The Good & the bad in your child

Does this statement come from a patriarchal circumstance & gender imbalance scenario? It's agreeable then.. "Boys don't cry!" is an unreasonable response which gives way to angry, trapped, unmanageable emotions... which turns into some negative super power in boys later when they grow into men... This is used as a weapon of self-esteem and superiority with other genders.. Anger is as much part of our emotional being as any other emotions.. As kids use anger also as an meaningful expression of disapproval...to people, things, words used, deeds done and any other annoyance they feel.. its most appropriate to keep all emotions and feelings .. but modulate and tune them to balance...

When children are growing, we see them only happy, sad or angry first. The 3 base emotions are just the start of the diversified traits the child will have. The circle of emotions will start getting wider with age and experience. Never stop any emotion in your children.. let them show up.. the good and bad forms the best in your child

Ask me why and how by messaging me at @Chirpchattercheer

Mom, I like not the Green but, the “Yellow Capsicum”

It was just another regular day when my maid had just finished her cooking mandate and had left the kitchen the way I want it to be. I entered with ten thoughts running through the lanes of my overused mind. In there was one wired red flag alerting me to give breakfast to my six-year old who had been trying to enjoy his one-month long vacation.

Peeping into the drawing room, I found him doing his typical couch potato act. I sighed and pulled out one of his square shaped purple colored plate. Placing two chapattis & some aaloo- shimla mirch sabji on the side I gave it an unsatisfied gaze. In just another trail blazer second, I had ideated on to also place two blobs of amul butter on top of the chapattis. Now, I said to myself, it looks un-resistible! I smirked at my “bribe-enriched breakfast” which will make my smarty pants have a “no talk” but, “just food” time for the next twenty minutes.

With my good-at-it mother poise, I left to deliver my winning platter to the little tummy which had waited with patience for what it was going to see now.  Bringing the stool near the couch, I kept the pate on it and turned back, happy on marking off the “give breakfast red flag” up there.

Entering the kitchen again, I was just about to make that “start- your- day- at- work coffee” when I thought I had heard myself being called. Ignoring my “instant on-call mom mind”, I got into switching on the microwave to heat up the coffee. There again, as the plate disk rotated to warm up my indigo cup, my ears twitched again. It was crystal, I was being called “Mom”. Stopping the microwave mid-way I stepped into the drawing room with high hopes of being asked for a glass of water.

There under the bright lit roof I could see him sulking looking at the plate. Three little questions instantly popped up there. One, are the chapattis too dry? Two, Is the subji too spicy for him? Three, has he spilled the food on the floor? (He has this habit of feeling guilty about it).

Under the influence of these three contexts, I asked him “what is it?”

There it came and shattered my good-at-it mother poise with all its might. Brooding still at the plate, he said “Mom, I like not the Green but, the “Yellow Capsicum”.

I quietly picked up the plate, dropped all the green capsicum back into the pan and handed over the plate again with not a word to utter.

A little later, and that is today did I come to terms with the choice of a six year old. I just googled about what is so special about a yellow capsicum? And here is what I found.

Yellow Capsicums ~ more mature than green capsicums, yellow capsicums have a fruity taste yet milder than their orange or red counterparts. Yellow varieties taste fantastic grilled and add fantastic colour to stir-fries. 

That does sound like my smarty pants. I am tickled as I end my post! 

Ref: http://www.harrisfarm.com.au/blogs/guides/15819812-know-your-capsicums

RUN OFF THE MORALITY ~ Inspired from lifestyles of working couples

Talking about the withering behaviours of our times, sincerity rakes up the world around us. It seems to have climbed up the charter of being one of the uncool traits to hold on too. It’s been stamped with a lacklustre traditional outlook which is too sluggish for today’s world to follow up with. Consider looking around, and listen to the conversations blaking out from small friendly hubs right from even out of the age group of 10-year olds. I will not be surprised to see that cringe on your face. The “Trolley problem” rules our world like never before. Part of a thought experiment in ethics, the trolley problem studies our moral and sincere responses to major decisions in times of uncertainties like accidents, saving life, killing someone for reasons of bigger quantity and quality. However, I think the trolley problem has escaped its density to find momentum even in minor decisions of our everyday life. Here is why I say so…………

