Trials and Tribulations by Fire

Had Absolut fun on Saturday. The junta called us for an impromptu party and we went along, glad to meet other people. The usual gossip sessions began. My mind went off to graze, as usual. I wondered dont they get bored talking about the same issues, over and over again. Well, when we crib, that is exactly we do? We chew the cud so many times, it becomes milky and then more chewy. I guess the nutrients are far gone from it. What is left is just fibre. Fibre, by the way is good for the body, it gets rid of crap. Now that we are clear about the fibre and crap, let us move on. Atleast here. The females had a lot of cribbing to do about the women who gave birth to their partners. The older women, presumably were arrogant and rude, and demanded undivided attention of their sons. I do not know if it is right, wrong. I dont care. Women who have nothing to look forward to in their lives demand and fight for the attentin of men in their lives: husbands, sons, neighbors...

It has become a habit to conform, to agree, to nod, to swallow insults, silently.  What is it that makes one agree to all this, given the fact that one is brought up as an independent thinking person, as a person who has the freedom to fend and feed themselves. What role does society play in screwing up the minds of Indian men so much that they get this wierd idea that they 'allow' women in their lives to work and earn. Do they actually have the right to do so? Or are they so insecure about their own sorry selves that they just have to use force and pressure to subjugate women, to smother their lives, their voices. How sad is the state of a man? Was a man always this weak? Or has the education system and the patriarchal societal structure made the man, a eunuch? A being with no identity? A being that has no self esteem, that has to use power to force women into subjugation.  Being a woman, it often is the case that I face some sort of harassment and try to undert...

There comes a day in the life of all married women, ok ok, all married Tamil Brahmin women, when they must abstain from food and pray for the longevity of their husbands. Well, that is me, in the modern Savitri avatar! Since Satyavan is not around, I had to click my picture myself. This is how I ended up resembling Mrs. Savitri. In this day and age, how much of this is desirable is left to one's imagination, but, for me, it was always an opportunity to gorge on the yummy kara adais and sweet adais. Here are some photos: Well, the adais came out well. My Satyavan seemed quite satiated and the look on his face, while he polished off the adais with the butter, was the reward. My statement sounded quite regressive, even to me. But, yeah, I suddenly got into this maternal mode and fed the DH till he declared that he was going to burst. So, I polished off the rest of the adais and felt nice. Then, I remembered my promise to my team buddies th...

Here is a true account of a woman called Seeta. She works as a technical writer in my company. _____________________________________________________________________________ In a distant town outside Chennai lived a woman called a Seeta. She used to live in her dream world, always, and float around, unaware of her surroundings. She lived liek this for years, not gathering any moss. She managed to complete a PG degree in Physics and got into the corporate world. Now, here, things went totally out of control. People in the corporate world expected her to be dynamic, attentive, hardworking and bla bla. Seeta, couldn't care less. She kept smiling inwardly and continued her tryst with herself.  She joined a software major, HCL, as a technical writer. Seeta had a solid grip over the language and could shoot off her mouth whenever she wanted. She wrote well too. The hiring manager saw immense potential and hired her at a premium salary, whatever she...

    Book Review:  RIP by Mukul Deva   I signed up for the Book Review program of Blogadda.com recently. Being a book lover, I just adored the opportunity to read and post my review about the books they sent me.   The latest book I signed up for is Mukul Deva's RIP.       When I got the courier, I was quite excited, as is always the case. I love the feel of a new book. I smell it first, run my fingers through the crisp pages and then begin reading.   Usually, a book just pulls me into itself, making me forget the world, I do not care if the world falls apart around me, I read on. I had expected earth shattering stuff to happen with this one too. Nothing happened. I was slightly perplexed. I read about four pages and closed the book. It lay on my table for two days, beckoning me.   Finally, on the third day, I picked it up again. I decided to get over, what I call, the 'reader's block', and picked u...

Friends... People who we supposedly choose People who we bond with, sometimes more often than with family People who know our innermost secrets and passions People who love us despite our shortcomings People who we can call at the dead of the night People who stand by you when a kin dies People who give you a loan, a shoulder to cry Friends... People who talk incessantly about their kids once they are married, does not matter if you are single People who selfishly call you when they need to get information People who miss your call when they are with their loved ones and vow that they were in a meeting People who tell your parents that you drink People who call you up on your birthday and forget to wish People who reveal your worst nightmare to strangers People who tell you that your job sucks when you get promoted People who cozy up when your social status improves People who claim to be in touch with all your updates but do not read your blog or your book if you ...

I step out of my house in trepidation. Fear lurks closeby. Fear. A foreign emotion. I cover my shoulders lest I attract unwanted attention. I walk with my head bent low. I Fear my bowed head will touch the ground and I will become one with the sand and dust.  I Fear.  I Fear to look into the eyes of the leering eyes of the autowallah standing outside my door.  I Fear that a stray gust will blow my dress too close to my body and show off my shape. I Fear that I will attract unwanted attention.  I Fear that I will provoke a 'red-blooded' man.  I Fear that I will be shown my place.  I Fear that I will have to eventually resort to wearing a Burkkha and step out only with a man.  I Fear Men.  I Fear...

Here are a few sample chapters of the novella: the Legal Bond. The Legal Bond Chapter 1 Today Maya sat by the window, a book on her lap, long neglected because her heart was full and her mind too elated to be able to take in the printed word. She leaned happily against Ravi who sleepily put an arm around her shoulder. The trees flying past the speeding bus reminded her of the recent past when she had met Ravi, fallen in love, and almost lost him because of her own folly. The bus carried in its belly a motley group headed to the temple town of Tiruvannamalai. Maya sat in the air-conditioned coach, her mind going over various incidents that had taken place in the past. In just a few more hours, they would reach their destination. Maya sighed as she heard Ravi’s gentle breathing, which told her he was fast asleep now. She sank back against the soft cushions and focused on completing her book. The trip would be hectic, she knew. This was the first time she was visiting ...