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A mother talks about how every mom is busy enrolling her children in multiple activities, while she would rather not be a part of the rat race.
I have a confession to make here, There is nothing nowadays that I fear More than meeting other mothers on weekends, For children’s activities- I’d rather run mundane errands.
For each time mothers meet, the topics of conversation Revolve around the extent of their enthusiastic participation, In their children’s lives- soccer practice, dance recitals, Advanced math classes, playdates- these are the staples Of life as a mother- to which I sadly do not conform I know driving children everywhere is the norm, That I cannot keep up with because I need The weekend to recharge my batteries indeed While spending some quality time with my son- So we read together or do art projects for fun.
I am perfectly happy doing this, and so is he (I think), but then I get worried each time I see, Or hear other mothers talking about The tight schedules of their children; doubt Starts clouding my mind- what if my son Falls behind his peers- no, he has to run, The same race that everyone seems to Be running, surely they have a better clue, As to how dabbling in ten different activities Can secure a seat in an Ivy League with ease.
When I get carried away by these thoughts, I want to Enrol him in every single activity available too Then I stop myself so that I can re-evaluate My priorities for my child, consider what I have on my plate It is true that I want my child to develop skills multi-faceted But not the same skills as others- I want him to be unique instead Maybe by being at home and doing projects with me, He is learning more by exercising his creativity. Then I calm down and decide not to be a part Of mom discussions next time- that would be a good start!
Published here earlier.
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I am a woman, a physician, a mother and an aspiring writer rolled into one. I write about various aspects of my life, and my preferred form of writing is poetry (or rhyming verses). 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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