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Love and equality go hand-in-hand. Here is a delightful read on how sharing responsibilities at home sows the seeds of love, equality, and positive change.
The day after our wedding, my husband gave me our brand new car to drive. Yes, the day after! Mine is an arranged marriage so most of you would understand that it was a big leap of faith for him. I did drive but not very regularly and the car was a different one from the kind I was used to driving. My mother-in-law and I had to go for a small errand. The highlight of this drive was that I crashed the car in a side footpath while turning at a bend ! The fender of the car had to be replaced. Just a scratch, and we were both fine. It happened while we were on our way…so, we continued our drive and completed the errand.
My mother-in-law never said a word apart from telling me to be more careful (which was expected and required). Neither did my husband say much. To his credit, he was non-committal about the damage to the car and has since never really told others or me that I am not a good driver; though the teasing does occur occasionally. His relaxed attitude not only encouraged me to drive all over the country, but also to drive many different modes of transport.
His relaxed attitude not only encouraged me to drive all over the country, but also to drive many different modes of transport.
In fact, I have been his driver on many an occasions, and was one just five days after the crash! I also run all his errands and any other important or not-so-important things which require a car or a driver. Come to think of it, maybe it was a part of his master plan to let me do most of the driving! Now, he drives me for my mall-hopping and I drive him to office when he doesn’t want to. Happiness all around!
His faith, his encouragement, and acceptance of me as woman who wants to do her thing, make me try things that even I’m unsure of. But what is the harm in trying, when someone has got your back?
What is the harm in trying, when someone has got your back?
Often, our friends and family are puzzled, and even miffed, that I end up doing things that a ‘husband’ should do; like driving home from a party late at night or going and checking out the rates and schemes for phones, coolers or ACs,etc. We often take ‘joint’ decisions and ‘his only’ decisions and ‘her only’ decisions, too.
Why must we do tasks according to gender? If we truly want women’s liberation and equality everywhere, then why not start at home?
Pic credit: Charlesfettinger (Used under a CC license)
Inderpreet writes for her love of writing, edits manuscripts and reads endlessly. An authors' editor with a decade of experience, she provides manuscript critique, linguistic editing, substantive editing and developmental editing for fiction and nonfiction. read more...
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I huffed, puffed and panted up the hill, taking many rest breaks along the way. My calf muscles pained, my heart protested, and my breathing became heavy at one stage.
“Let’s turn back,” my husband remarked. We stood at the foot of Shravanbelagola – one of the most revered Jain pilgrimage centres. “We will not climb the hill,” he continued.
My husband and I were vacationing in Karnataka. It was the month of May, and even at the early hour of 8 am in the morning, the sun scorched our backs. After visiting Bangalore and Mysore, we had made a planned stop at this holy site in the Southern part of the state en route to Hosur. Even while planning our vacation, my husband was very excited at the prospect of visiting this place and the 18 m high statue of Lord Gometeshwara, considered one of the world’s tallest free-standing monolithic statues.
What we hadn’t bargained for was there would be 1001 granite steps that needed to be climbed to have a close-up view of this colossal magic three thousand feet above sea level on a hilltop. It would be an understatement to term it as an arduous climb.
She was sure she was dying of cancer the first time her periods came. Why did her mother not explain anything? Why did no one say anything?
Sneha still remembers the time when she had her first period.
She was returning home from school in a cycle-rickshaw in which four girls used to commute to school. When she found something sticky on the place where she was sitting, she wanted to hide it, but she would be the first girl to get down and others were bound to notice it. She was a nervous wreck.
As expected, everyone had a hearty laugh seeing her condition. She wondered what the rickshaw-wallah thought of her. Running towards her home, she told her mother about it. And then, she saw. There was blood all over. Was she suffering from some sickness? Cancer? Her maternal uncle had died of blood cancer!
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