Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I am a mom…

Oh! I’m sorry that I couldn’t complete the assignment on time.

I’m sorry for being late. I had to go for vaccinating my son.

I’m sorry, but can you please reschedule the meeting/interview. I’ll not be able to attend it.

I’m Sorry but I can’t stay late in office due to my son.

I’m sorry, but I cannot come to the party. My son has a fever.

I’m sorry I cannot afford more nights away.

Sorry!

Sorry!

Sorry!

That’s what I have started doing in office. Perpetually being sorry for each and everything. Sometimes I feel like I couldn’t do this any more. 

From 6:30 in the morning till 11:30 in the night, my whole day passes away exhilarating.

Today I realized that I have started saying sorry even if it is not my mistake.

Why?

Please help me out!

And I think I’ll have to examine myself too. 

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Caught between Fire and Storm!

DreaMenology

The droplets on the glass of the window pane could be a cue to my presence, as my feminine silhouette would leave the viewer with no confusion. But there’s a catch- nobody is going to the backyard of this military makeshift residence.

Outside, I can see the kinetic power that wind carries with itself, always, only now it seems more dramatic the way trees, drenched from the downpour, were swinging madly from one direction to the other. The age of the trees as of the area was beyond calculation because it existed on the face of the earth since the dawn of civilization and later got recognition as a turbulent village near two neighbouring countries. The fierce sounds of bombs being fired from both sides could be heard. Some of them sound to have landed very near. Even the raging war, going on somewhere nearby, cannot keep me away from…

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From a mother to “Working Mother”…

Being a mom was not easy
I tried a lot to not let the things get messy…

Problems faced by me and all the working mothers

Working mothers are the ladies who take care of their baby and are as well as indulged in jobs. Actually, they are doing two jobs at the same time. On one hand they have to take care of their child whereas on the other they have to go out to work.

Now the question arises that why mothers have to work?

It’s not true that women works for their own interest, but she does this for the sake of her family and to earn her families livelihood.

Sometimes if one is single mom, then there is no option except job to earn and to fulfill her baby’s needs. Indian women’s had always been housewives. But the increase in cost of living has forced them to go out to work and earn.

The bulk of families can no longer afford to live on one source of income (husband).

It’s very difficult for a middle class lady to go out leaving her baby home or with care takers. She has to face too ordeals. Working mothers most often suffers mental as well as emotional stress, as they deal with the mental pressures from home as well as office. This may often deal to marital disturbances.

Sometimes due to physical stress women starts shouting on her mates due to which their relationship has to suffer.

Most working mothers feel guilty of leaving behind the child at home because she missed her baby’s first step, first word, and first calling mummaaaa!!!
I am a working mother and I missed all this. That’s the biggest guilt that I know every working mother feel.
And instead of supporting, the society doesn’t favor working mothers. Usually the relatives and neighbors don’t appreciate moms to work. But they don’t know that they are suffering today so that their baby won’t have to suffer in the future. It’s for their baby’s sake.

Indian women’s have an immense ability to multitask. They all love their kids. Being a mother is their most important job. But they also have a professional life which is also as much important for them.

People say that working women’s children does not have a connection/bond with their mom’s, but this is not true at all. There’s no better test than to ask the children. They know who their mom is — even the smallest babies respond to their mother’s scent, voice and presence. So it proves all.

Next time, if you see a working mom, then instead commenting on her just think how much she is sacrificing for the sake of her child’s bright future.

Working mothers get to have an identity separate from being moms.

He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)

Thought of sharing it with other women’s so that they can take a step, if they ever face domestic violence…

The SisterWives

Record 3 editedReleased in 1963. I did NOT make up this post title. I wish I had.

*Trigger Warning: Domestic abuse

In the history of the world, no one has ever loved anyone the way I loved my husband.

I felt that way all the way up until the moment he dislocated my rib cage.

He bought me my first car. I didn’t own a car until I was in my 30’s. I grew up poor. My first car was the BUS.

We’d only been dating 4 months when we celebrated our first Christmas together. He presented me with a brand new, cherry red Mazda Miata convertible.

I LOVED that car.

I named him “Herbie.” As in, the movie “The Love Bug?”

The very first week, I logged 800 miles, visiting every friend I had in the tri-state area.

FREEDOM.

For the first time in my life, I experienced the exhilarating sense of…

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Mirror, Mirror On The Wall, Who Is The Fairest Of Us All?

Beauty lies within your heart…

arfa masihuddin

snow white

Much has been said about the subcontinent’s archaic obsession with the “goray gaal” (fair skin). And while many amongst us will opine our disapprobation, there will be quite a few of the same lot who will flock to the air-conditioned stores (or non air-conditioned ) to try out another latest addition to the numerous miracle creams that are the self-acclaimed magic ticket to getting the Prince Charming who drives a Mercedes.

In this day and age, it is a highly Quixotic notion to “ooh and aah” over white skin and frown with distaste at a brown or even slightly wheatish complexion. In fact, it has always been a Quixotic notion. After all, how can the colour of a person’s skin define their roles as prospective husbands and wives and daughters-in-law and sons-in-law? Compatibility, personality and character, have been told to go play hide-and-seek. D’ Accord?

Celebrities and socially prominent personalities…

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The Arrival, Indian Style

Proud to be an Indian…

Uncle Spike's Adventures

images (6) Taken from http://www.actressworld.net/

Ever been to India? Well, for me, the Indian Subcontinent holds a very special place in my heart for a number of reasons. For starters, there’s the culture, the sights, the smells, the sounds. I heard it once described as “a complete assault on the senses”, and I would have to agree. Within seconds of arriving in India, the sheer madness hits you like a runaway juggernaut; but that is just part and parcel of the wonder of India. It’s like going to sleep in a small fishing village in rural Devon, and waking up smack in the middle of the Trocadero in London, or from the tranquil white cotton fields of South Carolina, to Times Square at 11:30pm on a Saturday night. The vibrancy of India is magical, ever so slightly overwhelming I’ll have to admit, but always heart-warming and invigorating.

images (3)

But to me, the…

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Being a Mother… The Feeling of Being Complete

The first thing I learned after becoming a mother was to start respecting my mother even more. This was because I realised that a mother shares the strongest bond with her child. I also realised that the things my mother did for me which I took for granted were so huge.

Now, I think that whether I will ever be able to repay for the sacrifices she made for me!

Right now I can just say love You Mom!!!

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My Lyf totally changed after becoming a mom. I realised that one smile of my baby was worth spending thousands of rupees on something that makes me happy. The sleepless nights I spent in taking care of my baby were no more a sacrifice.

If I ever felt low, then a single smile of my baby was enough to raise my spirits. I started buying toys for my baby instead of buying something I was dying for.

That’s how I totally changed when my son (Raunak) came into my lyf.

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But…

Will I be as good as my mother?