The Talk of Safety!

Let’s talk a bit about safety. Shall we?

(Warning, I am going to digress from the topic, totally!!)

So today I was almost done with all my work and was about to return home early when my friend called and asked me to meet her at a coffee shop near her place. I thought why not? It was early as it is and didn’t have much to do either. So I went there, had a cup of coffee, we talked and in some time I decided to leave. It wasn’t late but I just wanted to reach home before it started raining. We were sitting in the garden and I could see clouds getting darker with the time.

Just when I was leaving she reminded me to wear the helmet. Of course I forgot. How could I remember that? I just do not like wearing helmets, I feel as if I have overburdened my tiny head. So I wore my helmet and rode towards my home. It was just a fifteen minute ride.

After just two minutes I felt the strap choking my neck, it was too tight. I loosened it with one hand and rode on. After another two minutes it felt too loose so I stopped and tucked it tight again. I’d better choke than let it loose and keep the helmet coming down to my face. I don’t think there is any helmet made for my size of the head, or for a woman. They are all either too loose or too big! (Smaller ones and the perfect ones are really rare.)

I rode on for five more minutes in full speed, the roads were not too packed, and now I was in a hurry too. My phone was constantly ringing and I knew it was my mom. I hadn’t informed her that I’d be late.

Riding peacefully at a consistent speed, I was really enjoying the beauty on the roads. The part of city which I was leaving is really beautiful with trees on both sides shading the road.

I was about to reach the main road when I noticed two boys riding behind me in a bike, they were almost shouting and I could hear their voices, but could not make out what were they talking about. I wasn’t interested either. Only up till the point when I realised they were following me.

My initial instinct was to ride faster, so I took up the speed. I reached to main road circle and however hard I tried I had to slow down with the evening rush. They had taken all the same turns up till now, and I was hoping against all odds that they would divert ways now. This was the turning point; if they wouldn’t take another turn here then I would be sure that they were after all following me.

I gave no indicators, ignoring the traffic rule, and pretended to go straight. And then just when there was no other way to go, I took a sharp right turn and moved inside the area, switching off from the main road. They had pretended to go straight too but had followed my vehicle taking a right turn against the rules.

I was sure. They were following me after all.

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Speeding up wasn’t helpful, so I slowed down, hoping that they’d go away. That particular street was still busy; once I’d go inside the residential area I knew the streets would be would be isolated.

They slowed down too behind me.

I was frustrated, angry, scared all at the same time.

I moved on taking another right turn, taking me inside to the residential area. They came too close to my bike and I am pretty sure my face would have given away my inner feelings. What was I feeling? I was shit scared!

The next time they brought their bike beside me, I loosened my helmet and kept it handy on my left side, the side on which they kept nearing. By this time I had already moved past my home. I couldn’t let them know my residence. What if?

I was already way away, and the streets were getting isolated, and the sky was giving me signals that soon it would rain. It was almost dark now!
I had no option now. I did not know what to do? Where to go? My hands were shivering and making it difficult to ride. My palms were sweaty and tears were almost on their verge of flowing down.

I blinked hard. This was not the time to go weak.

“Shut up and think!”

With again an impulse decision, I slowed down my bike to almost 20kmph and pretended to take out my phone. This time I was the one shouting on the phone declaring my whereabouts to the constantly vibrating phone.

Just when I slowed down further, the main door of the house on the left opened and a man came out. I did not stop but I slowed down to a speed of 10, barely moving further. Of course if the boys behind me slowed down with me that would look fishy. So they maintained enough speed to go ahead of me.

Finally I breathed a sigh of relief. Just when they were at the end of the road, I gave my right indicator on making them feel that I would turn that way.

They turned right. Mission successful!!

I never drive past speed limit, of course I always follow the safety rules, but this was an exceptional case. Just when they noticed me taking up speed, they went further right, one boy constantly glaring behind, to keep track of my bike.

I took a sharp left turn, fortunately avoiding a Harley and increased my speed even further. They took a u turn too but very fortuitously a car came following from just where I took a turn making it difficult for them to follow me. But they still were after me, but thankfully very far away, almost at the far end of the road.

I took continuous three sharp lefts making it a circle to my home. But before I stopped I saw the reflecting mirror that they were not there, they had missed me. I zoomed the bike to the parking space, locked it and rushed to the elevator, the helmet still in my hand.

I was only relieved when I reached the inside of my house, still shivering.

“What happened?” my mom was all worked up just by my looks.

I broke safety laws.

