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Half a decade ago marriage was a bargain between two famlies. Most of the women were married off to a man who was either well off or who could fend for his wife and family. Today the parameters of marriage have changed. Women no longer marry for the sake of economic security. Their expectations from marriage have changed in the course of years because of their changed status.
As women grew independent, their patterns of choosing partners have changed dramatically. Now women choose men who they feel can satiate their emotional as well as physical needs. Intimacy is no longer the physicality that happened between two people under the supervision of elders of the family for the sole purpose of procreation. Intimacy in today’s marriages involve understanding and fulfilling each other’s emotional as well as sexual needs.
So before you decide to hook up see if you know these five things about intimacy.
People often say that after marriage you’ll know him/her. The idea that intimacy grows with time is a myth.
Make sure that you spend enough time to know the person with whom you’re going to spend the rest of your life. Know their likes, dislikes and the plans they have for the future. If their plans don’t go well with yours, it’s better not to proceed further. No use rowing the boat in different directions. You’ll reach nowhere. Even if the person is too relenting and is on his toes to come your way, beware. The person might be a dupe.
However attractive the other person might be, if you cannot connect to them emotionally the physicality won’t last long. Sex without love will wear out in the end. Always choose someone with whom you can connect and confide your deepest sorrows and joys. This person you choose must be your greatest friend in the long run. Someone who is capable of consoling you in your deepest trauma.
We have to be honest with our partners.
Let’s say, if you have chronic illness, you have to always confide in your partner and ask for their consent about whether it’s ok for them to go on with the relationship.
Honesty is paramount in marriages. But you needn’t confess everything with your partner. Things like your past relationships or things that happened to your parents, family etc. You have to always keep your personal space to yourself. That’s a sacred space. Otherwise there are chances of people taking advantage of it.
You might be emotionally intimate with one of your parents, friends or siblings. You may not know it. There are people who are living together in marriage for years and have failed to connect with each other emotionally and physically.
Other than the ones mentioned above, there’s another kind of intimacy that bestows equal peace and happiness. Intimacy with one’s child. Or with a child one has adopted, for that matter. The pure joy experienced in living with a child, breastfeeding a child and by becoming a child with it is unbeatable.
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As a kid, my academic performance was always above average, if not exceptionally well.
Now, as a Edupreneur myself, when I see my own young son struggling with his studies or falling behind academically, a guilt creeps in and often drag me down. I often feel I am not doing enough for my kid.
However, I want to make a clear point that neither I am too obsessed with marks nor my son is bad in studies. But at the same time, I want my son not to underestimate his abilities or hold himself back from accomplishing certain goals in life.
In today’s real world, life being a working woman and a parent is a delicate balancing act.
I used to think “success” in my workplace meant a chic working area, stress free working hours, well manageable staff and clients, no nagging thoughts after working hours, good finances and a year – over – year growth. I had similar naïve notions of what it meant to be a successful parent: good work-life balance, pre-planned handy parenting tips, a full packaged healthy meal on table, show–off worthy report cards and always well-adjusted, hardworking and happy kid.
But now, I have been juggling both roles. When parenting, I felt I should be working; when working, I felt I should be parenting. What a dilemma, huh!
There is a nagging feeling that I am never doing enough or spending time for my kid, who will lag behind compared with children who are born to more devoted parents.
Now, I have come to accept this bumpy ride – the realities of my real life, in which I care deeply about my work and also care deeply about parenting my young son and I think therein lies the fret of every working parents.
One major thing I have changed – my approach.
I have changed my approach towards my work, my approach towards my kid and my approach towards my other priorities.
I cannot sacrifice and no one should sacrifice utterly for one thing in life whether it is work or children. It is reasonable to have other priorities in life that we balance with parenting.
I replaced ‘parental guilt’ with ‘parental responsibility’.
It is the high time that I owe the parental responsibilities. At different times, under various circumstances, I’ve been slow to act for the needful by thinking things will fall into place by default or without an effort.
Most importantly, I also found out that I can be a pretty imperfect parent and still have my child turn out fine.
May be I can sit with my kid and go through his classroom learnings on regular basis.
May be I can teach him to obtain resources that promote practical education thereby increasing his engagement in learning.
May be I can show him the scope for improvement while he was unaware of it.
May be I can be more relaxed whenever I am around him and sort out things.
May be I should loosen the grip every now and then and believe his decisions.
I am hoping for the best and also ensuring myself to be approachable and available so that he comes to me whenever he feels like.
I also hope that my ‘parental responsibility’ paradigm does not constitute burden for him rather it leads to empowerment.
