Who does the laundry?

Bring up Bachelors…

‘Mom! Where are my fresh socks?’
‘Didi! Why didn’t you scrub my shirt’s collar? It’s still grimy!’
‘Dad! If you see mom ask her to keep my football uniform ready, I need it tomorrow!’

#ShareTheLoad the conversations quotes above have never happened in my house. be at my parents or at my in-laws, that was their parenting style.

There is a huge attitudinal issue though, when my husband helps his mother he is being a good son, but if helps me he is being henpecked. These are meant to be casual funny jokes but they talk of social system.

Ariel and BlogAdda decides not shift this prejuidice to the next generation. Rest assured the we are not going to. If I go by the issues that come up during counselling, the greatest issue that kids today face when they go out in the world is that there is no magic elf who comes in the evening and tides up the house they have to do it themselves. Specially in the Urban areas today, getting a domestic help is quite maddening. It is so lurcrative that we have online websites that offer to provide domestic help.

How do we ensure that the prejudice is not transferred to the next generation. Lf we were deal with this as a social pathology, we are looking at the causative factors,

  • Inherited social work delegations.
  • The emotional connect to the act, of house work-
  • The economic transaction for the act.
  • Finally redefining the roles in the family structure.

Girls  are weighed down by restriction, boys with demands both are equally harmful disciplines. The change has slowly begun To quote Gloria Steinem, we have begun to raise our daughters more like sons, but few have the courage to raise our sons more like daughters.

When we look at inherent social work delegations the hunter- provider and nurturer- home maker pictures begin to merge, this is consistently re-enforced by the media presentation.  Lets,start with the media addressing the actual problem that we have to face in day to day life of contemporary India.

If the serial could look at this “laundry has to be,”àI do not have the time to do it à what is the solution that might be more proactive in changing a mindset.

  1. Husband do the laundry – will not
  2. Get a washing machine, — mother in law does not permit.
  3. Outsource it to a laundry.

Do we  see that in the serials?  Still better how about having the young couple discussing that they need to contribute equally, so they decide to buy a washing machine?

somehow we limit ourselves to washing the clothes but laundry involves,  more it involves–drying it, then ironing it and placing it in its designated place. Now the real issue emerges.how about showing a serial where each person takes the responsibility managing their clothes? While we grew up it was very simple we washed out clothes when took bath and dried out, since I am lazy I picked it off the line the next day.

Helping in the house work may not yet be a part of the Indian man’s psyche maybe we can start off, with requesting him to load the washing machine, do it for 21 days it takes 21 days for a new habit to be created. The son sees the father and learns so does the daughter by the way.

If the mother is a multitasking superwoman, the daughter feels compelled to be so, the power equation immediately comes to play.

Since right now we are working from a point of view that the woman is oppressed, it is for her to take stalk, is she really what is the pay off, and how will she get out of it.

I am joining the Ariel #ShareTheLoad campaign at BlogAdda and blogging about the prejudice related to household chores being passed on to the next generation.


The Silent Achievers 2015

#spread the wordThis was one of those evening events that I attended because my mother wanted me to. The Manipal Mahila Samaj meeting. Room full of bustling women, noisy kids and garish clothes. Then the secretary came up to read the activity report. There was an interesting story.

About a woman called Sitamma, who went about replanting trees along the roads from where they had been cut. Single handed she had planted about 500 trees and she was still doing so. The only challenge that she faced was the funds because sometimes she had to buy the saplings. The digging and planting she did it won her own.

Sangita Awhale who sold her mangalasutra to build a toilet.

Then there is Sangeetha, in Akola, who sold her mangalsutra because she wanted ensure that there was a toilet in their house, she created a revolution just by doing what she thought was right.

Hansda Shekhar is another person I met during the goa literary and art festival. The man was amazing. He is from the santhal tribe, a doctor, he carves pipers, and he is an author.

Dr.Hansda Shekar author of the book the Adivasi shall not dance.

These three people who really humbled me, I realized have one thing in common. They did not wait for inspiration, motivation, plan of action. They were being who they were they were people who were passionate in their task and their belief. Particularly Hansda and Sitamma, they did all that fulfilled their existence they did not rebel, they voiced their concern and addressed.

With sangeeta she needed to rebel and probably create a certain amount of aggression to achieve what she did but the conviction that she was right was there. of course once accolades came her way, the families do preen about her. quite a few people must have said no to her, and she did believe in herself so hard, I like to think she smiled and told them, “watch me” somewhere she was unstoppable, refusing to give up no matter what. That was the best skill she learnt.