“You never do that. What did you do?”

I broke three laws, mom. Not one. First, I did not give indicators, and when I gave I gave the wrong one. Second, I over sped. And third, I did not wear helmet.

“But you are carrying your helmet in your hand.”

Yes, mom. I just did not wear it.

“So did the police charge you?”

No, I saved myself.

That Evening

 

I was running on an empty lane outside my house, without any shoes, without a dupatta at 7:30 in the evening. My salwar being stained by the puddles caused due to heavy rain an hour ago. My kurta too was a bit torn around my high collared neck design. My hands were stained of turmeric and flour, which I had used to wipe my forehead twice. Blood was dripping from the cut on my cheek, neck and hand. And to top it all I was getting cuts on my legs too. My hair was not made properly and I had nothing with myself, not a penny nor a phone, only a hope and energy to run to my husband’s shop. My condition was such that I would not mind if someone would interpret me as a beggar.

The dark night and the empty lane did not scare me that day. It was too late for any woman to saunter around alone as expected by our esteemed husbands. However that day I was least bothered about anything except me. So I got myself a place to sit for a while and relax. I sat on a huge stone beside a locked house, the only safe place where no one would bother me for a while.

As soon as I sat my thoughts went back seven years ago, to the day I got married to my prince charming who was exactly the opposite to what I had thought in my dream, tall (just three inches than me), dark (actually too dark for me) and handsome (fairly less than me, even a bit bald). He was eight years older to me and I ignored even this. I am not boasting of myself but actually telling you the truth. I was never forced for this marriage but I knew how my parents worried about me not getting married till the age of 24. I bargained with his looks in the hope that everything else would turn to be perfect. And in actuality it was too perfect for the first two years.

I loved my husband, mother in law, father in law, two sisters in law and my dear brother in law (my favourite among everyone). We were almost of the same age so we used to jell up best. We used to bully each other, crack jokes on each other, spend time gossiping, he even took me outside when my husband did not have time for me even on Sundays. They all cared for me, loved me, and had no issues with me. How perfect my life was with them. It was just a blessing. I used to think that all the compromises, a sacrifice of leaving my house, parents, two brothers, three sisters and even my carrier proved fruitful. The happiness, the romance that filled my life was worth it.

But things changed after we got separated from our extra large family to form a smaller joint family. We left the place of my mother in law’s mother in law, her sisters and brother in law and moved to another apartment with my parent in laws, husband and my dear brother in law. By that time both my sisters in laws were married. Even our financial status deteriorated and perhaps that was the cause of frustration among everyone in our house.

Frustration reminds me that at present hour I was frustrated. I needed to start running again and isolate the place.

I then turned towards main road, extremely lighted for me to bear, too crowded for me to walk, either run and even too decorated where as I was in a condition too tattered. To inform you, in my place it is not less than a shock to see a woman without proper dress  (in my case a missing dupatta) to be called a whore in front of everyone.

I turned around to see a bike following me, when I just started running as an athlete who would run as if reaching just too near the finish line and see a competitor reaching behind. I complained to the traffic police that the bike is following me but he showed no reaction except amazement, as he knew both of us, me and my dear stalker.

In a positive hope that the traffic police would do nothing to save me I started running again towards my husband’s shop. On reaching the outside of the block of my husband’s shop, I turned to see if he was still following. Yes he was, but as I reached there he turned back giving me a murderer smile as if saying:

You are dead my dear, going to complain about me to your husband? Go, go! No one is going to believe you.

But you believe me that your being alive is difficult from now on. I promise that to you.

I entered the block and then to the basement, shop no 17, my husband’s shop. It was already 8 o’ clock and I was in such a beautiful condition that as everyone saw me they could not conceal their surprised looks. And as I said it was half past midnight for them and a missing dupatta made me look a whore to them and not a beggar.

I did not care for them now. What I cared for now was myself and my baby in my womb. But yes in this running I had forgot my pain. The pains of the cuts in my check, neck and legs, and the pain in my womb which was due to a kick by him (my bike stalker).

As I was standing outside the shop, my father in law came outside and took me into his arms and took me straight to our shop. My husband first completed attending to his customers as if nothing unusual had happened and then came to me. Till then I was painfully sobbing in my in law’s arms and was absolutely out of breath to say anything, only hoped that I was safe now. No one would beat me; kick me or even worst think of me as a whore.

I took a sip of water and recalled today’s evening at 7:15 in my house.