A woman in Uttarakhand lost her life in a motor accident. Her husband and minor son were compensated with Rs 2.5 lakhs by a motor accident claims tribunal. When the family appealed to the High Court for a higher compensation their plea was dismissed because the HC justified the Rs 2.5 lakhs compensation that was fixed basis her life expectancy and a bare minimum notional income.
The family went on to appeal to the Supreme Court and the SC bench of justices Kant and Viswanathan has made some of the most powerful observations in this case. Acknowledging a homemaker’s time and effort in running a home, the bench increased the compensation to Rs 6 lakhs maintaining that a homemaker’s income is difficult to compute in monetary terms and should not be considered less significant to that of an earning member.
Why are we as a society so dismissive of a woman’s contribution in running a home and nurturing a family?
Whether a woman steps out of home to earn a living or works from home to earn a living the primary ownership of running a household has always been hers. This responsibility was all the more assumed if she did not have a source of income. Let us also not forget that in a patriarchal society many women even in today’s day and age are forbidden to be financially independent. There is this notion that a man’s income is enough, putting an unreasonable burden on men to be sole earning members.
This order by the Supreme Court will hopefully change the way homemakers are perceived and bring their contributions the needed and long overdue acknowledgment, respect and value.
Sometime back, I read an article about “Diversity and Inclusion”. The article had an important statement about the thin line of differences that exists between diversity and inclusion. It stated, “Diversity is being invited to a party, Inclusion is being asked to dance”. Diversity and inclusion is a boarder term in the workspace and the statement is a question to be answered by each one of us to make everyone in the party dance. Well, that’s an entirely different topic to discuss. But this statement made me question if I am truly the person that I say or write to be in terms of LGBTQ. Why specifically this? LGBTQ is an ongoing topic with never-ending arguments. I have always supported a diverse world that includes all. My way of support has been in the form of writing about it, sharing multiple posts on it and talking about it. That’s merely inviting everyone to the party! What about the latter part?
Recently, I had an opportunity to sign up for a “Life skill class” for the trans community. In this session, volunteers who sign up for it will have to coach the trainees on job skills and prepare them for the interviews. I usually sign up for sessions with college students and now I signed up for the one with the trans community. Volunteers were given training on “Sensitization” before the session. While attending the training session, I kept thinking if I would be able to do it and what if I messed it up. The more I thought about it, I became anxious about it. So I decided to concentrate my energy on everything else but not to think about it and get through it on the day of the session. And yesterday turned out to be the reality check to me!!
The session was a virtual session. So the volunteers of the program and trainees were sent to the breakout room. For every trainee, there was more than one volunteer to coach them in a room. I was put in a room full of senior colleagues. Usually, I am the over-excited kid who starts a GD or a Monica who asks the question and answers it. Yesterday, I took a back seat simply because I didn’t know how to begin. So I let my senior colleagues start the session and I observed the way how they led it and the conversation between them. They presented themselves as very positive and approachable trainers. Their approach was not any different from how they would do it for other students. Trust me, when you take a seat back and observe, there is a lot of learning! After a few minutes of observation, I finally began to speak. I was quite impressed with how I presented myself. I forgot the fact it was training for the trans community. I ended my training session with a sense of satisfaction. And yes, I passed the reality check!!!
Difficult situations reveal your true personality! Of course, there are undealt demons in me. But I liked myself in this challenging situation.
How do you like the angels and demons in you?
Dear Rahul
I hope this letter finds you well, navigating life’s twists and turns with grace and resilience. I understand that hearing from me might come as a surprise – it’s certainly not something you expected.
As I sit down to write this letter, a flood of memories rushes through my mind – moments of joy, and laughter, but also moments of pain and heartache. And you know what’s hitting hard the most, addressing you as my ‘ex’. For me, you are still my teenage crush and my first love who taught me what love is and made my world a little brighter.
I know our relationship was nothing less than a roller coaster ride, with its own share of fun and fear. Our football playing together is such a sweet memory. We laughed like crazy, danced like there was no tomorrow, and then argued like there was no tomorrow for us together as well.
It’s been time since we parted ways, and I’ve had ample time to reflect on our relationship, the highs, the lows, and everything in between. After leaving college, I wanted to barrage with n number of questions at you, but did not get an opportunity to fire. Now, by God’s grace, someone has given me a chance to write to you, so, I take this opportunity to scribble this monologue, which is neither planned, has no fixed format, and will flow like molten lava without hitting any backspaces or modulating the words to hurt you any lesser. So, please! Brace yourself.
