She taught me MY value in MY life. She taught me to be a bit selfish and not center my entire day around my kid.
I looked out of the bus window as I was on my way back from the music class. It had been a good evening…my ‘swaras‘ had been perfect and I had won a little appreciation from my teacher as well.
Like many others, I had discontinued my music classes after school, but thanks to Mom, I had now restarted after almost a decade.
As I contemplated my menu and chores for the evening, I realized my eighth grader had a chart assignment due the next day. A few years back, I would fret but honestly, I had now given up stressing since some time.
I was your quintessential mom with all my time and attention focussed on my son, till he was diagnosed with learning disability. My whole world turned upside down and as the world dictated, I gave up my career…my reading, writing, singing, everything to concentrate on my son alone. This took a toll on me and calling myself depressed would be an understatement. My sleep suffered, I wept all the time, I was irritated and all my negative energy got started impacting my family as well.
That’s when my Mom came to my rescue. She persuaded me to start working again. At her behest, I also joined music classes and created a timetable for the day that managed me to fit in all the things in the day including giving time to my kid.
She taught me MY value in MY life. She taught me to be a bit selfish and not center my entire day around my kid. Thanks to her, my son has become more independent, our relationship has improved, I am more relaxed and confident. I sing, I write, I cook and most importantly..I live.
So you might feel that my mom would have practiced what she preached to me. She in fact preached what she never practiced. A young mother to two, she had sacrificed her life for her husband, kids and in-laws. All I remember her is as someone who kept everyone else but herself happy. She couldn’t work, couldn’t pursue her dreams, she was always a Mom…just a Mom.
Today when she saw me under the same circumstances, she helped me get out of the rot and spread my wings . She clipped hers, so I could open mine. To live my dreams, to be more than just A MOM.
The image is a still from the movie Astitva
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Netflix’s ‘House Of Secrets: The Burari Deaths’ dwells into the shocking death of an entire family of 11 in one night. It throws light on gender roles, superstitions & mental health in Indian households.
(Trigger Warning: This story delves into a documentary about alleged suicide/murder and may be triggering. Spoilers ahead).
Directed by Leena Yadav and Anubhav Chopra, Netflix’s latest three-episode documentary ‘House of secrets: The Burari Deaths’ traces what happened with the Bhatia family in 2018. On a usual summer morning, 11 members of the same family were found suspiciously hanging from the roof in the suburb of Burari. Later it was concluded to be an occult ritual gone wrong.
How many times do we need to remind people that daughters are not liabilities? That the girl child isn’t some object for which the 'burden' shifts on to another person after she acquires the married tag?
How many times do we need to remind people that daughters are not liabilities? That the girl child isn’t some object for which the ‘burden’ shifts on to another person after she acquires the married tag?
A son is a son all his life. A daughter is a daughter only till the time she gets married.
From my first heartbeat in her womb, she has been my Maa, who was Mudita then? I was curious. Was she my wife's friend? Was she an entity on her own?
From my first heartbeat in her womb, she has been my Maa, who was Mudita then? I was curious. Was she my wife’s friend? Was she an entity on her own?
‘It is difficult to decide who is a bigger cheater – my mother or my wife,’ I thought to myself, as I glowered at the brown tinted okay spirit, through the rocks and glass. My thoughts swirled like a hurricane as the roar of music drowned the collective talk of drunk men and women on the Friday night under the neon lights at Saints and Sinners, Connaught Place. The ‘happy hours’ were over and I was glad to have arrived way past the ‘happy.’
I was not on very good terms with my brother, and my mother had given up on true living and I couldn't get through to her. But their deaths so quickly one after another taught me a lot about my family and myself.
I was not on very good terms with my brother, and my mother had given up on true living and I couldn’t get through to her. But their deaths so quickly one after another taught me a lot about my family and myself.
It was the beginning of April, a cheerful month when I had barely started my career as a professor and was still learning my ropes of conducting MBA classes. I left the college that day with enormous satisfaction and many plans cropping in my head. I had kick started an activity which I understood would go a long way in attracting student interest for the subject. I was on top of the world because I was doing good!