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Some journeys inspire you, some refresh you, and some are magical. This piece is about a woman's journey to independence, and what true freedom means to her.
Some journeys inspire you, some refresh you, and some are just magical. This piece is about a woman’s journey to independence, and what true freedom means to her.
As I make my way to Malone’s Irish Bar, sleepy and tired, I somehow feel a sense of relief at my first dissertation submission for the session. It has been three months already, since I came to this enchanting city. Three months full of new experiences and diverse emotions, and meeting some of the most interesting people.
I still remember it like it was yesterday that I walked out of the airport, the chilling cold breeze lifted my spirits with the excitement of the year to come. And a warm smile on my lips.
Winter has set in. 3 pm, and it is dark already. As I come to the entrance of the Meadows, I halt suddenly.There is a sense of anxiety that overpowers me. I am familiar with this feeling, but have not felt it since I arrived in this city. I wonder why there is this shiver in my spine, and suddenly, the quiet loneliness fills me up.
I wonder why there is this shiver in my spine, and suddenly, the quiet loneliness fills me up.
My brain has already set in action the reactions to this anxiety – all my senses are heightened, my heart is racing, and I keep looking over my shoulders. As soon as someone come close, my body flexes.It is my brain’s automatic self-defense mechanism. A result of my years of trying to protect myself from the cat calls, stares, light brushes, groping…the list is endless.But I wonder: do I really need it here?As I slowly cross the quiet, dark path, people cross me from all directions. Oblivious to the fear that has grappled me. I cross a young couple, much in love, and as they smile at me…I wonder again if my fears are warranted. I have already experienced many a times how different this city is from back home.People here care to look out for you even if you are a stranger, they try to protect you, and advise you.As I head close to my destination, I see cars and huge crowds of university students out for a fun evening at the end of the term. Slowly, I start to relax. Although the automatic response to dark nights and lonely stretches may take a while to curb, this city I now call home has given me true independence.
Although the automatic response to dark nights and lonely stretches may take a while to curb, this city I now call home has given me true independence.
As I walk down to the entrance of Malone’s, I am not scared or anxious anymore. Cautious, yes. Some habits probably take longer than others to overcome.But I realize…I am free. The kind of free I had never known earlier. Where I am not on guard at all times. Where I am not protecting myself from everyone around me. Where I can walk free no matter what time of the day it is. And experience the beauty of my city, rather than looking over my shoulder every other second.At last, I am free to explore and experience this amazing city I have fallen in love with.
I am free.
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
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Being a writer, Nivedita Louis recognises the struggles of a first-time woman writer and helps many articulate their voice with development, content edits as a publisher.
“I usually write during night”, says author Nivedita Louis during our conversation. Chuckling she continues,” It’s easier then to focus solely on writing. Nivedita Louis is a writer, with varied interests and one of the founders of Her Stories, a feminist publishing house, based in Chennai.
In a candid conversation she shared her journey from small-town Tamil Nadu to becoming a history buff, an award-winning author and now a publisher.
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