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We have moved!

2011-02-17T11:51:00.001+05:30

We have moved to www.priyankajoshi.in

Please do let me know your feedback on the new site, content or anything that comes to your mind

This is my kind of romance after marriage

2010-10-03T16:32:00.000+05:30

My hubby hates shopping with all his heart. Before we married, I used to frequent malls with my dad and mom (sometimes friends too) for relaxation. Though we never over-spent but loved the window-shopping that was much more relaxing than real shopping. We just enjoyed being together as a family and eating our lunch in mall restaurants or food stalls as we meandered around. Hubby couldn’t understand my thought process in the least.

But my first few shopping trips after marriage were disastrous-- as he hated the endless rounds to shops and me trying to understand the latest collections. After 2.5 years of being married something changed in him. He knew that “mall crawling” was an enjoyable pastime for me, so he began to check with me whether I wanted to go to the mall to look around. Now that was sweet, as given a choice hubby would rather sleep in than spend half a day trudging behind me and helping me choose outfits. Just recently, he even topped off our "mall time" with a visit to my favourite ice cream store. Perfect.

When we’re romancing our better halves, we have to do what they think is fun and what they think is romantic. That shows we know them and care for them. A woman going through marriage without romance feels like a man who goes through life without sex. Much of the color of life disappears, and everything turns gray. (literally)

Now, if I was to romance my hubby, visiting a mall wouldn’t cut the deal sweet for him but sitting down on evenings on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and tuning in to CNBC and listen to market analysts would be his thing. It’s restful and it’s romantic. You’re sharing the moment, sharing laughter, and sharing conversation. You’re relating to each other, and that builds intimacy. This is evolution in romance after marriage.

It’s also romantic when you do things for her/him that they hate. Speaking for myself, I hate scrubbing dirty dishes on days when maid goes off. Hubby knows this and has started to step in to wash vessels or when there's no time to wash the sink full of dishes, he promptly dials the nearby meal delivery service. Why is doing a little act for your wife that she herself hates considered romantic? Because it proves to her that you know her likes and dislikes and will do chores that will put a smile to her face. Or at least I have convinced myself that it does.

Sometimes I don’t want to do the mundane things like grocery shopping alone. It’s not one of hubby's favorite things either. But he goes with me if I ask, and he makes it fun just because we’re together. Sometimes I hate sitting home on weekends, but hubby wants nothing more than sleeping and lazing around. So, I comply. believe me its better than tagging a grumpy husband to a party or a restaurant.

Do you sense the romance here? We do.

When you realise the importance of maids

2010-08-28T10:48:00.003+05:30

[This blog was written in July, but posted today :) ]

I had no idea how critical my maid was in making my work-cum-home life smooth until she fell sick last week. Poor girl is down with Malaria and Typhoid and has to rest for 15-20 odd days. Now, I totally agree that she cannot work in this condition but the wretched officework-cum-home life (again a choice that we ourselves make) can crack up the toughest. I was the one who went down last week -- and still recovering.

While this is not the first time my maid has taken an off, but usually she gets me a replacement maid (temp). However, since she fell sick so suddenly there wasn't any time to arrange a temp before she could take the bed. With sweeping, mopping,washing clothes, cleaning toilets and cleaning dishes upon my head and a hectic work schedule on other, it was natural that I lost all my sensibilities to be nice to anyone around me -- that is inevitably the poor spouse. Yes, I am actually feeling sorry for him. I snapped, cracked and banged the doors or vessels (anything rather that came in my hands).

The cooking was down to basics, as maid helped in chopping vegetables and making chapati's. While I can live on maggi and quick-fix pasta, spouse cannot. He (or his tummy) yearns for daal-rice or roti-sabji. Well, it continued to yearn for about 6 days.

Anyways, Day 1 (without maid): I wake up to a messy kitchen sink and bathroom full of clothes. Bedsheets un-made and footwear all over the house. Yes, it was dreadful sight for a maid-obsessed person like me. My first task -- at 7 am -- was to clean the toilets and sweep the floors clean. I didn't mop as by then I had worked up a foul mood already. No tea and no lunch made for spouse and myself.

Day 2: I wake up to more messy bathroom full of clothes and stack of dirty dishes. My mother has always warned me to never ever leave dirty dishes in the kitchen sink if there was no maid to help in mornings since your day can get deeply depressing when you see the pile of dishes, that in the end you have to clean anyways. So, I dig in to clear the stack -- a task that not only fuels my frustration but I also start taking it out of the spouse and at work. WRONG, I know, but it happens.

Day 3: Still no maid and I was at my wits end-- even had a nightmare of a dirty house and insects crawling from my kitchen. I beg and bribe the gate security to send me any maid that he comes across. He manages to get one, who quickly tells me the list of things she wont do! Even before joining as a temp this new maid had listed out that she wont dry the utensils and place them in racks, she wont put the clean laundry on clothesline and the day kitchen load (dirty utensils) is heavy, she wont touch the dirty laundry. She refused to make chapati's and shook a quick no to chopping veggies too. All this when I was ready to pay extra for each work.

Whoever said money can buy you anything, must be really a man with .

P.S: Those 3 days were an eyeopener to me. Maids, specially the old ones get so dear to your household that you never realise what they stand for until they take off. The day my old maid returned is undoubtedly the happiest day of 2010 for me -- it was the day my house came back to normalcy and so did my temper!

