It was a misty, dreary morning. There was something off about the day. The cook had called in sick at the last moment. I had an article submission deadline to meet. And then my periods arrived just in time, as if to fan the flames. As I tried to gather the scattered ‘me’, my few months short 5-year-old spilled a bottle of juice on the floor, inadvertently of course.
That empty feeling has become a part of me. Indispensable to my existence. It gives me the fuel to keep running through the mundane. I do not feel exhausted anymore because there is nothing remaining to get drained out from within.
The moment someone starts filling the gaps and voids, I begin to feel uneasy, unsettled, sometimes even anxious. This unknown space is deceptive. I know the bliss is temporary. Which is why I dash into the emptiness again – that feeling of nothing, but a comfortable nothing.
Once in a while, there comes a book which compels you to read and re-read it because there is so much more to it than what is visible on paper. “From An-other Land: Making home in the land of dreams” by author Tanushree Ghosh is one such book which made me ponder, wonder and surrender to peel its layers and read between the lines. The theme of the book is all the more relevant in today’s times post the 2016 US elections.
I am not a devout person in the conventional sense of the word. My understanding of the various religious rituals is pretty rudimentary. Not something to be proud of I know.. but also not something that bothers me in any way. I do believe in God. I do pray. But in my own way, much to the chagrin of those who expect others to believe in their beliefs.
Period Talk! One would think that a mother of a 4-year-old girl would not have much to share on this subject. I concur because I have still not reached that stage when a parent actually gets into the elucidation of the biological process and the other nitty-gritty of menstruation to the child.
But, should period talk start only once a child is nearing puberty?
A few days ago, I was invited as the Chief Guest for the valedictory function of the Inter-College Fest held at an established college in my city. Saying that I was overwhelmed would be an understatement.
I went there unprepared because impromptu speeches bring out the best in me. I still remember getting hit with a sense of deja-vu the moment I set my foot inside the college campus. Been there, done that! You get the drift, I am sure.
A few weeks back, one of my cousins called me up in a distraught state. She had recently joined an organization but wanted to quit because she had been facing sexual harassment at the hands of her manager. When I urged her to raise this with the HR department, she revealed that she had already taken that route but to no avail. To make matters worse, her colleagues had begun to gossip about the matter and she couldn’t take the murmurs all around anymore. Sounds familiar, isn’t it?
The atmosphere was abuzz with the boisterous banter between them. They giggled. They crackled. They chortled. They rolled. She hurtled around the park tickling the other kids, while trying to escape their tickles.
Do I think about him you ask? I don’t. I cannot. Because thinking is a conscious action. Something mindful and knowing. He is innate. He is always there. Somewhere. In my gestures. In my words. In my emotions. In my moods.