I was whiling away my time at a nearby park, looking at a bunch of kids at play. It was a treat to watch their innocence. The way they charged at each other, bumped, collided, toppled over, giggling happily, straightening up a little once they got tired only to eventually brush off the weariness like the mud on their sleeves and jump at each other again.
The scene unfolding in front of me transported me back in time to an age when I too was unaffected by worldly norms and societal rules, where one only got hurt if they grazed their knee or skinned their elbow, where forgiveness was granted with a simple 'sorry' and all bitterness was forgotten thereafter. The ways of the world had not caught up with us. Life was uncomplicated...simple...happy.
And that made me wish for these kids never to grow up, at least not before they had to.
Just sitting there on that park bench surrounded by a group of these mischievous minions had set my world in motion once again. The spark of curiosity glittered in their eyes. The effervescence of enthusiasm gurgled in their voices.
Their exuberance was infectious. It had been ages since I experienced that kind of warmth around me---the non-judgemental attitude of those who believed that the world was still a good place.
As I got up to leave, I wondered if I could take a bit of that much needed belief along. But something stopped me right then-as I gazed at the setting sun in the distance, I realised it was getting late. Perhaps, a little too late.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- P for 'Pause-Rewind-Play' is the sixteenth post in the 'A-Z Series' of
posts, a chain of scribbles by me on topics starting with each alphabet
of the English language. Read back and forth for the other posts, and
please feel free to contribute your thoughts on the subject.
NEWSFLASH: A bit of relationship-gyaan (that you all know yet need to be reminded of) from my side.
Going by a lot of recent case studies involving my friends, enemies, and people I see around, I have derived a very important law of relationships.
PERFECTION = 1/PROXIMITY
Proximity and perfection share an inverse relationship. You must have noticed this around you---two people madly in love think the world of one another. Time flies and the relationship gets stale older. Slowly but surely, you see the enthusiasm they share die a silent death. The couple that could once not get their hands off each other have started squabbling on petty things. The best friend gets to hear complaints and sulks of how the spouse just doesn't care anymore. The once perfect spouse/partner has turned into a bundle of flaws. The closer you get, the less perfect you realize he/she is. You get the drift, don't you? Happens with the best of us. It's just a matter of time before we discover the deficits in something or someone we once thought the world of. That is the problem with proximity. It brings us closer, close enough to notice the things we did not intend to see. That is when we start missing what we now think should have been present all along. We start craving for perfection in others, instead of trying to attain it in ourselves. We wish for words that have not been uttered. We long for things beyond our reach. We set our imagination to work, and eventually end up feeling miserable.
It is a known fact that expectations in life, inadvertently, lead to disappointment. It is also equally true that love (in any form or degree of severity) eventually results in expectations. It is then that we start nit-picking. We magnify the arguments, blow the misunderstandings out of proportion, and ignore the memories. We end up blaming each other, not realizing that it is a game that nobody wins. Mud slinging can only worsen your emotional conflict.
If you cannot talk it out without pulling at each other's hair, then take some time off and think. Rash decisions never helped anyone. Introspection, however, has!
Introspection is an innate quality that all humans possess but seldom use. Maybe we are afraid. After all, not everybody can handle the truth that soul-searching introspection often tends to reveal. Questioning ourselves and assessing our feelings urges us to examine the faults within ourselves in a more objective way, in a way that we are made to realize that the flaws we see in others are an extension of our own deficits.
We sit back and smile. Who can we blame but ourselves? We now begin to view 'perfection' in a different light; nothing is absolute. There are cracks in everything.
She is the hope that needs no promise, the kind that makes you content with her subtle presence in your heart, treading carefully with muffled footsteps, making sure you never lose or gain complete control of her nimble self.
At times, you feel your heart shriveling up, searching in all its corners for that seductive glimmer, that first ray of dawn, that refreshing wave of optimism; positive signs that permit you to carry on dreaming. But alas, you see none.
The night seems endless, and the shroud of light you once saw has faded into a small dot in the distance. Hope, like the palace of illusions, has fooled you once again. The minstrel with her musical anklets was just a mirage you ought not have trusted.
