Keen to learn more about inclusive workplaces? Want to be inclusive of the LGBTQ+ community? Download our special report with Randstad India on making Inclusion without Exception happen
Roopa painstakingly went through each click, selected the best of the lot, uploaded them to her Instagram account, and waited for the hearts to pour in.
“Ma, I will be late tonight. Don’t wait up. I will need an extra box of food though!” The family-name-bearing son bellowed as he got ready for work.
“Achha, listen, the Chopras are harassing me for a party ever since we bought that flat. I said yes to this Sunday evening. Can you whip your special Koftas for dinner?” The husband demanded as he wolfed down the hot Rotis made by the cook.
“SasuMa, I have back to back meetings till late evening. So I will pitch in with the weekend’s lunch and dinner instead of today. Bye!” The daughter-in-law rushed out downing her chai on the move.
Roopa quietly nodded to all.
She was getting impatient by the minute, waiting to reclaim the house, her domain, when all the members would be out on their work, the helps would have finished the chores and left for the day, only to return in the evening.
For a few blessed hours, she would be left undisturbed in her sanctuary, free to do her bidding, free to follow her heart.
As the house quietened down after the morning’s hub-hub, Roopa put on some soothing music and drew a luxuriant bath. Once done, she dried her lustrous but silver toned hair with sambrani.
Roopa opened her cupboard then, extracted her secret stash of makeup bought online and began to work on her face.
It took a while and many strokes using multiple products for her to be completely satisfied with the end result.
Roopa then adorned herself with beautiful ornaments and adjusted her grey hair and her zari pallav to frame her lined, elegant face and shoulders respectively.
She then set the lights, whipped up her smartphone and clicked away.
Her visage was caught in multiple angles and various moods.
This online identity was her own, surreptitiously created after learning the ropes, hidden completely from the hyper-critical world.
She had tried once. Dressing up and being with the family.
The son said he was embarrassed, no one’s mom did so! The Daughter-in-law whom she assumed would understand, tittered quite noisily.
The woke daughter confined her progressive thoughts strictly to others.
The husband had hissed, “Like seriously? What is this nonsense? Dress according to your age. Dressing like your bahu, worse trying to be younger than your own daughter? What will society say? Do you need all this silliness at your age?”
Need, she did. Want she did!
She didn’t have the extra cash to splurge when she had the age on her side.
What she saved went into fulfilling the family’s needs rather than splurging on her ravishing self.
Now that she had the money, she didn’t have the age on her side.
Or did she?
Didn’t they say age is but a number?
So then, why was she expected to conform, play by the rules, that too set by someone else?
It was easier to have a secret profile than to rebel and reform.
And exhale to the hearts that poured in.
How gratifying truly is this love of strangers!
Her small mutiny complete, a satiated Roopa unpeeled her layers, covered up her tracks and awaited her family.
P.S. If you see a smiling Roopa flashing on your timeline, if you like her elegance, heart away, else would you leave her be?
Image source: a still from the film Dil Dhadakne Do
Anupama Jain is the author of * ‘When Padma Bani Paula', listed as 'One of the 5 best books of 2018 - Fiction', by readwriteinspire.com. It is a breezy novel about second chances of life and read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, indivisual posts do not necessarily represent the platofrom's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
Neelu might have outwardly forgiven Ramesh, but in her mind, which once was filled with unconditional love for Ramesh, there was now a seed of resentment.
Ramesh’s footsteps paused at the entrance of the hotel’s ballroom. Inside, his school’s reunion party was going in full swing. The air was heavy, as expensive perfumes and the aroma of food from the buffet table, mingled. There were low murmurs, tinkling laughs and clinks of cutlery.
Ramesh had not wanted to come, knowing that she would be there. She, Neelu, who once had been the love of his life. Taking a deep breath, Ramesh entered the room. His eyes found Neelu almost immediately. She still looked the same. Maybe there was now grey in her hair and a few wrinkles on her face. But her vivacity, her mannerisms were still the same. Things, that had first attracted him.
Stop glorifying biological parenthood - other methods of growing a family are just as valid, and completely a couple's choice, especially of the woman whose body goes through pregnancy and birth.
Stop glorifying biological parenthood – other methods of growing a family are just as valid, and completely a couple’s choice, especially of the woman whose body goes through pregnancy and birth.
Trigger Warning: Contains derogatory remarks about having a baby through surrogacy or any means other than giving birth through biological means, and may be triggering, especially to adoptive parents.
Recently Priyanka Chopra Jonas announced parenthood by surrogacy. This has once again sparked the debate about ethical surrogacy, which is a discussion for another day.
Post marriage life for women changes drastically, managing home, office, in-laws, kids (if there are) and spouse's needs. What about her needs?
Post marriage life for women changes drastically, managing home, office, in-laws, kids (if there are) and spouse’s needs. What about her needs?
A recent ad of a very popular detergent brand aptly shows how gender roles – gradually, unknowingly, sometimes even consciously, are passed on to the next generation. The media is doing its part in bringing the ‘real’ to the ‘reel’. It is about time we alter gender roles in the real world.
The tag line of a liquor brand says “men will be men“. They should also add this “and women will become superwomen”.
She was feeling trapped with all the emotions bottled up inside her. She wanted to share everything with Sagar, but the fear of rejection from him was scaring her.
Shraddha was sipping hot tea in the balcony of her plush two bedroom apartment overlooking the landscaped gardens of the complex where they resided. She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not realize when Sagar, her husband, left for work.
This had become a routine thing since the last month or so. They hardly talked, and when they did attempt to communicate, Shraddha would lose her temper and the end result would be a nasty fight. It felt like both of them were treading over quicksand. A single wrong step and both of them would be caught in it with no one to save them.