Think about this, the Plan, before the plan there is an idea, before the idea there is a purpose, before the purpose there is the spirit…aching to express itself.  When we are kids, everyone, the world encourages you to follow your dreams, but as we get older somehow they act offended if you even try. God forbid if you succeed.  But it is all about conviction.

what inspires you?

People who lack the clarity, courage or determination to follow their own dream will often find ways to discourage us, but living our truth is important, it is import not to EVER stop. We may place blame, give reasons, and even excuses but in the end it is an act of cowardice to not follow your dreams.


#Tales of 2015-Retrospect

goa blogs -2
The Blogger’s Lounge 2015

MOTHER TIME—life goes by so very fast, my dears and taking time to reflect, even once a year slows things down. We zoom past so many seconds, minutes, hours killing them with the frantic way we live and it’s important that at least this one collective sigh and stop, take stock and acknowledge our place in time before diving back into the melee. Midnight on New Year’s Eve in a unique kind of magic where, just for a moment the past and future exist at once in the present. Whether we are aware of it or not as we count down together to it, we are sharing the burden of our history and committing to the promise of tomorrow.

Joining the EKAA family

What was 2015 like? Certainly not like I dreamed, may be that’s okay, we want what we want. There were times when I worked myself into a frenzy worrying about what I was and perhaps lost track of where I was.

everyday hyderabad (3)
Discovering Hyderabad.

Of course I did plan, I created a scheduler, got it printed with  www.vistaprints.in. (lousy delivery not recommended.) But events unfold just the way they have to the universe has a plan. The first decision of the year was plan A go with universe there was always plan B the way I wanted to go. The journey was amazing and so relaxing. Of course I did have breakdowns and psychotic spells. But over all a year that I can look back and smile. It was as if the year was making up for long spell of loneliness, throwing people and friends at me.

first blogger meet

One can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks or even months analyzing a situation, trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve happened or we can just leave the pieces on the floor and move on. Moving on is so liberating.

When I let go allowed the universe to take charge there was so much of reluctance, but I began to move towards my tribe, the sense of belonging emerged. I am not saying it was utopia or euphoria though psychotic breakdowns have been fewer they have been more intense but that I think is about ruminants being flushed out.

#Fantastico Team D1
The Zica experience

Events have been a lot, like the Goa Bloggers meet, Word-up my first bloggers national bloggers meet, the BNLF at Mumbai, the art and literary festival at Goa. 28th class reunion at Manipal. Wonderful people have come into my life some have moved on. That is ultimately what life all about growth.

What I learnt was motivation, goal, are all words that are trumped up, the only things that truly work are integrity, improvisation, and innovation. If we were to take a quiet moment and go into our inner self our life goals and what we are attempting at are really diverse.

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Amazing Road trips–Sawantwadi

There is no point in burning myself mentally like have emotionally and physically… best thing is to be the way I am a reluctant enthusiast…a part crusader, a half hearted fanatic. Saving the other half of myself for pleasure and adventure, it is enough to fight, it is even more important to enjoy what we have fought for, while we can., and while it’s still here. maybe it is a good idea to get out there, trek, swim and mess around with friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forest, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the stillness, the lovely mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy myself, keeping my brain in my head and my head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, this would be my sweetest victory

completed the 2015 challenge.

I am looking forward to the growth this year, to reclaim connect with nature, my evening walk and my swimming. Going back to clinic space. Telling the stories that I am meant to tell.

At the end of the day Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up totally worn out and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a ride.”

 “I’m sharing my #TalesOf2015 with BlogAdda.

Wish list ter santa.

santaHello santa,

I am pondering over my wish list for Christmas.

This letter is to  Santa Claus who sings and lives in the North Pole  and  not Santa Singh friend of Banta Singh.

I knew of your existences when I was a little girl at Manipal. You were there at the church ,giving us gifts and toffee, Christmas eve. We sang Rudolf the red nosed reindeer, and Jingle bells. Of course we did not ask for gifts or make lists, because those were not the days of flipkart or mall sponsored Santa. We did enjoy singing and then hogging the “eggless Christmas cake Ruby aunty made.”  Oh! Yes we did not ask for gifts, because were told it was rude to ask, and being rude meant not good behaviour so we automatically would be not eligible for the gifts, and also we were not sure if you knew the addresses of Hindu houses.