Forced time outs

2010-06-28T17:40:00.001+05:30

Time out in life is good, I know that but forced time out -- is that good? No, it simply gives you time to fill yourself up with lots of anger and frustration. FIFA matches are doing that to me. I am no sports enthusiast and have zero passion for sweaty men on ground. The way they spit, the way they jostle, topple and then scratch various parts of their bodies in front of millions is just a big turn off for me. I know this might be rubbing a few (or many) people the wrong way but hello, I'm entitled to my opinion-- ain't I?

This is what I am going through.

The spouse sets alarm on his mobile for evening match schedules -- the freaking mobile trings in my ear at 11:50 pm waking me up when I all I want to do is throw the darned device out of the window. No amount of screaming, pleading, blackmailing will prevent him to not keep the alarm away from the bedside. So, last night when I switched off the alarm (yes, I am a shrewd wife), the spouse surprisingly got up at 11:45 pm mumbling in his sleep, "Oh, how come the alarm didnt go off...Argentina's match is critical. This cant be missed." Yeah, as if I care whether the Argentina scores a goal or takes a hike.

This level of dedication to FIFA gets me wondering when did I get this kind of attention. And the answer is quite obvious, but I don't want to write it out.

My requests to visit the grocery store are usually ignored by the spouse but last Thursday when I grumbled that house was running low on food supplies, I was pleasantly surprised to see him offer a ride to the store. I was happy to see a change and secretly was congratulating myself for making this happen when it dawned on me that Friday-Saturday-Sunday were 'big game nights' and he wanted to stock the shelves with goodies that could be munched on and beverages that could be chilled before hand. Naive me!

While the matches are on, my spouse is a picture to see. All eyes and ears, mind, cells and sensory nerves on the TV and players. Nothing goes unnoticed -- who kicked from where and why the goal keeper should have turned left or jumped straight. It's called "experiencing game" he says. I would like to argue, why don't I get a quarter of this attention sphere when I am describing my "experiences".

My TV room + living room + the only big windowy room in this 1BHK in Mumbai has been taken over by my spouse and the couch reserved for his legs to sprawl. I have to make do with the corner mattress and my iPhone, laptop to pass my time -- which are good enough but on weekends its a not-so-pleasant exercise to get the spouse to speak anything but matches, players' stats and a particular team's chances to win over.

My weekend trips to restaurants, malls, shopping and even mundane chats are now regulated to the first half of the day. Second half of the day is for FIFA and match analysis, goals, and loud abuses hurled at every goal the opp team scores or every goal the favorite team misses. Worse, making statements such as “it’s only a game” or “don’t worry, they’ll have another chance in four years” further fuels the anger. I tried to sneak the remote control away while the channel was replaying the goals, but that was a mistake as spouse came jumping from the kitchen, screaming "replays are important." The FIFA highlights on ESPN are shown every night and are just as important as the games themselves, I am warned by the spouse.

No wonder, I am not enjoying my forced time outs.

It means a lot to have a sympathetic ear

2010-05-22T16:07:00.001+05:30

A woman finds great peace when she finds some one who understands her -- I read this somewhere. But it is SO true.

Yes, women are inherently complex creatures - or perhaps 97% of the female species are born -- with a certain "super complex link" in their DNAs. And this character simply grows tentacles with each passing year. Yet, the solution is very simple: a sympathetic ear and a box of tissues is just the answer.

As you would have figured out that I am speaking from experience. When I was young, I had a Panda soft toy who was my companion. When mom wielded a hard hand or when teacher was obnoxious about the quality of my school work or class monitor was extra harsh on the talkative me, panda was my sympathetic ear. He heard everything and offered nothing. But it was therapeutic. The tear-stained Panda was soon thrown out for a living being, my best friend (from Std: VI C).

This new confidante was slightly better than Panda, as she could offer comfort through her own stories about a bossy elder sister or a cruel Maths teacher who loved to throw surprise tests. I could tell her what my classmates thought of my report card without trying to censor my words, and she in turn made me paper cards with flowers and little huts with doodles. Those were good times; innocent enough to be consoled by cards made out of torn notebook paper.

By tenth standard, confidante's were exchanged for guides and tuition notes. There was no time to dwell upon life, stupid boys or parents. Marks and board exams were embedded into my grey cells and I had to score a rank somehow. Finally having secured a seat in a college in Pune, I was again free to look for a friend who could read what's on the mind and with whom I could speak in silence.I found the nicest friend (soul sister) in another hostel mate. We could read each others body language, facial expressions and know when was the other one sad or happy or eager to share a secret. Undoubtedly, a lot of secrets involved boys, not-so-friendly-gossips about other hostel mates, career and of course, what to wear to college. We were inseparable and secrets shared are still between two of us.

Moving away from hostel, I launched myself headlong into work. I knew what I was getting into as I walked into the office of a local newspaper in Pune for my internship. Right away, I loved being a part of the media industry. There was no looking back and I went from internship to job and again discovered my sympathetic ear was a very nice girl at work. Soon the group widened to include another girl and we were soon discussing marriage (impending), prospective grooms, arranged marriages of other acquaintances, mother-in laws and our ideas about what a married home should be like.

Believe me, all these years as long as I had someone close to talk about my moods and thoughts it was good. I knew it was these friends who had kept me un-coagulated. Today, things are different.

After 2 years of marriage and living in Mumbai, I am still struggling to find that sympathetic ear. While I am still surrounded by great colleagues, none of them seem to any clue (or inclination) of what it is to be some one's unconditional sounding board. I had secret hopes that my husband would become my mind reader, but that seems to be a project in making. While I still have great friends who are phone call away but its not the same as having my own Panda, my own Std V C mate, my soul sister, or my patient & comforting friend duo at work. We, bulk of the women, need to have (or MUST have) that one person who can keep us free of convoluted thoughts and zap away those fears, jitters.

