Did you find your Ikigai yet?

Ikigai.

Someone introduced me to this Japanese word few years back. And since that day, this word resonated so much in my ear and slowly anchored in my soul, I fell in love with its existence.

I will tell two stories here…

One fine morning, after dropping my son to school I boarded the usual silk-board enroute Volvo and placed my exhausted body under the AC vents on 3rd from the last row seat, where the cooling is exactly perfect for a hot morning.

Usually I keep 30 Rupee change ready at this time, to avoid any unwanted confrontation for change or being late producing the fare and to reserve the energy for rest of the day.

This young guy, in his fitted white uniform was crisp in his english and swift in his action. He went to every passenger,handed over the ticket first, assuring he will collect the money once distribution of tickets are done as the bus was heading to next stop in speed.  He got me bowled over by his tactics. Once passengers got ticket they got their face out of the mobile screen and kept waiting with the money. By the time the next busstop came both parties were satisfied..And then I bowd my head silently when I saw him returning me the one rupee change which noone does and generously requesting each passenger to check if the note is damaged,so that he can take it back on time!

On same day, in the early evening when I was leaving for the day, just opposite to Cisco first gate, I saw this guy. Usually in that area either people will be smoking or will be glued on their phone screen. He was sitting alone quietly,without a gadget, on the soft green grasses,just under a hibiscus tree near the smoking zone. The tree had bloomed with saffron hibiscus and was looking so pretty as it was twilight. He had this amazing calmness on his face, with the setting sun patting his back and he was mindfully feeling the breeze touching the grasses and leaves around him as he was plucking few leaves from ground. The maddening rush , the honking office cabs queueing up at the tech park exit..No,I did not see any frown on his forehead as I passed by the corner he was sitting .

That was another Ikigai day…

We hear a lot about passion these days, anything which is ”offbeat” they name it as passion.. anything that is crazy enough to take 5 selfies and post on social sites is “getting the passion outta life”..Anything that counts on “dal chawal , 9 to 5 routine,debate on republic tv at 9” 'cannot be passion,it's something else’.

But then that conductor could show up with a bad face shouting for change, for damaged note he could just be not bothered or could shrug off if someone had asked for the nearest one rupee change..!

But then that man on the grass,could sit there looking at the whatsapp screen, or rushing behind figures and reports to finish the day's work early.

But then I was stuck at Outer Ring Road evening traffic, the flock of birds flying on the sky together and changing the frontier whenever one is tired, showing up  a V sign from above to the entire traffic which stopped at every single signal.

Did you find the ikigai yet?

When I Earned A Few Saplings While Sowing A Seed

1 year 8 months ...

The clock is running ' hickory dikory dok'...

And the count is adding one more second to this particular lifespan.That lifespan, when I am Unemployed.

Few hour more….before I start my second innings tomorrow.

I am perplexed with the separation anxiety,more than my little one..I am excited to go back to work but somewhere inside me I have caged myself as I am going to leave my heart at home while carrying my grey matter to work everyday.

On a hot summer day in July of 2016, my 7 months extended maternity leaves got over, my son was 7 months old,had 2 molecular teeth(well if I compare the size with that of now) and started his meal with dal -chawal , I took this step(ignoring to explain with the adjective for 'this step’ because only I knew how significant it was) to quit and to take a break until he is little independent..to be with him night and day,afternoon to the next dawn until he completes first 900 days of delicate childhood.

Yes I know, monotony is boring, non multitasking is boring, stories of sentiments, and sacrifices are boring too..

I have had it enough. I have seen enough. Hypocrisy around our notion of 'feminism’, monotony of biased support system , discrimination at workplaces, overdose of motivational lines scattered here and there- I have seen them enough if not all.

So this has been a 'zero income’ period...But I gained a few learnings which were priceless.

1. Saving every penny that comes home ,adapting minimalist way of living- Which meant no online shopping for 2 years-precisely all I bought newly were 2 kurti,1 jeans,1 piece of stitched salwar suit;1 bottle of moisturizer and a pair of kajal;only emergency visits at salon,hair cut  at home;instead of experimenting with shampoos invested in 2 bottles of good hair oil- that's what more or less I invested on myself. So does that mean I was living a Sadhu ’s life? Hell NO. Instead of going for restaurant or movies, I learnt cooking across many different world cuisine, and there were cheat days when we ordered Tandoori Moorg from our second kitchen, Golkonda Chimney. Instead of buying junk jewellery around the year, I spent a few penny on  small and daily wearable gold ornaments. To save the LPG and electricity, have been learning life saving hacks for day to day life.