First off, why did you divide the girls into two categories: “the girl I would fall in love with” and “the girl I would like to befriend and hang out with all the time”? Why was it that you were unable to fall in love with the same girl you enjoyed hanging out with? Was there ever a time when I said that Rahul is a man to hang out with and Aman is a man to spend the rest of your life with? Did I? Really? No.
For me, it was the same man for either of the situations. Because I did not fall for a man seeing that line you had seen. I had my heart for you because we both were so closely knit, so deeply bonded that I was confident enough that my life could sail smoothly with you.
Secondly, waiting to get your love is an okay thing. I understand. True love does demand patience and sometimes asks you to wait. Alright. Digested.
But why on earth did I have to change myself, Rahul, to receive back your love? Why did I have to shed my tom-boy look and sweep into that ‘’Indian-Sanskari-Coy-Girl” image to have you longing for me? How come you couldn’t love me for who I truly was? Why did I have to become another ‘Tina’ to bag your romantic interest in me? Weren’t my Basketball moves enough, to lure you?
Why did I have to learn that Indian Classical Dance to get your chin slip off your palm being awestruck by my beauty? Why couldn’t my Bob-cut short hair, my faded denim, my casual tees, and my sports shoes woo you? Why was I supposed to drape a saree and let my shoulder-length hair loose, to make you go down on your knees begging for my love? Were those short skirts of girls in college, strong enough, to outcast my messy liner and kohl, my not-so-good choice of lipstick, and my friendly hugs? Why did I have to change my attire to show you my feminine traits?
Why, Rahul, did you allow these discrepancies to come in when you constantly wore the ‘COOL’ tag with tacky t-shirts and a chain around your neck?
Why did you bring up all that “pyaar dosti hai” talk in Miss Braganza’s class when you didn’t mean it? Why, Rahul? Then and there I realized that I am your best friend and I deserve to be your love. When you confessed your love for Tina and hugged me, you didn’t even notice my reaction. I said I loved you and started crying, but you couldn’t see my happiness at hearing those words, nor my tears when you mentioned Tina. You were completely oblivious.
I was crushed that day, Rahul, expecting my ‘best friend’ to be there for me, but you weren’t.
I left college, but you never bothered to find out where I went. We crossed paths by chance at the summer camp, and suddenly you started falling for me because I started wearing sarees or maybe because I learned classical dance. Why did you confess your love when I was about to marry Aman? Why, Rahul?
Okay. I shall wait to get your answers. But even if you do not answer, my love for you, would not recede even an inch. I want you to know that despite the pain of our parting, I hold no hard feelings for you. I choose to cherish the good times, to forgive the hurt, and to move forward with a sense of peace. Let us raise a toast to the memories we created, and let the unspoken words find solace in the open air.
Lovingly Yours,
That Very Tom Boy Anjali
The term of LGBTQ has gained significant importance in the academic parlance too. The glimpse of lesbian life and the transgressive desires of women on screen through the Malayalam film, ‘Sancharram’( The Journey) released in 2004 did stir a lot of queries in me. The story unfurls the life of Kiran and Delilah, who decide to break the shackles of religion, sex and gender for the sake of their love for each other. Although homosexuality is perceived as an aberration in the society, the film boldly addresses same sex love, and how grounded sexuality is in the daily ways of life.The movie directed by the Indo- American director, Ligi J. Pullapally is a path-breaking film focusing on the travails and traumas of love making that is forbidden or ‘abnormal’ in a heterosexual society. The concept of family, gender and sexuality gathered a new definition in celluloid medium as well. Let’s have a glimpse of the debut Malayalam film that overtly addressed lesbian love as its thematic underpinning.
‘Sancharram’ ( The Journey) tells the tale of lesbian relationship that ignited between two female teenagers who know each other since their childhood days. The film served a sensual resonance simmered in an Indian context while also scooping itself out of the patriarchal prevalence and the matriarchal lineage of the Kerala community. The Indian film making culture somehow still appears confused towards forming a universal opinion about projecting homosexual desires as well as characters. The Chicago-based, South Asian filmmaker, Ligi J. Pullapally was one of the directors to come up with a film that openly dealt with homosexuality. Albeit the movie revolves around the motif of lesbian love making, it hints on issues like gender, body, sexuality, male hegemony, matriarchal legacy, religion etc. existing in the socio-cultural fabric of Kerala. ‘Sancharram’ set in the backdrop of a lush green village in Kerala narrates the coming to age love story of Kiran, a Hindu Nair girl and Delilah, a Catholic Christian girl. They are neighbours, childhood friends, classmates and their affection slowly and steadily takes the form of a romantic and sexual bonding.
