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Showing posts with label blogathon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogathon. Show all posts

Thursday, September 9, 2021

You, me and ...... maybe you



Your hands trace the contours

I smile

You softly let your fingers scroll

on my warm skin

I smell green apples

what is it?

Your perfume or incense?


In the quiet

I can hear your heartbeat

and you can touch mine.

Each scar, each mark,

has a tale to tell!

you gently brush

a stray strand of hair

from my face

tuck it behind my ear

and trace

a gushing stream of cold water

down my neck,

I release my stiff shoulders

my breast bone loosens

the binoculars of my heart

read every line in your palm!




In a small salon

two women

share their stories

without a word

and give each other

the gift of empathy.




Woman in Spa






“This post is a part of ‘UMeU’ Poetry Blog Hop #UMeUBlogHop organized by Manas Mukul . The Event is sponsored by Soul Craft and You, Me & The Universe.”



Sunday, February 2, 2020

Mental Health: Blogging with a Purpose #CauseAChatter

 I live in a society where "mad" is still abuse, "mentally challenged" is conveniently used for criminals, murderers and rapists and mental health thus stands stigmatized.

Being a survivor and an activist I have witnessed this invisibility of mental health in the social discourse around me and the resulting insensitivity about both the survivors and their caregivers is appalling.

I am also a Psychological First Aid practitioner and in my practice, have come across so many people completely unaware of even basics of mental health here.

I also wrote an e-book Mental Health: A Primer with the same purpose. 

Still, I feel a lot of people are unaware of so much about mental health around me that more and more needs to be written, so I will be writing about mental health all this year for this campaign and if time and energy allows also doing Hindi translations/paraphrase of the same on my Hindi blog too.




This post is in collaboration with Blogchatter's Blogging with a Purpose  . If you are a blogger and want to join your voice for a cause close to your heart, do lookup.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Roles We Play #FlashFiction

Niru was accompanying him to one of his creative workshops. She was no resource person or anything but just to travel with him, hear him speak. Yes, she was completely smitten by Hiten.

The venue was abuzz with the participants, all young people, some fairly attractive and there he was the cynosure of all eyes, the muse, the mentor , the artist.

Hiten was punctual, he started the workshop in time. Niru was still busy observing people, one young man in particular, reminded her of Hiten years ago, paint on his shirt, pencils scattered before him, completely lost in his creation.

Almost instinctively Niru walked up to him, put her hand on his shoulder and in a confident voice that surprised even herself , she said, " Please be careful about the intensity of your strokes, they define your depth. I am Niru , your Hiten sir's trainer years ago, now wife!"

Hiten just smiled. Niru had finally succumbed to her seven year itch and was back to painting.

This post is part of a blogathon/ BarAthon at Blogarhythm

Friday, July 13, 2018

Fame #FlashFiction

Shyamu sold cigarettes, matches, and tit-bits near a busy crossing in Delhi. He had been here since a decade and now proudly called himself a shop owner in Delhi whenever he visited his village, courtesy his small paan-shack on the pavement.

But the fact was life was as mundane as it could be, between the shop and his small 8 feet by 8 feet jhuugi in a nearby slum cluster, he was lonely and frustrated as hell. Often he visited GB road for cheap sex but that didn't resolve the loneliness part.

One late night as Shyamu was about to shut shop and go back to his room, the pavement dwellers had squattered their skimpy beddings all over the pavement near his shack, Shyamu was hit by a loud thud.....

He opened his eyes in what seemed like a government hospital, flashes clicking and TV cameras and mikes being thrust on to him from every corner....

Shyamu finally had his six minutes of fame , the lone survivor of a road rage accident involving a famous politician's son.... Shyamu was struggling with his words.

This post is part of a blogathon/BarAThon at Blogarhythm

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Fight #Flashfiction

Roohi was the most promising child in the karate club. Just 13 she had already won several championships and was now a purple belt holder. Walking back from the class every evening with her mom she saw the kids selling fruits and flowers on the pavement.

