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I am a caring mother, a tech freak and an ardent writer. They always ask, "How do you manage?"All I do is smile, mysteriously cunning. I know the answer within myself, passion.
I have a fickle mind. Like a lot of others. I think, I erase. I write, I re-write. Sometimes, I stash whatever I scribble. Then there are times I am confused about what I like to do the most. People say she is mercurial. A lot of times, I blame myself for the restlessness. But most of the times, I criticize others. Are they really the ones to be attacked about?
No. Because, it is I who have to own the responsibility of any act. Or maybe yes, for expecting so much out of a poor soul.
What remained was, I. Confused, sometimes coherent and many a time momentous. But nothing stops me from admiring myself. I love myself and that encourages me to do something which satiates my hunger of triumph.
When I was in class tenth, all I wanted to be like my father and curb the incurred child-labour of society. I am the first educated girl in my family followed by my sister. It played a vital role in shaping my career. The society dominated and I became an engineer. I adopted it. I was born for it. Technology and I were like kith and kin. I aimed high. I did not succeed. Maybe because I was a rebel. I denied accepting what they chose for me. It became depressing. The healer was the marriage. But did it work? No.
My aims kept changing with a flick. Time changed, leaving its effect on me. I became humble. I matured and realized that it happened because everything was served on a platter. Though I ate and licked my fingers in admiration of the taste, I was never content. And when I discovered the missing piece, the pieces of the puzzle started falling in place.
I accepted humbly that I am a technology freak. I was back on the front-line with my studies and this time with a bang. I had discovered my passion. Space technology, satellites and design. I had aimed for the stars and it was shining brightly in affirmation.
Yet, something was missing. My reckless mind never stops wandering. I landed in writing. I understood why I loved reading, something I acquired from my bloodline. It reverberated. I identified myself, I understood, why pen dangled between my fingers. I discovered my passion.
My friends say you have two corners in your life? I started handling questions and notions as well. I am multidimensional. I am a caring mother, a tech freak and an ardent writer. They always ask, “How do you manage?”
All I do is smile, mysteriously cunning. I know the answer within myself, passion.
Yes, there are times I do nothing. Nothing hits my mind, neither codes nor ideas. I let my family dominate those days. Because I have understood, no graph is linear. After saturation in one parameter, it will converge towards others. I will reach out at others. I will write, I will grow and I will succeed. The fire will not dwindle, it may flicker.
After all, I have always discovered my path.
Image via Pixabay
A space tech lover, engineer, researcher, an advocate of equal rights, homemaker, mother, blogger, writer and an avid reader. I write to acknowledge my feelings. read more...
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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