The two childhood friends, Delilah and Kiran are attracted to each other. Delilah is lively and mischievous whereas Kiran is a potential poet with a quiet temperament. Kiran returns to Kerala with her parents to live in her ancestral home and Delilah is shown as her neighbour who is a visible presence in Kiran’s daily life. Their affection gradually takes the form of love although Delilah does not accept it at the onset. Though Kiran loves Delilah deeply, she is hesitant and scared of expressing her feelings. Love at first sight also gets a shake with the introduction of queer aesthetics. Here in the movie, Rajan has madly fallen for Delilah and he is unable express his feelings to her. He discloses his love for Delilah to Kiran and takes her help to know her likes and dislikes. He in fact asks her to help him by writing love letters for Delilah. Kiran agrees and writes letters. This act of writing love letters to Delilah is an expression of her repressed and romantic feelings untold hitherto. Later on, Delilah gets to know Kiran has written those letters for the beloved she identifies in Delilah.
The lesbian look of exchange and female bonding are vulnerable to heterosexual structure. The lesbian discourse places the heterosexual conceptualised notions of romantic love in contrast with homosexual love. The movie for instance depicts a scene in which Rajan and Kiran are looking at Delilah standing in front of her courtyard. Rajan and Kiran are standing outside the wall of the house and both are gazing at Delilah. When Kiran gets to know that Rajan has seen her observing Delilah, she dashes from there. Moreover, it is Rajan who informs Delilah’s mother about her ‘abnormal’ relationship with Kiran. This scene can be read as Rajan’s vengeance for Kiran as she is the one chosen as lover by Delilah over Rajan who badly loves her. The failure of a ‘normal’ love affair between their classmates Sabiha, a Muslim girl and a Hindu boy is also exposed in the film. Their elopement is not accepted by the society as they created shame for both the families. This occurrence unravels the fact that some heterosexual relationships transgressing the barriers of religion and caste are not accepted in the society. Although Kiran wishes to play football, her father dissuades her by saying “playing with balls is only for boys”. Hence, she moves on to the path of creating writing. When teacher asks Kiran regarding the content of Sugathakumari’s love poetry, she answers it as the loneliness of love and the hell created by it. In a way, it reveals Kiran’s inner conflict of her love’s intensity and the loneliness emanating from it. The film also discusses the inescapability of male- female unions prevalent in the society.
Delilah who is passionate about shadow plays is spotted with dolls during her study hours. During their combine study one night, power fails due to heavy lightning and thunder. Kiran and Delilah begins the shadow play where in Kiran plays the male role and Delilah in female role. Kiran’s body language resembles a man. She wishes to wear plain dress and likes to cut her hair short if her parents agree. She does not cry when Delilah pierces her ear. Rajan screams in front of his friends as he gets to know about Delilah’s wedding whereas Kiran faces the heart-breaking news with a strong heart.
There is an absence of public spaces in the film. The whole story travels through the confines of the homes, courtyard, school, pond and their scenic cum romantic ambience. On one side, there is Kiran’s ancestral home boasting of the grandeur of the matriarchal ancestry whereas on the other side, there is Delilah’s home where in she is accustomed to become a woman and wife. Even though her grandmother senses Delilah’s relationship with Kiran, she does not treat it as abnormal or try to evade her from that unlike other family members. There is a resonance of Partha Chatterjee’s classification of ‘ghar’ and ‘bâhir’ in Kiran and Delilah. Kiran wishes to break the barriers and come out of the societal norms whereas Delilah is confined to the room and forced to accept the decisions taken inside her home. She asserts that her ultimate place of existence is the interior. Delilah even says Kiran “there is nothing more between us”. Kiran and her masculine disposition represents her domain over Delilah, her submissive and womanly counterpart.
The social structure is still subjected to the structured normative patterns of heterosexual society. The intricacies of the female bonding are not accepted or welcoming in a hetero-normative domain. The climax of the movie signifies the dependence of the queer factors towards the non-queer factors. Delilah is forced to go back to the normative structures of the sexual identities and duties ascribed by the society. The movie ends with an optimistic note as Delilah runs out of the church during her wedding ceremony and Kiran decides not to commit decide. Kiran comes out of her female assertions by cutting the hair and walks forward. She embarks a new journey of self-discovery without the fear and favour of the societal norms.
