As we grow up...we collect lot of tales...but time n energy seldom gives us the liberty to paint and showcase those images we bear in our minds....Fighting relentlessly with time factor specially in a city like Mumbai...I want to rewind my life through these blogs and preserve them forever.....
Chemical Engineer by profession, narrator/blogger/painter by passion, the bewildered girl in me writes her tales in "TALES TO TELL"
They say that the union of a male and a
female through marriage is a bonding that God had predestined to occur. They
also say that the partners bond in the holy bondage are for each other's
completeness. They complement each other's existence, they make each other's
life more meaningful. But unfortunately no law in
this man-made society of divisions is spared of flaw. And this
law is no exception either. Though fortunately the air of change, and for the
better has started to flow through this bourgeois society. Yet the conjectured
minds continue to rule the households of the majority.
we don't teach our daughters to become proficient in cooking,
cleaning and prepare to excel their duties as wife, mother, daughter-in-law and
preferably forget their dreams, or
better existence. At-least the society has learned to accept
that a woman is capable of almost all the work has man does. She can be
the bread-earner of a family too. But the flawed theory is more with
the evolution of man from the dominant, to the hand in hand partner. He has
gracefully (almost) learned to accept the fact, that his partner is a corporate
player, a doctor or a successful businesswoman. But the difficulty is
with his and the society's incapability of accepting the fact that, as she is
sharing his load with jobs outside the four walls of the house, he should learn
to share her load within.
We brag about how modern our society has
become. We say that we are progressing at a lightning speed. Digital India!
Progressive India! But can a society actually progress without being able to
shed off the ingrained prejudices? Time for some thought! If you don't agree that
we have impregnated minds...just ask yourself the following few
a. How many times have you
heard that a man was anxious about the meal he was supposed to prepare after
getting home, after chasing deadlines in office?
b. Does the man of a family,
of working partners think of the menu the cook will prepare?
c. Who is responsible for
washing clothes or at-least sending the clothes to the laundry?
d. Who keeps account of the
f. And my favourite, who
prepares tea/coffee (mostly, not interested in the occasional show
of generosity) after a wife and husband return home, both after a long day
at office? g. After answering the above, just ask yourself "WHAT IS BEING PROGRESSIVE?" to you.
The answers to the above questions and
many more will give a transparent picture of the prejudices our society carries.
And it is very important to prevent inculcating the same in the tender minds of
the generations to come. And the one and only way of doing it, is to exemplify
equality in the house. The man and woman of the house should be treated with
equal dignity and all work should be shared. A boy and girl child should not be
fed with different beliefs about their status in the society and more so in the
household. As both of them strive to be successful individuals, both should be
proficient in household chores. Such that these kids grow up to be successful
and sympathetic building blocks of a society, which could be called progressive
from the core.
“I am joining the
Ariel #ShareTheLoad campaign at BlogAdda and blogging
about the prejudice related to household chores being passed on to the next
This video is extremely well made and symbolizes our society's pseudo progress
It was past mid night.
Goa was still alive but Arambol beach was silent. The waves were banging heads
incessantly on the beach, the white froth was shining in the full moon night.
Ashutosh was alone, he was sitting on the stairs of his shack which lead to the
sands. His feet touched the soft and coldness of the beach. This was the first
time he had dared to travel alone after Arunima had passed away. But the
emptiness was eating its way to his heart. There was a slight pain that aroused
from the middle of his chest but strangely he felt more alive. Their house back
in Mumbai was a museum of their memories together and he was still quite
unprepared to face those, alone. Relatives and their constant pandemonium
barely gave him a chance to think of her to the fulfilment of his heart. But
that night he was alone, in Goa, one of their favourite locations of travel. He
was happy to be able to enjoy his melancholy and think of her over and over
Arunima was a nature
lover, the only aspect of life that gave her happiness was closeness to the
oceans, nearness to the mountains. And offcourse him. She was a painter of
words, a narrator and a dreamer. That night the Arabian beauty lay in front of
his eyes, but a girl with long silky hair was not sitting by him clinging to
his hand with candid childishness. Her twinkling eyes, infectious smile and
innocent face was nowhere to be seen. Tear drops had appeared in Ashutosh’s
eyes without his consent. He closed his eyes in the hope beholding her. And she
Since the last few
months she was suffering from hypertension, urban life stress, her want to
embrace motherhood, and her desperate try for striking balance between the
writer in her and her corporate life tore her to pieces. She kept complaining
that she never felt comfortable and a mist was gradually hiding the
effervescence of her heart. But neither she nor Ashutosh gauged the pressure
that she was subjecting herself to. Not before that accursed night. When a
cardiac arrest, arrested the life of a girl full of hopes and possibilities.
Leaving Ashutosh alone with her memories.
She was sitting on the
sand, in a royal blue flowing gown. The light from the shack was falling on
her. And Ashutosh found himself being pulled like iron towards a magnet. When
she looked up at him, he could clearly see the gloom that surrounded her pretty
face. Tears were rolling down her pink cheeks.
“I wanted to fly with you but
shackles held me back, I wanted to touch the sky. The constant struggle to be
myself killed me……I wanted to live with you………………..”
When Ashutosh opened
his eyes, it was all emptiness that surrounded him. But he vowed something, he
vowed to follow his dreams and never let fetters tie him up. He vowed to live
LOVE YOUR DREAMS AND
LIVE LIFE…MECHANICAL LIFE IS WORSE THAN DEATH……REMEMBER STRESS KILLS SO LIVE
Anything when happens for the first time is special, very special indeed. An occurrence that etches marks of contentment on your heart. And this feeling was awesome, my first appearance in a magazine. My article on JIO launch got selected by the editors of WOW, a magazine of Reliance and they featured it in their February Edition. Thanks a ton, for your appreciation.