A very typical example comes from our daily routine cycle ………It’s peak hour! Stuck in the monsoon traffic, the honking blows away what’s left of your sanity after work. The phone cranks up, and you find out that your boss still has his daily planner run into the next day. And all he could do to befriend his anxiousness is call you. As you talk to him hands free, there is a missed call from your wife’s office number. Of course by now you must have ascertained that you have to take the next right turn to pick her up. Hang on, you’re in for more ambiguities today. There is another incoming number flashing on your screen, now this one’s exciting, it’s “unknown”, and you tell your boss I have to take my other call, catch you tomorrow. You pick this unfamiliar call and you find a recognizable undertone on the other side. Your friend quips on his new number and says he needs you immediately for a presentation he has to give tomorrow. You are almost nearing the right turn, and suddenly there is a smash of glasses. It’s a bike against a mini caravan. Since it’s a wide road, the traffic gets cleared soon and you pass the accident site until to find a man and a woman in a bad state. There are a hundred co-drivers behind you and on the side-lines. Now, let’s ask ourselves some trolley questions, how many of us will make this quick decision of doing the needful? Or are we confused what’s supposed to be done in the first place?

Here is another one, from a very common setting of a 5-year old marriage. The regular ways of shuffling between work and home zones takes much of your time. All you want is to live life to the fullest in between these tiring strokes of fate. You both have maintained your individual relationships with your friends of yesteryears. Beaming up openly with your partner about your feelings for anyone is a thing of cliché these days. More the comfort level, if one of you or both have been in relationships before and had come-in into this marriage with much maturity around the rise and fall of relationships.  We all think the same way, out-looking life to have this unique way of reinstating our faith in re-living what was undone and with this belief you do start finding your unexplored feeling for an old friend and find its intriguing response from the other side too. Is it wrong at this point is a very straight-forward question but, above that is your comfort level in accepting that feeling in yourself and then taking a decision of shifting the message right through the beamer and then sharing that with your partner too. Are you ready for this yourself? Or are you finally going to shift the blame and say that you are a creation of circumstances??

Going forward to the next story, this one hit me the hardest. I had an early morning train to catch to Surat that Monday morning from Bandra terminus...I had just had one of the ugliest worded fight with my husband over of course his deliberate ignorance on his mother's insensitive attitude towards me. I already was a pinch away from losing my cool with any tiniest inclination of unintended obscurity. Entering the station I straight headed towards the rest room. Already, there was a queue at 5:30 in the morning. A Muslim woman in her burqa with her little daughter joined me to wait for her turn on the side queue. As she entered she gave me this little understanding glance for keeping an eye on her little one. However, my turn came up instantly and I went in. Now what began from there is what forms the troll here in all senses and angles. When I came out, and this was a quickie, these three men who were sitting outside had opportunely found this never explained shame of calling this little girl near them and where having fun giving her goose bumps. This little naïve angel was almost shivering. One of the heaviest among them had the audacity to even pull her by hand to make her sit on his lap. All this while I kept staring at them with no offence treatment from their side towards me. I was aware of the time and place we stood at and took the instant decision of making it clear but stated feebly, “can’t you see, she is not comfortable, just leave her!” and then I took her aside. I still don’t know why I didn’t scream at them? Why didn’t I scream on their faces? Was it a self-protection mechanism or the overall wellbeing of all three of us? These men asked me, “Are you going to pay for them? Why are you so concerned? You just leave and go and we will take care of her”. I again in my most composed voice replied, her mother has asked me to care for her. Let her come and I will leave. The very moment her mother opened the door. I returned the same glance of understanding back and moved with a background score of all those three men laughing out loud.