The very name of the movie, ‘Sancharram’ denotes journey. It is a journey in search of ‘fresh woods and pastures new’; a journey to discover one’s self, identity and independence. Delilah and Kiran are yearning for a new journey satiating their physical, mental, emotional and sexual needs. Although Delilah succumbs to her family’s desire of marrying a man of their choice, she promises to continue the relationship with Kiran. Still, Kiran confesses that she can’t marry anyone else and she will find their share of happiness somehow. The moves culminates in an optimistic note where both the heroines get ready to undertake a new journey by shattering the shackles of societal chains. Delilah runs outs of the church where as Kiran keeps on walking after having cut her hair. It’s time to start afresh a new journey in both their lives. The movie at the outset introduces a fortune teller who predicts that Kiran will love early and it will be as strong as the bond between Shiva and Parvati. She exhorts: “Above all, know thyself!Without which in shadow dwells all else, Lord Muruga!”. The movie ends with the unruly laughter of fortune teller watching Kiran . In a way, her prediction has come true and Kiran initiates a new journey to know herself, a journey without the shadows of conventions and traditions.
Though her father supports her in all her endeavours, Kiran fails to convince her love to him. Her father also can’t get rid of the societal ‘normalcy’ and the ways attributed to a woman. Kiran’s mother strongly holds the view that women are the guardians of tradition. “ Once your children will also be born and brought up here. And our tradition will continue through you”. Her mother’s words echo the obligation of a daughter in continuing the family heritage. Delilah is forced to agree for maintaining the tradition and the duty of procreation by being in an arranged wedlock.
Through the mouthpiece of teenage girls, the movie raises voice against the hardships faced by women who wishes to trespass the forbidden barriers of gender, love and sexuality. The film, ‘Sancharram’ is symbolic of the rocky road that Indian lesbians are forced to travel in a traditional culture that frowns upon homosexuality and continues to employ arranged marriages as a matter of course for its daughters. Our society is too harsh on women especially if she breaks stereotypes. Society has rules for a reason. In spite of all the scientific and technological advancements, we survive in such a society where the needle of the watch decides the character and morality of a female. As normal and ordinary human beings, it is quite natural and normal for the woman folk having a desire to materialise their whims and fancies. Likewise, they wish to soar in their imaginary sky with their viewless wings of a butterfly. The flight of these butterflies are clipped and curtailed by the society in the name of morality, hetero-normative structure, social status, etiquette, decorum and what not. These fetters in reality restrain the light of a woman’s sustenance.
The notion of a third gender is still treated as an abnormal one rejecting the truth that true love knows no gender. “Randu Penkuttikal” (1978) was Malayalam cinema’s first prominent encounter with lesbian relationships, and was followed by Padmarajan’s “Deshadanakili Karayarilla”(1986) . “Sancharram”(2004) will remain unique for its daring depiction of lesbian love as its central theme. The film ensures the visual possibilities and limitations of lesbian relationship at its zenith.
Trigger Warning: This deals with graphic descriptions of rape and other sexual violence, and may be triggering for survivors.
Throughout history around the world there exist no period that have been free from war. It is hard to imagine a society that did not witness any armed conflicts. The stench of blood, the deafening sound of gunshots, bombs, missiles, the screams of people fleeing the battleground conjures up a chilling picture of war in our mind. Undeniably war spares none, but it discriminately ravages women.
When war breaks out in a nation and the enemy soldiers proceeds swiftly in the conquered territory, fear among women diffuses like an epidemic for they know since ages they have been ravished and assaulted as a mark of victory by men. The horrific repercussions of armed conflicts and war on women and girls is hard to visualize. While the 20th century had witnessed two deadliest wars for years and countless deaths, the 21st century or the age of technological modernity embraced manifold civil wars, armed conflicts, ethnic violence, welting us with the truth that we are just technologically advancing but morally degrading.
“Man’s discovery that his genitalia could serve as a weapon to generate fear must rank as one of the most important discoveries of prehistoric times, along with the use of fire and the first crude stone axe” writes American journalist and feminist activist Susan Brownmiller in her groundbreaking book ‘Against Our Will: Men, Women, and Rape.’ Since ancient times, rape was an accepted act of violence in a war-torn area. Tortured, exploited and discarded, the women who make through the atrocities of war carry with them a lifetime of trauma and an excruciating pain.
“They came with their black flags, they killed our men and raped our girls”, recalls Ekhlas in a trembling voice while speaking to BBC. She is among the countless Yazidi girls abducted and sexually exploited by the Islamic State when they invaded the province of Sinjar, Iraq. Perpetrated and organised by men since history, yet it is predominantly women and girls who bear the ghastly consequence of war. Rape is treated as a weapon, a military strategy to humiliate and demoralise the men of the conquered community, the ‘perceived enemy’, because when “your women” are conquered the “war is won”. It is the shortest way to wipe out an ethnicity. It’s barbarity still echoing in the central African country of Rwanda that witnessed in 1994 genocidal rape of 250,000 women of Tutsi ethnic minority during a three-month period. Equally monstrous and even more ghoulish was the “Rape of Nanjing” in 1937 when China’s capital city of Nanjing fell to the Imperial Japanese army. This intentional femicide, torture, exploitation, abduction acts as a testimony to men’s aggressive mentality where in the name of victory they treat women as “spoils of war” or “war-trophies”.