I was in the kitchen preparing the dough for chapattis and my mother in law was slicing onions. My niece who had come to visit me was watching television with my son. My brother in law came out of his room and without uttering a word switched off the television and showed both the children his anger in gestures. I must say my niece is quite daring and a bit too modern for our type of society. She took the remote, switched on the television and smiled cunningly saying:

Excuse me sir don’t you have that much courtesy to ask us before switching off the television

As we were watching that. Even we have that much common sense.

My brother in law wiped his hand ruthlessly across the centre table, too hard, which broke the flower vase on it and even cracked a part of it. listening to the sound we came outside the kitchen, at first unable to fathom what had happened, and even before we could do that my dear brother in law came almost running towards us, held my neck by his left hand, snatched the knife from my mother in law, put it under my chin and almost cut it. He then kicked me on my stomach. My mother in law tried to stop him but in vain. Seeing the children screaming and crying, he got a bit diverted.

I took the opportunity, pushed him hard enough to remove him till a distance from me, to run before he could get onto them. I took the children to my room and asked for a promise that they would not open the door till I would ask them to. As I came out of the room they locked it from inside.

Without another thought I slipped through the back door and ran on the empty lane at 7:30.

By then I was completely exhausted telling my husband all this in his shop and only after completing my story did I fell unconscious and regained it after an hour, still in the shop.

After another hour passed we went home hiring an auto rick-shaw. The devil was in his room and I ran to my room, politely knocked on the door and asked the children to open the gate. I saw them still crying. My son was of course as I had known too emotional and he was expected in the same state. But I had never in my life seen my niece in such a condition. I took them in my arms, hugged them, and kissed them. Neither I nor the children ate anything that day. We locked ourselves in the room and kept close to each other for the next two days. I knew that evening had changed everything in my life.

Regaining courage I asked my husband to book the first tickets he could get and leave my niece with her parent in the town. Eventually she came out of the scary event after a month, my son after about three months but I was never allowed to come out of it. Because that was just the first time the attempt to murder was attempted on me. From then on I faced regular attempts to murder, harassment, molestation, as well as physical torture of being beaten up by my dear brother in law, for years.

Only until, finally my husband had the courage to separate our houses which was not very soon. They still work together, in the same shop but at least I don’t have to see him.

PS: I know the woman was wrong to still live with such people, to go through such trauma. But before you start judging why the woman still lived with such people, why did she not leave them? For once can we think about how ruthless and unacceptable the men’s behaviour was? Even the husband did not do much to in favour of his wife.

Whispered mocking

She stood there, staring blindly at the silvery wall, with no engravings on it. She hoped she would change them one day to a brighter colour, never liking the dull, un-happening colour. After all it was her personal space, where no one had the right to bother her, except of course a knock every now and then, but otherwise it was her place, her space. And no one would burst in here without her accent.

Leisurely she turned the knob on to let the water cascade from all sides. She stood there calm, a battle raging within. And yet she smiled. Did the water cool her?

She shut her eyes, and sat down on the floor, letting the water reach her from all sides, leaving no escape from it. She seemed to enjoy it. The water was cold, but so was the temperature outside and so were the people that she just left in the middle of a movie.

Her face was wet, but she knew not, if it was the shower or were there some tears involved? It had been usual for her to be mocked at, and she had long lost the hope to make people understand that it wasn’t her fault after all, she needn’t be laughed at.

And now, just after a long shower, she was past it, she was the strong adamant girl again who would fight any one off, who would knock your nose if you misbehave, who would punch you in the stomach if you say something disgraceful.

Sluggishly, she got up holding onto the curtain. She did not mind her nude body, not her bulky stomach, not her flappy arms, least of all not even her friend’s mockings. Giving a bright smile looking at her reflection in the mirror she voiced herself, “I am a beautiful woman. I am strong and I am invincible.” Almost priding on humming to the song “I am strong, I am invincible, I am woman.” And suddenly the scoffing’s and scornful comments on her bulky body by her friends, or by anyone else did not matter.

She was well past that.

Turning the shower off, she came out of the room wrapped in a towel. Her mother asking her to wear a robe instead was waiting with some weight loss drink and a reminder of her workout session.

Silently, smiling at her mom, thanking her, she drank from the tall glass, and took out the tracks from the cupboard.

Just when her mother left, she whispered to herself, “Who cares if I lose weight or not, I don’t. I am not a fan of size 0.”

Why was I sleepless?

