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Poem: My femininity is fierce. But my femininity is also delicate. My femininity puts on blush because it doesn’t care what the boy next door will think. But my femininity also longs for the natural blush which adorns her cheeks inevitably as soon as the man she loves looks at her.
I am rich with contradictions today, right now posed with one that is no stranger to me;
I’m rummaging around my wardrobe trying, somewhat treacherously, to find just the perfect adornment to my off-white top,
And find the pink mermaid skirt staring at me coquettishly from the corner.
I give in to the little flirt.
I take a good look at myself, ruminating over the symmetry of the outfit I just donned, and stifle a smile, almost cursing the outfit for being a bit too symmetrical.
With uncanny reluctance, I put on the rose gold earrings I bought last summer, just as I intermittently pause to look in a mirror with judgemental eyes,
Why must the rose in this rose gold be so rosy? Could there be a way to do my hair such that the earrings look subtle?
As I move on to secure the two ends of the heart shaped pendant necklace, I rebuke myself for the superficiality I so dearly despised,
“Pink, rose gold, hearts?” I reproach myself out loud, “What’s next? A ring presented by your knight in shining armour on the Champs-Élysées? How very non-feministic of you!”
I do not wish to seem as though I am the frail little tchotchke* whose prettiness and pettiness go hand in hand,
No, no, no! But why must I, dumb my femininity down in the pursuit of not wanting to be dumbed down myself?
I am now sliding my pointy stilettos on, deciding on what my answer would be as soon as someone asked me how long it took me to get dressed up,
I am conflicted between embracing and surrendering.
I should change my pink mermaid skirt and put black pants on instead. I look beautiful, but I should aim for well-put-together.
I walk towards the mirror, stumbling, and I wonder if I should change the stilettos with sneakers.
My poor stilettos, bearing the brunt of me walking on the thin rope of trying to attract just the right kind and amount of attention…
I resolve to keep the skirt and the stilettos.
My femininity is fierce. But my femininity is also delicate. My femininity puts on blush because it doesn’t care what the boy next door will think.
But my femininity also longs for the natural blush which adorns her cheeks inevitably as soon as the man she loves looks at her.
I put on shining, loud, hot pink gloss, and march out.
Image source: Karolina Grabwoska, edited on CanvaPro
Tchotchke*- miscellaneous item.
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Rajshri Deshpande, who played the fiery protagonist in Trial by Fire along with Abhay Deol speaks of her journey and her social work.
Rajshri Deshpande as the protagonist in ‘Trial by Fire’, the recent Netflix show has received raving reviews along with the show itself for its sensitive portrayal of the Uphaar Cinema Hall fire tragedy, 1997 and its aftermath.
The limited series is based on the book by the same name written by Neelam and Shekhar Krishnamoorthy, who lost both their children in the tragedy. We got an opportunity to interview Rajshri Deshpande who played Neelam Krishnamoorthy, the woman who has been relentlessly crusading in the court for holding the owners responsible for the sheer negligence.
Rajshri Deshpande is more than an actor. She is also a social warrior, the rare celebrity from the film industry who has also gone back to her roots to give to poverty struck farming villages in her native Marathwada, with her NGO Nabhangan Foundation. Of course a chance to speak with her one on one was a must!
“What is a woman’s job, Ramesh? Taking care of parents-in-law, husband, children, home and things at work—all at the same time? She isn’t God or a superhuman."
The arrays of workstations were occupied by people peering into their computer screens. The clicks of keyboard keys were punctuated by the occasional footsteps moving around to brainstorm or collaborate with colleagues in their cubicles. Most employees went about their tasks without looking at the person seated on either side of their workstation. Meenakshi was one of them.
The thirty-one-year-old marketing manager in a leading eCommerce company in India sat straight in her seat, her eyes on the screen, her fingers punching furiously into the keys. She was in a flow and wanted to finish the report while the thoughts and words were coming effortlessly into her mind.
Natu-Natu. The mellifluous ringtone interrupted her thoughts. She frowned at her mobile phone with half a mind to keep it ringing until she noticed the caller’s name on the screen, making her pick up the phone immediately.
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