The war isn’t just declared on a land but on women’s bodies that are turned into battlefields. “Whether someone was 9 or 20 years old did not make any difference to them. They also do it to seven years old girls”, the Yazidi girls who escaped their Islamic State enslavers narrate to The Atlantic in a quavering voice their harrowing experience of abduction and sexual exploitation. War exposed its brutality on women in 1971 during Bangladesh Liberation War where mass rapes of around 400,00 Bengali women were committed by Pakistani military. It showed its mercilessness when Japanese troops before and during the World War II enslaved, abducted over 200,000 Korean, Chinese, Indonesian and Dutch women and girls from the conquered territories and turned them into ‘comfort women’. The inconceivable physical atrocities included apart from brutal rape, slicing off breasts and cutting off sexual organs. As if the worst hasn’t been done, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in 2002 reported how male aid workers of NGOs and UN peacekeepers commit equal level of sexual violence on women in war and conflict zones in exchange for food and other necessary resources.
“In the name of victory and the power of the gun, war provides men with a tacit license to rape”, writes Brownmiller and she isn’t wrong, because the diabolical treatment of women and girls during armed conflicts is revealed in their silent mourning, unheard pleas for justice wishing with a glimmer of hope, with pain buried deep inside that someday the world will recognize their sacrifice and the perpetrators will be brought to justice. The emotional wounds do not wane over time, it destroys the morale of these women gradually. Hit with unfathomable ramifications, women and girls in war-affected zones continue to suffer psychosocially. At most cases, the sexually violated women are ostracized from their own community and because of this looming fear of getting socially shunned, these women do not report rape or the atrocities they go through. They suffer from extreme health impact particularly reproductive health complications, getting infected with HIV/AIDS virus and other sexually transmitted diseases. The lack of medical help aggravates their condition which leads to high rate of female mortality.
Gripped by perpetual psychological trauma, endless health issues, shortage of food, water, basic sanitary facilities, constant shaming and shunning, these women either attempt to end their lives by suicide or are victims of forced suicide or ‘honor killing’. While war benefits none, but it’s the women who become the targets of gender-specific violence like getting kidnapped, trafficked, sold to slavery and prostitution. It is indeed strangely bewildering how the plight of these women is overlooked and obliterated in the post-war society and the trajectories of their sufferings do not get any space in the pages of history which solely focus on recording great battles and its military leaders.
Image source: YouTube
“Laju bete, a woman’s life is full of pain. It’s just the beginning.”
My mother was a simple woman, not a philosopher. That’s why when she said this to me when I complained about period pain at the age of fifteen, her words stuck with me.
Even if she had never said that, witnessing her life was a cautionary tale in itself. She was what you call a ‘karma yogi’—single-handedly serving a joint family consisting of four children, two old in-laws, and four of my father’s unmarried sisters and one unmarried brother.
I remember being scared of growing up, getting married, and reducing my life to serving a house full of dependents.
Those were the times when servants were not heard of. Or an occasional housemaid to help with dishes and clothes would visit hourly. My mother would complain about knee and heel pain when she would go to sleep at night. I wondered, is this the pain she had been talking about?
Hearing her impart wisdom about how girls should behave and what they should wear, I differed silently and promised myself I’d never be like her. I thought it was easy to be like her, suppressed and a sacrifier.
I realized I had the choice not to sacrifice myself for the family. But still, occasionally, there were clashes, and I would complain to my mother on the phone. It annoyed me further when she advised me to look inside myself, and what I was doing wrong instead of complaining.
I would then not talk to her for days.
As my mother got older and freer from the responsibility of the house, I saw a new woman. She joined a community of satsangis like most women her age, but she was not like most of them. She incorporated the teachings in the sermons and dedicated the rest of her life to trying to better herself. She devoted her youth to her duties, and after sixty, she embraced life the way she wanted to live it.
It was hard when you had two sons living with their wives under the same roof. She was blamed for favoritism by her sons. She cried. I thought she was talking about this unbearable pain that only your kids can inflict on you when she gave her two cents about pain to me. But she wasn’t the one to hold a grudge. Mothers rarely are.
