tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20622796278593522012024-03-19T15:13:16.743-07:00Bits 'n' Pieces_From the Magical Journey Called LIFEAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-8918653486814549542016-04-23T09:00:00.000-07:002016-04-23T09:22:06.066-07:00Small, Insignificant Matters....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Just the other day, I was looking for the
notations of a particular <i>Rabindra
sangeet</i> when I came across the diaries, which I used to note down notations
in my music classes, some 15-18 years back from now. Suddenly, I just got
reminded of how I waited for those two days of the week when the evening would
be spent in the music classes after coming back from school. The wait was not
just for the sake of my love for music, nor for the fact that I had good
friends to gossip with there. There was a lot more to it. On our way back, me
and <i>Ma</i> customarily treated ourselves
with <i>fuchka</i>, <i>egg roll</i> or <i>chop</i>. <i>Ma</i> also got to chat with her friends,
who were the mothers of my classmates there. Overall, the whole episode was fun
though, from a present perspective, there was nothing so great and exciting
about it.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Now, it so happened that I could hardly ask
my brain to stop picking up memories from the past, I went on reminiscing about
the childhood days and with each story that came to my mind, I realized how
small, insignificant matters back then made us happy and with this came the sad
realization that such uninhibited joys are perhaps way too hard to experience
any more.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>I remembered the time when I was in class VII
when our very first car was bought. It was a second hand 8 seater Maruti Omni E
and my father was supposed to bring it home during the evening from the garage.
I skipped my school on the day lest the car arrived when I was not in home. I
could hardly have my lunch because I was too excited and in the not-so-cool
weather of probably July or so, I waited on the terrace from 4 PM to catch the
first glimpse of our very first car entering through the gate. The shockingly
sad news came from my father at around 6 PM when he called to let us know that
due to some document-related problems, the car was not handed over that day and
instead, it would be delivered the day after. I cried my heart out and I still don’t
figure out the exact reason behind my uncontrollable sobs that continued way
too long. It was perhaps the child in me that could not bear the
disappointment. Hardly did we know that this disappointment was not even an
inch of what life prepares for us later. And needless to mention, when the
second and the third car arrived after 4 or 7 years respectively, there was
nothing really special because of course, adulthood had, by then, spread its
claws of maturity.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Little things mattered so much back then that
when I look back, I laugh at our own silliness. My uncle’s wedding reception was
held in our very own house and dinner was arranged for the guests on our huge
terrace, which was decorated and covered for the four-day long marriage function.
Me and my cousins, all four of us, were so excited to collect the menu cards
from the guests after the dinner was over. And the deal was that whoever collected
the maximum number of cards would be the winner (though there was no prize for
it). At night, we counted the cards collected by each of us and I went to bed,
little sad that I did not have the maximum number of cards. The next morning, one
of the caterer guys handed me a bunch of menu cards saying that those were
extra and could not be used anymore. My joy knew no limits and I rushed to my
cousins to declare that I was the ultimate winner. And not quite surprisingly,
they were distraught too!<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Not just menu cards, we loved collecting train
and bus tickets too and I am sure many of you from the generation, had this
habit as well. In our childhood, happiness came our way very easily and it came
in the form of very, very small and otherwise insignificant things. Dinner in a
restaurant, visiting sweet shops with <i>Baba</i>
on Bengali New Year’s Day, occasional gatherings at home especially, on <i>bhaiphota </i>were the things we eagerly
looked forward to. I remember once we had lunch in a restaurant, which was very
close to the Kolkata airport and offered a nice view of the landing planes
while we ate. The whole thing stayed in my mind for God knows how long!!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Back to the present, with my office in Salt Lake
Sector V, I often get to see landing aeroplanes though of course, from quite a
distance, when I am taking a stroll in the parking lot. Alas! I don’t even look
up and it is only the sound that disturbs me especially, if I am speaking over
the phone.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>The loss of innocence and those boundless
joys is perhaps not something regrettable because all children become adults
and live a life that confronts us with so many things, both good and bad. What
is sad is that the excess of all things, especially the material stuffs, has
made us kind of immune to happiness and excitement. It is like everything is so
common and nothing is a great deal anymore. Of course, we get excited but it
has to be a big achievement at work or perhaps, an amazingly planned holiday trip
that meets our happiness criteria. Quite unfortunately, the situation is quite
similar for the present-day kids too.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>At the risk of sounding too philosophical and
idealistic, I would end my ramblings right here. Let’s just take this as an Ode
to our lost childhood and its lost bliss which I am sure, many of you will
identify with.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-65937875628855831752016-04-22T22:41:00.000-07:002016-04-22T22:41:31.673-07:00What Is The Modern Woman Made Up Of?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Out of the many adjectives assigned to a woman, "modern" is one of the most popular and heard. But who is a modern woman? The one who dresses herself in western outfits, speaks fluent English, drinks and smokes and earns her living? Of Course, she is a modern woman but is modernity restricted to these only? Just a few days back, one of my cousins who is going through the rather tortuous process of arranged marriage i.e meeting prospective grooms and interacting with their respective families, told me about one of her not so desirable experiences. My sister had to interact with a rather educated, accomplished, working, urban woman, who was the mother of the person my sister was courting. My sister, being considered the prospective daughter-in-law of the family was asked if she knew how to cook. My sister's reply was that she had been so busy with her academics and then work that she hadn't really had the time to try her hands. However, she was very willing to learn from her would be mother-in-law and happily take up the responsibility as a welcome part of marriage. The lady was disappointed with the answer and mentioned that they were looking for someone who was actually good at cooking and can cook everyday meals for her son as the latter had a difficult to satiate taste bud. No wonder, the association and the prospect of marriage was called off. Sigh!