Think about it! Trolley up…to your own emotional intelligence!!

Reference: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trolley_problem

The Art of Drying & Folding Laundry ~ An Attitude

A Facebook post by a friend of mine read “The job of a stay-at-home mother is that of building blocks or connecting households....”

My instant reaction to it was “Pls elaborate.. the job of all women.. Encompassing.. working, non working, stay at home, part timers, and many more is important n crucial.. I feel..”

The reply came in saying “Arey yaar Maine kab kaha stay at home mothers have imp job! Hehehe .. buildings blocks thode na imp kaam hai 😀 😉.. I was referring to the piling of clothes and vessels! Ek hatao.. everything comes toppling down  😂 😂 ek dum building blocks ki tarah”

As a continuation of the same thread she responded “Well .. on a serious note.. I know the skills that a working mother has and how she has to multi task.. I have seen my mom doing it till about 4 yrs back! What I do is nothing compared to what she has done all these years!! Hats off to all the working moms!! Full time ho ya part time!”

I responded back again “I understood what u meant.. but never compared it to utensil n cloth piles..lol... but I got the elaboration..hehehe.. it’s hilarious... but infact.. . but I still feel..stay at home moms have bigger roles to play and longer schedules...I have even seen men in my household do it... . even cloth drying n folding is an art.. you should see my dad do it..  :*..”

Further I adding “I love every woman.. around me.. in some way or another.. they are pulling mankind to another state of being”

She reverted saying “Good to know that there is someone who admires the way we fold or dry clothes and considers it an art!  😘”

I answered, saying “infact u gave me an idea to write a piece for my blog  :*”

And so my dearest readers, this post belongs to us. Men, Women and all alike.

My friend here is glad to know that I admire the way stay-at-home moms dry up clothes and then fold them and also consider it an art! Initially, there was a difference in thought here. She did feel that I think that working mothers have a bigger balance to make than stay-at-home moms. The truth for ME is NO! I don’t think working mothers are more skilled and neither do I look down upon them, I being one myself. Neither, do I think that only mothers are stay-at-home. And not the last at all, I do think Drying & Folding Laundry is an Art!

When and why did we start considering something colorful or visually aesthetic as a work of art?  I think “Art is an attitude!”. And more than my very organized and work-life balancing mom it was my stay-at-home dad (once he took his VRS at 50) who taught me how to push art into the mundane of everyday life. Had he not, I do not think I would have enjoyed my overextended marriage-maternity break or got to love my household work the way I do today. The root of the problem is that we do not value our own doings, our daily life. Our rating to ourselves is so low on to what is considered everyday routine, household chores or the mundane life. Everything out there seems glittering with questions like what are you doing today which is so different from what other people are up to? And tons of other similar questions. The problem created here is of our own making. We are bullying ourselves into a very conscious being. Treading on what’s expected of you by the traditional society is not something of the past but, also of the modernistic future we live today. Just the criteria has changed.

Thanks to my Stay-at-home dad who taught me how to space the clothes while drying them up, why should the clothes be turned inside out for a quick dry, which clothes to dry on the rack and which on the cloth liner, which ones to put in the shade, how to clip them, which ones to be put in the hanger, which fold-alignment does not crumble or crease the clothes, how many folds make for a compact pile up.

I found his days very therapeutic at home doing this routine. There has always been peace in what he has been doing. He has never been forced to do these things. He loves to do it.

It just has forever got me to knuckle up in my mind that when did society came to its decision on gender and division of chores.

An advertisement I saw a year back came to my mind.

Must watch - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJukf4ifuKs

Is it asking for so much from the genders that exist? Why divide chores or careers? Why divide life? Why not share? Why not experiment?

I wrote a post a few years back on non-duality of gender called “The age of Turbulence – Brief insights into our own Indian Marriage”. Where the masculine and feminine co-exit. The energy is maximum there. There is where we understand the true meaning of the art of living and reigning.