One evening she gave the banana she had in her bag to the little girl selling flowers and got to know her name was Radha, she was just seven. The friendship gradually developed, Radha was fascinated by the Karate uniform and displayed some moves she had seen peeping into the Club compound sometimes.

Roohi told her mom that she was old enough not to have fancy birthday parties any more can that money be given as Radha's fees for a basic kaarte course. her mother agreed reluctantly.

Three months later winning her first fight radha ran up to Roohi, "Give me five didi ! WHat do you say - what your teacher told you- hail sisterhoods !"

This was Roohi's proudest win ever.


This post is part of a blogathon/ BarAThon at Blogarhythm

Monday, July 9, 2018

Credentials #FlashFiction

Rosa was in the middle of one of her relationship-coaching sessions when one of the participants raised his hand for a query. The young man looked perturbed and asked, "Ma'am, sorry to say but your profiles says this is your fourth marriage, if you actually knew so much about man-woman relationship, why would your three marriages fail?"


Rosa shifted a little in her seat, suddenly she knew a 100 pairs of eyes and ears were completely focussed on her answer, she smiled and maintaining her composure said, "Good question there! Actually a relationship is two people you see, no matter how much one person works on it or two people do in different directions won't help, it works only when two people work at ot together."

She continued, "Now coming to the first part of your question. Yes I am currently in my fourth marriage, the first was back home in India, a traditional arranged marriage. Next in UK where I went for my doctorate, he was German and this was via a dating service. The third was down under in Australia where I was teaching, he was a native and my teacher, several decades older, and now this fourth one is a decade younger, and Afro-American."

"So as I see it I have seen man-woman relationship from four corners of the world and hence I am a bit over-qualified, over-experienced here."

The conference hall was filled with peals of loud laughter.

This post is part of a Blogathon/BarAthon at Blogarhythm.


Friday, July 6, 2018

The Other #FlashFiction

Sandeep waited all day for Priti to return home. She was a journalist and he was a freelance photographer. He was thus by default the housekeeping too, as they often joked. 

They were a very bonded couple, weekends were spent partying and longer ones hiking around Hongkong. Vacations were usually to exotic places and were frequent, yet often Sandeep had started noticing the odd presence between them. 

Even in their most intimate moments he would find Priti pre-occupied sometimes with the other, or he would find her completely disinterested and she would quickly rush back to this new temptation in her life.

Priti was literally addicted to candy crush, and Sandeep was feeling that three's a crowd.


This post is part of a blogathon/BarAthon at Blogarhythm

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Lists #FlashFiction

Kevin felt drowsy and tired as he walked to the parking lot. Taking out the car keys from his trouser pockets his fingers touched the sticky note Paula had written the grocery list on.

Oh no ! Not again.

he had completely forgotten about the groceries during his lunch hour and now at 11 pm after a tiring day at office was in no mood to take a diversion to the supermarket or face the wrath of his cranky pregnant wife.

Regan had stopped taking his calls about a week back. She said if he loved her enough he would do anything to live with her and had given him a long list of do's and don'ts as her lover.

Stuck between two lists, he dialled Regan, the lesser of the two evils.

This post is part of a blogathon/BarAthon at Blogarhythm

Monday, July 2, 2018

Hangover (Bar-a-thon) #Flashfiction



As he opened his eyes, his head was thumping, this was one of his worst hangovers for sure. The sunlight filtering from the drapes was hurting his eyes.he extended his arm to grab the water bottle from the side table, it was missing. The lamp was fallen on the floor, the bulb broken.

Where was Sara?

He called out, "Sara ! Sara !"

No response.

As he dragged himself out from the bed and reached the fridge, he suddenly stepped on something wet. The carpet was soaking in somethin crimson, looked like blood. The trail was leading to the kitchen....

He was now scared, their loud arguments from last night ringing in his ears, Sara....?

Did he have one too many last night?

Enough to.....







