Trials and Tribulations by Fire

Weeks have gone past  since you became the nucleus Weeks have gone past time makes no sense life seems not the same food smells different flowers I have stopped seeing weeks have gone past You walked in, with your disarming smile the fresh earth smell lingering behind, long after you have walked away weeks have gone past since I slept, since I sobbed my heart, my consciousness, I am still searching have you taken them away?  say not say not weeks have gone past without me walking on the ground life has a new meaning lipstick out in the open kajal seems to look blacker the skin on my forehead shinier is it love is it love they ask I just say, it is you it is you... weeks have gone past since i started loving myself weeks have gone past since i started living for you... weeks have gone past

This post is about the people Asha holds close to her heart and who went away. For reasons best known to them. She had love for all of them, but now, don't waste any time thinking about any of them. Asha reminisces about each of them.   Jane:  Jane and I go back a long way. I met her when I joined the Bank. She was already working there and she seemed to be the epitome of smartness even back then: 2006. Foul-mouthed, egoistic, stubborn, and fiercely independent. These are terms I would typically use for her. I was totally besotted with her till 2014. Janet had very strong opinions about the Hindu way of life and the caste system. I had married in 2008 into an orthodox TamBram family and was going through my own set of issues, settling into my new life. All was fine. The change happened slowly. She became obsessed about the oppression of Dalits and became very vocal about it all. We separated. I do miss her but I cant relate to her anymore so best thing is to let her go.   

Wherever you turn, you see women.  They all look alike. Bright printed Kurtis with tight, sometimes sheer, leggings, ear phones plugged into their ears walking merrily with a smart looking backpack or a dandy handbag.  One would think life has come full circle. Women are climbing the corporate ladder fast and the modern women is far more empowered than the women of the previous generation.  Money power makes them feel invincible almost and they walk on, taking everything in their stride. It is certainly a very good trend. I am all for female empowerment.  On the other hand, another dark reality surfaces. The women in powerful positions taking all these important decisions and ensuring they get the work done from their minions. These minions could be men and obviously other less powerful women.  An important point to note here is about the relationship between these powerful and not so powerful women. Have you even noticed how these powerful women (madams) treat their women s

Anand Neelakantan's second book: AJAYA, is the story of Duryodhana nee Suyodhana, the crown prince of Hastinapura. The oft told story of the Great War of Mahabharata is retold from a different perspective. Which in fact makes the narrative enticing and very interesting. Anand has done a lot of research and gives the readers an amazing view point from the "Villain" - Duryodhana, whose side of the story nobody bothered to understand. Generations have read the story of the Pandavas and mothers name their sons Arjun in the hope that their sons would emulate the fine qualities of the great warrior. Anand has given a different twist to the whole story. That makes these men, human and fallible.  When you imagine a Bheema, all muscle and power, you cannot but wonder if he ever crossed the line and became a bully. The very thought that maybe Yudhistira might have been cunning is incomprehensible. AJAYA gives you a new insight, forcing you to acknowledge and even think that

Nowadays, I seem to be doing these activities a lot. If I am not working, I am driving to and from office. If I am done driving, I am reading, anything on the laptop or a physical book. The other things do not seem to matter or slip through the cracks somehow.  Catching some movie made in the 70's makes my heart flip. Yeah, I love the Kabhi Kabhis, Don, and many such more.  Have eternal affection for the original angry young man. After joining this new place, have been trying to stay aloof. From people, from getting into relations, from sharing my life incidents, sorrow, joy. Giggling with a few colleagues is something, but forming bonds I wont do again. With the few friends I have I just want to pass my life peacefully. Anyway, the "friend" keeps saying, never get into the complexities of other people's lives, you will lose your peace of mind. So true.  Staying away from even known people, I feel odd sometimes. Consciously staying aloof is taking a toll on my

You raise your voice You raise your hand I cringe, knowing well the imprint that would land The skin singes, nerves tingle, throat constricts in pain I cry out not loud, neighbors should think all is clear Blue black red green I have seen it all Marks that no eraser can wipe away Marks that run with my blood, through my heart You talk so that you can control You cry so that you can overpower I let you do that so that I can live... 

Can married women use their financial freedom to empower themselves? Can they? If I heard anyone saying yes, I want to meet that woman. And fall at her feet. One of these scenarios is true: she is heading for a divorce, wears the pants in her house, or is simply assertive and does not care too much about what the spouse feels.  Well, I am talking about the freedom to spend the money she earns. I do not want to be in a position where for even a minute I would have to ask money from somebody, let alone a man. When you dole out money to someone, you automatically feel powerful, showing off your financial prowess to whoever cares to hear.  Is that bad? It certainly is, from a self respect POV.  Also, if you earn money but are stopped from using it as and when you want, you would certainly feel restricted. I am not a spender, rather I can be termed frugal also. There are times when I would need to spend on some essentials but may not be allowed to. The reasons are myriad.  I see th

Just finished reading "The Pact" by Jodi Picoult. Jodi writes about relationships, families, of love, hurt, longing, human emotions, and many more such themes. A friend suggested I pick up one of her books. I did, but forgot the name of the author when I reached the library. I searched all the Js but did not chance upon her books. When I was about to give up, I saw a rack full of Jodi's books. Delightedly, I picked one up, randomly. I informed my friend that I had my hands on one and would giver her my feedback.  Here is what I think:  Jodi is a fantastic writer. I happened to read her interviews in the media and her blog. I also read the comments from her male contemporaries.  The Pact is about two teenagers, Chris and Emily and their love. The story unfolds in a restaurant where the two families, the Golds and Hartes are meeting up over a meal. Gus and James Harte and Michael and Mel Gold are friends for over eighteen years.  Their kids Chris Harte and E

Recently, I happened to meet a friend who had had house guests: an old couple. This is a very interesting relationship that I am going to describe. This lady and the old couple had met through her husband and they got along like a house on fire. During the few occasions they met, the lady was nice to the couple and the couple, especially the old woman was enamored by the lady.  It so happened that one day the old couple came calling and decided to stay longer than their usual one or two days.  My friend was aghast at this blatant intrusion of privacy. Was she running a guesthouse? How could anybody just walk into her house and stay for days altogether. She braced herself for some old-fashioned advising. As she thought, the old lady started bossing around and started throwing a tantrum left, right, and center. Do this, do that, etc. The lady started returning late at night. One night when she went with a friend for a couple of drinks, the old lady asked her, quite sternly, "wh

I watched 'India's Daughter', the story of Jyoti Singh, a feisty rape victim, who succumbed to her injuries, dashing the hopes of her inconsolable parents.  The video, a 59 and odd minute documentary played on BBC Four recently. It made me shudder. Not that I am not aware of the existence of men like Mukesh and the boy now simply called "The Juvenile". I see them everywhere, on the streets, in the malls.  The video is well shot. The interview with one of the perps, the unrepentant, unashamed Mukesh treats the whole shoot like a moral lecture. He looks straight at the camera and without batting an eyelid supports the rape. He says, the girl was asking for it. What gall the girl had to step out after sunset to watch a movie, with a boy who did not fit the "accepted" definitions of men like Mukesh: husband, brother, father, and so on. The girl was asking for it, he says. She had to be taught a lesson. Even if Ram and Mukesh's twisted minds