Once Upon A Sunday

You must have read at a lot of places now, now that social media is often found flooding with-how we need to cater to the emotional and psychological needs of children. And rightly so, I shall say!

When we were young, I can’t remember anyone talking about the emotional needs of us. No one spoke about it; if you were crying, there was a solvable reason, if not, you better stop crying! It was (not) okay to be sad, was (not) okay to be upset about things, (not) okay to feel anything but happy, or angry (mostly acceptable, if angry with your siblings, over food or a petty remote fight) other than that, there wasn’t much encouragement about feelings. This was quite bad if you ask me now. But here’s the thing, strangely so, if I look in retrospect, I was a happy child.

A happy child because most of my approval came from my parents, or family and sometimes a few close friends, but never from people on Facebook, or snap chat, or Instagram or any other platform that I'm most certainly outdated to know about.

I was content because my parents took out time for me. They both worked through the week, my father went on to his business, and my mom managed the household (I would always call that a full-time job). But Sundays were our days!

My father always made sure we planned our Sundays ahead; we always got excited about them. The day was planned on around a lot of things though; the weather, my father’s pocket, if we were expected at a relative’s place, if there was something new that came to town, if we were good throughout the week, and our health.

But the most that I remember, and miss, now as an adult, are picnics!

The months between October and March were bliss! We would find new gardens and different places where we could picnic, good food, and games, and even more fun! They were a treat! We would usually go with close friends or family, and make a day out of it!

My father, if I could say, is a grown-up version of Dora- the Explorer! He would save magazine articles and would ask around religiously about anywhere that was new! And we would visit that (if within our reach).

However, our travel adventures are for another time.

I am here for you to know "how your child is missing their childhood", and sadly you’re at fault! Let me elaborate. So when was the last time, you sat with your child and coloured a page of a book, if it weren’t for their homework? When was the last Sunday you visited a new place that wasn’t a mall? When was the last time you packed a picnic basket and laid bedcovers on the grass of a play area? When was the last time you had a potluck, which wasn’t just for mere gloating of your new decor or crockery?

We have money for them, to get a laptop, I Pads, and mobiles, and allowances to be on social media because we don’t have time to be in their lives anymore. And then we go on complaining “Oh my daughter is stuck on her phone the entire day!" “Oh my son, won’t open his room, and I only wonder what he does?!” Any update I know of my wad is when they post online. And most parents can’t even do that, because their children won’t accept their requests on social media. Since you kept them out, you should not blame them, if they mean to keep you out now!

It is absolutely crucial to give them time, to make a plan that involves them, to take them to picnics, and luncheons, and have them have memories that they will cherish when they grow up. They will not miss you for having bought them the new toys! Or getting them a new nanny, or luring them with gadgets. They will think of you fondly when they will visit a place and remember that you all came for a picnic there. They will miss you; from the times you spent with them sans gadgets, not the things you could substitute your love with, with money!

So, I hope the next time you leave home with them, you will have tickets to a play, or a pottery class, a simply packed basket of food for your picnic, or anything you all enjoy as a family.

To conclude, I simply urge you, I urge you to spend time with the lovely creatures you created, I urge you to spend precious moments with them, I urge you to spare a while for them, I urge you to stop buying memories, for they can never be bought! I urge you to help your child, have a childhood!

Until then, 

Love, A 

To Turning Thirty

To the hype, the disappointments, to age and acceptance. Cheers!

I recently turned thirty, and I believe I was under some self-put obligation to feel terrible about it. Caught feelings from F.R.I.E.N.D.S.? Perhaps.
 

However, to my acceptance, nothing changed over the strike of the midnight clock. Nothing but my age. I looked the same, felt the same, got hurt the same, and was thankful-just the same! People around me, or should I correctly say, loving people around me managed to make my evening lovelier, without much rubbing of me turning thirty.

On another thought, considering that we are all on social media platforms and know a little too much about each other's lives; their holidays, their future, their jobs, their partners, and plans, and talents and children, and their children's plans and talents and schools and accomplishments, and I could quite comfortably add more words to the list, but 'we know almost everything, that anyone wishes for us to know' that seems more rightly put, I suppose.