I was awake the other night, (now at least three consecutive nights) almost the entire night thinking of a person I care about a lot. I thought I would let this go, I wouldn’t make it an issue, but it is and I am unable to just let that pass off. I thought that I’d not make it public, I won’t discuss it with anyone, after all it’s not my matter, it is someone else’s private business but then I am incapable to get it out of my mind, I think either I’d die of guilt, or of anger at the least. I am sorry for violating this person’s privacy, and can just hope that she never reads it.

She met a person a few months back, for marriage- she liked him. He on the contrary refused to marry her with an unsatisfying reason, saying that her grandfather has a serious disease which travels with heredity, so what if? The matter was closed and she accepted the rejection without much thought.

He, got engaged to a girl, and broke off the engagement just in a few weeks’ time, when he eventually found out that the girl was obsessed and mentally unstable. (I don’t care what happened with him then, and what is true and what is not true.)

Oh, this arranged marriage thing!!!

Somehow, these two bumped into each other again, and he asked for her hand, again! This time, forgetting his own reason of not wanting to marry her.

This girl, of course she has some self-respect, she did not want to marry him now. I totally respect her decision on this. But her parents did not; at least that’s what I think. She said no – her mother agreed- her father thought otherwise. He tried to change her decision, she still was hesitant. So his father talked to his brother, her uncle, and now even he was pestering her.

What he said to her was extreme, and that is what is most fuming me.

He said, “You are of age now, and it is high time you get married, you are age is passing, and since you are manglik, I think you should change your mind, and accept his offer. Your luck isn’t that good either, so what do you think?” (This is the exact literal translation from the person who heard it first-hand.)

Like, seriously? You have the right to say that? And you could really listen to that?

She agreed to meet him again, saying that she will say ‘yes’ only if she thinks she likes him. But I knew her decision even before she knew it. I knew she would agree to them, her uncle had hurt her so bad, making it all her fault, I knew she would say yes.

And the night before, her mother called us that she is getting engaged to the same man now. She said that she really liked the boy, and is not saying yes under any pressure. She said she is happy.

I know she isn’t. I want myself to be 1000% wrong here, I want to know that what she said was the truth, that there was no pressure, but there is no way I can know that now. I just hope that she is happy with her decision, and need not regret it later. She is like an elder sister to me, the one which I never had. She has been with me through thick and thin, whenever I needed her, and all I can do for her is hope that she stays happy? I am guilty at myself, and angry at the person who filled her ears with such negativity about herself.

My mother thinks it’s her fault, for not putting her foot down. But no one understands that she was brought up like this, in a conservative home, where girls were told what to do, and live in a specified manner. And she has been moulded into a person that she is now, from a very small town, with the concept that girls are meant to do certain things, that you should not talk up to elders, that there is a certain age for everything, and all other usual norms. Sure she could have said something, before and even now, but who listened? She did say no, once, but who listened? Instead she heard some really piercing words that demeaned her. She was so broken that she just gave in, and people think that it’s her fault. Not everyone can remain strong, after listening to such things.

I don’t know what to say, I just feel or rather I just wish that I could have helped her, at least I could have been with her. But I am very far away, in a separate state altogether. And all I can do for her now is hope that she does not regret her decision, that she did say a ‘yes’ only because she liked him and for no other reason.

PS: Really not feeling good about discussing her problems here, but I don’t know who else would listen? I am sorry for violating her privacy like, I truly am. And I am dead scared for her reading it, I am just hoping that she is busy enough, not to read it.