This post is a part of a blogathon/Bar-A-thon here at Blogarhythm

Friday, September 8, 2017

Warrior Women





The fragile-brave woman
who refuses
to kill
an unborn girl
and stands by 
her daughters
through every storm

the little girl
who insists
"education"
in the face of
a terror regime
and a gun to her head

the young woman
who speaks
periods, breasts
and abuse
without the shackle of 
honor, 
fear or shame

the survivor
who battles a 
crime
violence or a
fatal disease
but doesn't compromise
her mind,voice or name

the old woman
who lets go
of centuries of do's & don'ts 
and stands with the girls
against the men

warriors all
in words, thoughts
and essence !
All Warrior Women !





This post is for a Blogathon titled WARRIOR WOMEN here @ Women's Web

When a Greek pirate ship sails in to loot the wealth of the Cholas, it is brutally defeated by the navy and forced to pay a compensation. A payment that includes a twelve-year-old girl, Aremis. Check out this new historical novel Empire (
http://bit.ly/DeviEmpire) with a warrior woman, Aremis at the heart of the novel.

Friday, June 30, 2017

The Call of the Wind



She listened
to her heart
and threw
all chains
cages
locks
to the
call of the wind !

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Suns and Lovers




Fathers, husbands
brothers ,cousins
uncles, granddads
sons or grandson

Men are a part of 
every story
of women

'Suns and lovers'
Moons and friends

and yet there is
that clenched fist
any of them
could be a misogynist !

This post is part of a #blogathon here at BAR.

Monday, June 26, 2017

Lord of the Flies



Image: Google images

Rapes, abuse and deaths
suicides and silences
battered breaths

only numbers
mere statistics
Women - 
nothing to the
Lord of the flies

amidst a thousand
patriarchies !

This post is part of a #blogathon at BAR

Friday, June 23, 2017

War and Pieces

Image : Google Images


The victor's loot
and the vanquished's shame
the woman in every war
without a name

the destroyed homes
as the shadows of 
kids' tombstones increases

the collateral damages
the unsaid tale of moms
daughters and wives
in war and pieces !


Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Of Ice and Men




Image:Google Images




He rubbed her wrong
and you looked away
She body shamed her
and not a word to say

 the sexist jokes
and the street harassment
the discrimination
fear and embarrassment

you remained aloof
and closed your eyes
patriarchal men
as cold as ice.

This post is part of a #blogathon at BAR.

Monday, June 19, 2017

Life of Pie





Image : Google Images



If there was ever a pie chart
of things people say to women
that cause grievous hurt

What all do you think 
would figure in there?
Do you think
that they even care?

How sexual violence
uses victim blaming as a tool?
How something as sweet as pie
can turn into a weapon cruel?

This post is part of a #blogathon at BAR

Saturday, June 17, 2017

The Fault is in Our Stares



Image : Google Images

Is a man defined 
by the length of his pants?
then why the moral police
complains and rants
about the length of her skirt
or the neckline of her shirt?

No one asks for violence
wearing what she wants
isn't a dare

there's nothing wrong
in what girls wear
the fault is
in our stares !


Monday, March 20, 2017

Short Poems for Inspirational Writers - A To Z Challenge 2017 (Theme Reveal)





HAT-TRICK CHANCE as they say in cricketing terminology.This is my third consecutive year at the A to Z Challenge.

A to Z Challenge 2015 my maiden challenge was dedicated to the memory of my late father, who had passed away a few days before the challenge. All the posts their , very special to me personally and found an overwhelming connect with readers far and wide, still do.

A to Z Challenge 2016 happened when I was struggling with mental health issues and a really difficult personal time, so I chose the theme life lessons , to share what I had learned and find new insights.

2017 has started with laurels for me as a blogger. This blog has received the ORANGE FLOWER AWARDS for POETRY and my other blog for HINDI WRITING.

