I want to make hot phulkas after PhD.

In a recent article by the poster boy of Indian writing from the flock of B'School graduates - advises men to marry women who do not make hot phulkas at home but work in a potato chips company (am paraphrasing) i.e. are working. He lists lot of advantages a working woman can bring to the family and home. For e.g. she can help her husband in dealing with office politics and bring back information and knowledge as she is better exposed to the world. So now not only do I have to be fair, beautiful, slim and homely to get married, I have to be working woman as well. That is if I have to meet the criteria published daily in newspaper matrimonial pages. Not only convent educated mind you but working.  Thinking that one article can influence the age-old marriage market is perhaps naive but going by his book sales you never know. 

Though it has changed, the market that is. Now educated working women are the need of the hour or rather homes. Therefore I never had a choice. Earlier I was not allowed to study , then only allowed to study so that I become eligible for marriage as times changed and people wanted educated DiLs and then allowed to work but its continuation depended on the in-laws. Now they want working DiLs. Where is my choice and my freedom? If I choose to make hot phulkas after doing PhD who is anybody to tell me that I should not do it?  And use my grand education for a job and mind you earn well. What if I want to pursue a different career and god forbid not marry at all !! Why should anybody tell me what do to and not to do and question me about it.

My mother taught for twenty years and stopped working before reaching retirement age. Did that make her suddenly incapable or did her job as a school teacher make her less capable as mother or wife because she could not tell Dad about mutual funds? Many of friends in school and college had non-working mothers and they were as well-brought up as me and others who had working mothers. Education should lead to jobs is a topic for another post. But where is it written? More so and more importantly education does not come from  sitting in a classroom. That is literacy. Was it not the so called highly educated who were managing the i-banks responsible for the 2008 financial crisis. Education means how to live your life well and make your surroundings if not the world a better place. And knowing the difference between clothes and culture which equate wearing a sari to purity and shorts to promiscuity. You may be a financial wizard but you make millions at the cost of others you are nothing more than a common thief. You maybe Lalitaji in the whitest of white sari yet can be a dowry seeking torturing MiL.

Managing home is a mind blogging task which is to be done 24/7 365 days an year. It involves all the disciplines in the world be it management, finance, politics, ethics, you name it and you get it. The word Economics originates from a Greek word which means household management. Rejecting household work and being a homemaker (now that housewife is out of fashion) is down right ridiculous. The fact is anything I do there is counter by the so called society. If I don't work after completing my education then I was not worth of getting a job. If I don't take a break for having babies and leave them in the care of the maid then I am a callous mother. I am also guilty of stereotyping and questioning others. When after class XII my classmates started getting married and I was like 'so soon'. I did not know under what circumstances and conditions. Maybe after their marriage they completed their education and went on to careers. One of the examples that comes to mind is Tarla Dalal.

Career and jobs are not the be all and end all of life. The reason they are given importance is because through it mostly and especially for women stems their freedom and liberation. What is needed is firstly respect for what ever I am doing be it managing home or managing a fortune 500. Secondly freedom to choose my way of life and the encouragement to pursue my dreams. This not only for me or women but for everybody. In a modern free society the freedom to choose, to be different, have the courage to reject stereotypes and labels are a must. Breath. Live and let live.

P.S. I don't know how to cook !!

Written on 28th September, 2012.

( You can read the article mentioned in the blog here 

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/sunday-toi/all-that-matters/Home-truths-on-career-wives/articleshow/15243750.cms.  Don't have much to say now just that respect others and their choices and yes you may think of all the caveats that are legal :)  Till next time Happy Dusshera !!!! :) )

Glittering and Gritty

Every beat of the drum,

pierced his heart.

Every note of the shennai,

brought tears to his eyes.

Yet he kept on playing,

longing to go back in time. 

Clutched tightly between his fingers, 

like grains of sand.

Glittering and gritty. 

The time when every moment was celebrated,

big or small..

The breaking of dawn, 

the last light of day and closing of gates.

Birth of a new life,

victory over old foes.

New ends..old beginnings..

the age of innocence.

Now there are just two of them,

keeping the tradition alive. 

Alone and forgotten.

a spectacle for rare visitors,

Relic of the past. 

The music fades away,

few odd spectators leave.

Its been long since a crowd gathered. 

he packs away the instruments,

The memories and the times.

and the few grains still left between his fingers..

Glittering and gritty. 

Written on 18th August, 2012.

(Its been a long long time..almost three months.. sorry sorry.. This poem also took a long time to take shape four months almost. The old city of Ahmedabad has lot to explore. The history,the stories. Some traditions still continue..The city gates when they were closed at night in the past did so with music playing in the background. One family still continues that tradition till date and at night around 11pm in a small room above the gates which now remain open play for sometime. It is sad and heartening at the same time. What will you do to go back in time which we think to be better than the present. Till next time..Eid Mubarak.. :) ) 

The market for horses

मैं नींद के कुछ घोड़े बेचना चाहती 

पर बिकते नहीं मेरे 

मैं मिन्नतें करती 

विनय  पूजा करती 

पर अड़ियल  टटुओं की तरह 

वो हिनहिनाते और मैं भिनभिनाती . 