Do read - http://kapithra.blogspot.in/2012/03/age-of-turbulence-brief-insights-into.html

As the change occurs, I believe that with each ticking second it is scores of stay-at-home moms and some numbers of stay-at-home dads are the ones who are actually working on building blocks or connecting households.

Home is art and we need people who enrich it because art thrives not in measured cubicles but, in a free state of mind and space! 

Five notes of Love

Chasing you my love

Chasing you my love…

to the beat, we caught ….each other in

Chasing you my love…

To the smile, That creaked …between us

And we are so,

taking on the stride,

shining with all might,

irresistible tonight 

Incredible delight

Fight with chance & right.. ..hmmmm…hmmmm...

as we go back to chase the wind of time…

Chasing you my love…

The Maleficent Ways of Pink Tiaras & Blue Crowns

Right from the tiny blessed thought of having a baby to going bonkers over the guess game of will it be a “prince with a blue crown” boy or a “princess with a pink tiara” girl, our minds are ruled with certain connotations when it comes to gender association.

It starts very unknowingly from the fancy store we walk by and catch a glimpse of the “Pink satin booties” hanging from the hook & the “Blue denim cap” kept at the base.  Giving a faint smile when one enters the store it seems to be world divided between everything that is pink, rosy, red, scarlet and sometimes orange; to shades of blue, black, brown & then a few ignored tints here and there.

Childhood Consumerism has gobbled up every single parent into its trap and has given roots to another level of gender stereotyping which very few have escaped from. But, worse even if someone escapes, this color coding has travelled down and settled outrageously into the socializations of even the toddlers in kindergartens. 

For my boy who liked “pink” once upon a time, the idea of having pink in his wardrobe seems silly because it’s just so in front of his eyes. For me, I have always liked pink on boys too. What’s so wrong about it anyway? It’s just another colour in a world full of colors.  And as for “blue”, I have always been complimented on the shade looking good on me. Moreover, I don’t think there is anything biological or scientific in girls and boys having an inclination towards one of these tones. Otherwise I am sure every one of us would have even painted our hair pink!

The world is too divided between these two hues making it at most frivolous. We as parents, care takers, teachers have already decided on their behalf that they will love this colour, this toy, this book, this dress etc. It just shows how marketing plays a role in creating cultural connections out of no sense. Right from the hospital folders to even baby diapers now, everything has been conceptualized, designed and marketed with the precious little munchkins in mind. However, larking behind these ornamental luxuries are ­­glittery business models, and behind that is the hidden influences and side effects of gender division. Right from the first cuddly toy a child holds for sensory experiences to the school bag they carry to school and everything in between, a gender pattern is building up and wrecking the right of equality for not just both the genders but also the third, making the acceptance of gender non-conformity more stubborn.  

The historic journey of the pink and blue does not have a solid explanation. Some call it a marketing ploy of the 20th century (French Fashion connection) & some call it a bio-cultural urban legend of the 19th century (A Sociologist’s take). Whatever may be the case I will still pick up a blue sapphire or a green emerald to treasure it!

MANNERS at SCHOOL & KICKERS at HOME

My first grader had his first open day at school and I was indeed excited. It was his first year at extended academic curriculum and a fresh outlook on two new languages – Hindi & Marathi. Of course deep down my concern is never related to subjects & his performance. His concepts are right in place and I was well aware of it. The only question was around the adjustment factor which seems to have carried on from his kinder garden years. His existence at school has pulled up some great discussions over the last three years. Well somewhere I knew that would be the case, after all he is my son and that’s exactly what happened. At the outset of junior kindergarten, he had questioned the classroom rules and ignored the regulation out of his independent mindset. But, what was clubbed with it was what I was not ready for. He came bundled up with an attitude of no one can point a finger at me. He screamed and yelled on even if his name was taken with a different tone. May be it was the over pampering he got from everyone around.  I kept telling at school right from play group, pamper him less but was I heard? I pondered.