Well, the same social media platforms told me that many of my friends and family and colleagues turned 'mighty thirty' along and around my birthday. Some seem to take it better than others, more celebrations, lavish celebrations, grander gifts, and trips around the world-a birthday that anyone would be jealous of, at any given age. I think I have no right to be jealous myself, I was out with people I love, for almost a whole week celebrating my birthday in the hills!

Yes, so moving on with the 'thought', I saw people share their feelings about turning thirty. What should we do, and shouldn't, views on how we need to live our life on our own terms, and care more about ourselves and on, and on, and on... but I seem to have failed at getting any bit wiser (with age).

I know nothing! I have no plans, I am quite sincerely and similarly lost and drained. I am in search though, in search of a will to do things, that I know will make me happier once accomplished. A want to do better on the work front, and academics. An eagerness, to do something for my health, and a need to make sure that I have my nest warm and filled with happiness.

Nonetheless, before it turns all vague, I suppose it is best to come to an end with the 'thought'. I think it's okay! It's okay that you don't have a degree as good as your friend, or a job as good as your classmate from college, or a happy and healthy baby-like a friend from school. It's okay to not have a body like that model friend on your list, it's okay! Because one of these days you are going to hold a crown with your own achievements, and that day, it will not matter if you are thirty or any other number.

As far as I am concerned, I am learning to be thirty, with each day. I hope the number treats me well. Until the next birthday, and a rant as long as this, I shall make myself a promise, to not let go of myself, of the person that made me who I am today, all those years that came before thirty, and all that they taught; I shall respect them, and keep on learning to be a better person, a better thirty years old person.

P.S. Thank you if you took the time to wish me on my birthday. You need to know, it meant a lot! Hugs. 

Hush Hush Baby

I would have liked to say ‘I remember faintly’, but I do in fact remember the event pretty well- somewhere around the summer of my eighth standard, I had some silly (did not seem silly then) issues with a couple of friends. We had recently been introduced to a counselor in the school and were encouraged to ‘seek guidance’ if need be.

I thought of the situation as a ‘need is’ and went up to the lady-our school counselor. Comforting and everything that conversation was, also, she made me realize that my concerns were petty and that I should rather pay attention to my books than, well, everything else!

I wish I could say, “So that’s about it” but it wasn’t. My class teacher, who also was my mathematics teacher called me to her desk a couple of days later, after the class had left for some other subject.
She asked me why I went to the counselor and made me feel really terrible and stupid to have gone to her, to share how I felt, and what disturbed me.

More than a sob story, this event brought an urge in me, a need to have counselors that can be trusted. Children already feel the peer pressure; they already feel humiliated with the idea of visiting a counselor. A child today, (feels) s(he) is smart enough to not seek advice, from anyone, in the family or elders, let alone a counselor. So in that case, the only advice these boys and girls are getting from is their friends – who are equally lost if not more. How does a sinking ship, save another? Leaves us to wonder.

 A generation so affected by social media, likes, and followers, “Yes, I am useless”, ‘I’m a loser” and a generation that doesn’t look up to anyone, not even the wall, I tell you; needs guidance. They need to know they are better off than the snap stories, and Instagram followers. Facebook they say is old school now.

These young adults have no one to share their feelings with(or that’s how they feel), no one to tell them a difference between right and wrong, they aren’t usually talking to their parents and God forbid if you try to sneak some sense into them, you instantly become the relative they hate!
Now how do you expect a child who is filled with varied emotions to pay attention to mathematics, or science? With each passing day, we come to the realization that these children are getting depressed, and the only way that seems like a solution is counseling, for both children, and their parents. It’s not the plain old generation gap now; it’s been decorated with the social media pressure.
Before we seem to leave tracks of the topic, I will urge every parent to talk, every child to talk, and every counselor, to respect the secrecy of every person- young or old, who gathers the courage to come up to you and vent.

So will you be willing to have a talk now?


Until the next time,
Mrs.A

A Friend First

                                  

“That’s my favorite teacher” haven’t we all said that at least once? Well, I have!

For various reasons, some teachers leave a lifelong impression upon their students. A few have superb teaching skills, some explain brilliantly, and certainly earn a reputation for their approachability. I have always had a fondness for teachers who could make their students comfortable, it felt good to attend their lectures, even with difficult subjects like Mathematics (please don’t judge me). 