2. What the true investment is - I started giving more values to human relationships, I started investing time on precious things of life more than investing money to please them.  I started realising the importance of being grounded , over a period time, I realized how important the self-containment is.

2. . This phase broke me into pieces and rebuilt me with some incredible sense of responsibility. I was bringing up a human life almost alone. It took many days of sweat, many afternoon without lunch,many sleepless nights-often set with alarms every hour, loneliness that was not lucky to be explained,overwork that was beyond explanation... Sometimes I complain to myself,why I was left in this hardship without support,but then I hear the inner voice that it was to make the person I am today, a mother -bad or good.

3. Breaking the myth "Networking" - I identified the difference between the notion of 'we are friends’ and 'who truly care about you’ . I identified people who want to stay connected with you based on the your social-financial-beneficial status.  I could detach myself from the invisible string attached from my mind to the social networking. I understood the frawn and whispers will be there always, despite of your devotion or ignorance...because human beings enjoy this peculiar sense of entertainment.

3. Parenthood, that's not fancy -. In my life, nothing came easy...and especially this period taught me tough, slapped me with facts and incidence .I struggled hard, to get anything and everything done , alongside the father of my child. It made us strong..   Only we were there , when those tiny feets started walking, those little palms started drawing , those tiny face made expressions while eating , those first days in school he cried his heart out, those first sentences for which we were the compiler.        Nights we fought against the soaring temperature,; On that birthday of mine,when doctor told put that nebulizer mask on him and my child was sobbing and crying in fear; That stubborn infections refused to leave for several days and I was running from doctor to doctor for help.

             They say a mother can be the best teacher for a child..she shapes up the newborn to a complete human, like molding a soft clay into a vase.... But motherhood has taught me a few truths in life...or rather I would say, have opened few windows in my soul, that is molding the human inside me... 

From the Phoenix's Womb

I lost myself a couple of light-years back;

I did hide my skin inside a sand-filled sack...

Thought I’d come out like fireflies in dark nights;

Thought I’d be the brightest comet,while stars would fight.

I slept for years, my eyes were so dry...

I forgot I didn't have wings anymore to fly.

My dreams were scorched under a decade old sun;

My heart pumped only blood on the long run.

Then arrived a time, and conspired to wake me up

It’d stirred the ocean inside me,while the wind was still rough.

It smeared me with red,and gave me a nest called Uterus

Vermilion was the dusk, and it summoned the universe.

World gazed and murmured at me,'oh she is so weak!’

World cursed me for not reaching out for the peak…

I waited and longed for the storm to swept me , to flow me down

And germinated the sweat and blood,gave it a crown..

I picked up the thorn and gave it to the spring,

I burnt myself to make this phoenix’s wing..

And sung an ode to Lord,that I will be a mother

To bear all the pain, I swear to be the soil rather..

Rain that touched the soil, and brought out the smell of earth

Photons that left from sun, and the sunflower gave birth

I will live in them,forever,for the life to be born

I will be the lullaby, for every unsung life’s song....

ফ্রেম

সদ্য হারিয়েছি ঠাকুমা কে। কয়েক বছর আগে দুই দাদু কেও। ছোটবেলার বটগাছ, ছায়া যতদিন ছিল, রোদের তেজ টা বুঝিনি। আজ বড় হলাম। মা হলাম। আমার বাবা মা ও ধীরে ধীরে বয়সের হাত ধরে senior সিটিজেন অফ ইন্ডিয়া। আজ বুঝি, সেই শিকড়ের টান। সেই ছায়ার শীতলতা।

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দেয়াল জুড়ে হাসির আলো ছিটিয়ে সকাল হলো

চৌকোনো ফ্রেম - গৃহস্থ প্রেম,হালকা কাঁচের ধুলো।

প্রেশার কুকার-ল্যাপটপ-ফোন, ছুটছে ঘড়ির কাঁটা

হাতের মুঠোয় বালির ঘড়ি, জীবন - বায়োডেটা ।

কুমির ডাঙ্গা, বালির ফটক, রান্নাবাটির হাড়ি

কুলের আচার, শুকতারা বই, বাসন্তী রং শাড়ী;