An Introduction

I don’t know politics but I know the names
Of those in power, and can repeat them like
Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru.
I am Indian, very brown, born in Malabar,
I speak three languages, write in
Two, dream in one.
Don’t write in English, they said, English is
Not your mother-tongue. Why not leave
Me alone, critics, friends, visiting cousins,
Every one of you? Why not let me speak in
Any language I like? The language I speak,
Becomes mine, its distortions, its queerness
All mine, mine alone.
It is half English, half Indian, funny perhaps, but it is honest,
It is as human as I am human, don’t
You see? It voices my joys, my longings, my
Hopes, and it is useful to me as cawing
Is to crows or roaring to the lions, it
Is human speech, the speech of the mind that is
Here and not there, a mind that sees and hears and
Is aware. Not the deaf, blind speech
Of trees in storm or of monsoon clouds or of rain or the
Incoherent mutterings of the blazing
Funeral pyre. I was child, and later they
Told me I grew, for I became tall, my limbs
Swelled and one or two places sprouted hair.
When I asked for love, not knowing what else to ask
For, he drew a youth of sixteen into the
Bedroom and closed the door, He did not beat me
But my sad woman-body felt so beaten.
The weight of my breasts and womb crushed me.
I shrank Pitifully.
Then … I wore a shirt and my
Brother’s trousers, cut my hair short and ignored
My womanliness. Dress in sarees, be girl
Be wife, they said. Be embroiderer, be cook,
Be a quarreller with servants. Fit in. Oh,
Belong, cried the categorizers. Don’t sit
On walls or peep in through our lace-draped windows.
Be Amy, or be Kamala. Or, better
Still, be Madhavikutty. It is time to
Choose a name, a role. Don’t play pretending games.
Don’t play at schizophrenia or be a
Nympho. Don’t cry embarrassingly loud when
Jilted in love … I met a man, loved him. Call
Him not by any name, he is every man
Who wants. a woman, just as I am every
Woman who seeks love. In him . . . the hungry haste
Of rivers, in me . . . the oceans’ tireless
Waiting. Who are you, I ask each and everyone,
The answer is, it is I. Anywhere and,
Everywhere, I see the one who calls himself I
In this world, he is tightly packed like the
Sword in its sheath. It is I who drink lonely
Drinks at twelve, midnight, in hotels of strange towns,
It is I who laugh, it is I who make love
And then, feel shame, it is I who lie dying
With a rattle in my throat. I am sinner,
I am saint. I am the beloved and the
Betrayed. I have no joys that are not yours, no
Aches which are not yours. I too call myself I.

 

-Kamala Das

The Strength of a Flickering Candle.

She was sitting there, lost into her gloomy thoughts. The room was awfully murky, and the darkness helped her hide from the light. Tattered as she was, so were her thoughts. Her appearance was no less depressed with rugged hair, with the black dress, and with face as dull as her feelings. She clutched onto herself, at a shuffle of sound, dreading anyone’s presence. She needed no one at the moment, she knew the amount of pessimism people brought to her, and she was also conscious of her own tumultuous state. It was all plentiful.

Lying down, she shut her eyes, as if the room was not dark enough. Taking deep breathes she suddenly felt the loss of air, the need for cool air. And there it was, a sway of cool breeze through the window which had been kept open in the dark of the night.

Only then with the flicker of the light did she realise that there was a candle far away in the room, barely alight. The wind blowing now was making it harder for it to be kept lighted and she did not even wish it to be lighted. But no amount of wind could blow off the candle. It almost got burnt out and then just when it seemed that it was out, she would find that it was still alight, barely alight, but yes it did have the vigour and the desire to keep itself lighted which she knew she missed in herself.

A small candle which did not even have the needed amount of wax to light itself fought for the light that it wanted to spread in the darkness of the room, and there she was crouched at the far corner, hardly breathing, hardly wanting to live.

If the candle could put up a fight, so could she. She would reignite herself again; she would rise up and not let any sort of obscurity win over her. Not this time. She would keep her life lighted from then on. And there just when the candle burnt itself again and gave the brightest light, she knew she was born again.

And as the candle went off, she smiled brightly, welcoming the dawn, her tears long dried and a face that had the power to conquer her world. Her soul set free from the chains of the darkness.

Modern Aunts!

Ever wondered, why people are the way they are?

Why do they behave in the manner they do?

Being selfish is important in this world, I think that is very much common to here now, but how far can one go, and even when at someone else’s cost.

Telling someone off, but isn’t it necessary to peep inside your own soul first rather than criticising someone else.

*

All these questions bother my mind now because of a friend. She called me up to relieve herself from all that she had gone through in the last hour when she was with her friends and families.

“Why are you so upset?”

The answer is always an aunt in our case, an Indian aunt who is always bothered and interested in someone else’s business.

So here my friend was coolly being the host at her place, celebrating her parents’ marriage anniversary, when this modern, beautiful, charismatic, wealthy aunt comes and flaunts literally everything, from her shoes to the gifts that she brought.

Okay, I know we all must have had such aunts! I do too.

Then came the general small talks, what came next was what my friend was not prepared for.

“So when do you think your daughter should marry? I have a guy in my mind.” There is always a guy in these aunts’ mind.

“I am still studying. I am doing my post-graduation now. I want to work after this.”

“Oh no, I think post-graduation is enough. After that you have to marry.”

All this while her parents just glorying beside her.

The aunt was still not satisfied, “Even this is too much. I think parents should start finding prospective husbands for their daughters when they are about to complete their graduation. That is the exact time, I guess.”