I have always awed some of my teachers for making us feel more than mere students attending a lecture. It is very important for learners to feel that they are important in a class, not only does that boost their confidence, but it also makes them more attentive, and they participate better. 

I grew up having a few splendid teachers, whose teaching skills imprinted my teaching skills. Being a lecturer myself, teaching adults, I came to a realization that it was all the more important to be a friend first. 

Your class can be bliss for both you and your students if your students feel they can be themselves during the lectures, and around you. Once you give them a confidante, they too give you commendable performance. Believe you me, I have seen a few putting in much more effort in my class than any other, and it is such an encouragement as an educator. 

Sometimes, it is crucial to know the youngsters in your class. As a teacher, you do get to know if a student is an upset-they show, through ways-if only you are willing to notice. If a student knows his/her sentiments are important to you, s(he) will also make an effort to reciprocate by being present-attentive! That is a bonus in itself! Having a class full of students who are willing to listen, learn and absorb-it is truly essential! 

So let’s try and motivate better, let’s try and be teachers who leave a watermark for being much more than mere instructors, let’s try to be friends first!

Until next time,

Mrs. A 

My Beautiful (Bulky) Bride

"I don’t know how will madam make such a fat aunty look pretty" is what Advaita* heard the assistant beautician say to her colleague when she was changing into her wedding lehenga, behind the curtains of a fancy high profile makeup artist’s studio. ‘I was shattered hearing that the one thing that I wanted the most on my wedding night was to look pretty. Obesity runs in my family, I tried everything from gym, diets, yoga, walking, ayurvedic procedures but nothing could fetch me drastic results, I hoped for’. ‘I met Adhiraj* when I was 27, he was a graduate, managing his family business. I was an assistant professor in an MBA college and involved with a lot of activities along with. He liked me for my talents and my being. He looked at me very differently, as if I was more than just a big wobbly piece of flesh (that’s how people always looked at me). I was at the zenith of happiness after he told his parents he wanted to marry me. But the big round piece of flesh soon fell back on the grounds of reality, when EVERYONE in his family questioned, ‘why such a fat girl, she looks like a hippo, a very fair hippo’. Well, apart from all my compliments of being compared to all possible giant mammals, we did get married and we are happy together. I wonder if Adhiraj* looked at me through a concave glass that evening’... says Advita*, with a questioning yet content smile on her face!

These days a lot of men look for girls who are well educated, talented, caring, and self-dependent. Who might, might not be a perfect figure but a good soul human. Such are men like Adhiraj* but the sour truth is that such men are vastly outnumbered by the other breed, who find no shame in saying ‘when I walk on the roadside with my girl, no one is going to know about her talents, her skills or her nature; all that people can see is her figure, her complexion, and her dressing style. She has to be presentable more than anything else’. The saddest part being that these are well educated, well off men who (for no apparent reason) are expected to look beyond looks solely.

Speaking of Men and women together, now that the wedding season is on, we see everyone turning into a judge for the ‘brides’ of the three weddings they attend in one night, followed by futile discussions about the bride and her size. Everything is perfect and the guy is lucky if he has a thin, fair bride. But dear Lord, the poor guy’s youth goes to drain if at all he is hitched to a fat girl (nowhere, complexion doesn’t matter too much, her being overweight is good enough reason for his life to have been declared ‘ruined’).

Such people fail to acknowledge the fact that the girl might be on the higher numbers of the weighing scale, because of multiple reasons, foremost being her health. Diabetes, asthma, thyroid, hormonal imbalance, hereditary obesity and post-surgical weight gain, are a few to be named and blamed, for the poor girl to be receiving ‘the looks’.

I wonder if any of the wedding guests in their new suits and backless blouses, pay any attention to the bride beyond her visible (hidden) bellies?! Does anyone of them, notice her beautiful attire, her shy smile, her hopeful eyes, and her wishful looks? Her desires when she looks at her husband with love, compassion in her moves, and acceptance when she greets the guests and respect when she touches their feet.  And we know, ‘they don’t’.