দাদুর দেওয়া ফাউনটেন পেন,ডায়রি লেখায় মত্ত

ভাঙা টুল এর নিচে লুকানো দিদার আমসত্ত্ব।

ফ্রেম জুড়ে হাসছে সবাই, হাসি যেমন হয়

দাদু, ঠাম্মা, দিদা,দাদুন- আমার তখন নয়।

বালির ঘড়ি আলগা হয়ে কবে,

পিছলে গেছে আঙুল ছুঁয়ে। নীরবে।

চৌকোনো ফ্রেম, ঘুড়ির মতই আকাশ জুড়ে ওড়ে

যে আকাশে শৈশব নামে কখনো ঝুপ করে।

বাষ্প ওঠে চায়ের কাপে, ‘ফাউনটেন’ এর নীলে

চৌকোনো ফ্রেম গল্প লেখায় মেঘ কুড়োবে বলে।

-শতরূপা

Thoughts from my caged wings

It is drizzling outside..thick clouds are rowing across the piece of sky above us and roaring softly like how I tell bedtime story of a lion and his kingdom to my son,hovering just above me, sensing the deep inner peace I am trying to acquire,snatching myself from my own monotony for a few minutes I have. The mini forest of eucalyptus and neem , just next to my balcony is drenching quietly soaking my thoughts into their shivering leaves and nodding branches.

What do I see now for those few mini seconds I blink my eyes? Where do I feel to be….who do I hold hands? What's around me ,music or murmuring breeze or just void silence?

I am sitting on an unknown beach of  Neil Island,my feet dipped into the transparent salty water of unusually quiet Andaman sea. Watching little seashells and crabs exchanging greetings on their arrival to the golden sand.The colony of coral reefs are hallucinating me of the fairy tale kingdoms and their old abondoned forts.

I am in a bus, driving through the desert of Negev in a moonlit night. Silver and black, windy and cold like steel, enough to freeze the soul,my sleepless eyes following the stars but fails to the speeding bus. I left the Mediterranean, that is far behind now.

I am crying silently, without a reason,when it started raining in the Western Ghats...the rainwater washing down the stones and pebbles they laid the road with..no human being near my proximity..but hornbill sitting on that jackfruit tree is crying too.

I am standing in the Sam sand dunes in Jaisalmer , watching the sand dunes changing their shapes with harsh winds while sun is setting promising a dark cold night at desert. The shadow of mine and him and our camel expanding prominently and saying a goodbye before disappearing to the darkness.

I am watching the people meditating at Arvind Ashram in Pondicherry, questioning the history what made the fierce freedom fighter to find his inner peace at this place,by the Bay of Bengal and how thousands of soul reaching here year after year for the same purpose. In search of the inner peace. More I get, more I lust for...more I lust for,more I loose..more I loose ,more I fear...more I fear,more I go far from the peace. I am stirred in the room,where I see hundredsof soul finding their answers.

I am walking by the shore of Red sea, thinking when the crimson sunlight will reflect on the water from the mountain range across, transforming this crystal blue water to be red..the seabed where I was swimming a while back,the depth of the sea,the amazing kingdom living their a life of eutopia ..how they are unaware of surface.

I am waking up in our Innova. I am in Himachal. Snowing has stopped last night, leaving the pine trees standing tall with the Santa Claus white beard and gloves. The gorgeous sun waking up the valley as precious golden green richness and sometimes pale yellow roughness. I can hear the morning prayer from Monasteries.

I am listening to Arabian sea in monsoon. The heavy cloud have made the rogue look grey and sometimes like a used color pallet, messy ,stained,dark. Sometimes it's Goa, sometimes it's Kerala but its bold, strong, wild every time. Banging on the rocky cliffs with old grudge, making me realise how weak,small, unimaginable molecularly small is my existence.

And I stopped breathing for a while. I need to soar the sky, but the rain isn't stopping. My mind is full of clutter, and soul is strained behind these walls. Even a monsoon couldn't drench me now.

The Secret Life of 'PAT'( parent and toddler)

After your 9 months of pregnancy and initial 3 months of induction period ( to get accomodate with the new homo sapiens you brought to the world), the word ‘ Motherhood’ gets a facelift.

