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The trigger for this piece is not just Dil Dhadakne Do, a recently released Bollywood movie, but parallel fragments of conversations around me on women.
The author reflects on the lives of mothers, aunts and grandmothers as seen by girls growing up in middle-class families.
The trigger for this piece is not just Dil Dhadakne Do, a Bollywood movie, but also parallel fragments of conversations around me about the lives of women, as seen by a majority of middle-class girls growing up.
In Dil Dhadakne Do, the dialogue of Ranveer Singh to his mom, “kahan jaati aap?” (“where will you go?”) says it all. For your reference, here he yells at his mother accusing her of staying with her husband who apparently has cheated on her several times and does not value her, only because she, his mother, does not have any place else to go.
This is why marriages of our parents and aunties succeeded many times, because women could not see a place to go to, isn’t it? At least, I felt so. An affair may not be required to set off this feeling of wanting a way out of marriage. It may be just the fact that you cannot make it work any more.
Don’t take me as a proponent of breaking marriages. I am personally someone who would go all the way, do everything to make it work and break up does not come easy to me. But at the same time, I have felt that the courage that women lack to move away from a relationship that is beyond repair is majorly because they do not see themselves as confident enough to be able to lead their own lives.
I have felt that the courage that women lack to move away from a relationship that is beyond repair is majorly because they do not see themselves as confident enough to be able to lead their own lives.
While I grew up to be independent because my father wanted me to be, and I am ever grateful, I also became sensitive to fact that a greater proportion of women that I saw around me compelled in me an urge to empower them mentally in some way or the other. For instance, it would always come to discussions where I would ask them about how they like to spend their leisure times and propagate tuitions, cooking classes, meditations, etc. to such an extent that it would almost feel like I am choking the idea down their throats, whether they want to or not.
This happened because I really wanted them to feel more at peace and confident about themselves, to be able to value their presence in someone’s life rather than being complacent with the least acknowledgement of their irreplaceable existence. It bothered, and still does, that someone stays because she has no place to go.
I am glad to be born in an era when “what I want” is the driving idea of life and in a family that taught me not take this idea “too far” and hence be able to strike a fine balance, and I wish that every lady I meet is able to feel and live out the former, and that when we meet we can talk (and I don’t mind listening to her) about how she finds it satisfying to have her yoga class in the evening, about how she spares herself from cooking on Sundays and lets her husband take charge or about how she is planning to start her own Facebook page.
As a small town girl born in a middle class joint family, all it takes is a little sensitivity to observe that all is not logical around and an urge to change it. What started read more...
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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!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
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.
Nivedita was born and raised in a small town in Tamil Nadu. It was for schooling that she first arrived in Chennai. Then known as Madras, she recalls being awed by the city. Her love-story with the city, its people and thus began which continues till date. She credits her perseverance and passion to make a difference to her days as a vocational student among the elite sections of Madras.
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