रात  भर  करवट बदलती 

चादर कभी हटा देती कभी दाल  लेती 

ताकिय  कभी सर के नीचे

कभी पैरोँ  के पास ..

धरती की तरह अपनी अक्सिस  पर और 

पलंग  के चारों ओर चक्कर काटती रह्ती 

कुछ ज़ल्दी सोने वालों कि असीम अनुकम्पा बनी रहती 

सारा मार्केट कुछ ही घंटों में घोड़े से लबालब भर जाता 

और मेरा माल बिक नहीं पता 

बोनी करने वालों को कुछ गा.. कुछ कटोर शब्दों में 

मैं बहुत कुछ सुनाती ..पर कुछ नहीं बदलता ...

मैं और मेरी नींद कोसौं दूर होते 

और बीच में यह न बिकने वाले घोड़े ..

मैं खचर , गधे.. यहाँ तक कि भेड़ के दाम में भी बेचना चाहती 

पर कोई खरीदार नहीं मिलता..

लोग कहते है नींद न आना प्रेम में होने कि निशानी है.

इस बात पर मेरा मन करता..

कि इन्ही घोड़ो के परौं तले सारे बेसुरे शायरों को कुचलवा दूं !!!!

थक हार के जब घोड़े और मैं दोनों शांत ह़ो जाते ..

तो सूर्य कि पहली किरण के साथ एक आशा कि किरण दिखती 

अंतर राष्ट्रीय बाज़ार खुलने का समय हों गया..

धरती अपने अक्सिस पे घूम गयी ..

घोड़े विदेश में बिक सकते है 

मैं सोचती देर आये दुरुस्त आये.

कुछ नहीं से थोडा कुछ  सही 

दो पल के लिए ही सही ..

कुछ ही घंटे वोह घोड़े फिर वापस आ जायेंगे 

मुझे ढूँढ़ते हुए..

जीवन कि इस आपा धापी में मेरे साथ भागने के लिए ..

फिर रात में ना बिकने के लिए..

घोड़े नहीं गधे है !! 

पर मेरे है. 

Written on 6th May, 2012

(This is my second poem on sleep. The earlier one was Surrender and you win.. .. Well what can I say .. writing poems about sleep deprivation at this hour is saying enough.. Till next time.. Happy Summers !!!! :) )

Then we will talk..

My name.
the colour of my skin
how i look.
my accent
the language I speak.
how i dress
my size.
the way I eat food
how i live.
my sex.
how much I make or giveaway.
who i love.
to whom I bow my head or raise my hands to.

When it all does not matter.
When you look at me and only me
And find me.
Then
We will talk.
Listen and speak
And live.

Written on 13th April, 2012.

(You can discriminate and you do on every thing that makes me.. me and different from you. Am I fat, am I dark skinned, am I speaking your language with a accent, do I pray and to whom, who i choose to spend my life with and when and how. The list goes on. Take a breath, step back and look.. and see...They are you.
The blog completes its three years this 19th. Thank you for reading and appreciating. Till next time. Happy Baisakhi and all the Happy New Years !!!! :) ) 

Fare..Well..

Silent tears,
Starry smiles.
Waving hands,
Unsaid goodbyes.

Million memories,
Tugging the heart.
Sweet and sad,
Merry and mad.

Dreams fulfilled,
Wishes granted.
New paths and new dreams,
Unexplored and expansive.

A wish on the lips.
A tear in the eye.
Looking back,
With a wistful smile.
They bid adieu and say,
Fare..Well.. my friend.


Written on 2nd  March, 2012.

(One of my friend's got married last week and one is leaving after completing her degree and it is season of goodbyes. Mostly happy but it is a little sad. It is hard to say goodbye better to say we will meet again soon. Till next time and hopefully sooner, my apologies for the late post again missed February. Happy Holi !!!! :) Be safe play safer.) 

Love..in the..Story

She remembered everything,
He forgot most of it.
She reminded,
He regretted.
She sulked.
He dealt,
With love, kisses, hugs.
She smiled,
He sighed.
Then...

She remembered some of it,
He forgot nothing.
She fretted,
He cajoled.
She feared.
He fought,
With her demons, dreams, nightmares.
She sighed.
He smiled.
A little...


Written on 27th January, 2012.

(Sorry for such a long silence. It has been two months. First of all A very Happy New Year !!!! :) We are still in January so it is still valid. And before you say that the poem reminds you of a certain Hollywood movie based on a book and remade into a Hindi movie. Well let me say that, that is not the inspiration. Just that it is said that and true to some extent women remember a lot. Dates, incidents, time, mistakes... ;) and men don't. I know vice versa cases and am sure there will be many. What is important the love of two people in all the mayhem of her and his..story to find their love story. And it is a scary thought that someone whom you  love does not remember you or anything else. Till we meet next time spread love and Happy Valentines' Day !!)