So from this point of time,a mother becomes a multipurpose autonomous machine,a multilingual ( normal human languages and language the baby understands differs,yeah!),multitasker (will come to that point later),break resistance (and also lifetime warranty except manufacturing defects), low maintenance but highly efficient, low or no budget, 24×7 available vending and serving machine. Aghhhh..!

We all dream about our rosy days with our cute baby(ies), a house full of cartoons and toys, babies just waking up to eat,play,pee and sleep again! What else can they do at max? A naughty baby! Oh even the word sounds so adorable. And then you cuddle your new born to share your warmth and his soft baby skin let you forget a bad day in seconds.

Then comes a day,you are elated to see your little bundle can turn sides and in few months he is able to sit up on his own. You send his photos over social medias to your friends and families to share your joy. And just then, a mother becomes transponder with all the qualifications I mentioned in the beginning.

Especially if you are a mother with no helping hand at home, or your parents are not nearby and it's just your husband who is the other adult available in proximity when he is not at work. And you spend 10-12 hours a day with your toddler.

Here are few excellent situations I can think of:

1. You don't need a gym: people ask me why am I so thin, and I always give credits to the running treadmill we have at home, it's just that he runs everywhere from kitchen to pick utensils from shelves, to the toilet to wipe the toilet seat, to bedroom to fetch his mamma's comb and cream.

2. You don't have luxury to wash hair everyday, sometimes once in ten days:  If someone asks me how do I maintain my longhair, I feel may be the municipality manholes are better maintained in the city! Lol. Gone are those days when you get to shampoo two times a week,and then a perfumed conditioner to feel the softness in your locks,and then occasional visits to parlor for extended services. I thank to my luck if I get 30 free minutes a week to wash my hair and get it combed peacefully !
3. You don't have privacy to respond to the nature's calls,  alone behind closed door : Well you have choices- a) either you close the door, let him pull the shelf,throw the stuffs,falls down on ground and cry loudly until you pick up or more horrible scenarios OR b) you make him sit in front of bathroom door and keep the door open and whatever you are doing you just keep talking to him to make him sit there for 5 minutes or less. LIFE is SIMPLE !
4. You have no fixed lunch times : As babies grow up,the neurones sparks more energy and their brains always send signals to keep awake and play around whole day. And you are in race with their freshly made extra smart and super fast neurones. Hence the best way to survive the race is to reschedule your routine according to them. If he sleeps at 10 in morning,take bath,clean the mess he just created,cook food, make arrangements for dinner,boil his milk,keep his lunch ready and if he is still sleeping better you have lunch then.    If he sleeps at 3 pm, finish your lunch and steal a small nap like a thief in your own house.
5. You have ached shoulder, stiff neck, numb arms: Pain is your new friend, your body comes with a limitation of physical strength and sometimes you reach the threshold and try to slog at the end of the day. Result is your body parts are crying for a rest and you are depriving it.  But, that's OKAY! Remember you are a transponder - multi-tasker, break resistance, low maintenance!
6. Your patience level touches moon : You are not the same human anymore who used to curse the autowala for charging 10/- extra, or who used to yell about the traffic in Bangalore. You have more patience to absorb things that are better and ignore the clutter.

Well I could have written more, but you see my baby has just woke up from his precious morning nap time and I have to rush now.

Before leaving, let me tell you one thing.

In returns of all these hardships all we want is a healthy smiling baby, who will come running to us and cuddle with their tiny arms. Who will grow up fast and will be independent and they will have their own space. Until then, let's make the most of it as this time,as precious as God, will never come back!

The Richer and Poorer

Who decides who is rich and who is a beggar?

Who can tell how life makes a man richer than a rich or poorer than a poor?

Who fixes the deal between a penny and a beggar's hand?

Story 1#

It was the month of April, not a peak season for flyers. The man in flat number 210 was checking out cheap flights to fly back home this summer, considering it will be significantly hot in the western part of India. However tickets might come easy to pocket. But still he finds, for three people up and down, the amount is endangering his next month's post tax deduction cash in hand, his daughter’s annual school fees to be paid in next 2 months and the next installment of their house.