The relentless heart, however, is no quitter. Despite the emptiness you feel inside, you know for sure that when the time comes and you hear the tinkling bells again, your heart will expand to accommodate her merry dance. And you will sway to her merry tune, once more.
For she might be the hope that needs no promise, but you are the love that knows no bounds.
--------------------------------------------------------------- O for 'Off-beat musings' is the fifteenth post in the 'A-Z Series' of
posts, a chain of scribbles by me on topics starting with each alphabet
of the English language. Read back and forth for the other posts, and
please feel free to contribute your thoughts on the subject.
Mine is a creative neighborhood Of well-acquainted strangers, With faces lit with Cheshire-cat grins That instantly transform Into wrinkles and frowns, And pleasantries to groans and grimaces, Snapping congeniality at the blink of an eye Into sharp indifference and oblivion When someone approaches them For a helping hand.
Glass-window panes tightly shut down, Doors lock and peepholes open, As my neighborhood lurks into troubled homes, Hoping nobody will catch the bluff They'd manufacture at the gossip mill Where they work tirelessly day in and out, Not knowing that inside every adjacent house, Behind every curtain shade, Is another eye watching them spy; Another mind cooking another story.
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N for 'Nosy neighbors' is the fourteenth post in the 'A-Z Series' of posts, a chain of scribbles by me on topics starting with each alphabet of the English language. Read back and forth for the other posts, and please feel free to contribute your thoughts on the subject.
Goodbyes are painful. It doesn't really matter how you say it, or
when you are going to say it. You might choose the perfect way to part
ways, a sentimental card, a kind word, a heart warming hug, a farewell
kiss, but nothing in the world can make the ache from a loved one's
'Goodbye' go away.
It is somewhat of an oxymoron,
isn't it? How can there ever be any 'Good' in 'Goodbye'? I often wonder
how we can be so sure that this is the end. Yet there are those tearful
separations that coerce us into cutting our losses. We cross the bridge,
reach the other side, and then burn it down so that we are never
tempted into looking back.
Honestly speaking, the
goodbyes that are left explained are the worst of all. You are left hanging
on to an abyss. You wonder how someone could just leave from your life,
all of a sudden. You keep searching for answers. You try to connect,
and keep getting disappointed. It's like banging your head against a
wall. Eventually you get numb to the pain.
I know the
feeling. I have lost a few close friends that way, sans parting words.
No emotional drama. No commitment. No promises. Relationships of pure
convenience. When I think about them today, I wonder if their silent
farewell was a gift of eternal hope--a pregnant pause filled with hope
that we might just meet again and get things back in order, or was it an
abrupt halt--an awkward exclamation mark to bring forth a harsh
finality to an incomplete story.
Every unsaid goodbye makes our
heart a little tougher. It strengthens it with security armors--of
hope, of courage, of resilience. Hope that is needed to sustain an
endless wait, courage needed to bear the pain of the back stab, and
resilience to bounce back despite the broken heart.
If we were never to see each other again, what would you prefer---a teary farewell, or a hopeful silence?
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M for 'Maybe' is the thirteenth post in the 'A-Z Series' of posts, a chain of scribbles by me on topics starting with each alphabet of the English language. Read back and forth for the other posts, and please feel free to contribute your thoughts on the subject.
I recently watched the Ariel's latest TV commercial and was very impressed with the sensitivity and brilliance with which they dealt with gender prejudice, an issue prevailing in all sections of our chauvinistic society. Since time immemorial, we Indians have been brought up on the notion that women are supposed to be the care givers and men the breadwinners. Later down the line, women's liberation fought for the right for education, equality , and emancipation. But how much of this have we really achieved?
With building awareness and literacy, women are now allowed to study and work out of the house. However, not at the cost of cutting them some slack at the home front. With their capacity challenged, and stress doubled, women are now expected to manage home and work in tandem, and any kind of lackadaisical behavior is taken as proof of incompetence. The typical Indian male, however, is expected to work a nine to five job, after which he comes home and plops on the sofa in front of the TV while his poor wife continues to run odd chores around the house. She carries his briefcase inside, serves him tea, sets out the night clothes, feeds the screaming toddler, cooks dinner, prepares for an office presentation, and even answers the doorbell a couple of times in between all this chaos. All this while, the husband is watching his favorite game, not moving a finger except to change channels during commercials. This is the common scenario in most Indian households. Seems unfair, isn't it?