What comes first ? Kids or house....

2010-04-15T12:26:00.002+05:30

Two years of being married, and it becomes a subject of intense discussion as to why we don't have children and a house yet. And at times its can be just plain embarrassing to have your parents (and in-laws) discuss your married life and potential reasons of not having grandchildren.

Second subject (of owning a house), is usually played up when folks from girl's side (rather my side) want to make a point to their son-in-law (hubby's side) about not being able to put together an abode (for their daughter).

So the thread of conversation during phone calls to respective parents goes something like this.

Me talking to my in-laws

M-I-L: (after some usual 'how are you' talks) You know certain so-and-so is having a baby and she got married just about when you guys got married.

Me: Yeah. Really. Nice nice...She's a housewife, right? And didn't the husband move to Bareilly after marriage. (Trying to make a point)

M-I-L: (reticent) Yes. Yes. But see now she can be free from duties by the time she is 34 years. And maybe she can take up the job of a teacher, which she pursued before marriage.

Me: Guess, that's good planning I would say. But not applicable to all.

and so the conversation moves with both sides trying to score

On the other hand, a conversation between my husband and my dad goes like this:

Dad: I heard the rates in New Mumbai too are moving up.

Hubby: Yeah. That's some spurt we are seeing here. Everyone is out to buy a house even when they possibly undertake heavy debt.

Dad: But that's how houses are built. You cant avoid debt, as salaried professional can never possibly save up easily and then you have a family (slight reference to me and non-existent kids)

Hubby: Hmm...yes, I will think about it although I am not okay with a big debt on my head. What if job market loses its shine?

Dad: You have to take risks in life, son. Buy a house then you can think of a family too.

Aaaah....

On a sensible note, I know none of their concerns are misplaced. They are probably right in their opinions (gentle reminders) but since life is so unplanned, each of the milestones (house, kids, etc etc) happen when you are least expecting it. I believe that.

The day I became an 'aunty'

2010-03-09T13:28:00.000+05:30

I am 28 years-old, married and this makes me 'old' by Indian standards. And women folk (peers)around me ensure that I am aware of my age.

In Mumbai, where people in your building don't believe in spending time knowing each other because it's just wastage of time, I too joined the cult of 'unknown neighbors' when I moved 2 years back to the city. Having changed by house twice already I (and my husband) are ignorant about other families living on the same floor.

We do run into one of the couples now and then in corridors but there's no chance to engage in a lengthy introductions since singular lift on the floor (accommodates just 4) ensures that only couples (with their little ones) use the lift by themselves.

But this did not happen on Saturday, when I found myself with a 3-year old Mrigank and his mom (whom I saw closely for the first time; we are separated by a concrete wall). It happened as following:

Me: (in lift, pressed the button to my floor; mentally recalling the veggies I had in my fridge that could go in veg stew)

Just as lift doors are about to shut, this kid hops in and holds the door for his mom who is pants in after him, carrying a sand bucket and toy shovel.

I smile at the kid, my best smile.

Kid: (looks back at mom and chirps) Maammy, aunty is smiling.

My smile dropped at word 'aunty.' How dare that runt call me aunty, was the first thought that blazed through my head.

The Maammy looks at me, smiles and tells her kid: Mrigank, say hello to Aunty.

That woman actually encouraged the kid to call me 'Aunty'.

Kid: Aunty, what is in the bag? (pointing towards my paper bag that had some latest mags and books)

Me: (recovering from the shock) Err, aa...it has my books. (mentally cursing the lift that seemed to take forever to reach to the 10th floor)

Kid: (turning to his mom) Maammy, is Aunty in school?

Maammy: (clearly enjoying her role) No beta. Aunty goes to office...like Papa.

Ping...the lift reached tenth floor and I jump out.

Kid follows to my door: Aunty, why do you go to school on Saturday?

He had a point! But I didn't want to be a part of his conversation anymore. I wanted to escape and the key refused to come out of my purse, giving the kid ample time to drill me with questions - all starting with the tag, 'AUNTY'

No wonder people in Mumbai don't mingle, as they don't want to to be told or realise how old or ancient they are becoming while running life's rat race. I am a part of the Mumbai crowd and I dont want to be told that I am now an 'Aunty'. My graduation from a 'didi' to 'aunty' happened in the lift ride!

Don't believe these myths about marriage

2010-02-19T19:16:00.006+05:30

If you are a sucker (like me) for late night TV, enjoy classic movies, listen to love songs, or read romantic novels, then you may have an image of marriage that never, ever was. And I discovered this after 2 whole years of being married.

MYTH No 1:
I had always heard married women -- just a little older than myself talking how -- how babies really bring the couples closer.

And I wondered , really? Now that I am married and have some experience, I can rubbish this one. I mean babies (I am talking after seeing 4 such examples) can probably make you more sympathetic towards other one's condition and on rare occasions there's a cute moment. But really guy, babies cannot be your bonding glue.

Either you have that connection with your partner or simply not. I have seen friends struggle so hard with the changes in their body and keep their emotions in check after they have had babies. Women are exhausted (so are the poor fathers) and couples are constantly being questioned whether they are doing it right (by unruly relatives). Usually the woman feels she is doing way more than her share and is very resentful and disappointed in her partner, but most of it initially is hormones. A woman's body just goes nuts and it BOTHERS her (guys listen).

MYTH No 2
Romance will always be alive in a good marriage. Yes, how cool would this be? It was in past that the father was the breadwinner and the mother made the bread. So mother probably had time, patience and energy to think of many innovative ways to keep the partner happy. Think gorgeous amounts of food, house decorations and ...