It’s been a trek from then, right from a happy schooler till nursery he became a scruffy goer (from a mindset point). Right from saying that he hates his teacher to creating tantrums in the morning, junior kinder garden saw the height of his reluctance to go to school. I still remember his forlorn face, and it used to give me jitters. He took time to place his trust again on his teacher after a certain incident on the very first day and then however the change happen gradually. The push-pull factor did come of use here. Positive vibes pushed from home on why his school is the best, why his teacher dotes on him and does things for his good. Engaging factors pulled him in, right from understanding his interests and covering gaps in social interactions. His smile came back by mid-term.

Senior Kinder garden was a bit smoother as compared and also consistent. We knew he will take his time and moreover with a personal handover between the teachers they knew how to work with him.

As I have come to grow with him, I know he keeps his worlds tight with strong demarcations, and in all ways he has always expressed that himself telling me with no inhibitions that his life at school, daycare and home has its own privacy. His relationships are his to keep and he does not want to mix up his feelings with comparison or share conversations he has had with anyone. As a working mother, I understood that his days are long and away from home he has tried building his own way to tackle things and brew up social connections. I am so proud of him that way.

Blinking my eyes, I came back to the present and entered the classroom. There were no parents in queue and that gave me some ease for the long time I could spend with his teacher, which I actually did. So how is he doing? I started. And because it needs to be another surprise I was told that my son is the quietest child in the class! I did chuckle and then started telling stories of heights at home - The height of naughtiness, curiousness, kicking, tickling, hyper activity and more. His teacher than gave a snoot! (Mentioning it for the point recognized here and not for the person in action)  Oh! She exclaimed.  He wants to be in the good books of all! The answer was right in front of her.

I was also a little startled. My boy is being clever and also may be a bit confused, I said. His world of good and bad are also much demarked now. So much that he is an extrovert at home but introvert at school. Can children be like that?

We both gave a grin and started talking about our next course of action. It was time for strategies again but all together at a different level. This was tough because we were going to stride on the brim of moral values. What is right and what is wrong has always been questioned in all aspects of life and it’s our turn now to play with it.

Last month was his second open day of first grade and we are looking at changes said his teachers. His grades don’t need a mention but he is talking, questioning, laughing loud and playing it cool. We are sure he will be what he is gradually said his ICT teacher and it did bring a smile on my face.

Being from the education turf I knew they were using classroom action tools and strategies like buddy system, think-tank teams, trigger interest time and more. But whatever may be the case the journey with his teachers has been inspiring for the patience and love they show and it has also got me understand children better at home or work front.

I never knew a term called Ambivert and once I know now, I understood that we both as parents are also Ambiverts.

Who are Ambiverts?

Ambiverts are people who don't really prefer one way of functioning over another. In other words, you could say they're the neutral, middle-ground hippies. They're equally comfortable in situations where the introvert feels most at home and situations where the extrovert is having a good time. 

So yeah, an extrovert can love conversation and discussion, but still feel like they need to be alone to process the information later. An introvert can feel the need to be alone but still enjoy being happy and cheerful.

I took a deep breath at the end of the thought and wrote…

At life’s front, every step our child takes is a jump for us. It makes us so much aware of who we are and how we tackle one of the most overused but necessary term called Parenting! 

The Big Black Broken Umbrella

My very first try at a simple fictional story-line built up with some real life experiences, humble characters & the thoughts of an ordinary mind. 

We had planned that July well in advance, it was great old nana’s 95^th birthday and we all wanted to be there and celebrate life along with him. My little ones, Myrah & Smyan where too excited to get into the city they knew very little about. From our last trip which was almost two years back, the only thing they remembered beyond their paternal grandparents’ humble little villa was the sea creek beyond it & the green lush mangroves siding it up.

Decking up the suitcases in the hallway, I made a last dash for our monsoon accessories, two “Disney” raincoats and vibrant umbrellas for the noisy buggers; two “Quechua” raincoats, all of which we had specially got from the Decathlon store for this trip. All that was going to go into the “Wildcraft” bag pack to be taken as our hand luggage again just bought for our journey.