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>My purpose of narrating this whole conversation is to arrive at the point that surprises and troubles me.I am not against cooking nor against the idea of learning how to cook before or after your marriage whatever. But the issue is how can an educated woman like the one talked about here expect her educated and working daughter in law to have mastered the art of cooking by the time she was barely 25 years old! Did her son know how to cook? Did she ever teach his son to cook for himself especially because he was a foodie and might have actually enjoyed the chore. The answer is obvious and the problem is most of us like this particular lady embraces modernity in clothes and not in mentality. Being modern is about developing a mentality that understands, appreciates and enforces equality instead of posing an ultra modern look outside and carrying age old customs, traditions, conventions and stereotypes buried deep within yourself. With the adjective modern in my mind, when I compare this woman and the girl who clads herself in oversized cotton salwar kameezes, oils and ties her hair in plaits and travels 3 hours each day by train to get a degree in polytechnic to earn a living and support her family, I find the latter a lot more modern and modern in the truest sense of the term.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Almost all of us talk about the equality of men and women. Unfortunately very few of us implement such equality within the smallest sphere of our own lives. In a so called urban family, a son and a daughter grows up in the same way with the same amount of attention to their education and career. A woman today works as hard and earns as much as her male counterpart yet the expectations from a female are so many. I do not doubt the fact that society is changing and the present generation is witnessing some of the most amazing sons, husbands and fathers. Yet, the bridging of the necessary gap requires too much of sincere effort and understanding. To be modern in the true sense, we need to understand the concept of being modern at a much deeper level than clothes, food habits and diction.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Gloria Steinem, an American feminist, journalist cum social and political activist once said in one of her speeches that "I have yet to hear a man ask for advice on how to combine marriage and a career".And it speaks volumes.</b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-28777165949838837122016-04-22T22:36:00.000-07:002016-04-22T22:36:20.593-07:00The Matrilineal Society of Meghalaya: Where Gender Equality is Not an Utopia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Last September, I had the opportunity of visiting one of the most beautiful sisters of the Seven Sisters of India with my husband for a five day tour. It might sound surprising but this was my first visit to the mountains in the true sense of the term and Shillong, popularly known as the Scotland of the East for its lush meadows, was just perfect.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was mesmerized by the breathtaking scenic beauty of the place but alongside, something interesting caught my attention, being an observer that I am. I found young group of girls going to schools and colleges by walking down the rather desolate hilly roads without being accompanied by men. I saw girls dressed in shorts and skirts and considerably decked up with makeup driving down alone with windows open even when it was dark outside. And this place was far from being a metropolitan city. In Mawlynnong, a small village but the cleanest one in the whole of Asia, I found women managing the small stores visited by the tourists or often handling the cash section of the larger stores single-handedly. I was surprised and impressed and with a little probe, realized that the Khasis, the main inhabitant of Meghalaya, live in a matrilineal society. A society in which men accompany women to her homes to start a new life together, a society in which people celebrate when a baby girl is born, a society in which the youngest daughter of the family inherits the family property and is considered the custodian and preserver of her clan, family and lineage.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img alt="" src="http://i640.photobucket.com/albums/uu121/antach/Rumination/rumination1_zpsxqvzm3sx.jpg" style="border: 3px solid; height: 300px; margin: 2px; width: 450px;" /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When states like Uttar Pradesh are busy shunning the girl child by committing female feticide and bride burning, demanding dowry or in short persecuting the weaker sex, Meghalaya is the only state that is holding a flame, a beacon of hope by putting the weaker sex on a strong pedestal of society. This is the state where woman power is at its peak.Speaking of the Khasis, it is difficult to state an exact date of the settlement of this tribe in the Khasi hills but it is believed that they migrated into the present home from the plains either from the Brahmaputra Valley or Kamakhya during the tenth and thirteenth century AD.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img alt="" src="http://i640.photobucket.com/albums/uu121/antach/Rumination/rumination3_zpsnrwh7rm9.jpg" style="border: 3px solid; height: 300px; margin: 2px; width: 450px;" /><img alt="" src="http://i640.photobucket.com/albums/uu121/antach/Rumination/Rumination2_zpsmzieozcz.jpg" style="border: 3px solid; height: 272px; margin: 2px; width: 250px;" /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The power of the womenfolk does not imply the subjugation of the male like it happens in the so called patriarchal society. While the woman is the mistress of the household and the custodian of the family’s wealth, it is the father who is the primary guide, master and provider of the family. In fact, the division of the family responsibility follows a virtual three-fold structure where the mother looks after the hearth and home, the father provides all that is necessary for the maintenance of his wife and children and the uncle attends to the business affairs that come before the family. Very interestingly, a man does not forego membership in his own clan after marriage. His position in his wife's house is that of 'being in it, but not of it'.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If gender equality is a utopia, the Khasis of Meghalaya can indeed boast of having created a utopian society where men and women are equal and where the thin line of patriarchy and matriarchy fades to make place for a desirable society.</span></b></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-91679033020198769612016-04-22T22:31:00.001-07:002016-04-22T22:31:39.429-07:00The Journey (A Short Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The Journey is a short story about two women who have a wrong impression of each other, until they are forced to sit together on a train journey.