Fact is that all relationships experience peaks and valleys -- and if you have office stress clouding upon both partners then better be more realistic. Even the tiniest problems and challenges of life, work and grocery (!) can ruin romantic feelings.

MYTH No 3
Your spouse should be your best friend, and believe me this statement was parroted by every woman and man I knew before marriage. But why should my husband be my best friend? What's wrong in him being just a good husband?

Women (and men too) like to impose that all married men and women need to be best friends to make a marriage successful. Really, but why?

Probably, over the years you would develop an amazing friendship with the person you are married to. But it doesn't necessarily start off that way, not in Indian arranged marriage. So what's the point trying to expect something that is not applicable to your situation. I am not my husband's best friend and vice-versa but that does not mean I am having a bad marriage or have ruined my life. We talk, as friends would but that's the end of it.

And you may not tell your spouse everything, but it doesn't mean you are not close.

MYTH No 4
This one's hilarious, and I have fallen into this trap more than I am proud of. The idea of romance, as we understand from movies is that 'my spouse should know my needs without my saying anything.' HA!

I have had my fights over this one and that's why I can say with true wisdom that just because you're married doesn't mean you can read minds. You have to tell your spouses what your needs are -- like I do on every birthday, anniversary and on every occasion when I need some gift/pampering from my husband. It works, just fine.

MYTH No 5
If you like getting compliments then learn to give them back too. I have learnt it (and still learning) -- Don’t take your spouse for granted. I try hard to remove myself from seeing the dirty smelly T-shirts, socks and shoes, unkempt toiletries, the weight gain among many many many other things. Sometimes it's hard to focus on what's positive but I kick myself every time I forget what a great person I married.

Nobody wants to be taken for granted — everyone wants to be appreciated.

PS: There are many more myths, but these were my top picks. Would love to hear what's your.

Back again

2010-02-19T19:15:00.001+05:30

Ah, yes. I am very very late in updating the blog - to be precise 31 days late. But the good news is I have so many stories to begin with. They follow this blog post

Marriage

2010-01-18T18:47:00.003+05:30

Read this on my Facebook, was posted by someone I dont know but the story touched me so much that I decided to share with all those who read my blog.

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.

Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.

She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, "you are not a man!"

That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Dew. I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her!

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.

She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Dew so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Dew. When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.

In the morning she presented her divorce conditions:

* She didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce.
* She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible.. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage. This was agreeable to me.
* But she had something more. She asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that everyday for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door every morning

I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.

I told Dew about my wife's divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.

My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy.

Our son clapped behind us, "daddy is holding mummy in his arms..." His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.

On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Dew about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me... She had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.

Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mum out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.

But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy.

I drove to office.... Jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind... I walked upstairs.. Dew opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I do not want the divorce anymore.

She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. "Do you have a fever?" She said.

I moved her hand off my head. "Sorry, Dew," I said, "I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart."

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.

At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart. That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed – dead.

The small details of our lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank, blah....blah...blah.

These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy.

Do have a real happy marriage, if you’re married.

If you’re not married…

Just believe!

(Originated from here)

Is old not gold...in movie-dom?

2010-01-05T15:16:00.005+05:30

FireShot capture , originally uploaded by priyankarocks.

Triggered by an article in Bombay Times, that talks about eroding shelf lives of our Bollywood heroines, I wondered aloud to my husband:

"You see even the glamorous and supposedly upwardly progressive film industry has such deep rooted prejudices for younger looking 'unmarried' women. A nearly 50-year-old actor can romance a 20-something college girl but a married Madhuri Dixit is promptly rejected by audiences and industry despite her much graceful dance sequences in Aaja Nach Le."

His response: "Women get older and look older on screen, maybe that's why they phase out faster."

My retort: "What! And you think a balding Sanjay Dutt and irregular bulging of Salman Khan's body parts make for a lustful viewing on 70 mm?"

His response: "No, they don't look young but they do carry off the characters. Women, on other hand, cannot hold off the glamorous cliches that are a norm of every mass-bollywood-drama once they opt for domesticated lifestyle or once beyond a certain age. Case in point, Sushmita Sen. No one wants to see her sizzle on screen or Rani Mukherjee for that matter. They were so bad in earlier movies when they tried to pass off as young-somethings with tight clothes and bad wigs."

My answer (was waiting for him to finish, so that I could launch my tirade):
"This is so typical of males to write off women once they step over the 30-mark. I mean, how can you guys say that Karisma Kapoor (despite being married and post one kid) is not sexy. Have you seen her in a sari on those inane TV shows that she was judging? She's definitely hotter than a balding and pot-bellied Sanjay Dutt in Blue
in his scuba diving gear."

I know I made a valid point, as husband nodded in approval, but he wasn't giving up just yet.

His cool reply: "Right. But the point is Bollywood babes are Indian afterall who undergo a 360 degree transformation once married with a few exceptions like Malaika who continue to shed clothes to tantalise the starved indians. Other married women shirk away from shedding both, weight and clothes. Swiftly, newer faces like Deepika, Kareena or Priyanka Chopra fill replacing Rani, Kajol, Sushmita, Lara or Bipasha. Women eat into each others share, practically. Men stop trying and shrinking their ganji's after one flop, eg that Bhagnani chap, Harman Baweja, Neil Mukesh etc. "

(Underlined meaning: Male actors know that they can try in time as they wouldn't be deemed 'old' by directors and producers)

I was fuming by now. "You mean to say in attempt to get noticed actresses start shedding clothes in this industry. And when they can shed no more, they are replaced?"

