life to derive strength from.

It had been 11 years since the time Leena had last met her parents. "Maybe my child left me as a punishment for my decision to choose my husband over my parents. Maybe I was not deserving to be a mother. Maybe my child would have been alive, today, had it not been for what I did to my parents. I have sinned. I couldn't do justice to my child," thought Leena to herself after suddenly waking up with dizziness. Before she could know, Leena started hallucinating and began talking to her dead child, whom she thought to be alive and sleeping beside her. Leena, who had a play lined up for the afternoon, got up and stormed out of her room. She started walking aimlessly. As her feet started pacing, her past and present, both, flashed in front of her eyes. Here was a daughter, who was serving a lifetime of separation from her parents for committing a grave sin. She had dared to make a choice of staying with a partner she had fantasized growing old with. A wife had been ruthlessly betrayed for the love of another woman. The wife's fault was that she had worshipped a future of seeing sunsets, while clutching the hand of her better half and find all the peace in her small world. There was a mother, whose kid went out of her sight and never came back. And then, there was Leena, a popular theatre actor, who had won several awards and accolades for her work.

While Leena continued to head aimlessly on the streets, a child, who was playing in the park with her parents, looked towards Leena and exclaimed, "Look ma, isn't she the woman who stopped her husband from drowning their baby girl?" The mother smiled at her daughter and replied, "Yes, she was a beautiful and heroic mother in that play." The girl waved at Leena with excitement and flashed a wide smile at her. Leena, who was standing right across from where the girl was, had seen her own child in that precious girl. She soon ran towards the child and hugged her before beginning to weep.She tightly clutched the child to her chest and cried uncontrollably. It seemed like it was in that warm embrace that Leena had found the consolation for her life's biggest regrets and worst misses.

If men have a penis, women have words

A lot has been said and discussed about the second-hand status of women in India, and the customs and practices that have contributed to their helplessness. Not taking away from my advocacy of equal rights for men and women, I, somewhere, also feel that Indian women have self-victimized themselves a fair bit, whereas men have failed to acknowledge the worth of their women and look at the beauty and hilarity, when it comes to the chemistry between the two species. The negative consequences of our co-existence have outdone how much our distinctness has added different dimensions to our life and made it worthy enough. I feel it's time we end this contest of pitting men and women against each other and celebrate the different aspects of womanhood and manhood and revel in the glory of their idiosyncrasies.

As a Gujarati, most women that form a part of my family and community have been homemakers. And the one thing about Gujarati women that I have commonly observed is their unapologetic way of life. It seems like they wear their pride on their sleeves. Be it fancying their motto - Live, breathe, think and enjoy what you eat - or finding solace in flaunting real jewellery, they do it all with aplomb. In fact, if you're a Gujarati woman and don't quite reflect these typical habits, be ready to forgo your cultural ties. My poor father is quite often subjected to taunts from my mother, who proudly claims that she has been a lucky mascot for him and is the reason for his success. My father, who has happily accepted this claim, now lives to succeed at taking risks courtesy of my mother's good luck.

Women in general have a natural flair for remembering their fights from years ago and using them as a weapon to cut open anybody who tries to launch a verbal attack on them. Sometime ago, I happened to overhear a conversation between my grandparents. "You're not doing any favour by looking after your 85-year-old husband. I can easily find another partner, who shows concern, care and love for her husband," my grandfather exclaimed with masculine pride. Soon thereafter, I could hear the sound of soft giggles coming from the room. It turned out that my grandmother was barely able to resist laughing. " I shall pity the woman who agrees to marry you," my grandmother snapped back. "I highly doubt if anybody would make that mistake even if you paid her a huge amount of money. Good luck!" she added. Such was the impact of my grandmother's words that my grandfather, a lawyer, was utterly agape and was left grappling for words. I, on the inside, experienced a great sense of pride upon witnessing the ultimate victory of somebody who belonged to my species.

We're at that stage in our lives where it is vital to shift our focus from only looking at the shortcomings, that come as a part of our co-existence. Gone are the days when a father tried to make his daughter his son to acknowledge her high worth. If a son is capable of carrying forward the family's legacy, then a daughter is capable of firmly holding the strings that connect a family together. Indulging in a battle, which puts the two genders against each other, is just taking away from their individual worth. And don't forget that a penis cannot do wonders without a vagina.