Well, this gender prejudice is a topic that is casually brushed under the
carpet or nervously laughed upon in most families. While we are often guilty of succumbing to it, what we fail to acknowledge is the face that it is the main reason for the skewed gender bias prevalent in our country. We have seen so much of it happening everywhere, that we have learned to accept it as a way of life.
As a child, I remember playing with Barbie dolls.
For most children my age, including me, Barbie then would pose as not just a play
thing but as a sort of role model. Besides the beautiful blonde hair, pretty dresses, and glamorous looks that we were so much in awe with, it was mainly the various roles the doll was available in, that really mesmerized our young impressionable minds, setting her apart from all the other dolls. Barbie could be anything
she wanted. There was Doctor Barbie, Beauty queen Barbie, Homemaker
Barbie, Traditional Barbie, Sports Barbie; the list was endless. Owing to its increasing fascination among young girls the world over, the makers of Barbie eventually introduced her
boyfriend Ken and sister Skipper in the market. But theycould never beat the popularity Barbie managed to create.
Thinking back, we, even as little girls, had been fed this idea of a complete woman. Barbie was this multifaceted personality who was not just an independent, enterprising woman but also one who managed to look graceful at all times. Indian doll makers went the whole extra mile by manufacturing Bridal Barbie and Traditional Barbie.
Knowing my stupid fascination for Barbie and her world, every relative would gift me a Barbie doll or the accompanying accessories as gifts. So by the time I was twelve, I had the entire Barbie collection. I remember conjuring up imaginary situations with my play friends, situations in which Barbie would eventually save the day. She'd either cook a spread, or provide first aid to an injured doll, or do some other remarkably ridiculous thing. In short, she was meant to be Barbie, but she was actually super-woman. Ken, being the typical male doll, was hardly ever brought to the forefront. We were too busy dressing up an overworked Barbie for office, parties, festivals etc. The only time Ken was brought into the picture was during the imaginary dates Barbie used to spend hours dressing up for and eventually end up looking like a diva..
While
Barbie played multiple roles, trying to balance both personal and
professional life, Ken with his rippling muscles and limited accessories
only featured as her significant other on occasions he needed to be seen. (Yea, to think we grew up calling them an ideal couple!). However, what we did not realize then was that with every play scenario we concocted, somewhere we secretly wished and hoped we'd grow up to be like this multi-talented, omnipotent, glam doll.
Cut to present day, we have outgrown Barbie. But the
influence she managed to create on our childhood still
remains. There are days when we still wish we could have that size zero body image. We still strive
to fit perfectly into the multiple boxes society has carved out for
us---a doting mother, a caring wife, a dutiful daughter-in-law, an
independent professional from 9 to 5, and a loving home maker after
that.
Since when did we go from being our Daddy's
little princess to being Invincible Superwoman?
In a way, maybe we are ourselves responsible for this prejudice. For a very long time, I confess I too mentally labelled all men who helped in household chores as 'wuss' or
'sissy'. I'd laugh at the thought of my better half helping me cook or
do the laundry. The stereotypical image of Indian 'Mard' was so
ingrained in my mind, that it refused to acknowledge that division of
tasks was not fixed. However, this delusion shattered when I realized how
people can take advantage of this submissive mindset, how despite being
'Superwoman' you are never enough, how the expectations from a woman
never end---it's like a bottomless bag that demands to be continuously
filled.
I recently read about a survey that AC Nielson conducted for Ariel. Statistics revealed that 78% of Indian girls agree that they
should learn laundry as they'd require to do it in later life, 2 out of
every 3 children think that washing clothes is a woman's job, 81% of
married men agree that their daughters must learn household chores as that would only make their life easier after marriage.