He promptly brings in Demi Moore, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Angelina Jolie etc etc who have repeatedly gone nude in magazines to draw attention to themselves despite bearing several rounds of kids and changing several partners.

"You are just like any other male out there. Biased and completely opinionated on why younger women are needed to fuel Bollywood's business." I shouted before hailing a cab to reach my office.

As you see clearly that I could not really conclude the issue with husband still holding on to his idea of male vs female shelf life in Bollywood and me debating on how we continue to do this to our female actors.

But really is movie industry just about skin show-off in movies? Is that why great actors like Shabana Azmi, Sharmila Tagore (and many others) chose to stand out from the filmi-crowd by doing films of a different kind? Are we (including myself) so delusional about male and female beauty on screen?

I am still thinking...

Marriages: No combination is safe

2009-12-11T16:42:00.008+05:30

When you marry for love as against the arranged marriage circuit, something changes forever as far as parents (both sides) are concerned. Whether that change is for good or bad, you don't realize it until you are married.

My very close friend from college fell in love with her colleague at work and both decided to get married. Boy comes from a rich Bihari-business class background and my friend hails from a traditional, middle-class South-Indian Brahmin family. While parents agreed to the match (rather reluctantly, as I witnessed the wedding and the ceremony didn't quite strike me as a usual happy-mad-rushed event that most Indian marriages are).

Two years later, I get a call from my friend -- now settled in Gurgaon along with her in-laws. (Let's call her Mrs F)

Once the formalities were over, Mrs F launches into a tirade. Here's the grammatically correct version of my telephonic but psychiatric session with her.

Mrs F: I am telling you never get into an inter-caste, inter regional marriage.

Me: Er...Why do you say so?

Mrs F: Arey, there are just too many issues. The mother-in-law has changed for worse and continues to evolve. I can live with the fact that she doesn't want to embrace me as her daughter-in-law but she can at least give it a shot, since we all are living together in the same house.

Me: Hmm...sure sure.

Mrs F: You know what an inter-faith marriage begins with the decision to love. It is a decision that immediately put us (the couple) outside the traditional system which was followed by my MIL and father-in-law.

Me: Hmm...

Mrs F: But I am at my wits end when I have to handle a controlling and manipulative MIL.

Me: So, what do you do

Mrs F: One way of dealing with this, or so I thought, was to let my husband know she upsets me and that he should handle the situation since he's closer to his mother.

Me: Did that work?

Mrs F: No. Well, not every time. She would like to see me cook meats and I cant (pardon my south-indian upbringing), then complains day-long to whoever would listen on how much work she has to do. One dish and she's all upset. Not that I order her to cook meals but since I am vegetarian.. cant she acknowledge the fact and back off? Then again, my husband can stand up for me once,twice, thrice...but she does this on a regular basis and poor man has no energy to invest after 14 hours at work. So, I am the one who has to make do with her complaints -- ranging from the tadka I give in daal to the shape of chapatis! MIL seems to never smile at my efforts.

Me: That does sound a bit too much. She does this regularly?

Mrs F: Don't ask re. Just last weekend, she complained of a hip ache and refused to get up from the bed. Fine, I said, don't. So I got the kitchen chores done and decided to go to my Mom's place with hubby. LO BEHOLD...The woman rises from her bed, gets ready in record time and is out of the door to park herself in the car, insisting that we take her to the temple.

Me: (couldn't stop giggling at the description)

Mrs F: I am telling you, she's just a big noisemaker. And I certainly cant deny going to temples when she insists, as otherwise I am subtly accused of being the outcast in the family and turning my husband in to a pariah!

Me: Hmm. So what do you want to do now? Have you discussed your miseries with Mr F?

Mrs F: I have. But seriously some of her antics are so quirky and weird that I have a hard time phrasing my side to make a comprehensible hearing for Mr F. I mean, she's just too weird and does all these crazy things that on second thoughts sound so silly.

Me: Well, at least the last one you told me sounds absolutely mad.

Mrs F: Oh, crap. Here I have her on the other line. I am sure she's calling to check when I will be home in the evening. Anyways, got to run sweetie. Ta ta.

And she cut me out to attend to her MIL. Although there were subsequent calls from Mrs F, I realised her problem was not about having to do kitchen chores or menial tasks, but it was to do with the fact that her MIL treated her differently (as versus the son or anyone else).

The next annoying bit for Mrs F was having to comply with all the religious make-beliefs of her MIL that were lathered upon. Being from another religion, every time she tried to drive across her point of view, she was easily the centre her MIL's pointy remarks. No self-respecting woman can endure that endlessly.

To be the Perfect Bride

2009-12-02T13:09:00.006+05:30

There's a reality show on Star TV, called Perfect Bride. Now, I am a regular (almost regular) viewer of the show and I know how desperate the girls ..err, or I should say brides are on the show to get married to the handful of grooms. But all I end up feeling is sorry for the girls.

These girls are not only hypnotized by the show's glitz but cry their guts out to their parents (audiences) or whoever is nearby, simply to ensure that they are finally married off on the show. Of course, this also means the girl takes away the crown of 'Perfect Bride,' a title that the jury members (Malaika Arora Khan, Shekhar Suman and Amrita Rao) seem to take quite seriously.