She always lacked the confidence to go out on her own because she thought she’d be unable to manage since she didn’t know English. So, after sixty, she started working on what she felt she lacked. I found many notebooks in her room that we shared whenever I went to her house after marriage. She started learning English and collected inspirational quotes. At the age of sixty, my mother was writing nursery rhymes.
When she was seventy, I understood the real meaning of pain. It was about the same time when she was diagnosed with abdominal cancer, and the Covid-19 pandemic started in India in March 2020. I could not go to see her because there were no flights. And when finally, in July, I traveled ten hours to Gurgaon to see her; she was in the hospital.
When I saw her lying on a hospital bed in ICU, I couldn’t recognize her. Her shrivelled hands, swollen red body, and closed eyes made an impression of how much she was still enduring. She couldn’t see me. After twelve days, she left us to know what being without pain feels like finally.
Image source: by loncar from Getty Images Free for Canva Pro
Dear Virat,
I hope this letter finds you in a moment of peace and openness, as I write to you from a place of reflection and newfound clarity. In the stillness of the night, as the world around me quiets, I find myself wrestling with memories, each one a piece of the mosaic that was us. I find the words that have long remained unspoken, a turbulent sea of emotions waiting to be released.
Writing to you now, I dive into the depth of our shared time together, unearthing the moments that paint a picture of our love, our struggles, and ultimately, our separation. As I write to you now, it’s with a heart heavy yet unburdened, seeking closure from the shadows of our past. I feel that some emotions are too vast for silence, too profound to be left unspoken.
Do you remember the evening we hosted that dinner, the one for your colleagues and their spouses? As we prepared, you joked about how it was best I didn’t mention my work in urban development, suggesting lightly that conversations about home and family would be more “appropriate.” That night, as I played the part of your wife and a host, my voice felt stifled, my achievements and aspirations shelved away like so many dishes after the feast.
Or the afternoon I excitedly shared my dream of taking the fellowship abroad, only to be met with your snarky remark about how bad it would look, what people would say about a wife living miles away from her husband. “It’s not how things are done in my family,” you said. A statement that felt less like a snarky remark and more like a chain tied to my ankles, a sword in my chest. Each word was a reminder of the invisible boundaries drawn around me, boundaries not of our making but no less constricting.
These moments, seemingly small, were the droplets that over time eroded the bedrock of our connection. It wasn’t just about a dinner or a potential fellowship; it was about living in a space where my ambition, my voice, were secondary to your so-called societal expectations. Expectations that you, perhaps unwittingly, upheld, pressing me into a mold that never quite fit.
The most painful realization for me was not that these societal norms existed, but that our love, in its most crucial moments, bowed to them. Earlier, I thought my wishes meant something to you. The love I cherished became a mirror reflecting not who I was, but who I was expected to be. It was in these reflections that I began to lose sight of myself, my dreams dissolving into the background of a life I barely recognized.
The rain-soaked memories of us, laughing freely under the monsoon’s embrace, stand in stark contrast to the days when my desires seemed to fade into the silence of our home. It was in these moments of disregard, where my existence and my priorities were overshadowed by the ingrained norms of a society that often places men at the helm, that the seeds of resentment took root. The love I held for you, once unwavering, began to wane under the weight of indifference and the loss of respect.
The reasons that led us down the path of separation are as complex as they are simple. We loved deeply, yet that love, in its intensity, illuminated the crevices of our incompatibility. I grappled with the realization that the very core of what made us, ‘us,’ was also what made it impossible for us to walk the journey of life together. Our dreams, once so aligned, began to diverge, painting futures that no longer intertwined.
The difficulty for me, in continuing by your side, stemmed from the painful acknowledgment that love alone was not enough to bridge the gap of our differences. My spirit, ever seeking growth and understanding, found itself confined within the boundaries of our relationship. The more I tried to mold myself into the shapes of your expectations, the more I lost sight of my essence. It was a battle between heart and soul, between the love I held for you and the call of my own journey.
Our relationship, once a sanctuary, became a battleground where my identity was constantly challenged, and my worth measured against outdated standards. The struggle was not just with you but with the societal norms that shaped us, norms that often left little room for a woman’s dreams, desires, and dignity. It was a battle I fought not out of hate, but out of a desperate need for recognition and equality.
Choosing to leave was choosing to breathe, to step out from the shadows of ‘should be’ into the light of ‘could be.’ It was a declaration of faith in myself, in the possibility of a life where my voice mattered, where my dreams weren’t footnotes in someone else’s narrative.
Our parting was not a reflection of the love we lacked but rather a proof of the love we bore for each other. A love brave enough to let go, to say goodbye, so that we might find our true paths. It was the hardest decision, to step away from the man I loved most profoundly, yet it was a choice made in the name of love—love for you, love for me, and love for the potential of our individual futures.