It’s a pitiful state, that these people who don’t even care about the bride, who mostly check the names of the bride or groom on the invitations before entering the venue, that too, just for the sake of entering the right one. These are the people whom the girls are conscious of, either on their own or made by their families. The moment a chubby girl is engaged, the first thing that is brought to her notice is her weight, her flab, which ‘must’ leave her before the wedding. Starved, worked-out, and miles covered walking before they fit into that small backless choli. Is it that important to be thin? Is that the only way of looking charming on the most special day of her life? Will she look any less gorgeous if she is happy and fat? These are a few questions which both the bride and the society need to seek answers to.
 
(Being an overweight girl myself, I can best relate to the situation. (Not trying to blow my own trumpet here, but) I am a lecture, a painter, singer, and a writer and have always been the top rankers of school and college. BUT, none of that counts, beyond my alarming calorie intake! Due to multiple health issues and let’s admit it, being a foodie, I don’t own the most ideal looking body. And beyond all my talents and/or achievements, the only thing that everyone talks about around me is the ways through which I can lose weight; let me rephrase it, ‘I should lose weight’. It makes me both anguished and cheerless, when by the end of the day people receive me as just an XL size and not the person that I am).

I am not against thin people, in fact, I am of a belief that everyone should be healthy, only that for me, one’s health should/is not defined by their dress size. While encouraging a wrong belief of ‘thin being healthy’ our society and it’s proud members forget the fact, that there are so many girls who land up being unwell because they choose incorrect, quick and unhealthy ways to lose weight or in literal terms, to look thin and pretty.

By the end of my outpour of thoughts and opinions which might take a lot of time of understanding, educating, and empathizing, to settle in the hearts and brains of people.  I want to say this to all brides to be; ‘looking thin should not be the ultimate goal for your wedding day. Feeling beautiful inside, cherishing the new beginning, and looking forward to a happy life, a life of respect and dignity. Seeking warmth and love in the eyes of your husband is what you should look forward to. For by the end of it, if you, yourself won’t be comfortable in your skin and won’t accept your being, then no one else will!’

And for all of you, who are not going to wear a wedding dress this season, watch your weight over the lavish spread of sweet dishes! Happy Weddings everyone!

Photos are subjected to copyrights.

Touched and Ached For Life

With her heart pounding, she went inside the room. A small room outside a flat turned into a stationery shop. “I need a box of pencils and a ruler,” she said, the 5-year-old was in kindergarten and was very excited that her mother thought she was old enough to go to the shop, behind her place to buy colors and pencils.

 

“Close the door,” said the 82-year-old shopkeeper who was too old to even close the door on his own. “Close the door,” he said again, she was very scared and with a trembling voice, she repeated, “I just want a box of pencils and a ruler uncle.” “Yes, I will give you what you want, after you give me what I want.” Standing petrified, she could not say a word in protest, she closed the door. “Now come closer to uncle,” he said, so she did! He made her stand close enough, so he could slide his hand down her knickers and stroke his finger in her underpants. Disgusted and frightened she stood there being sexually harassed.

 

Her trauma did not stop there. She got physically harassed by her father’s best friend at the age of 13 and even today, at the age of 24, she gets a rush in her stomach when he visits their place. Notwithstanding all this, it was as if the flesh-eating wolves were pulled towards the girl. Thereafter she got molested at the age of 15 and 16 respectively, by her cousins, sons of her aunt. Though in the later incidence she almost saved herself from getting raped, warning her brother that she will yell and everyone would get to know.

 

Bag full of incidences followed her throughout her childhood and adolescence, the cycle rickshaw wala holding her from her chest to put her on the rickshaw, the tailor feeling her while measuring her, the uncles tickling her, even when she asked them not to. All these bits of hands and eyes on her body left a very deep dark impression on her mind. Even the thought of being alone in a room with a man freaked her out.

 

She did not understand, what pleasure a man got out of touching a small girl in her pants or her underdeveloped breasts. She could not even tell anyone anything, how could she? What could she tell? She was terrified and ashamed of what happened to her. In fact, she did not even know what had happened with her, it just felt filthy.

 

To date she can feel that nauseating rush. Even today, when a man picks up a little girl around her, she feels the agony and gets equally scared the way she got when she was 5. Those days of molestation have made her lose all trust in men around and feel very insecure about her little cousins and nieces.