</b></span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Kajal jostled her way to get down from the bus as it was speeding up crossing the station already. A young boy and a middle-aged lady seemed pretty irritated by Kajal’s hasty manner and her plea to the conductor to stop the bus so that she could get down.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>“Ki madam, kotokhon dakchi…Station Station…ghumochilen naki?” (Madam, I’ve been shouting Station, Station for so long, were you sleeping?)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Kajal ignored the ticket conductor without hesitation. It was indeed her fault. Quite aware of the fact that the buses were crowded this time, she should have made her way to the front exit long back. She got down, crossed the road and reached the station platform all within barely 5 minutes. It was already 9.15 a.m. by then. To her surprise, she found that the train had been 15 minutes late and was approaching the platform just then. A sense of victory filled her face with a broad grin. Quickly, she walked forth and stood right in front of where the lady’s compartment would be positioned. A few familiar faces exchanged glances as she boarded the train and quickly took a window seat. It didn’t escape her notice that the compartment was relatively less crowded than the other days. She looked for her friends, friends acquired over months while journeying together to the same destination. She found almost none and got a little disappointed for she would miss the chit chats and gossips during the journey, for these things somewhat invigorated her, adding a pinch of flavour to her otherwise dull, boring life.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Just as the train started and she prepared to take a nap given that there was nothing else to do for the following long 90 minutes, a lady hastily came and sat right in front of her on the opposite side (window seat). Kajal knew this lady to be Seema and felt a little awkward as Seema was one of the most talked about passengers in this daily 9 a.m. train. Although Kajal never found anything wrong with the dresses and the heavy make-up Seema wore every day and even quite admired her collection, she had to nonetheless participate in the gossip that came from her so-called friends and the discussions brilliantly helped in passing time.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>She knew from their discussion that Seema worked as a receptionist in some five star hotel in Kolkata. However, the other ladies were of the opinion that apart from working in the hotel, she had some “side profession”, which allowed her to drown herself in expensive clothes, accessories and make-up. And this side business was the reason why, according to some, she got back home as late as 10 p.m. in the down train, often accompanied by a man to the station. Kajal never felt the urge to question them about how they knew so much about Seema’s whereabouts. However, Kajal knew in her mind that Seema was aware of the discussions going on behind her back though she admirably preferred to ignore them.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>“Left alone today?”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Kajal was drifting off to sleep with some random thoughts in her mind when suddenly the question woke her up with a jolt. The train had also slowed down and now it stopped midway between two stations, waiting for the next signal.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Seema was looking at her and smiling. She was wearing a white shirt with sophisticated frills and had teamed it up with a black trouser and black new cut shoes. Her hair was tied up neatly into a bun and a pair of diamond studs dazzled in her ears. The right mix of eye liner, shadow, blusher and lipstick made her otherwise average features stand out.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Kajal felt uneasy. It was the first time she was looking at Seema so closely. Within a moment, she became conscious of the fact that she was wearing a simple cotton salwar kameez and unlike Seema’s, her hair was parted in the middle with a dab of sindoor strategically hiding the consistent loss of hair.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Gathering composure, Kajal replied trying to put up a fake smile, “Not really. What’s there to be alone?”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Seema continued, “The compartment feels empty today though it is true only for the lady’s compartment. The general ones are crowded as usual. I guess yesterday there was some puja or upvas(fasting) that most women perform, hence they must be too tired for office today. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Where do you work by the way?”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Kajal instantly felt a strange warmth in the way Seema spoke. It was jovial and very much unlike how the other ladies spoke among each other. However, she was taken aback by the question regarding her work for it was not something she usually liked to answer. Kajal worked in a cosmetics showroom where she had to sell cosmetics and persuade and guide customers in case they decided not to buy or could not fix their mind on which one to go for. Her work required her to be standing for not less than 6 hours a day. She worked out of compulsion, out of the need to support her family, especially her 10-year-old son’s education and all this because her husband worked in a factory, which always seemed to be on the verge of closing down. Rohit, her husband, was hardworking but did little to make the situation better. Ever since Kajal started working in this cosmetics shop, Rohit took it for granted that no matter how less he earned, things would be kept going. He carefully overlooked the fact that Kajal, after having undergone a number of surgeries, was not physically fit enough to travel so far to work.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Kajal worked in a cosmetics showroom where she had to sell cosmetics and persuade and guide customers in case they decided not to buy or could not fix their mind on which one to go for. Her work required her to be standing for not less than 6 hours a day.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> “I am into sales. I work with a leading cosmetic brand you see”, this was the best answer Kajal could give while also being truthful. She accompanied it with, “And you?” knowing that working as a hotel receptionist is no better.</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>“I work as an assistant manager in Taj Diganta. I am currently placed in the Food and Beverage department”, Seema replied with her characteristic smile.</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Kajal felt embarrassed and extremely regretful of having asked Seema the question, of having revealed her own work status and more than anything else, hated in her mind those other ladies, her so-called journey partners and friends for grossly making up stories based on people’s appearances, without the slightest evidence or knowledge!</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>It appeared that Seema could understand part of what was going on inside Kajal’s head, especially her surprise.