One Christmas my BFF (those days I would never refer to her so, for BF meant boyfriend and obviously not mama approved.) and I did wonder if we could help you by discussing our inner greed. But unfortunately good sense prevailed, and the handsome priest who was to be our Christmas gift was saved.

When I became a mama, you became a little more secular, and even outsourced delivery to the local courier companies. Maybe on a busy day twenty-two thousand people would descend to visit you, and I believe that it was an elf’s lot to remain merry in the face of torment and adversity. Maybe that is why you had to outsource and have a PR- representative at the mall.

So I had an year long gratitude book for my daughters, they had to thank god for 5 good things in their life, and put drown one need and one greed.  I then had a advent calendar each day there would be a small gift earrings, hairclips whatever. On Christmas , You would delegate your newly recruited courier company to do the delivery of the oft repeated greed usually a book.

There were times, I wondered how this whole concept of a stranger entering through our. Chimney—not that we have one—suggested burglary more readily than generosity. If you actually tried it maybe yo would have gotten a bullet in holly, jolly keister. But then I discovered the real meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with you, at all, nor about the toys and toffee you bring, it was about a very special gift and I want to tell you about that special gift. Sorry, Santa but you happen to be a fun read and twist on Christmas, because it involves you and jesus, and I am not saying you are bad or irrelevant, but Santa the true reason for the season is Jesus.

from BlogAdda

On my wish list, I wish you would call back all those outsourced upstarts you have on your call sheet, and just deliver the most precious gift of them all, the belief in love, belief in magic, that why we believe in you  Santa, its also about belief in others, belief in ourselves, belief in our dreams and we don’t who will.

Santa can you give me the gift that will keep my belief intact?

Rekindle Life.


What is the one passion that I would like to restart in my life again….?

With New Year round the corner maybe this is a good question to ask. Somewhere the object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul, a new nose, an new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular a particular man made New Year resolution, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly nothing effective.

The lost passion that I am looking for is passion itself. Being free in wildness, being a wanderess, a drop of free water. Not knowing anything about borders and not caring for rules or customs. Time should not be something to fight against, my life should flow clean, with passion like fresh water.

Currently I am experiencing the quiet sense of something lost, I spend so much time reacting, responding to everyone else that my life has no direction. Other people’s lives, problems and wants set the course of my life. Once I realize it was okay for to think about and identify what I wanted, remarkable things are beginning to take place in my life. I have quit weeping; by the way weeping is not the same thing as crying. It takes your whole body to weep and when it’s over you feel like you do not have any bones to hold you up.

Starting afresh can be the scariest thing in the entire world, whether it is leaving a lover, a school, a team, a friend, or anything else that feels like a core part of our identity but the gut tells us, that something here is not right or safe, maybe we should listen and trust that voice.

Though rebuilding ourselves is hard, particularly when we have to do so piece, by piece with no instruction book, somewhere we are clueless as where the important bits are supposed to go. The good news is our life is just a story. If we do not like the direction it’s going, we can change. Rewrite it. When we rewrite a sentence we erase and start over again until we get it right. Yes it’s a little more complicated with a life, but the essential principle is the same. And remember, we are not ever to let anyone tell us that our revisions are not the truth.“

Somewhere along the way, I have become a living dead. The passion lies within me, sleeping…waiting… And though unwanted…unbidden…it will stir..open its jaws and howl. It speaks to me…guides me…even rules me but I have not bothered to obey, now, I am letting it regain power and rule, I give myself no choice but to obey.

I’m not in search of sanctity, sacredness, purity, these are probably things found after this life, but in this life I search to be completely human: to give, to take, to laugh to get lost, to be found, to dance, to love and to lust.

Passion sets us free.. When we truly we sing ourselves free, when we truly dance we dance ourselves free, when we walk in the mountains or swim in the sea we set ourselves free.

I realize getting lost is just another way of saying going exploring and passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is about feeling good, it is about endurance. Like patience passion comes from the same Latin root: pati it does not mean to exuberance it means to suffer

Right now I see a bridge of silver wings that stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare, to the jewelled vision of a new life. At the end of the souls reconstructed with faith transform agony into peace.