So this year I dedicate my A to Z Challenge 2017 to all those who have inspired me with their writings and hence I will write

SHORT POEMS FOR INSPIRATIONAL WRITERS

I will be picking one writer every day and try to write an ode kind of poem about how their work has inspired or influenced me.

Fellow A to Z people, looking forward to loads of co-learning and fun.

Good Luck !


Saturday, October 22, 2016

An Intimate Untouchability - #PeriodPride

Image Courtesy : Google Images


“Hi! I am writing an article about menstruation awareness. Please share any personal memories regarding it, particularly about seclusion/confinement/restrictions, or the other names used for it. Your privacy will be protected. Thanks!”


I sent this text to about a 100 random women in my phone book, before I wrote this piece. Most of these women are urban, educated and seemingly liberal. Only 4 of them replied, surprisingly only those whose families were not silent about periods but despite awareness and understanding the issue had applied ‘minimal’ restrictions like not entering sacred spaces on them.

The silence and shame associated with talking about it to even a fellow woman is quite evident. Such taboos are passed on from one generation of women to another conveniently because women/girls are socialized into a state of ‘learned helplessness’ as suggested by Lenore Walker though in the context of domestic violence victims/survivors, where the victims/survivors begin to think of themselves, their anatomy and their sexuality as subordinate and dirty.

In fact body shaming, sexual shaming is sometimes more covert but aggressive in urban spaces. I can say this from personal experience that ironically the talk about periods began much earlier for most rural girls in my home state Himachal Pradesh than it does for most of our little girls in cities even now.

Little girls there know that every few days women in their homes and families are secluded because they are dirty and must remain separated from the rest of the family for those few days.

Periods in some local Pahari dialects are referred to as “Zudke”  ,literally meaning ‘clothes’, so it is not even referred to as anything related to the female anatomy, but to the clothes or rags the women traditionally used to soak the flow and how they had to wash everything clean once the dirty period was over. Even the popular Hindi words – Maasik, Maheena, and Mahavaari refer to its monthly occurrence, indicating no connection directly to the female body.
Image Courtesy: Google Images


Little girls by default in hilly villages become the carriers of food and messages to and fro between the ‘Obra’/’Khudh’ (cow/cattle shed) and the house as their mothers, aunts, female cousins and older sisters are confined/secluded during their ‘unclean’ period. They mustn’t touch the ‘dirty woman’ they are told, if they do they would have to bathe again, so they are instructed to leave the eatables at a distance and speak from a distance if they have to. It is believed and enforced by deep cultural conditioning that contamination from menstruating women can bring the worst curses from local deities and even lead to drying up of crops or secret diseases.

The irony is that they are confined to a corner of the cattle sheds traditionally and yet is believed that if a menstruating girl/woman touches a cow, the cow will become infertile – leading these girls furthermore to regard their own bodily functions as curse and impurity and be restricted to a corner even in that confined space.

The culture not only associates a routine female body function as unclean and impure but imposes seclusion on women in connivance with ‘god men’ and local deities, as women and families are often scared with curses and diseases so that they adhere silently to the seclusion and do not speak up against this humiliation month after month.
It is also important to understand the generic architecture of homes in the hills to realize how traumatic and humiliating this seclusion can be for most women especially young girls.

Traditionally the homes were wooden structures with two floors, while the upper floor was family quarters, the ground floor roomed the cattle and the sheep, so women were confined there during their periods. With changing times cattle sheds are now constructed as a single hut slightly away from the main house and the seclusion thus becomes even more evident and in some cases unsafe too. The door is locked from outside and in case of an emergency even her loudest cries may not reach the house.

To add to this turmoil is the fact that toilets if there are any are also constructed closer to the main house and the woman is often denied access to it during this time. If she uses cloth, she must wash and dry it to reuse in complete secrecy and if she uses napkins then these must be disposed secretly.

