For someone who doesn’t have a job and is covered in baby food most of the time, I follow way too many fashion blogs. There’s, of course, Pinterest. Neon seems to be the colour scheme of the season. I may not be able to pull off neon clothes but check out these accessories from my recent buys.
In clockwise direction:
This yellow bag is lovely and compact for a night out. Fits basics like money, some makeup, keys & a phone. The next item is a key pouch. It can hold about 3-4 keys and is easy to carry around. The green watch is one of my favourites. I originally bought it in yellow almost a year and a half ago on the streets of colaba. More recently, I saw this in chennai as well. While this watch may not be functionally great, it does brighten up a dull day. The last one is my favourite. It’s a notepad with a Lego cover and lock. You can make any pattern you like on the cover or use it as an innovative lock. The best part is that the cover slides off. So, you don’t need to worry about having to throw it away when you run out of pages.
Do you have any interesting neon buys?
Someone remind me why exactly I shifted from wordpress to posterous cos I sure as hell can’t remember. I saw a lot of posts after posterous’ closing announcement that said they saw it coming after the twitter take over. They said it was even more certain when posterous stopped accepting sign ups. Really? Cos I sure as hell didn’t.
After being unceremoniously kicked out of posterous, I contemplated not having a blog at all. After all, I haven’t published even a single post (i say published and not written cos I did write many posts in my head. They may not have been coherent but they did get written, at least in the head) in months. But I liked the idea to having my blog around in case I felt like saying something. Exactly like keeping that dress that is old and super pretty but 2 sizes too small. But hey, what if I suddenly lose weight in spite of sitting around on my ass.
In the coming few days, I will be importing my posts from posterous as well. Who knows, wordpress might prove to be second time lucky for me.
When I heard about the death of the Delhi rape victim, I felt lousier than I had in a long long time. Not only was I feeling helpless, I was appalled by the media calling her Nirbhaya, Braveheart etc when I reality she was an average Indian woman who was fighting the same fight that all Indian woman fight. Every single day. Calling her a martyr made her a one off and not someone who represented millions of women in this country.??How many of us remember Sarika Shah? She was another woman who died cos of what is still referred to as "eve teasing."
When I heard about the death of the Delhi rape victim, I felt lousier than I had in a long long time. Not only was I feeling helpless, I was appalled by the media calling her Nirbhaya, Braveheart etc when I reality she was an average Indian woman who was fighting the same fight that all Indian woman fight. Every single day. Calling her a martyr made her a one off and not someone who represented millions of women in this country. How many of us remember Sarika Shah? She was another woman who died cos of what is still referred to as “eve teasing.”
I find it ridiculous when people ask about the clothes rape or harassment victims were wearing or who they were with or what they were doing cos these are really moo points. Sometimes, you don’t even need to be a developed “woman” to be a victim of sexual harassment. It starts from a very young age. The society teaches you that you’re a woman who’s a ticking bomb that set off sexual thoughts in a man’s head and makes him do things that he otherwise wouldn’t. It is always the woman’s fault.
I grew up in a very safe upper middle class neighbourhood in Madras. Our family has been living on that very street for years now. When we were kids, we used to play on the road all the time or ride on our cycles around the block. Our parents had nothing really to fear. One summer evening, my cousins and I went to a neighbourhood shop to buy something and were coming back home. The three of us, girls, were followed by a decent looking guy on a scooter. He stopped the scooter in front of us to block our path and said that he would like to show us something. Without a warning, he unzipped his pants and flashed us. He started waving his penis in front of us and asked us if we wanted to touch it. We were so shocked that it took us a minute to realise what was happening. And thankfully, we had the sense to run immediately. This pervert flashed us right in the middle of a residential neighbourhood barely 500m from where we lived. Also, did I mention that the three of us were 6, 8 and 11 years old? Do you still want us to ask us what we were wearing?
I went to supposedly one of the best schools in the Madras. It was a co-ed school but only for the sake of being co-ed. Upto class V, girls and boys sat in the same classroom. After that, we had separate classrooms for boys and girls. And wait for it, we had separate floors and even separate staircases. We were told that this minimised the “distractions” that teenage children faced. But all it did was to alienate our classmates we should’ve been friends. Our school uniform was salwar kameez and one day the management decided that our dupatta was too narrow and our breasts were still distracting the boys from a floor away. So we were asked to wear the dupatta so broad that I was impossible for anyone to see anything. After the morning assembly, the girls with “indecent” dupattas were pulled out and were asked to redo it in a “decent” manner. We also had to wear a bra that didn’t look like a bra from outside lest the boys saw it and were distracted again. In spite of all these “decency” measures, we had men groping us on public buses. The most we could do was stamp his feet or prick him with a pin and pray to The Lord Almighty that he didn’t get off at the same stop as we did.
I moved to Hyderabad after college to work. Finding a house if you’re single woman is a nightmare. The ones who’re willing to let you see their house talk to you like you’re scum. The first thing they tell you is that boys are not allowed cos the “families” living around will have a problem with it. With some difficulty we found a place. After about 3 months of living there, the association wanted us to leave cos our neighbours had an issue with single women living next door. They didn’t want their 6 yr old daughter to grow up around wrong influences. Everyday when we left for work at 7.30, the 6 yr old’s father would come out to pick up the milk packets, stark naked. I’ve spent many nights wondering about the plight of that little girl. What was the real reason behind not wanting anyone within earshot?