</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Seema continued, “I know people associate me with everything that’s outrageous. Not their fault. I do not carry any sign of being married. But tell me, why do I? Why should I keep adorning myself with sankha(white bangles made of conch shells) and sindoor for the one who never played his role as a companion? I have always played my role as a wife, have cooked for him, looked after his family, tried to be by his side in good and bad times. If I have ever done anything wrong, that is, wanting a life of my own, a career, a goal, few aspirations apart from being just a wife.”</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Seema’s eyes were getting moist and Kajal was only half understanding what Seema was saying because she was too surprised to hear what she was hearing and all the more baffled by the fact that this gorgeous lady considered Kajal worthy enough to share her life story, that too in the middle of a train!</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>“Don’t you live with your husband? Kajal helplessly interrupted.</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>“No. I don’t live with my parents either, for they consider it my fault to have chosen my career over my husband. They are kind enough to look after my son. Every day, after office, I go to meet him and spend time with him. I have refused to take my husband’s help. I take care of every need of my son. He is 5 years old and is yet to understand his mother’s plight but I am sure we will soon live together. Presently, I stay in a girl’s hostel.” Wiping off the tears in her eyes, Seema continued, “You know my son loves me, at times, he would keep me back for so long that my brother had to accompany me to the station and make sure that the last train was not gone. I just kept praying that my son grew up to be a gentleman.” Seema finished with a happy smile on her lips and there were tears in Kajal’s eyes.</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The train reached its destination. Both of them got down, bid farewell and as usual, got lost in the crowd. Only a faint picture lingered in Kajal’s mind.</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Over 15 years ago, she had just graduated from college and was looking for a job. The offer came rather unexpectedly as her interview for the post of an assistant to the Managing Director in a mid-sized private firm had not gone too well. No sooner had she happily announced the news to her parents than she learnt that her father had already asked the family of a matrimonial alliance to come over. Irritated by the fact that her father had started negotiating her marriage without her consent, she was even shocked to learn that her prospective in-laws had agreed to go ahead with the negotiation on the pretext that their would be daughter-in-law would not work outside and this was prioritized among other necessary qualifications.</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What a rebel Seema was! Kajal wished she could be half as strong, vocal and determined in her life choices and decisions.</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Seema, in her office cabin, remembered Kajal’s bubbly face from the morning train and sighed, “How lucky she is to have both a stable family and work and not having to sacrifice any one of the two!”</b></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-26530780163608015962015-08-24T01:58:00.000-07:002015-08-24T01:58:10.710-07:003 Tips On How To Maintain Individuality After Marriage <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Marriage is an important event in our lives. Here are 3 tips on how
to maintain individuality after marriage. This is important. We need our true
selves.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></strong>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>As a firm believer in the institution of marriage, I have never really
understood the logic behind some of my friends’ idea of a married life as
similar to being locked somewhere and left without the key. Well, to say the
least, I have always made it a point to find the right person though the idea of
the right person is elusive too. For me, a husband should be a best friend, a
strong support system and most importantly, one who treats me as an independent
individual with choices and a lifestyle of my own. This individuality factor had
always been a crucial fact of life for me so much so that I often remind myself
of being my own self even though I usually am,
irrespective of situations.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>It’s now three months since I am married to a person I was sure of during the
courtship period itself. I am the daughter-in-law of a family that has embraced
me in a way that is much beyond a girl could expect. However, I still believe
that maintaining individuality is a challenge for all married women, post
marriage. The reasons are many. Firstly, every family and household has a set of
rules or perhaps way of doing things would be an appropriate term. Also, the
sudden role change from being a carefree daughter to a supposed-to-be responsible daughter-in-law brings
intrinsic consciousness in a lady who is even slightly bothered about doing
justice to the new role.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>While I, being a contemporary working woman with a man and a family who
treats me equal, have to struggle less in maintaining my individuality, there
are many who might end up losing out on who they are and keep adapting to ways
that are forced upon them.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>From my little experience, here are few tips for all the married women out
there to uphold and cherish their individual self.</b></span><br />
<h2>
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Differentiate between concern and advice</span></strong></h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Understand that every statement about your dressing style, food habit or way
of life, is neither a criticism nor a negative remark. Take them as suggestions
for you can never deny that a person who really cares for you is bound to give
you some advice, which is right according to them and unjustified for you.
Remember our mothers, pestering us on a lot of things? So, basically, we need to
draw a fine line between care and the desire of the other person to force things
upon you. The best way is to keep your mind free of pre-conceived ideas and
assumptions and listen to what others have to say. It is always up to you to
follow them or not.</b></span><br />
<h2>
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Be calm and watch it reap long-term results</span></strong></h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>There will be many instances when you will feel the need to oppose the other
person and put your point across to avoid being burdened by others’ choices. And
believe me, the good news is any sensible person, regardless of whether she is
your mother-in-law, a distant relative or even your husband, will understand and
value your logic.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Remember, how you say it is often more important than what you say and that’s
the catchword here. Unless the situation really demands you to be aggressively
vocal, keep your calm and be polite always. Once you master the skill, you will
realize that no one can really shake you off from what you think, feel and do.