 

But the one thing that she learned, out of all that had stained her childhood was that ‘Silence’ is not the answer to it. A little girl will obviously get scared in such a situation and might not be able to raise her voice, but the least we can do to save her from having a bruised childhood is talk to her! Speak with her about it, make her understand that someone touching her inappropriately, or saying something physically offensive is not acceptable. Nobody is asking you to make her paranoid about men around; but simply, make her aware of the line, that no one should be allowed to cross.

 Put the idea across to her, that she can discuss anything on these lines without being hesitant. This is the least we can do to make our little angels safe and aware, to stay away from the physically hungry, mentally unstable, and emotionally disturbed men, for they could be anyone from her brothers, uncles, or cycle Rickshaw walas.

 

Talk to your children! Know what is happening with them, little stories, small gestures, some unsaid hints might let you know if your child is being sexually abused.

 

It took her around 10 years to vent it out, talk to people about it, and make the little girls aware. It was high time to let go of her inhibitions, for she understood that it was not her fault that she became the victim of a man’s lust which left her ached for life. Now after saying it out loud, she felt that great burden was lifted off her chest.

 

So, know from now, if it happened with you, IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT!

http://www.gotstared.at/blog/op-ed/touched-and-ached-for-life/

Photo courtesy: Google images  

Irony of the privileged one

The only two choices a woman in today’s world has is, to either live, or to live for herself. They all are living, but only a grain-like minority chooses to loosen itself from the norms, customs, and behavioral dictum, which are all gender-biased. But one dare say! Girls from well-educated families sometimes are more miserable than those who are not that privileged. These privileged hand puppets get education, shelter, and food but No freedom. No freedom to do what they aspire, or to stand where they desire. They are allowed to talk but not speak against the immortal customs of society. The expectations from the sibling of the same house by the parents differ because one of them is a boy and the other one is a girl. They have different curfews and allowances. The boy can bring home the girlfriend but a girl must restrict her choice in gender while befriending anyone. After all, she is the ‘Izzat’ of the house and she should stay within the ‘Maryada’.

With the increasing modernity in the new generation, we see more women have started drinking or smoking openly. Doing which they leave the men and women around astonished. As in an ideal (male-dominated) world, men could drink or smoke whereas women must not drink or smoke. For a simple reason, that it is not ethical! Do ethics say that men and women should be seen with a different eye? Modern society teaches us to be equal on all grounds, but the reality seems to differ from the teachings we receive.

The educated, open-minded husband might be all right with his wife earning more than him but who is to say about the aunties, neighbors, and friends? How do you feel when your wife gets a better paycheque than you? These questions being asked constantly leads to an obvious rise of the man’s Ego. He, after all, has been raised in a world where patriarchy prevails, then how come his wife’s better check not bothering him? It does! Eventually leading to fights and in extreme cases leaving the wife with two rash choices of either leaving the job or her husband. How fair is that? In society today, we can clearly say, that tradition is just being veiled by modernity, there is nothing as modernism or liberalism beyond that thin veil.

When the male of the family goes for a business trip, he is encouraged but if the daughter needs to write an article on the nightlife of the city, she is told:” she should consider a day job ”. A profession where she is back before dusk. Dreams of a man are stepping stones for a better future but dreams of a woman should be left untouched. Even when the woman gets married it changes not much for her, a fancy wedding to let her know that her responsibilities have increased and she must learn to prioritize family before career. With the marriage knot, all her hopes are tied to the post, she is then taken to a better, more glittery golden cage. She would be let to fly when the new family would want to show off the beautiful colors of the new bird’s wings, but as her old master, there would be someone clipping her wings in the name of tradition and protection.

Years after the independence, after hundreds of moments regarding, dowry cases, equal rights, here we are, still struggling for equality with our brothers and husbands. An equal stand with every male in society. This leaves us wondering if the bird would ever be allowed to leave the perfect golden cage to turn her imperfect life to a perfect one.

http://www.gotstared.at/blog/op-ed/irony-of-the-privileged-one/?fb_action_ids=10152722391315234&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_source=other_multiline&action_object_map=%7B%2210152722391315234%22%3A153128061530390%7D&action_type_map=%7B%2210152722391315234%22%3A%22og.likes%22%7D&action_ref_map=%5B%5D