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A baby's first solid food is traditionally fed to it by the mother's brother (maama). But should all hell break loose if a mother gives that right to her sister instead?
A baby’s first solid food is traditionally fed to it by the mother’s brother (maama). But should all hell break loose if a mother gives that right to her sister instead?
This isn’t a male-bashing story. Neither is it a story about a 30+ woman and her passive-aggressive quibbles. The story is pretty simple.
I am an over-excited new mom and it was time for my son’s Annaprashan. A few days over 5 months, my boy needed to be fed solid food for the first time. Bengal, the much revered and adored state I come from, regards this day as one of the biggest and most important in a child’s life.
Plus, I don’t mind the can’t-be-finished-ever amount of food and desserts this day demands. Naturally, I wanted to do it for my son.
The funny thing, however, was the fact that I was told I needed his Maama (Maternal Uncle) to do the holy ritual of feeding him. Apparently, the gods wanted it that way.
Well, I don’t agree.
I don’t think the gods wanted anything else other than the child to move on from latching onto my breasts every time he is hungry and try some real food, for crying out loud. The gods have also wilfully and quite generously gifted me with a brain, along with a conscience that is perfectly capable of telling crap from gold.
I do not have a brother. Therefore, my son doesn’t have a Maama. He, however, has a Maashi with two good hands that can feed him exactly the way a Maama would.
Voila! (Non- existent) problem solved.
If I say I broke a tradition that’s been going on “since the Vedic age”, I might get looked at as “a feminist” who refuses to follow misogynistic practices and does what she thinks is right “without caring about” some relatives/ people who might raise eyebrows, or even “get hurt.”
The truth is that I am exactly that feminist, and also quite unequivocal when required.
I refused to go looking for a substitute distant cousin or dharam Maama and gave my sister the right she was born with. The right to call my son her own the way a Maama would.
And if in the process someone did “get hurt,” I am sorry but honestly, not sorry.
Meanwhile, stay safe, stay healthy and share this story if you like it. It might bring upon others just the right kind of inspiration and reassurance we all need from time to time.
I am a copywriter, currently working as an Creative Director in a multinational Ad Agency in Gurgaon, NCR. I get my inspiration from Modernist poets like Edgar Lee Master, Carl Sanburg & Frost. Tagore, Ray and read more...
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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.
Women today don’t want to be in a partnership that complicates their lives further. They need an equal partner with whom they can figure out life as a team, playing by each other’s strengths.
We all are familiar with that one annoying aunty who is more interested in our marital status than in the dessert counter at a wedding. But these aunties have somehow become obsolete now. Now they are replaced by men we have in our lives. Friends, family, and even work colleagues. It’s the men who are worried about why we are not saying yes to one among their clans. What is wrong with us? Aren’t we scared of dying alone? Like them?
A recent interaction with a guy friend of mine turned sour when he lectured me about how I would regret not getting married at the right time. He lectured that every event in our lives needs to be completed within a certain timeframe set by society else we are doomed. I wasn’t angry. I was just disappointed to realize that annoying aunties are rapidly doubling in our society. And they don’t just appear at weddings or family functions anymore. They are everywhere. They are the real pandemic.
Let’s examine this a little closer.
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