The added benefit is that there will always be positivity around, which is so
essential for a healthy family life.</b></span><br />
<h2>
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Build and cherish a world of your own</span></strong></h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>One last word. I know that all of us are aware of the importance of keeping
ourselves busy in some kind of productive work that we like, Indian women
usually fail to do so after marriage. Just the other day, one of my friend’s
wife, who is also a dear friend, confessed to me that she should have started
working before marriage instead of looking for a job post marriage. The reason
she gave was that she would then have spent a major part of the day outside home
and probably come back home with her husband, which might have been better than
having to stay with the in-laws after the husband went to office. The way she
put it was perhaps wrong, what she meant was probably the lack of involvement in
other activities apart from the household ones that bothered her and made her
regret.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>It is not a job but a passion, an interest, an activity of your own that
shapes you as an individual and there is no better way of maintaining
individuality than doing
something exclusive for you and being happy in the process.</b></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-41449739639138332682015-08-24T01:53:00.001-07:002015-08-24T01:53:19.697-07:00Belaseshe: A Heart Warming Take on Marriage and More <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.5714282989502px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A movie that leaves you with not only a long-lasting effect but a realization about marriage, relationships and life as a whole is rare. <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Belaseshe</em>, directed by the talented duo Shibaprasad Mukherjee and Nandita Roy is indeed, one of its kind. As characteristic of the late Suchitra Bhattacharjee’s stories, this one too presents a situation that is so very identifiable, questions relevant issues that plague moreorless every marriage in the modern society and then provides the answers in a way that the readers/viewers are left baffled and satisfied at the same time.</span></b></h2>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.5714282989502px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To begin with, I must confess that the movie Belaseshe has portrayed a upper-middle class Bengali family in a manner so vivid that few directors could have attempted. The storyline is simple. Biswanath Majumder and Arati Majumder is a septuagenarian couple with three daughters, son-in-laws, a son, daughter-in-law and grandsons and granddaughters. Following a family get-together just after the Durga Puja, Mr. Majumder expresses his wish to get divorced from his wife after 49 years of marriage leaving the entire family shocked to the core. Biswanamath Majumder explains the reasons behind his decision in front of the judge at the court. He believed that the marriage is a lifeless one, which has become more of a habit and hence, a burden for him. Mrs Arati, on the other hand, confesses that she loves her husband and is willing to take any step that makes him happy. The judge advises the couple to go for a trip and consider their decision over a span of 15 days. The family, all together, goes for a vacation and it is during this time that they explore the problems in each of their relationships and try finding an answer. The conflicts certainly vary for the different generations but the prominent issue that appears again and again is that of the relationships falling into a habit and losing the fervor they should have to be a lifetime one.</span></b></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.5714282989502px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is needless to mention that the actors do utmost justice to the characters they play. The curiosity of the one of the son-in-laws to know about what’s actually cooking in the life of his father-in-law evokes humor. Very seldom do you come across a film that makes you laugh and cry alike throughout 2 hours 30 minutes. As the story unfolds, it turns out that Biswanath Majumder wanted to make his wife less dependent on him and so, his decision to live separately from her. Also, their expectations from life were entirely different. The wife explains that love for her is the smell of the towel he leaves behind after bath and that for her; there is no difference between loving a husband and loving a family altogether.</span></b></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.5714282989502px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dissecting the film too much wouldn’t probably do justice to the subtlety with which the focal point is established and revolved around. Now, the point is while I loved the film, I also felt that the dynamics that work for the older couple shown in the film would not work for wives today, who are supposedly on an equal platform with their husbands and are no way dependent on the latter. Also, the compromises that the 70 year old woman could then make are hardly even considered by us. So, what is the message that we can derive?</span></b></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.5714282989502px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The message is that modern generation couples like us should continually strive to keep rejuvenating our relationships. A heart-baring conversation, a walk together, a revisiting of memories together can work wonders in preventing marriage/relationship from becoming lifeless. As for the habit part, what’s wrong if it’s a habit worth cherishing!</span></b></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-89155061082220160792015-08-24T01:52:00.000-07:002015-08-31T04:06:32.498-07:00It’s Time To Change The Regressive Role Of Women In TV Soaps! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>The role of women in TV soaps in India is primarily to thwart the
goals of male characters or gang up against other women. It’s high time to
change and get real!</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>I am not a regular consumer of TV soaps and serials. In the very little time
that I get for watching TV, I prefer to follow the dance and
music reality shows. The contestants, aspiring for a career in
music or dance despite coming from rather underprivileged family background
inspire you, infuse in you the belief that nothing is unachievable.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>However, some of my family members (aunts, aunt-in-law etc), watch the daily
soaps regularly and I take occasional glances while sipping tea or munching
snacks. During such times, I get a glimpse of the stories, the
family dramas and the portrayal of women these shows put up.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>We are living at a time when women have reached heights of success in every
field. Even Bollywood has dared to create female characters whose fathers are not ashamed to
speak of their daughter’s fiercely independent nature, both emotionally and
physically. Then, why do the serials keep portraying women in such terribly
regressive light? If the silver screen at all has to have an impact on viewers,
why does the impact have to be so negative and undesirable!</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>These serials that can easily boast of thousands of consumers revolve around
specific themes. So, you either have two or more women trying their best to hold
back a prominent male figure or the good daughter-in-law taking up the blame for
the misdeeds of each and every member in the family. I will give a very short
example to put forth my point that is: these soaps are taking women
backwards.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Just the other day, I was watching a serial called <em>“Gouridan”</em>, which
is the story of a girl who has been married of at
the age of 8 into a very affluent, traditional household, located
in the interiors of West Bengal. The head of the family is a controlling widow
dressed all in white and wearing quite some amount of make-up, having a say in