However, what I always find surprising is that, boys or men are hardly expected to help in household activities or learn to carry out household tasks. Even in a modern day generation like ours, the children in the
house are brought up relying on their mother alone (and never on their father)
for their neatly pressed uniforms, systematically packed tiffins,
freshly cooked meals, and clean washed laundry. The husband too, unaware
of the strenous responsibilities on his wife continues to pile on his own
set of errands on her. This goes on and on as the entire family depends
on the woman for all their needs, not once stopping to think whether
she could do with a break.
And hence the need---the need to end this gender prejudice, the need to remind the men to share the load.
Some tips that can be followed in this direction: Let's begin by starting at home.
Share responsibility of at least one meal a day. This means the male of the house should fix at least one meal of the day. Maybe he can fix a simple breakfast of OJ and sandwiches, or a light dinner. Whatever it might be, this will ensure that the children in the house grow up seeing cooking as a joint activity. Your son will know that there is nothing shameful about a man cooking, and your daughter will realize that its not wrong to expect her man to help her in the kitchen.
The man of the house should help with the laundry. This would really help relieve a big load off the woman. Offer to load and unload the clothes into and from the washing machine. Learn how much detergent goes in the washing. Now with Ariel, you can get the laundry done within minutes. It's easy as pie, and the sparkling white clothes will leave her with no reason to complain. Besides, you will be a good role model for not just your children, but also for the other husbands in your wife's extended family, because she is sure to talk about what a darling you are.
Every once in a while, fix your own cup of evening tea. Don't forget to ask your wife how her day has been. Chances are she has not had a moment's rest. Surprise her pleasantly with a gentle neck massage or warm back rub. Treat her like a queen, for she deserves to be treated as one. If not, at least treat her as an equal.
This is for the women of the house. Stop orthodox practices like eating only after Pati Parmeshwar has eaten, keeping fasts every third day as a sign to show your love, pressing your mother-in-law's feet and other forms of seva. Our daily soaps might have inspired these. I don't see men keeping fasts, or staying hungry until their wives return from work. Putting an end to these orthodox practices would keep the expectations realistic and equal. Don't be a door mat. Act sensible. Your daughters are looking.
Do not bring up your girls on false ideals. Instead, teach them how to recognize when they are not treated right. Explain to them the limits of adjustment and compromises, when to stay in and when to walk out.
Alternate doing the dishes. Just like the laundry, you can help with the dishes too.
Do not bring up your sons on false hopes. Do not pamper him or treat him special just because he is a boy. The loser will end up expecting the same from his wife. Instead, teach him to help you with the groceries. Ask him to run a few household errands. Don't raise a boy, raise a man!
Stop that ridiculous game of 'House-house' that most Indian children mostly
play. This is where the skewed idea of responsibilities stem from.
Instead, insist that your daughter plays student-teacher, shopkeeper-customer,
doctor-patient, or even chor-police for that matter. Do not box her in the role of a domesticated pretend-housewife making pretend-tea in
pretend-teacups
for a chauvinistic pretend-husband reading the newspaper. If being children, they still
insist on playing 'House', then make sure you patiently break the stereotype in their mind and ask them to divide the role equally, because that is what responsible married couples do. They share the load.
If you haven't created a very good example yet, now is the time. Be the man you'd want your daughter to marry. Show her what she deserves to expect from her significant other. Convince her not to settle for anything less. Your princess will only realize her worth when she sees her father treating her mother like a queen.
Ours is a progressive country. We have a long way. But a progressive country needs not just to understand but also to respect the role of women in society. It needs to realize that it is not just liberation that is important, but also a sense of equality that begins at home. Only then, we can call ourselves a truly liberated nation.
Last but not the least, all men should understand one very important thing---Your wife, like you, is only human. There will be days when she will be vulnerable, upset, or even mad. Such times, you might have to bear the brunt of her misdirected anger. It might be something at the work place, or something at home. Times like these, lend her a patient ear. Show her some love. Take her out to dinner. Do not worsen the situation by slamming doors or yelling and screaming. There is huge mental load in every woman's mind. Overburdened by the burden of the expectations from society as well as from herself, there might be instances when she cannot express the way she feels.
Understand the weight that is weighing her down. Share the load.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I am joining the Ariel #ShareTheLoad campaign at BlogAdda and blogging about the prejudice related to household chores being passed on to the next generation.
