Check out 16 Return-To-Work Programs In India For Ambitious Women Like You!
2016, is just here. Here is a candid letter to this new year, with love, dreams and expectations. Do read.
Oh, 2016. My first glimpse of you is a flurry of excitement, exhilarated voices counting down; lines that separate friends, family and strangers vanishing in thin air to pave the way for cheerful greetings and wishes across tables, across couches, across mobile screens. People are welcoming you with open arms and loud yells, and why wouldn’t they? You look like joy, the confetti that falls around you drawing likeliness to things falling in place.
You look like promise, too: with your dozen solemn resolutions and lists. A sea of blue skies, and each of us looking at your clouds like we are kids again – except, we’re seeing dreams and goals. And just like then, each of us is seeing something different: an unusual indicator to everything we’re shamelessly expecting from you. No pressure or anything.
I can easily imagine the tangle of footprints you are going to gradually be covered in, as we travel and take on trips that have previously only existed in the farthest corners of our imagination. Till you came along, of course.Journeys, internal and external; with friends, old and new.My mind conjures up a used map and worn out shoes. A souvenir that is brought back lovingly, tickets that are pinned to the fridge ceremoniously.
There’s a twinkle in your eye, both charming and devious. A tell tale to the limits that we will push. To the boundaries that we will eliminate with you. There are certain tables that we’ve been meaning on turning around, and now, they will be. The confidence you walk with is contagious: each of us are daring to go and make things happen. I suppose it’s a good thing, change is the only thing that’s constant after all; and isn’t it better to be the change, rather than just witness it from a distance?
It’s your warm smile that makes me bolder. My inhibitions are left with your coat somewhere, my negativity and silly fears neglected. There’s enough positivity in you to make us realize they aren’t worth holding onto, and like a balloon, they float: at first, drifting slowly till one day they’re far away – mere specks in the distance. Their absence isn’t noticed or missed. Your presence is far more commandeering.
It’s your toughness that’s growing on me, however. The callouses in your hands hint that you aren’t a bed of roses, but you’re worth it. You’ll give us arguments that reshape our thinking, trails that will force us into believing. A tightrope that will teach us the art of balance. An uneven pair of scales that will give us something to strive to correct. Gifts that we will not wholeheartedly appreciate, but gifts that you will nevertheless generously give.
The gifts you shyly hide behind you,however, are another matter all together.I notice opportunities, open doors, pealing laughter and consuming love. I notice the tribe of people I adore increase, I notice the memories I will cherish pile up. There are other things thrown in there, too; and, I can’t wait to spend the next three sixty six days(you’re a leap year, you rare, quirky thing!) finding out exactly where they are.
Oh, 2016. I’m not one to believe in love at first sight, but for you? I’ll make an exception.
Cover image via Shutterstock
A feminist whose idea of feminism is not just fighting for equality but also telling stories of people whose struggle drives the feminist movement forward. Also, a student. But that's not important. read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
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.
Please enter your email address