everyone’s life. Now, the 30-minute episode begins with a young lady being
ill-treated for being infertile, the widow asking her not to go to a temple
because she would probably never be able to become a mother. Did anyone just say
that a women’s feminity is not affected by her ability/inability to
conceive?</b></span><br />
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Did anyone just say that a women’s feminity is not affected by her
ability/inability to conceive?</b></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Well, we move on the next scene where this same lady is in tears, hurt by the
harsh words of her grand mother-in-law. She is sitting in front of a gas oven,
cooking a meal for may be some 50 people, as evident from the size of the
cookware. At this point, the sister-in-law comes in to taunt her further on the
same point, to which the victimized lady explains that she is not infertile and
has earlier carried a baby, who unfortunately died after being born. And, the
director wants us to believe that this explanation was equal to raising a voice
against all that was being said to the lady! The irony is that viewers will
perhaps be all happy and satisfied that the women retorted and never understand
how unjustified is the issue that was raised and buried in no time.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>As the show moves on, we find this very same lady tortured by her drunken
husband, who believes her to be having an illicit affair. The series of
oppression does not remain restricted to this lady alone. The protagonist (the
one married off at the age of 8), is shown forced by circumstances not to
accompany her husband (thankfully a good one now) to the city, where he studies
medicine. So, here again, we find one woman restricting the freedom of another
woman to the extent of not letting her live with her husband!</b></span><br />
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>We find one woman restricting the freedom of another woman to the extent of
not letting her live with her husband.</b></span></blockquote>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>I respect people in the Film and Television industry and sincerely believe
that they have the potential to entertain us. Why then do they indulge in
creating soaps that pull women backwards instead of rejuvenating in them the
power and spirit of womanhood? I would like to see stories that portray the
struggles of women, put them on an equal platform with the males or even depict
male characters worthy of love, respect and admiration. I am sure the audience
will still love it the same or even more rather than repeatedly watching
women
holding up the traditional, patriarchal values in spite of being
locked up inside the household.</b></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-67168746940420922582015-04-02T06:04:00.000-07:002015-04-02T06:04:12.343-07:00What Does It Take To Be Happy?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Happiness…..perhaps one of the most
illusory and abstract ideas that seldom finds expression in words. And if
happiness is such then love is even more abstract because we are probably in a
perpetual search for its meaning but fail to understand it each time. Having
said that, small incidents, at times, open our eyes and make us realize the
value of LIFE.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Although I consider myself a very
optimistic person, I have a habit of feeling down, disappointed or just not in
mood rather frequently. The reasons are usually work related pressures,
anxieties or simply a boring weekend. So, even when I have good food to eat,
people to take care and comfort items to make my life smooth, I still long for
something and that perhaps, is complete happiness. And in such moments, I get
reminded of this 12 years old girl named Laxmi, who at some point of time,
worked and stayed at our place, compelled by the poverty of her family and the
willingness of her mother to make her daughter earn. Laxmi was a very simple,
innocent village girl with a curiosity in everything. She was ever hungry for
food so much so that she was even found eating the stuffs left on our plates
after dinner, carefully avoiding our attention while doing so. My uncle, her
employer, criticized and made fun of her (especially whenever she would upset
her stomach) but I realized and felt bad at the thought that how much of
deprivation can lead to such behavior on her part.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Getting back to the story, once one of my
aunts (father’s sister) was supposed to bring my mother a lump sum amount of
money for some gold ornaments that have already been made from a local jewelry
shop. Coming back from school, I
realized that something has went terribly wrong and that the small purse with
that money (some 10k) she carried separately was missing. Her handbag, the
regular purse inside it and everything else was intact. Just as the grief over
the loss was fading, considering that it was probably destined to happen, the
entire suspicion rested on the poor, little Laxmi. Everyone was moreorless sure
that it was her work, perhaps prompted by her parents and chances are that the
purse was waiting to be handed over to Laxmi’s mother, the next day she came to
meet her.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>My parents and aunt were decent enough
not to interrogate her on this but their attitude towards her changed, saddest
part was that the little one was not as sensitive as us to realize it. Days
passed, the grandeur of the incident faded and then one fine morning, Laxmi
comes up to my mother and gives her a small, wet purse that was lying near the
drain, adjacent to the area where utensils were washed. The purse was actually
blocking the water flow and Laxmi, just out of her curiosity had put her hand
in to find it. She has never felt the urge to open the purse to look into its
contents. The poor girl was proud to have solved the drain blockage problem and
that was it.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Since, Laxmi was never interrogated on
the so far assumed theft, my family members never felt the need to reward her
for getting the purse (how it got there remained unrealized, it was probably an
act of carelessness on my aunt’s part, who might have left it in the ground
floor toilet, which connected to the drain). In an act of kind gesture, I
brought Laxmi a pack of Cadbury celebrations and the expression on her face was
the one I still get reminded of whenever I try to make myself happy. She was
fed regularly but this chocolate pack was like a world of cookies and cadburys
opening up before her. I have never been so happy, nor seen someone so happy
with any kind of food, dresses, luxury items or anything else in my life. Laxmi
was lucky and blessed than all of us to find true happiness and that was
because she was expecting nothing out of life and was grateful for whatever
little she had. The bit of extra, however small, therefore, made her genuinely
happy.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Not going further, it was the extension
of this incident that made me find the true meaning of love as well. About some
fifteen days after I had gifted the chocolate, Laxmi’s mother came to pay her
the monthly visit and take away the major part of her earnings from her. I was
shocked and ashamed to see that Laxmi had kept aside two chocolate bars for
both of her brothers. I would have probably never done that for my sibling, if
I had one. What else can be defined as Love when a poor, food loving little
girl preserves a part of what she has for the people she loves and cares about.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>And what better way of celebrating love
and happiness than remembering the example that an underprivileged, young girl
had once set before you!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-21514048872889750052015-01-15T02:25:00.000-08:002015-01-15T03:06:43.011-08:00Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy: Stirring, Impactful and a Little Unreal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>British author E.L James’ erotic trilogy
<i>Fifty Shades of Grey</i>, <i>Fifty Shades Darker</i> and <i>Fifty Shades Freed</i> needs no introduction.
