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These are the thoughts of a broken girl. Just an ordinary girl in a busy world trying to make sense of whatever life offers her.
When I was a little girl, I played with mud. That was when I fell in love with my brown skin. The earth had my color. Each time I touched the earth, it was difficult to know where I ended and it began. All life belonged to my brown skin.
Life grew on my brown skin. The rainbow stretched from one end of my body to another. My eyes had the sky and the stars etched on it. I had mountain weaved in my hands. Rivers beneath my feet. I loved that I was earth. When little girls are set free, they love who they are. The earth set me free. My skin belonged to her. I am her.
I am the little brown skinned girl.
I am earth.
No, I won’t change my surname to yours when I marry you. I love you. But I don’t want to be you. I want to love you, being me. The sky has never asked the Sun to melt itself within the Sky. That is why the Sun lights up the earth.
I want to light up like the Sun, by being me. My surname, like yours, carries the struggle, strife, glory and victory of my ancestors. My ancestors’ sing through me. I don’t want to give that up. I want to keep it with me, so that they live through me.
Can we love like the Sky and the Sun and give birth to Earth?
Mothers must tell their daughters firmly that if any man punishes you, you must leave him. For love does not punish. If he calls you crazy and says, you are worthless, you must leave him. For love does not call names.
And if he says that you are his charity. You must run away the fastest. For love is between equals.
If you cry more than you laugh. You must leave. For love feels good.
Suffering is no virtue.
Love nurtures. Love evolves. Love feels right.
This article is part of a series. You may read Part 1 here.
Image source: Unsplash
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Proud Indian. Senior Writer at Women's Web. Columnist. Book Reviewer. Street Theatre - Aatish. Dreamer. Workaholic. 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.
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Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2 might have had a box office collection of 260 crores INR and entertained Indian audiences, but it's full of problematic stereotypes.
Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2 starts with a scene in which the protagonist, Ruhaan (played by Kartik Aaryan) finds an abandoned pink suitcase in a moving cable car and thinks there was a bomb inside it.
Just then, he sees an unknown person (Kiara Advani) wave and gesture at him to convey that the suitcase was theirs. Ruhaan, with the widest possible smile, says, “Bomb mai bag nahi hai, bomb ka bag hai,” (There isn’t a bomb in the bag, the bag belongs to a bomb).
Who even writes such dialogues in 2022?
Most of us dislike being called aunty because of the problematic meanings attached to it. But isn't it time we accept growing old with grace?
Recently, during one of those deep, thoughtful conversations with my 3 y.o, I ended a sentence with “…like those aunty types.” I quickly clicked my tongue. I changed the topic and did everything in my hands to make her forget those last few words.
I sat down with a cup of coffee and drilled myself about how the phrase ‘aunty-type’ entered my lingo. I have been hearing this word ‘aunty’ a lot these days, because people are addressing me so.
Almost a year ago, I was traveling in a heavily-crowded bus and a college girl asked me “Aunty, can you please hold my bag?” It was the first time and I was first shocked and later offended. Then I thought about why I felt so.