#30to30:Keeping the boys bored. Without guilt.

There is one thing I made my mind up to teach the boys this vacation. Boredom. They have been entertained up to the minute for quite a bit. Now, I fear they think they are entitled to such entertainment. And not privileged to such lenience. Soon, there will be only me to blame for like…

#30to30: Ma is my shooting star

It is beyond beautiful that a period of nine months can bring about life. But if there is something I know of, as in fact the most beautiful phenomenon of life,is how in these nine months is born, the most flawless, perfect, selfless and all encompassing human being- the mother. I cannot help but be…

#30to30 : Keep your wonder alive

There is one thing I can say with certainty from all these years. There is nothing, absolutely nothing that can be at par with the feeling that accompanies the simple pleasures of life. To soak in the sounds of the sea, the silence of the sky, the serenity of the sand. All the speed of…

Raising feminist sons

In response to a recent post about raising my boys right, I received a comment that said,’feminism and sexism overload’. Woah! I thought to myself. I was only talking of young boys and raising them right. Is that really feminism? Would you still call it feminism, if instead of me, my husband posted it? He…

Jailed. Twenty years and two months.

Year 1997. At 2.56 GMT on the 24th of December, a one para news story by the BBC News tells us of a double murder in the Sinaw region of Oman. Along with five Pakistanis, three Indians were awaiting their trial the following week accused of the murder of an Omani watchman. The murder of…

Who takes care of the boy’s mother?

“Navas is going back to Kerala. Looks like he has left his job. At least, that’s what he said,” Thatha, my help at home was telling me. “Hmmm,” I nodded. “He is not too sure. Doesn’t look his mechanical motor thing is doing so well. He wants to start something in Kerala,” she added as…

#Be a Voice

Some of us are faces. Some, are voices. Faces are beautiful. Voices, profound. Some days I wake up feeling a hollow within myself. My purposelessness resonates so loud within me that I feel very trashed. I fool myself with dress up, make up, cheer up.  Usually ending up still the same, if not worse. Seeking…

The Boys, Me and Period.

Daughter of a father. When I first got my periods, I cried. Thinking about it, I don’t even know why. Neither do I know now. But, yes, cry I did. Previously that year, each time, if at all I would call out from the toilet, Ma would ask, ” Aaya? ” ( translated to ‘has…

Today, I am food-ie-d.

  Of all descriptions, I never described myself a foodie. In my head, a foodie was one who worked around the intricacies of food, one who explored tastes and named a spice when it crackled on the taste buds. To me, food was something I denied myself, often deliberately because the calories counted to be…