The book, which is more of a phenomenon and is waiting to be released as a film
soon, has witnessed sale of 20 million copies in the USA. The blindfolds, the
leather cuffs, the “red room of pain” and above all, the multi-millionaire and super-hot
young entrepreneur Christian Grey has found a permanent place in women’s book
shelves and hearts.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Having not so much interest in
the erotic genre or the likes of it, I started off reading the first part out
of sheer curiosity and hearing highly appreciative words about the book from my
friends. What followed is an extreme addiction that continued for a month or
two within which I finished all the three. What’s more, the trilogy had a profound
impact on me not for the so- called BDSM, the explicit sexual descriptions or
the idea of a man existing only in someone’s dreams. It is the evolving of
romance, understanding and passion between two people that kept me hooked and
what a remarkable evolution it was!! The book led me to believe that love can
be powerful enough to wipe out a person’s inner demons and inspire him/her
towards a better life. However illusory the belief is, the feel is certainly
good.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Coming to what I liked and did
not like about the trilogy. Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele have an instant
connection right from the beginning. And regardless of the contradicting intentions
of the individual characters (Christian wanting Ana to be his submissive and
Ana finding Christian irresistible), the connection and the sparkling passion is
vividly portrayed by James. Although BDSM is the central concept to the book,
it hardly finds its expression in an offensive or derogatory way. This is primarily
because the related interactions and process makes the 21 years old sexually
inexperienced Ana realize her innate inclinations too. Christian Grey says on one occasion,
“<span style="background: white;">We are consenting adults and what we do behind
closed doors is between ourselves. You need to free your mind and listen to
your body</span>”. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrrOsP9Noyct712Uw08S7wE2sJpZ2AacLYpSJcq9zCxaHcWzKMNZfyaTrRAwLnpu1AaHN4EuEI5Qm5BynPzdtJkHdDm3CoIEvKaFhNoK-t43OwIfHABowxH8sHaXxR3RSsOi5nOnWOKLb/s1600/posters.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrrOsP9Noyct712Uw08S7wE2sJpZ2AacLYpSJcq9zCxaHcWzKMNZfyaTrRAwLnpu1AaHN4EuEI5Qm5BynPzdtJkHdDm3CoIEvKaFhNoK-t43OwIfHABowxH8sHaXxR3RSsOi5nOnWOKLb/s1600/posters.png" height="175" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The sexually explicit scenes that
are in plenty are mostly sweet, seductive and very, very spontaneous. It is never
just two bodies making love. The affection and the ignited passion are there throughout. The 2<sup>nd</sup> book in the series, <i>Fifty Shades Darker</i>
marks the evolution of the relationship in the best way though with a little
dose of drama too. In the last one, I particularly liked the last few chapters
that were devoid of any sex whatsoever and focused entirely on Anastasia and
her wise and brave ways. Christian asking Ana, in a phase of misunderstanding, if
it was always for the money, then she can take it all, makes one pity the
powerful man. All the other characters apart from the protagonists are also portrayed
well and add value to the story. Christian’s gradual revelation of his birth
history, his childhood with the Greys, his disturbed adolescence with Mrs.
Robinson and finally his developing into a dominant is pretty much convincing. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>James’ ending of the book with
Christian and Ana bringing up their kid was perhaps with the intention of
pointing out to the power and strength of true love and real passion that never
ends or are not supposed to end. After all, the dumping of the book as “mommy
porn” by some critics, according to me, is clearly unjustified.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Now, a bit of criticism. I
personally believe that Christian Grey could have been a little less talented
and lesser rich. That he has everything
under control and can gift anything to his lady love or take her anywhere across the world for he has the money
overshadows the genuineness of the desire to give. Anastasia’s inner monologues
are fine initially but her continuous references to her sex craving “inner
goddess” and a more mature “subconscious” gets boring and monotonous. Moreover,
at certain points, I felt like she was a little too insecure in spite of quite
a few men including the villain of the story, showing either romantic or sexual
interest in her.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>That’s it. I can go on discussing
it but that would be trying your patience. <i>Fifty
Shades of Grey</i> trilogy is addictive, impactful and quite one of a kind. And
for all those who have loved it, I am sure you are waiting for the movie just
as I am looking forward to it.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-3240915745705293482014-09-04T08:45:00.000-07:002015-01-15T02:37:22.294-08:00The Girl in the Toto Rickshaw and a Flash of Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Just a week ago, on a certain
Sunday, I was returning from a mall a little far from my place after having a
hair cut at a beauty salon. Very much like the other days, the monsoon showers
had been showing their presence in full swing now and then. Rains are indeed
mysterious and so the moment I stepped out of the mall, I could see and feel that
a heavy shower had just stopped notwithstanding the fact that it was absolutely
sunny just an hour earlier. The terrible road conditions and ongoing road
construction works around the place led to quite a messy situation. Autos,
rickshaws, buses and the new found toto rickshaws (a mixed breed of auto and
rickshaw as perceived by me) were queuing up leading to heavy traffic. I
managed to cross the road and was lucky enough to find a toto rickshaw going
towards the direction where I live. I got into the vehicle in which an older
woman, a young girl and a kid of 3-4 years were already sitting.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The kid seemed to be terrified
and extremely worried for some reason. Her innocent and bubbly face exhibited
signs of fear and it touched me instantly. From their conversation, I could
soon understand that the baby was almost frightened by the water logged streets
and the way the small van-like vehicle waded through the waters. I could also
guess that the toto was perhaps about to topple while moving through the water-logged
parts of the streets. This has instilled so much panic in the little girl that
she was not being able to get rid of her fears even though now, there was no
water in the streets nor was it raining any more. While the older lady made
attempts at making her understand how safe she is, the younger one found this
very funny, which was quite obvious of her age.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>This small and rather
insignificant incidence suddenly brought back a whole lot of memories as though
in a flash of moment, memories of my childhood and the awkward, strange fears
that I had about certain things.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>As a child, I was extremely
introvert to the point of avoiding the company of relatives and friends, except
for a few really close ones. I was brought up largely by my grandmother and was
extremely attached to her. Once, we, my father, mother and I went to a family
friend’s place somewhere in Kolkata. It was a get together among the members of
Rotary Club, of which my father was and still is an active member.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Although we lived quite far and
had to return by taxi (we did not own a car at that time), we could not leave
such gatherings before 10 PM as the dinner started not before 9 PM. It was
around 8.30 when my parents were busy socializing and I was left with children