Soul Symphony

from BlogAdda

Music to my ears would mean I am hearing exactly what I want to hear. But the art of conversation is the art of hearing as well being heard. As of now what would be music to my ears….something that addresses something that I really wish for in the deep unacknowledged crevices of my mind. it would also be the something that reassures the deep fear within me

That kind of puts me in a dicey space; I really have to delve deep into the uncharted depths of my mind to see what is that I really wish for. When I was growing up, always wanted to be someone, it kind of never occurred that specificity called for. I should have wished to be the best dentist, or probably the greatest leader or whatever. More importantly I had to acknowledge and own that wish without apology, for to wish was to hope and to hope was expect. Know something there is this small voice that says to grant a man’s entire wish is to take away his dreams and ambitions. After all life is worth living only if we have something to strive for to aim at.

Let’s look at the fear, frankly if I were wise there would only three things that I would fear the sea in the storm, a night with no moon and the anger of gentle person.

What I realized was that, we do not fear being inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure, it is or light and not our darkness that frightens us we, ask ourselves,”who am I be brilliant, gorgeous, talented fabulous?” coming to think of it, who are not be so? We are but child of God, when we play small we do not serve the world. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And we let our own light shine; we unconsciously give other people to do the same. As we are liberated from own fear our presence automatically liberates others.

Well now what. Epiphany, live in the moment, and I have heard the best music that I could ever, the cardiologist told me, that my mother’s angiogram reports read that she does not require any surgical intervention and she can go Cambodia just as she was planning.

At the end of the day…Music is an agreeable harmony for the honour of God, and the permissible delights of the soul, a language of the spirit that opens the secret of life bringing peace and abolishing strife. One might claim, Beethoven tells you what it’s like to  be Beethoven, while Mozart tells you what it’s like to be human, and Bach tells you what it’s like to be the universe. by the real music has the lyrics and composition to bring peace and harmony within, it is just for us recognize and acknowledge that symphony.

Traditionally Yours

“It is a family tradition”

Radhika looked up, every damn thing here seemed to be tradition, which end you eat the mango from to who dices the melon. It was rather irritating.  But guess that was what traditions are all about, the Deshpande family has been thinking, behaving and doing things this particular way, considering Radhika’s father-in-law was a travelling salesman somehow the Joshi traditions did not enter the zanana of the house, so Advait and Vedant grew up as good Deshpande sons frozen in the 1930’s.

The traditions had become the security, particularly when the mind is secure it is in decay. Coming from another tradition across time and space, Radhika seem to break traditions that were handed down over the papad rolling and pickling mangoes.

“How on earth do I tackle this” she wondered,

“Ring” the mobile rang, “Rads, I’ve had it,” Radhika smiled, somewhere her sister-in-law always seems to deliver the required right break,

“Yeah tell shruthi”

“It’s this army hierarch, I mean what the hell, the officers don’t sit until their wives don’t, the wives don’t sit until the brigadier does not, and the brigadier does not park until his wife does, and she is busy conversing with tunnu-munnu.”

Oh! Traditions again.

When they had been to see the movie Kabhi Kushi kabhi gum all of them had laughed aloud, but then there these small things that popped up. Coming to think of it, over the past 10yrs of marriage, the evening tea together had become a tradition since kids came back from school and Vedant from office that time somehow had set in. probably that was what traditions were all about, at the end of the day tradition is quite a fragile thing, in a culture built entirely on the memories of the elders.

Sometimes Radhika wondered if traditions and habit are just that, comfortable excuses to leave things be, even when they are unjust and unworthy, sometimes but not too often,


Actually conventions are the death of real traditions, as they are of all real life and we tend to use the two synonymously. Conventions are the parasites that attach themselves to the living organisms of tradition and devour all its reality turning it into a hollow formality.

Traditions are alive and kicking, while conventions Aare passive and dead, tradition does not form us automatically, we have to work to understand it, convention is accepted passively as though a routine. That allows convention to easily evade reality. It offers us only pretended ways of slowing the problems of living, a system of gestures and formalities, traditions actually teaches us how to live, take responsibility for our own life, and often oppose the ordinary, but convention which is a mere repetition of familiar routines follows the line of least resistance. One goes through an act without trying to understand the meaning of it all, simply because everyone else does the same. Tradition which is always old, is at the same time ever new as it gets revived—born again with each new generation to be lived and applied in a new and particular way.

Conventions are simply ossification of social customs. The activities of conventional people are just excuses for not acting in a more integrally human way. Tradition nourishes the life of the spirit; convention disguises its interior decay.

The only understanding that Radhika could gel with was tradition is the living faith of the dead while traditionalism is the dead faith of the living, and probably since people were rather caught up on traditionalism, it is traditionalism that gives tradition a bad name.