The cab arrived on time and we all howled a ‘Hip hip hippy hurray! Happy holidays’ and got in swiftly into the sedan with jerky us and screechy kids. It was a smooth drive, and finally I let out my sigh on drifting away from the mundane daily to the much awaited break. My hubby gave me a reassuring smile, bringing in that same old “I will win the world” glow on my face.

The flight was delayed by thirty minutes and it got us a chance to nibble on some junk which of course for the kids is delicacy enough. I never knew what was a burger or pizza until I was in my high school. And now, it seems this western street food has taken over on getting into the staple food list for this generation. I have never been able to understand the wobbling and gobbling speed difference between home cooked food & these brand loaded piece of junk. Breaking away from my thoughts, I looked at my hubby who was just ending his very urgent call from office. Well, of course that call ended the moment he saw my nose ready to puff out the fire. “We Promised, it’s a hands free holiday!” “It was the last one, I got the instant reply.”

The flight was again very calming, not very crowded. I got into reading the magazine from the seat pouch. My hubby wanted to take a power nap before we descend, so that he is up on his feet for all the birthday preparation we had to do for the next two days. The kids were busy with some game they used to play in their school bus. The time for their uncontrollable edgy need for our gadgets, did come in after some time. But, this holiday we had already told them was coming with no mobiles or ipads. It’s that moment of saying ‘No’ I feel gives me my migraine, but then, it’s like that journey to prove and take away the crown of parenting at times and then feeling like  running away most of the times. But, then we are responsible for this wicked lifestyle, aren’t we? The lines between work & home rarely fades, taking in our kids too for the virtual ride.

It was time to land and for my hubby to wake up. He opened his eyes to a sulky me. What happened? He asked sheepishly twisting himself out of his slumber pose. The weather, I said, they just announced, its pouring cats and dogs. Our kids are so used to the arid, extreme, rarely monsoon climate of Delhi, I don’t know how they are going to accept the slushy time ahead. Hmmmm, hymned my husband pouting his lips. In a while, looking out of the window he said, “Making way for Mumbai in the rains all depends on your individual psyche, it could either make you fall in love or make you feel betrayed for the rest of your life”. He grinned, pushing his eye brows up & down, feeling cool about his ability to cook up this on the spot tag line.   

It took us more than it took us above the ground, to reach our destination. Nana ji, was waiting at the porch with his same old friends who seemed to have got more rickety than him. Johnny was wagging his tail but not jumping like before, Cleopatra looked wise & purred at intervals. Nana ji’s wooden walking stick gave away some dents & colour fading. Nana ji on the other hand looked timeless & eternal just like the way I first saw him on our wedding day.

After the initial hellos and pranams, we straight got into the dining for some evening snacks and Daboo bhaiya’s special masala chai. Now, Daboo bhaiya has been part of our family even before I got in, so my knowledge of the family territory and news bytes was directly sourced from him most of the times. Bahu rani, as he fondly called me in a certain Maharashtrian dialect gave me the same blush when he had first called me so when we came here just after our wedding.

After an hour into our conversations, I had to take leave to tend to the kids. They had to take their bath, have dinner and hit the bed by 9.00 pm. That’s a routine I never break, it helps us be in discipline no matter where we are. I found them exactly where I knew I would. The old dilapidated guest house behind the villa where the pets stayed. They were having fun without the gadgets. Real fun. Live fun. It made me fill with contentment. 