Let's start with Shekhar Suman who makes sure that he gets the maximum time on show, and poses intelligent sounding questions like, "Aapke liye Perfect Bride ka kya matlab hai" (What does Perfect Bride mean to you) to one of the wannabe-brides. The bewildered girl replies with a smile stuck to her face, "I have come here to get married and I think ...(more smiles and signs of tears welling up) the chance of being able to live with my mother-in-law is an added bonus. Even if I don't win, I have got a new mother and a very good friend (camera zooms on to a boy she's attracted to)." Shekhar Suman applauds and smiles at Malaika and Amrita.

What do you make of such reality shows. I feel so sorry for the girls. Not that I am any authority on marriages, but I am just surprised at their naivety. They just don't know that marriage is more than a reality show. How a person behaves while a camera pans over his face is not how he would behave in real, normal life.

For instance, this fella Hitesh Chauhan (a strappy young man, who was wooing Pooja Tandon just 4 weeks back on the show, is now ready to settle with Rumpa Roy!) Why? In his own words, "Because I want to take home a "Perfect Bride." "

I totally freak out when 25-year-olds talk like babies and behave as if mentally damaged. Chauhan, who claimed that Tandon was the ONE for him switched gears so swiftly on the show, that even the lamest could see through his (and his mother's) crappy attitude. But Roy, now besotted with Chauhan and being the perfect bride, can see nothing more than winning the title and getting married to the man. WTF!

In the latest episode, Roy goes all out by defying her own mother. Poor lady is simply being a mother and why blame her? She's probably seen the show more attentively than any of us and recalls all the clandestine meetings between her daughter's present suitor and Tandon; please note that just 6 weeks before Ms Roy was floored by another contestant (she even dedicated an act to him) who eventually got voted out.

If only Indian marriages were build on such fickle show-offs, then we would all be at least once divorced.

Half here, half there

2009-10-24T14:18:00.007+05:30

Ever wondered how we women, who call themselves modern sometimes think/act in ways that can only be classified as those of the older generation.

I think I am one of those -- who has one leg in the modern world and the other stuck firmly in traditions that are practiced by the older generation. I conveniently switch between the two worlds as and when it suits me, without realizing that I am being irrational and probably unfair to certain people around me.

The latest incident that brought me face to face with this situation was when I was visiting my in-laws and had to go to a local bazaar for some small shopping. Now, I consider myself as an independent working woman who knows how to make way in the big bad corporate world. So, why does it so happen that when I am in a crowded marketplace, I expect my husband to stay close to me so that he protects me from street creeps! I also expect him to watch out for me while we traverse the crowded lanes and not walk jauntily ahead of me. Why does that happen? I don't have an easy answer to that.

If I am independent woman (who has lived on her own in hostel for over 4 years), then why my husband has to keep a protective eye on me? How come I expect him to do that? The only answer that stares back at me is that I do think like my mother who expects (and gets) this attention from my father. And me and my mom are two different people with diverse sets of ambitions.

In another instance, I realized that after marriage I have begin to expect things from my partner, which were earlier easily done on my own. Like I always had a blast going shopping with my friends (window shopping, street side shopping and basically any type of shopping) but today, I just have to drag my lazy husband on these rounds. And as I write this post, I see that it has been such a futile exercise. Because, even if he tags along, his listless attitude does not help me in way. Result, he gives no opinion on my buys, definitely does not pick up my shopping bills (thankfully, here I don't expect him to pay) and is always scratching his head listlessly (another habit that irks me to no end). So, what good does it do to me to drag him along?

I try to think hard when did I change and exactly when did I get stuck in such old-fashioned thoughts of my husband being my protector in crowded lanes?

It's Diwali...so how many days?

2009-10-09T18:20:00.012+05:30

"So, how many days for you," asked my friend to me. She's a newly married girl, settled in Mumbai with her husband. The question was to check with me the duration of my stay in my in-laws place for Diwali. (PS: She was dreading her first ever Diwali visit to her MIL who lives in another city.)

What was the rational of having that conversation? It's festival time and that's also a time for most married women, who live away from their mother/father-in-laws, to pay a visit and resume their roles as domesticated daughter-in-laws. No need to mention that it is also the time when you are required and obliged to forfeit your time off from work (that is, for women like me who live in Mumbai and travel to Delhi to visit family for Diwali) to invest it on your husband's family.

I am okay to do so. After all, I am told I have two mummies and two papas.

Okay....

So, why cant I spend time equally among the two?, I asked my mother. And her apologetic reply was, "Beta, they (referring to my in-laws) get the first preference...(a pause and then) plus, it's your duty."

I complained, "But Mom, if you are my mom and it's my vacation too (as is my husband's) then don't we get to spend equal time with both parents. Why the preferential treatment?" I have never really understood why one papa-mummy (like in-laws) get VIP treatment over the other.

She replies (making no sense to me), "This is not how it is done and you cant change things." The last bit of the sentence was when my mom got emotional and I could do nothing over the phone.

My parents, who have two daughters (me and my elder sister), have always driven into our heads that we are equal to other male cousins in our family, in every way. I chose my profession, married only when I figured the guy was right and take holidays only when I want to take time off from work.

My logic is simple - I am a working woman, earning and living my life just like my husband. We both leave home and come back at the same time. We both have job pressures and deadlines that eats up every bit of energy in us. So, when he takes a break to relax with his family, don't I get the same liberty. Or is it to be decided by society that I should spend X days here and X-1 days with my parents?

Luckily for me, my MIL (a working woman herself) seemed to understand my situation. Being a journalist (and also someone who has just recently taken 41 days off for a vacation), I ain't getting any Diwali holidays this year (this remains a fact) but I I do get the chance to work from my office in Delhi (which is also my parents home base).