Bimol, the security guard from the North East , sitting in the parking lot area of the same building was thinking about his bank balance. It's been 12 years he is in this city. With his 10k salary package he has been managing father's treatment in the native, brother's higher studies and now he has a baby. So this April he will leave the city forever to reunite with his family. His next plan? Well not thought so much, he might buy an auto and give his tractor to rent or he can also drive . As of now, last time he leaves the city he wants to make it big. So this time, no, he's not gonna spend 4 nights in 3 tier sleepers.

After an hour..

The man shuts down his laptop, cancelling the tour plan in dejection.

Just then, Bimol rings the doorbell of 210. The man opens the door. Bimal handed over 6000/-  cash,‘ sir ji, mera flight ticket karwado zara, ye raha ticket ka paisa, advance ( slaying his broad wrinkled smile)’.

#Story 2

It's 5 days to celebrate Diwali. Avinash retired from his office 4 months back. This is the first Diwali in 30 years he won't need to apply leaves to visit his ailing parents. He won't be buying new clothes for the orphanage his father was running for last couple of years; it was such an 'unnecessary expenditure’ he used to complain all the time. After many years , this time he wouldn't argue with mother on selling the old rusty house and settling down with him comfortably.

This Diwali, Kalki has got a new home, a new room, and 12 sisters.This Diwali they will lighten up the aangan with Diyas and there will be their Dada and Dadi…..Smiling from the beautiful black n white frame.

This Diwali, they are no more.

#Story 3

Vignesh is famous in his class. Not because he always brings 100 in math, but because of his tiffin box. The ordinary stainless steel made square lunch box, two tiny compartments inside.His box always contains tastiest aloo ki sabji or yummy sabudana khichdi. And often he unfolds surprise coconut ladoo under the chappatis.

Rihanna, the biggest fan of his lunch box,is secretly so jealous of him. She gets 100 Rupees everyday to buy lunch in the canteen.

Maya ordered a corn spinach sandwich and a small shot of espresso. The waitress returned with cappuccino. Wrong table. Furious customer.Maya complained to the manager, made a scene about how uneducated unorganised the waitress is, in the crowded coffee shop.

Unknowingly…...Rihanna's mother took a revenge for the tasty dabba her daughter was jealous of. That night Vignesh announced 'Ma when I grow up I won't let you work in that coffee shop again!’

Love where you live, live where you love

02.01.2010, that was the date.I boarded my first flight and my father too. It was morning 06.50 AM flight, Kolkata to Bangalore, Kingfisher Airlines.

Now the airlines does not operate any more, so does my grainy memory,on the flight experience. Only things I remember are I got a window seat, saw the clouds above the sky and then the sky above the realm of clouds. In-flight idli-sambar-chutney did showed the upcoming trailer of the city cuisine.

And yes. I was strangely more excited than nervous, it was the first time I was out of the comfort zone of home yet I was surprisingly confident and charged up to see what's next.

7 years passed by ever since I landed up here in this city. 7 years which delivered the most critical turning points of my life.

First cubicle bearing my name plate,

First laptop I bought and hugged like a baby,

First time I braved to live alone in a flat,

First ticket I bought and I travelled alone,

My first blog- first grammatical mistakes,

My first guitar- first chord out of tune,

My first camera- first disaster in lightmeter,
My first child and how I met his father,

My first car and my hilarious confidence.

In 7 years  conversations like “ I am from Kolkata, live in Bangalore” has been slowly changing to “in Bangalore where I stay, life is…”.

My macher jhol ( fish curry) -rice has somehow got engaged with akki roti and green chutney and they are soon to be married in one plate one day.

Surprisingly at this point of time, I have less Bengali friends in this city than number of friends who doesn't speak Bengali. And that's wonderful. Over the years, living with them,sharing my room,my desk,cubicles,lunch table, weekends have made me realise language doesn't matter. For that matter I still talk aweful hindi ( yes the usual gender + verb problems of ‘ti’ and 'ta’) but that never made my day bad.

This city has taught me how to live baggage free, how to travel luggage free, how to take responsibility,pay bills,save money,look into the maps,plan trips overnight, search house,pack up and unpack your household again and again, live with anyone who's a stranger but as stranger as you, and also how to live alone if needed.

Bangalore is changing fast, so do I.