Meeting again for dinner, we spoke about our responsibilities for the birthday preparation. Bade bhaiya, my hubby’s very close cousin brother was arriving with his family two days later. And then we will be joined by my hubby’s sister, who is flying in from London where she is completing her PH.D. My hubby & his sister lost their parents while they were very young, just in middle & primary school. Nana’ji and Nani’ji had brought them up here in Mumbai and co-created the family life which otherwise would have been lost. Nani’ji left us a decade back, leaving Nana’ji broken and cheerless. My hubby and his sister had stayed with him for a month, and got Johnny and Cleopatra to give him good company. Daboo bhaiya who had gone back to his village for good, was also called back, this time, not as call of duty but, for sharing what’s left of life together. Since Daboo bhaiya is not married and does not have much obligations, he readily agreed to our uncertainty with Nana’ji & was more than happy moving in again.  

It’s almost years now since Nani’ji left us and the villa is still untouched from any externality, may be because of the dust free zone, or Daboo bhaiya’s effort or because it resonates of two pure and simple souls living in it.

I had taken the responsibility of cleaning up the guest house & verandah and inviting the neighbors around the colony, ofcourse all along with Daboo bhaiya’s intervention.  So first thing in the morning, after an elaborate breakfast of Poha, Puri Channa and Sheera, I started inching out the guesthouse. The kids were taken for a walk by nana’ji to the park along the sea creek for them to feel & breathe fresh and play along.

A cupboard full of partly broken crockeries, a 3-legged chair, half-munched books, loads of clothes, rusted utensils were just the beginning of the process. I had made up my mind that no keeps and all throws will be my policy which I soon realized was having a major competition with Daboo Bhaiya who seemed to have some deep connection with every scrap in there.

With great difficulty, I almost finished clearing up, when I saw something protruding from behind the rustic window doors. The creaking of window showed since when it has never been closed, there behind it was a big black broken umbrella. Half its holding stick had come out and there was one perfect tear right from top to bottom. Why is this even here, I mugged. Throw this away bhiaya. It’s of no use any longer. I will work on it, I heard back. Without any comment I just left to find out what the kids have been up to. It was almost 1:00 pm and they had not returned. Daboo bhaiya, I called out, what can we make for lunch? Bahoo rani, Khichdi is the best for today. It’s quick & we can spend more time on the preparations then. Then let me make it and you continue cleaning up, I said. I entered the kitchen and stood awestruck. It was so well organized that my eyes popped out. It didn’t take me much time to know what’s kept where. An hour later the kids and nana ji were back, craving for some home-made food pampering. After lunch the kids just wanted to take a nap and I let them. Evening it started raining. We had planned to go to the nearby market with the kids. We all put on our raincoats & kids picked their umbrella to get going. Daboo Bhaiya, chuckled and said, it seems you have come all prepared. It rains very heavily here so why don’t you also take the umbrella we found in the guest house? I have mend it and it’s good to take along. On the porch was sitting the big black half broken umbrella with a dash of white thread stitch streaking through its frame. No way, I and my hubby said in synchronization. Startled, by our tone, Daboo bhaiya stood still. Nana ji uttered, for you it is so useless right? The use and throw generation doesn’t care for it. Being the reactive kind, I said, Nana ji, it’s not like that, but may be deep inside I knew that I felt funny carrying an old fashioned umbrella half broken and stitched up.     

For the next entire day too, the big black broken umbrella was stuck to the porch, unwilling to go elsewhere inside the house or outside. The kids were happier playing the imagination game with it. The umbrella suddenly was given the character of a crow, a camping tent, a hot air balloon or anything else as their story took roots & paths. 

Daboo bhaiya, I called out, let’s do one last round of clean up before bade bhaiya, bhabhi, the kids and choti come in, we won’t have time tomorrow.  Okay, came the reply and we got buzy.

The next three days was just crazy fun and frolic. We had asked for food delivery for the days so that none of us are spending time cooking but with each other. It worked out well and the birthday party was very classic because of many of Nana ji’s silver friends took to have the best time ever in ages.

Passing by the porch one of those days, I found the umbrella gone and thought to myself, the kids must have broken it again and Daboo bhaiya must have put it away again behind a window or door.

Holidays make us realize how away we are from the real need of life. All we want is family, friends, laughter and modest days but somehow we get pulled into the currents of a fast moving city life.