Social and economic upward mobility and some work by social initiatives and NGOs have probably increased awareness about menstrual hygiene and girls are increasingly using modern sanitary products but the discrimination at ground level hasn’t changed much. Women in some families might not be sent to cowsheds but even in their semi-urban or urban homes are confined to one room, have to sleep on the floor, can’t go to the kitchen or prayer room, can’t touch some eatables like pickles and can’t touch other family members etc.

While women slog equally in fields and kitchens all year through, only men participate in most religious rituals in villages and cook the sacred feasts and only they are allowed to offer the yields to a deity. Lots of rural girls drop out from school still around puberty due to lack of support and awareness. Hundreds succumb to infections due to unhygienic methods of managing menstruation. The fear and shame associated with a menstrual stain is so overwhelming that they give up their opportunity of an education for it.

The religious notions of purity and pollution are rules that deny women basic human rights of caring about their health and bodies. All women, regardless of their caste are considered unclean during menstruation. Sometimes they are not allowed to even take a bath especially for first few days of their menstrual period as it is believed that they can contaminate the water source permanently.




The argument often propounded in the favor of seclusion is that the confinement frees the woman of all her household duties during those days and she can rest. Even if a logical benefit of doubt is granted to that logic, what kind of rest does a woman experience if she is psychologically stressed by separating her from her children and family and the physical comforts of her kitchen and bedroom are denied to her?

Untouchability based on caste and religion was long back ended legally by our constitution, but this untoucahability of a more personal and intimate kind is still practiced in many homes and families, and the worse is it is taken for granted too, both by the perpetrators and the victims.

There is no open discourse about it within families, TV channels still get changed whenever there is a sanitary napkin advertisement playing and women though are not tied with physical ropes to restrain their movements and daily routine, the stronger but invisible ties bind them securely to the margins, make them silently experience the “shame” and discrimination associated with menstruation.

Silence about it strengthens the shame and the shame shrouding it strengthens the silence. Generations of women suffer in shame and in silence.
Its time our girls are freed of this burden and can love their body and menstruation as a privilege and not a curse.

 
“This blogathon is supported by the Maya App, used by 6.5 million women worldwide to take charge of their periods and health.”

Other posts for the same blogathon




Keywords

2019 April Blogging challenge B-A-R BOY Blogarhythm Book Review Buddha December GADGETS HAIKU Hamlet Rumi Ruskin Bond Sexism Stream of consciousness Womensweb answers anxiety apathy barathon birthday blog blogathon books breasts brothers bullying cartoons chandigarh child childhood children cities colour compassion contest cosmos culture dad daughter de death death loneliness alone delhi depression desire devi discrimination disorder diwali domestic violence dreams emily emotional abuse eyes facebook fairytale family fear feminism festival film fire first flash fiction fog freedom freeze frenemy friends games gender gender ratio girls god grandfather grandmother grief happy heart hills hindi home hope husband independence day indiblogger internet jagjit singh kashmir kerouac kids lessons life life lessons light loneliness lonely longing loss love lover marriage me memories memories men menstruation mental health mind miss mom mom dad mother mother's day motherhood mythology nest new year nobody nostalgia pain pakistan panjab university papa paradoxes patriarchy periods poem poet poetry priyamvada questions random thoughts rape relationships religion remember rickshaw ritual sad sex sexual harassment sexual harrasment shimla short story silence social media soul sufi suicide summers taboo time toddlers tradition tragedy twitter valentine violence voice war winter woman women women's day words. thoughts words.thoughts worry worship writer writing yatra yeats zen zen. बेटी माँ

COMPANIONS CALLED BOOKS

To Kill a Mockingbird
The Catcher in the Rye
Animal Farm
The Alchemist
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Romeo and Juliet
Frankenstein
The Odyssey
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
The Count of Monte Cristo
Eat, Pray, Love
Lolita
The Da Vinci Code
The Kite Runner
The Silence of the Lambs
The Diary of a Young Girl
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre
The Notebook
Gone With the Wind
}

The Human Bean Cafe, Ontario

The Human Bean Cafe, Ontario
my work on display there !!!!!