As I write this letter, it’s with a heart that grieves for the love we lost but also with a spirit that celebrates the journey towards finding myself. I hold no bitterness, only the hope that one day, you too will see the beauty in a love that does not confine but liberates. I wish nothing but the same realization for you, that true love thrives in the soil of mutual respect and understanding.
May our paths, now separated, lead us to the truths we seek, to lives filled with the courage to stand up for who we are and who we wish to become. And may the love we shared, in its brightest and darkest moments, remind us always of the power of understanding, respect, and the freedom to be our true selves. As we journey onward, apart yet forever connected by our past, may we both embrace a love that uplifts, respects, and honours the essence of who we are. May you find someone who walks in step with your dreams, and may you always carry a piece of our love as a beacon of what it means to love and let go.
With a heart that’s learned to beat strongly on its own,
Abhilasha.
This February and March, we are publishing your stories as a #LetterToMyEx – anything that you want to say to your Ex, either as a personal letter that can be published anonymously if you want (just email us at [email protected] after you upload and submit your piece) or as fiction. You can find all these letters here.
Image source: YouTube/ a still from Thappad
In every Indian household, there is a story like this one. In every home, you will encounter a woman who strives to change her life and future because she refuses to accept defeat and doesn’t allow anyone to undermine her. She is prepared to face any challenges or risks for the well-being of her family.
It is often said that when you decide to confront any adversity, the strength to fight it emerges within you, no matter how significant the challenge may be. No one can understand this better than a woman. Whether it’s about her future or anyone connected to her, she puts in every effort and finds a way to overcome obstacles.
A woman from the small village of Badgaon in the Lanji block of Balaghat, Madhya Pradesh. Meera, a housewife, transformed her life and the lives of those around her through unwavering determination.
Meera’s home was a small one, and her husband used to work in agriculture, providing Meera with the evening earnings. Her livelihood was dependent on that income. Despite these circumstances, Meera never felt discouraged. Instead, she always thought that someday her fortunes would change.
The opportunity came when Meera learned about the Self-Help Group (SHG) in her village. Prior to this, she had never heard about such a group, nor did she know what it took to be a part of it. All she knew was that she wanted to change her destiny no matter what.
Meera shares, “I had always been responsible only for household chores. However, when I joined the Self Help Group (SHG), I realized the hidden potential within me. My SHG was named ‘Varsha Swyam Sahayata Samuh.’ I received training within the group, and after the training, I decided to take up farming to support my family’s expenses. I began organic farming on our own 2-acre field.”
She continues, “To cultivate, I prepared organic fertiliser myself. I also started the cultivation of wheat, rice, and peppers on my field.”
Meera formed a group by bringing together women. She benefited greatly from this initiative. Now, she understood that there was no need for any woman to suffer, as she had discovered ways to overcome challenges and wanted to share this knowledge with others.
She says, “I formed three groups in the village, with more than 45 women joining. All of them are now engaged in organic farming for their families.”
The situation of every woman associated with the groups was improving. They were earning and working to enhance the future of their families. Meera formed 31 Self Help Groups in the larger village, bringing together more than 300 women and transforming their lives.
Now Meera understood that she could take charge of her life. She contemplated how she could expand her work. When she learned that she could get support from the government to further her work, she decided to take a loan from CCL. So, she began to understand the process of taking a loan.
She shares, “I took a loan from the bank through CCL. Initially, I took a loan of one lakh. With its help, I bought a grocery store, expanded it, and then took a loan of 2 lakhs 75 thousand rupees. The bank readily approved my loan because I had repaid the previous loan efficiently. With the next loan, I bought a photocopy machine. I also got borewell work done in my field, conducted various agricultural activities, and started working by purchasing rice also.”
In Badgaon, Meera and all her groups have become an exemplary model for every villager. Due to their efforts, the majority of families in the village are practising organic farming, improving their lives. Because of this, Meera’s work is not only recognized locally, but the local government is also promoting it throughout the region. In areas affected by Naxal insurgency, such as Balaghat, women are becoming self-reliant by joining Self Help Groups. Alongside this, Meera has become a special example in this region, serving as a source of inspiration for every woman.
Ravivar Vichar has made a commitment to bring forth the stories of every such woman and make us aware of their lives.
In this WomensWebXMahilaMoney impact series, we bring you entrepreneurs like Meera Tikeshwar who had not just the ambition to grow, but took the steps needed to bring their dreams to fruition. Apply for a loan of up to 25 lakhs to fuel your business growth by downloading the Mahila Money App on Google Playstore or visiting the website here.
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