Being away from the routine, I was actually not able to understand how I want to plan my day. Finding myself clueless was a surprise for myself.   

Our ten days break was winding up faster than I thought, it was time to leave that evening and so I decided to take a long walk along the creek to pull in as much fresh air and undisputed time as possible before our time is up. I put on my rain wear accessories and started walking along the footpath. It was raining quite heavily but my Quechua raincoat was holding up for what it’s worth. People were busy starting there last day of the week and school autos were picking up the kids. Just as I was crossing a by-lane, something familiar crossed my eyes. I jerked myself to stop, and see again. I was not mistaken, it was the same dash of white thread stitch streaking through its frame, with a half broken stick. It gave shelter to three school boys, one of the bigger boys holding it and two more clubbing together to escape from getting wet. I could just smile for a while before I started walking again, deep in my thoughts. 

I always had a home

I always had a home, with no walls, no windows,

I always had a home, with no rooms, no doors,

I always had a home I ran to, to talk, laugh and cry,

I always had a home which swarmed me with its love, tried me with its dreams,

I always had a home only with mirrors of mighty days & shadowing nights

I always had a home which told me to leave for the journey called life

Beating up of gender biases through the ironic state of cross-sex friendship

The door for feeling human seems to be at the far end of the long resilient corridor, because every day still brings with itself windows of gender differences. Even though, our country ‘seems’ to be screaming of its woman power icons making their place at world’s end, here we are, as singles, committed, complicated or married, all together men, women and our kinds, making our choices on friendship and the drawing lines of extent. I severely feel like bursting some of these bubble makers and sensitize them of their mental limitations. We have forgotten in all sense of what ‘Being human’ is all about except for the fashion line which is all together another ironic story which I have no intention writing about.

Does marriage make people more conservative? Do couples form the base of their relationship on rules of opposite sex behavioral outlooks? Do marriages have a rule book which says “Friendship” is secondary to the security of our marriage? Well, I’m sure the answer is a thunderous yes for many men and women out there. And all I feel is pity for them and glad for me, that from the root of my mind I’m not like any of them along with my husband. And I’m sure a lot more are like us, similar in being open to embracing friends from wide & far and near.

The cultural aspect of friendship is so farfetched, we don’t even accept gender co-existence in our marriages. Thanks to generations of patriarchy, the concept of opposite sex friends still has not found a rooted hold in our community. Of course the change is till you are wed, the torch of patriarchy is then the right of your spouse, women more and men less though, from my outlook. Women feel the need of the three F’s then, beginning with, he will fend for me, he will fight and kick for me and he can then flip me. The men on the other hand feel the three P’s, starting with owning her makes me powerful, making her happy makes me feel privileged and having her makes me push. Putting this all together in a bowl along with some variables on dreams, ambitions, and compromises here is our modern day marriage scenarios fringing out on benefits. On the out it seems so outgoing and in the inside it stops you from growing as individuals closing in on exploring your mental, cultural and social growth as humans. All you are left with are the titles of husband and wife with a tag “Happily Married Ever After”. 

The question on gender is that the learning of different perspectives on human growth through relationships like cross-sex friendship continue as of now grinding and churning and looking for outlets of freedom. We call ourselves modern out lookers under the ironic scrutiny of friendship all barred under the knot of marriages. In fact, the undertone of many marriages out there, are coming out brewing with spousal jealousy, insecurities and possessive break downs. Indian households believe in protecting marriages beyond fake dignity and that means something like cross-sex friendship is not secondary but in fact not considered as something of any prominence.

Considering the existence of these unwise and ridiculous mindsets, where is gender consideration in the betterment of this society and growth of our own self? Well, all is out there hidden, unexplored, at times self-caged, taunted by spouse, assassinated by the society and thrown out of view!

Making up from this, it seems right to say that gender inequality continues its journey gaining momentum through the different strides in life hoping for respite and its final redemption..