Hearing about my lack of holidays, my MIL told me over phone, "It's all right. You can come for the main Diwali day (which is on weekend) and go back before Monday to resume your work." The big highlight of this conversation was that SHE UNDERSTOOD !

She understood that her daughter-in-law who's mad after her job, will not take days off to spend them idling in Bulandshehar (my in-laws home base). She understood that I place my job first and my parents second in my life and would be very reluctant to change positions for anyone. And boy, am I grateful to her that she understood.

I must admit that this feeling comes as a big relief, almost as if I knew if she hadn't said that then I would have spent long days fretting in Bulandshehar. I would have not stayed away from work for long in any case, but my MIL saying that its okay for me to stay over for just 2 nights during Diwali and then resume my work from Delhi made things much more amicable and definitely a lot more acceptable.

Change is inevitable

2009-09-09T11:19:00.008+05:30

Men change and so do women, and I am talking about the event of marriage here. If you married a man through an arranged match (just like millions of Indian girls just like me) you would have begun to notice the slight (or not so slight) changes in your husband, loosely speaking. Speaking for myself, I entered the marriage as a coupling ceremony, which effectively is like saying goodbye to individuality and hello to being one half of my man.

But after 18 months of being married, all my theories about marriage have gone out of the window and practicality has begun to kick in -- hard. Just like this following data that I got from a random email forward:

Academics have found cohabiting couples are far more likely than those who are married to split housework evenly - but after the wedding they revert to stereotype, with the woman taking on the great majority of tasks.

The study argues that the effect holds true even in couples with a strongly egalitarian outlook before they are married, at which point women become less likely to fight for their rights.

As I read this mail, I realised that it was true in my case too. The first thought that zipped through my head was -- Yikes, the academics were right about me. So, is my marriage a text-book case? Eww...really!

When two people get married and perhaps live together for the first time (like I did with my husband), they wake up to the fact that there are many mundane chores to do around the house rather the home they cohabit. A woman will silently assign duties to herself and at the same time assigns duties to her husband. What she may not do however is communicate these expectations to her husband. She has realised her function in her new home and she expects her better half to have realised the same too. Well, atleast I did so.

So, the biggest change after an arranged marriage is usually adjusting to the fact that instead of each of us doing our own thing, we have another person in the house who had to be taken into account too. Instead of just caring for themselves, there is another being that had to be involved too. This can be a very stressful time for women like me, who like to involve themselves in everything, if the proper planning is not done.

Today, I have come to terms with the fact that my husband will not do as I direct every time. But I have had my small victories too. Hubby dear believes that he can continue to go out with the boys after work for a pint so that he can avoid the dreaded grocery shopping and more importantly paying for the huge grocery bills. But what he does not realise that the monthly grocery shoppings are still always done with him and it is only the smaller ones that get accomplished by his wife, when he is enjoying his peaceful Sunday afternoon watching sports or sleeping. Nonetheless, the wife (that's me) has taken over the headache of keeping a track of rations in the house after marriage, a big hassle that I had not bargained for before my marriage.

Recently, I met a male acquaintance who is about to be married. I asked him, if anything will change for him after marriage and he casually replied "No, why should it?," he came back. Why indeed. Now I can't wait to see him married, so that I can ask him the same question again.

I don't feel uncomfortable, anymore

2009-08-26T09:58:00.006+05:30

If someone would have told me 3 weeks back that I would be writing this today I would have said they were nuts! But here I am in a strange position and I don't know what to make of it.

A quick flash back, in Mumbai or whenever I am in Delhi, (like many other) I too have been wary of the lecherous male eyes noting every step we take on the roads. A simple walk through in exercise shorts and a cotton vest draws a loadful of attention from every walking male member on the Indian roads, and not to forget the uninvited comments. While some may even argue that this is a part of desi man's "appreciation of beauty"; speaking for women like me, let me tell you that we really don't feel appreciated when men just stare at our body parts with drool dripping from their mouths.

That has been one reason, why I have restricted my clothes on several occasions, say when taking the public transport in Mumbai or Delhi. The silent fact that I can dress up as per my will only when accosted by male members of my family & friends and that too when we are using our own means of transport can be pretty jarring to live with in 21st century.

Today, as I vacation in HongKong, I realise how deeply the thought of dressing "right" has been ingrained in my mind. Each time I decide on a dress to wear out, I think twice whether its appropriate for a female tourist.

In my first week in HK, I dressed in my jeans and tight tops and ventured alone in local markets and voila, it drew no comments, no unwarranted stares, nothing. Relief!

In my second week, I experimented with my make-up using different styles in highlighting my eyes and face in order to compliment my dresses and skirts. Still no stares, not even a second more than a passing look from the locals (men and women). Double relief. Even the taxi drivers and bus drivers are courteous enough to look straight on to roads and not tilt the rear-view mirror to get a better peek at your dress or body.

In my third week, I went about (sometimes with my husband, sometimes alone) in shorts and tank tops, just as hundreds of other HK women and tourists. This time I did manage to draw some attention from HK males, but none of it made me uncomfortable.

I don't know if many would understand that a woman does know when a male stares at her appreciatively and when he is leching at her dress or body. The kind of stares I drew here in HK -- and I am speaking from experience as I have had my share of male ogling -- were inquisitive, and at times appreciative. Some might argue that I could haven't seen the real HK, as I am not ruling out male jerks in HK lanes too, but I can safely claim to have seen more than an average HK tourist after my 4 weeks of vacationing here.

I still do not understand the language, but I do read faces well. And I haven't seen a threatening male face that makes me uncomfortable about my body in a tight dress or for that inch more of my leg that shows through the slit of the skirt.