Greenery and open fields, those beautiful walking lanes of BTM and J P Nagar are converting to traffic lanes, 9 km E city flyover doesn't give the best view it used to give 6 years back, Corner House has increased their rates, 13th Floor is always crowded nowadays, the old lady of the kachori shop in HAL market is not there any more,and so is the 6th Ballygunge Place in Indira Nagar, amazing 144 happened last year and how it shut down life for 48 hours,Bangalore traffic time that surging like global warming, and so do the price of a mere 700 sq feet flat in residential areas.

Most of the old good friends have left the city, all scattered here and there. Facebook, Watsapp failed to bridge the gap between coffee cups we left in office pantries or over a weekend adda.

Memories always make me write same old nostalgic melodrama. May be 7 years made me old, not to blame my greying hair.

So ,here is the final line:

When life gives you “Bangaluru” , cheer up” Namma Bangaluru”

বিদায় মেয়েবেলা

আলমারি,বই,দিস্তা বাধাই খাতা।

সময় ধুয়েছে হলদে মলিন পাতা।

সূঁচ সুতো দিয়ে সেলাই মলাট খানা,

শেষ পাতা জুড়ে আঁকা স্কেচ কয়খানা,

নাম ক্লাস রোল নম্বর..

পার্কের দোলনা ভুলে বাইসাইকেল,

একছুটে ছাদ, ন্যাড়া সিঁড়ি বেয়ে নোনতা বিকেল।

শিশির ভেতর শুকিয়ে যাওয়া জলছবি রং

পায়ের নুপুর, মায়ের শাড়ী, রেডিও এবং

“নীলে নীলে অম্বর”..

কবিতার বই,জন্মদিনের কেক

হাঁটতে হাঁটতে প্রেমের বয়স অনেক।

আবছায়া সব কালির দোয়াত নীল

তার চেয়েও গাঢ় ,স্বপ্ন ভাঙা তিল।

লাজহীন , বর্বর..

গোধূলির কাক, শাঁখেদের রেল গাড়ি

বায়োস্কোপে আর ফেরেনা বাড়ি।

সাদা ফিতে বাঁধা বেনুনির টানে ফেরা

মেলার ঘূর্ণি, চটির ফিতেটা ছেড়া।

স্মৃতির কবর..

বিদায়।

অশরীরী ডাকনাম

তুই আকাশগঙ্গার আলো হয়ে জেগে থাক সারা রাত।
যেসব বিকেলের আলো দেখা হয়না আর
সেই আলো জমা আছে ওই পার।

তুই ভোরবেলা হিম হয়ে পড়িস বাড়ির কার্নিশে,
এখন শরৎকাল।
আমি জানলা খুলে ভাববো তোর কথা
বুকের কোথাও নীল হয়ে থাকে পুরোনো ব্যথা।
নিকোটিনের মতো বিষ হয়ে জমা থাক ফুসফুসে।

স্টেশন, বা মিনি বাসে বুড়ো লজেন্সওয়ালা
ছেড়েছি অনেক বাস আমরা সেদিন,
তাড়াহুড়ো করে ভুলে গেছে খুচরো ফেরত দিতে।
ওর কাঁপা হাতে আধুলি হয়ে থাক তুই যতদিন পারিস।
হয়তো এভাবেই ফিরে আসবি আমার হাতে।

তোকে লেখা চিরকুটের কবিতার মতো
হারিয়ে গেছে আমি,তুই,শব্দ, গন্ধ, ছায়া।
কাকভোরে স্বপ্নের মতো
শুধু বেঁচে আছে ডাকনামের মায়া।

আমরা চোখে চোখে স্বপ্ন হয়ে ফিরে আসবো না হয় ,
যদিও কাজ নেই আর ফিরে এসে;
তবু।

যদি মলাট খুলে হঠাৎ চোখে পড়ে প্রথম পাতা
গল্পের আগে যেখানে নাম লিখেছিলাম কাঁচা হাতে,
গল্প পুরোটা না পড়েই।
তুই আছিস এই বিশ্বাসে।

A Bad Queen's monologue

I could never complete watching a Bumba da-  Rituparna potboiler, until one genius director made Utsab. However the feedbacks shared over social networking sites compelled me to watch the most recent one, Prakton.

Wait, this is not gonna be a movie review write up.