“Yeah you guess!!! Then I hope the next year you are planning to find a perfect husband for your daughter too. Isn’t she completing her graduation then?” screaming in rage my friend forgot that she was the host.

And of course she got a big eye gaze from her parents, and the disgusted look from that aunt, but nothing else mattered. Her mood was spoilt, and so was that aunt’s. Well, post the celebration, she also got a good one from her dad, but what was she to do? Listen to other’s beliefs and commands?

Is it not on her and her parents as to how much to study, where to work, when to marry? As it is it is difficult to convince parents for education and working before marriage; don’t even let me start on post marriage scenarios. And here, these aunts!!

Like literally, how many of them are there?

And you know what that aunt replied to her parents? “No, my daughter is going to study after her graduation; I am in no hurry to marry her off. It’s her life; she’ll see what to do. She is different.”

As if my friend’s life is not hers.

What gave her the right to do so?

*

All I can say is my friend could have kept the temper and replaced it with sarcasm; apart from that I am with her. And I don’t care about speaking up to elders or disrespecting a guest if such was the case.

*

And for the record, her parents are considering their decision to ‘allow’ her to pursue her higher studies.

So cheers to these ‘modern aunts’.

Importance of “Shall”

“We shall…”

or

“Shall we..?”

What would you prefer?

As of me, I think I’d prefer the second scenario any day. Anyone asking me anything would be way better and sophisticated than someone just throwing commands at me. I now I’d agree with the person anyway, if he or she is that important to me, and yet I’d like to be asked first, no matter what!

Just think of it and you might feel it too. Or may be I care too much and listen more than needed to the said words. (It could be possible with me having a lot of time to spare now, I might be actually giving too much importance to these words spoken.)

 

 

And so they don’t like me now!

I was sitting with my cousin and my aunt in their house, munching snacks and having a relaxed time over a cup of tea. We were having a blast, my cousins who have come all the way from Gujarat are really chirpy and can make you feel instantly at home anywhere, even if they are themselves not at home, and my aunt surely enjoys their company. Whenever they come over it is like the house is full of people, despite them being only two teen girls.

One of them just went upstairs to bring something to show me and that was enough for my aunt to start on me. She definitely likes to know everything going on in my life, and I on the contrary hate telling her or any one for that matter everything going on in my life. I can tell you just the thing you know but not every petty thing. So somehow we landed on the topic of girls being educated which made her say that she wants a “Beautiful, educated wife for her son who would stay at home and look after everyone.”

I could have made 1000 jokes on this and let it go but I could not, just as I am never able to let it go. I tried to make her understand what she was asking for and yet I could pass nothing into her chained minds. For her education is important but when it comes to utilising it, girls aren’t meant to do it. I mean do these people even understand themselves what they are asking for? They want an engineer homemaker for an engineer man, a doctor for a doctor, a management student for a manager? They want a girl to spend years and years educating her, working so hard to bring her to certain level and when the time comes to marry, they want her to leave it all behind and shove her degrees in the store room.

I respect completely stay at home moms or wives who choose to not work for their families, but the respect only extends to those who CHOOSE it, it turns to pity for them and disgust for their family members just the moment I get to know that the decision was forceful.

I know this brings us to another statement put up- ‘FIGHT FOR IT’.

What do you think? Women don’t? Of course they do, but somewhere down the line, there are many boundaries, emotional or otherwise which she just can’t cross or is forced again not to cross. If a man says he understands all this, I am sorry I am not going to believe it. I think you do not understand a person’s feelings unless you have been through them.

So there I was trying to justify myself but it was very clear that I was speaking Latin to a person who understood only plain Sanskrit.

Before the discussion changed into a heated argument my cousins took over and there was no further chance to discuss anything else, but my aunt’s curt replies and behaviour made it clear that she didn’t like my presence anymore, so making some excuse to my cousins, I left bidding them good bye.

I could not stand being in the wrong. I could not help being there, feel disgusted. The fact that I was trying to explain my point, talk up to my aunt made her feel that I was in the wrong then how are we supposed to make them understand things that are beyond their understanding?

We think that we can change these people, these circumstances but I don’t think so. We will fail until we have such people (MEN AND WOMEN) in our lives.

I don’t care if she doesn’t like me, now that I have raised my voice, put forward my opinion in front of her; what I care about is I like myself. I know I didn’t change her mind, but had I just taken it all without even trying, putting a little bit of effort, I would have hated myself. I failed but at least I tried. Well, that is what I am trying to say to myself and keep calm.