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How does one define a 'home'? What does it mean when someone says they've gone back home? Is it possible to find this place called 'home'?
Now That I Am A Mother, Why Does Home Feel So Different?
What is that one image, that crops up when you hear the word ‘home’?
Is it the place you are staying in right now?
Or is it the face of your closest family member? Or is it some distant childhood memory?
Home reminds me of the house I left ten years ago. It is the same house where I spent the best formative years of my life. It reminds me of that brightly lit verandah I could see from a distance as I returned after a tiring day at the office. The soft light, exuding from the verandah would invite me to embrace myself with safety and comfort. As soon I freshened up, Maa would offer the warmest cup of hot brewing coffee. As I sipped on it, I would gradually overcome the fatigue of a long working day.
Home meant peace. Home meant surrendering. Home meant safety.
It has been ten years since I got married and left my home. I have moved to different cities and changed homes. Stayed in fancy societies, made friends, and shifted from one home to the other, but that feeling of ‘home’ remains forever elusive.
Now being a parent and a wife, I am the primary caregiver in the family. I try to create a ‘haven’ for my child, exuding the same comfort and security that I received in my childhood. But when it comes to me, the feeling of ‘home’ still eludes me.
The constant hustle of planning, managing, executing, and catering has taken a toll on me. I realize I have to stand tall and strong, and keep delivering no matter what the situation is. My vulnerabilities affect my child. My tears shake his confidence. So on days, when the night is darkest and days are gloomy – I bring out my brightest smile and strongest spirit and keep going. I know that’s what works for my child. That’s what gives him safety and confidence.
And in doing so I have realized home does not mean any particular house made of bricks and cement. Nor is a plush bungalow or a lavish apartment. Home is the love of your family and the confidence of your parents. It is the simple, comfort food churned out from the kitchen, the occasional confrontations and the hearty peals of laughter. Home is the face of strength amidst vulnerabilities. And in the process of ‘creating’ a ‘home’ for my child, the child in me has lost its home, forever.
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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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