So, you don’t need to be a 36C, cleavage showing, sexy woman, drunk and out with a man to be harassed. All you have to do is to be born a girl in this country. We all have many such stories. The Delhi rape issue has stirred something deep in all of us cos it is our story. It’s what we grew up with and it’s what we face everyday. We teach our girls to be ashamed of their bodies. We teach them that their unwanted hair needs to be plucked, sexy curves have to be hidden, any show of skin is slutty, talking to a man who’s not their father or brother, immoral. We have to first believe that our daughters are not commodities. Handing them over to their husbands with their virginity intact isn’t our only job. Teach them to be self reliant, let them travel the world, live by themselves, date, fall in love, make mistakes. Be there to lick their wounds without telling them its their fault.
If you have a son, tell him how hard it is to be an independent woman in this country. Tell him being a good man who treats his women well does not make him a wuss. Be his example.
I can no longer pretend that I have all the time in the world and that I’ll be all prepared and ready when the time comes. 35 weeks. This shit’s about to get real. Now, it’s just a matter of time before we find out if it’s going to be Phoebe or Phoebo. In the process, we’ll also figure out how much I’ll lose it. I’m preparing myself for “a lot.” But I’m also not discounting the possibility of setting new boundaries.
The last year and a half have been crazy, demanding and draining. Personal life was a mess. In fact, I’m surprised I made it through in one piece. I shifted 3 houses in 2 cities, got pregnant, quit a job that was going very well for me, struggled to keep the marriage together, relived personal trauma, damaged some relationships and rediscovered strength in a few others. I’m now the biggest believer in “what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger”. In all of this, I never really recorded anything of significance through this pregnancy. Other than a few photos, I have nothing really to show the baby. So, I want to put down some of my most vivid memories of these last 9 months. Better late than never.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted a girl. Your grandparents, uncles, aunts (including all of my friends) are rooting for you to be a girl. Your dad wants a boy. And I have this strong feeling you’re a boy. This last leg of suspense seems to be the hardest. Especially for me cos it would make my job of short listing names a lot easier Even before I peed on a stick, I had a very strong hunch I was pregnant. In spite of expecting it, when I saw those 2 pink lines appear, I was numb with shock and I was half laughing and half crying. Your dad looked bewildered but extremely happy. He kept reassuring me that it was a happy moment! The initial few months were very hard for me. Grappling with the idea of being pregnant was not made easier by the morning sickness. I could hardly keep any food down and was throwing up everywhere, out through taxi windows, by the side walk, in the office toilet, everywhere. Your dad came up with this ingenious idea of a vomit kit for me. It had some mint, orange toffee, a tiny bottle of listerine & a small bottle of water. It let me throw up anywhere I wanted and also save what little dignity I had left.
The morning sickness got better with time. Then it was one milestone after another. I heard your heartbeat for the first time at the doc’s clinic and was blown away. Then came your little kicks. They were testimony to how real you were. We saw tiny shrivelled up sonography images of what could potentially look like a baby. Your tiny hands and feet were the cutest. In fact, the first time we saw a clear image of you, you were lounging on your back with your hands tucked under your head and legs crossed. The only thing missing was a book.
For the most part, I hardly had a baby bump. At best, I looked like I’d eaten too much lunch. Even though it helped me avoid unwanted stares and questions, I’d have liked to show earlier. Actually, I’m not sure about that. I avoided telling people for as long as I could. In fact, during my farewell from MTV, my boss had to pour me fake drinks all night just to keep people from asking questions. I’ve never drank so much soda at one go. Ugh!
Right now is apparently when your patterns show. Going by that, you’re a nocturnal baby. Your most active playtime is after I have dinner or in the afternoon between 3 & 4. The spot below my right rib cage is your favourite I suppose cos that’s where you kick me the hardest. These days, you also seem to prefer my bladder. You’re also very squirmy right now and keep stretching. I can almost see your elbows sticking out. You seem to also share my love for pani puri although you’ve ruined my ability to take any spice! When we went for The Dark Knight Rises, you were the most excited. Another Batman fan will not be bad at all! In all, it’s fun noticing these little things.
I have to tell you about one person who’s been my rock through all this, your dad. At many points, I said I could do this without him & maybe even believed it but the absolute truth is that I couldn’t have. He’s the best thing that happened to me. He has understood many of my needs even before I could articulate them. Whenever I’ve doubted my ability to do this, he’s reassured me and helped me believe in myself. I have a feeling he’s going to know exactly what to do when you come and I’m the one that’s going to fumble.
You should also know about his obsession for organisation cos you’re going to see it very soon yourself. When we found out we were having you, he bought a folder and neatly filed all the doc’s prescriptions, test reports, scan results and what not. It’s the most organised file I’ve ever seen. He force fed me so much that at one point I had to ask him to back off. I did experience such a thing as too much pampering. I’ve lost count of the number of tubs of ice cream, the surprises, the back/ leg rubbing sessions, the reassuring talks we’ve gone through these last months. He’s made me realise that this marriage is worth all I have and more.
Not long from now, we’re going to meet. More then!
In spite of all my doubts and shortcomings, I have a good feeling about us.