of my age (8-10 roughly). The weather had been rough since the morning;
however, the sky broke in heavy rain with intense thunder and lightning from
around 8 PM. The inclement weather outside coupled with the anxiety about our
means of getting back home troubled me immensely. I was constantly reminded of
my grandmother, felt extremely bothered about the fact that she was alone and
would be even more worried if we were late. Being an imaginative kid, I drew an
unfavorable picture in my mind and to the surprise of everyone present in the
party, I burst out crying.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The uncles and auntys’ were taken
aback. My parents gauged that my tears were the results of accumulated
tensions. Yet, the reason behind such a reaction was not worthy of being
explained to anyone, neither by my parents nor by me. After all, who weeps due
to rains and the perceived trouble in getting back home especially when you
have your parents with you? The situation eased gradually but the humiliation
and the awkwardness left an indelible mark in my memory.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The little girl in the toto
reminded me of this and many more of such apparently ridiculous and baseless
fears I had.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Today, as I proclaim myself to be
an independent woman, capable of looking after myself and providing emotional
support to my partner and the respective families, those situations from the
past does not make me laugh but actually make me feel victorious. I have
overcome not only the trivial fears and anxieties but have also adapted myself
to the unpredictability of life. And I owe immensely to my father, who had
taken much care to transform me from a shy, introvert girl to an outspoken,
reliable lady. The transformation had been so smooth and gradual that I never
felt any lack of love and care for the person that I was once upon a time. In fact,
even today, I nurture that delicate, soft, insecure and vulnerable corner in my
heart (which I hardly let people know about) and it is perhaps because of this
that I could relate so strongly to the little girl in the toto.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062279627859352201.post-69728573514215637512014-07-23T02:04:00.000-07:002015-01-15T02:38:09.506-08:00The Recipe of Marriage: From a Lay (Wo)man about to Cook!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>As I complete 25
years of my age and stand at that point of life where a new beginning awaits
me, I try to look ahead and question myself, Am I all set for this new
responsibility? Am I capable of looking after myself, my parents, my extended
family members and most of all, a person who is supposed to be my priority and
with whom my life will be intricately linked henceforth? Do I understand the
true meaning of marriage?</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">Planning to get
married and being successful in choosing the right person (there is nothing as
the right person though and its all subjective) has a lot of difference. Quite
similarly, having an affair, spending loads of time or even being intimate is a
lot different from imagining your life with someone, planning ahead for the
future keeping both of your interests in mind.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">Being quite an
observer and rather speculative by nature, I have seen very successful
marriages, the not so happy ones and even those that would make the very idea
of marriage nightmarish. Well, with all my optimism about the existence of true
love and lasting relationships and the insights I have gathered from here and
there, I would say that marriage is worth giving a shot for sure. If it works
out, you are guaranteed with a lifetime of bliss that equals to all the
pleasures in the world.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">I might sound
immature and quite a lay (wo)man but for me, marriage is a delicious recipe,
the taste of which stays only if the ingredients are all present and in right
amount.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">Firstly, it is
better not to expect your partner to value you if you do not present yourself
as being worthy of his/her love, affection and attention. So, love yourself
always.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">Be independent
not just in terms of money but in words, thoughts and actions. Marriage, these
days, is mutually inclusive which requires each partner to support the other.
Be sorted out yourself so that you can give your suggestions, advice and inputs
to your partner. There should be no situation in which both falls weak and nor
should there be just one partner who will always have to stand strong.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">Who says
arranged marriages lack love? Not being biased at all and with experiences of
having an affair as well as dating someone in an arranged framework, I would
say that the latter is way stronger and more mature. True, love takes time but
it does happen in different ways. Mental compatibility, connection, sharing,
adjustments, respect, trust and a lot of other things make the union more
cherished. If marriages are made in heaven and if at all love is all about
actions and not expressing emotions, an arranged marriage is perhaps the
perfect example.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">It is often very
easy to say that giving space is necessary but very difficult to execute. There
are no rules to be followed and no strategies to be devised. Just remember that
individuality and independence are must. Anything that curbs your growth as an
individual or stops you from developing further is simply not worth having, be
it a marriage or anything else.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">If all these are
supposed to be the ingredients of a recipe called marriage, physical
attractiveness and intimacy is certainly the salt. Consistently trying to be
more attractive and accommodating the likes and dislikes of your partner is
just another way of self development which also adds spice to the union,
allowing it to rise from the mundane to that much desired one. This is as much
justifiable for men as for women as women might be less visual than men but
their eyes loiter around no less. Well, spicy foods are perhaps a bit more
preferred by women than men so....</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">Phew! Much said
about marriage and stuff. Avoiding pessimism, a glaring issue of the coming of
a third person in either of the partner’s life bothers many. Remember, we can
get us something, treasure it, value it above everything and show it all our
love. Now, whether it falls off itself or gets affected by the slightest blow
of wind or a collision from outside is out of our control. Doubts and
suspiciousness will never prevent this blowing off or collision from taking
place.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">Not all
relationships in the world are supposed to last a lifetime nor are they under
our control. All that we can do and must try to do is cook a recipe, the taste
of which lasts long and refuses to leave the taste buds even when other recipes
are available. Sounds weird perhaps but marriage is indeed the belief in the
possibility of falling in love with the same person each time and all over
again. (Belief in the possibility till it becomes actually possible :))</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white;">One last thing
for those whose patience has been tried and tested by now, there is no age, no
time, no binding to get married. Marriage is good, its important, its worth
treasuring and its worth fighting for but it is not the be all and end all of
life and it never will be so. Listen to your heart and wait for the right
person to come..All the best folks!!!</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02263505245395918661noreply@blogger.com0