Me and my childhood friend were chatting over the stereotyped perception on Indian women , showed in this movie and she ended up raising a question on my recent Facebook upload.

     I was wearing a red saree ,posing near my living room door, without make up or add-ons.

 She said , ‘ I bet you show this photo to someone who doesn't know you and ask what do you think about her? Answer will be based on the look- your red saree, Sindoor, sankha pola (my red and white bangle) in your hand- and I bet their answer would be mostly like - she stays at home, watches saas bahu soap in tv in the afternoon, cook fish and rice for family, gossip about neighbours, not much fluent with Google Chrome or with the colloquial English or with the latest news headlines. That's how they have been projecting us for years in movies or television’

And I did not have an answer. Because she was so right!

In our country, people do judge a woman by every inch of her external appearance. And here judging means not only the character but also their probable family background,what she is good of, how much education she might have pursued, how much modern or retarded she is.

Remember the Nihar naturals ad by Vidya Balan?

And that's why this movie was so successful, because they fire up such common practices.

In short:

Here the hero has an ex wife, our BAD QUEEN of the story.

She is at present wearing a Vogue black frame, scrolling her smartphone screen continuously, wears subtle make up- expensive and beautifully crafted dresses, talks softly ,warns people not to call her much during the time she is traveling.  She had a job which demanded late night work, she was financially independent to book air tickets to fly home and see her parents often,she wanted to invest in some property apart from their ancestral house and most importantly she was not ready to let go her career,independance, stability, personal space, me time completely when her husband demanded that this can be the only way to save their marriage!

And then there is our GOOD QUEEN - the present wife of our hero. She boastfully announces that she has a successful marriage because she calls every member of the house separately whenever she is not at home,to make them happy, She wears ordinary floral printed salwar suit and always carries home cooked food wherever they go. Including the aam pachok ( kinda hojmola) . She watches all serials one after another till dinner time. Her success Mantra is adjustment and that's why she is NOT EX but taken  XL size space in husband's heart and EXcelled ‘ the home making’.

Conclusion- BAD QUEEN can not adjust, so clean bowled out. And from the pavillion she regrets why did she not listen to what her husband wanted.

GOOD QUEEN , mistress of ‘ adjustment’ ,wife of our hero, a good mother, a caring daughter in law, a good human being,.

But,wait. Why do we have to conclude this?

Can't they show that our “ bad queen “, who manages office late nights, comes back home,serves food to family,takes care of herself,watches a tv show with mother in law next day morning with hot cup of tea, manages own finance and her entire family supports her when she goes for frequent office trip overseas?  She wears business casual, but still feels enormously comfortable wearing saree in weekend, she has deadline tomorrow yet she books late night movie show previous night with husband. Basically no bad or good queens, but a queen with flaws and love, like normal human being!

Utopian concept, isn't it?

My wardrobe is a cluster of jeans shirts sarees salwars kaftan kurti. I choose when to wear what. My personality.

My sankha pola - yes I wear them, even with my jeans and tees look. And I don't feel confused or outdated or not even rebel. It's as normal as drinking water to me. My assets.

I don't go to office now,as I have a 10 months old baby at home,and we don't live with our parents. I am reliving my childhood by playing with him all day. I love to be his mother when he needs me the most. Yet, I do miss my job and that will also be part of routine again. I don't feel pain of loosing any side or gaining any. Staying at home does not make me a good mother neither going to office back someday will make me bad. Its my life, I am spending on what I feel worth. My family priorities.

I have lived in this city many years alone, have cooked alone and dined alone,searched for new home alone, lifted my heavy suitcases to top floors alone, lived with many strangers in new rooms in hostels and sometimes have lived in the same room alone for months. Still I miss my home , I miss home cooked food,at the same time I am grown up matured to adjust with anyone now. My learning.

So, you see, nothing explains what I really made of, except the dots in my lifeline, what I achieve, what I fail, nothing except my story you get by joining those dots ( yup, as Mr Job suggested once).

Be it our dress, or our routine, or our hairstyle, or work style, or the friends we choose, the way we sit, the way we burp( or should not burp at all), the color of lipstick, the language we speak- ‘Modern’ or ‘Retarded’- they gonna judge us until we die and make us feel guilty about ourselves and will get the ultimate satisfaction of this.

So if you can't shut them up, shut up your regrets and move on!