I had categorically made up in my mind that men all over are the same when it comes to leching. Somehow, I am forced to reconsider that opinion now as I spend my days in HK.

PS: This post has been written in bits and parts -- while sitting in Starbucks after my morning run in exercise shorts, some paras in a cafeteria in a pretty skirt, and last part in a park dressed up in slacks & shirt. Every time, I have been looked at by males (a few females too) it has not made my hair stand. I am finally getting comfortable in my choice of clothes

7 times richer...

2009-08-11T11:03:00.003+05:30

I have concluded that women (to some extent male counterparts too) in Hong Kong can shop with a frenzy that is unmatched to what I have seen in India. Although this could be attributed to the fact that the city is presently hosting its annual sale & discounts seasons. Tourists, like me, gape in awe at all the HK shops while locals hound the shops after work.

One of my daily routines in HK is to get myself a Starbucks coffee, find a corner to sit and watch the upwardly mobile women folk rush to Central (the posh commercial district where international brands retail their wares) where along with tossing their husbands’ lifetime pensions into a shopping black hole, these women can see and be seen. Every time I see these women walking out with a clutch of bags in their hand, I cant help but sigh and sip some more of my Starbucks.

The mother lode of top-drawer brands in Hong Kong is the trio of Landmark, neighbouring Prince’s Building and the stylish Chater House where you can have your unhurried fill of Armani, Prada, Dior, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, Max & Co, Polo Ralph Lauren, Chanel, Celine, Ermenegildo Zegna, Escada, Gucci, Versace and so on.

Believe me the stores are not like anything we have back home. These are sprawling stores with umpteen wares to check out. The sales people are friendly enough to let you shop on your own and do not pester you with "May I help You", though they are are always in close proximity to assist you in your shopping.

Last evening when I shared this little observation with my hubby, he gave me this piece of gyaan.

Hubby: They would be spending more baba...you know an average HK household earns 7 times more than an Indian?

So, that was a logical explanation to my dilemma. And now every time I see a local woman with Prada, Gucci and Marks & Spencers bags in her hand, I quickly remind myself that she (or her household) is probably 7-times richer than I am. That helps in putting all my feelings in place.

PS: But only I could get my husband to buy me a Chanel bag and Prada shoes, I would never envy anyone again. GOD PLEASE!!!

What happened to eating with pleasure?

2009-08-07T07:37:00.006+05:30

When I boarded the Jet Airways flight to Hong Kong, to begin my 41-day-holiday (at my husband's expense) I did not know that I should have got my food supply from India. Although I did board with about 6 packets of good old Maggi noodles, several varieties of biscuits, Dairy Whitener and 5 kits of Taj Mahal Tea bags. But I am fast running out of Maggi and Dairy whiteners. At this point let me explain, why I am rationing my food supply on this blog like a food-starved being.

I have been here for almost a week and I am already yearning for some desi food that can be eaten desi style. I can only picture parathas and aam ka aachar, some gorgeous idlis and crispy dosa and salivate. Although I have no problems in trying out various meats, the fact that I'm allergic to most of the seafood and hence that's one big item off my menu in HK. Like many others Indians, for whom lentils and vegetables are daily meal components, I too yearn for a vegetarian affair that can be tucked in with my hands. I need no rules, man.

But eating by hand is a big no-no in here. Last evening when we went to dine at a local dining place and since I don't know how to use chopsticks (why should I?), I preferred to pick up the Dimsums and some salad leaves with my hands as no fork or spoon were laid out on the table (so BIG DEAL). But I did catch the look of horror on the face of waiters who were serving us. While one of them got us a fork and knife, the other quickly cleared the chopsticks away.

I hate when I have to confine to a certain pre-fixed norm when it comes to eating. I have never cared as to whether I am eating my dessert first or the starters last. How does it matter, really? You are hungry and you can eat whatever you want.

Same goes with drinks. If I don't want to drink before my meal, why is that a problem? I like my cocktail after my food and so why is that order looked upon with a visible surprise! Result of eating under a restrictive eye, I have finished my supply of Maggi and Tea bags where Maggi is practically licked off the bowl and sweet tea is nicely slurped and biscuits chomped on.

This weekend, I am off to visit the Peak --a popular attraction that offers spectacular views over the city, harbour and mountains beyond. And at the Peak Galleria, I am going to do exactly what I want to as I am paying for all of it. I will eat with my hands, slurp and even have drinks that are considered unmatched with my food. To hell with all the restrictions.

The curious case of Rakhi Sawant

2009-07-22T14:00:00.007+05:30

Over the weekend, I watched Rakhi Sawant's Swayamwar on NDTV Imagine and that too a back-2-back episode telecast. Why did I watch the show? Because I had nothing better to do and secondly, the gutsy gal had me hooked with her one-moment-shy and then next-moment-fiery-self-praising persona act. Rakhi's a character and a half on telly. I don't care if she is acting on telly and frankly it doesn't matter too. I am watching because I am bored and she's damn good an entertainer.

And if she really thinks that she can really hunt down a true match -- while being surrounded by cameras, NDTV's crew that takes care of her whims, a dress designer who makes sure that Rakhi wears the sexiest wardrobe and a makeup artist ensures to freshen up her foundation layers after every shot – then she really is a fool or maybe even naive.

I am willing to give her the chance of being naive. Why else will a 30-year old woman who has a very very nice bank balance undergo such a sad attempt at swayamwar. I mean he could have called it a dating show and asked men to show her what they were made of, instead of demanding 'love and marriage' from them within a fixed number of shows. She could have got herself a lot better choice in grooms and she could have evaluated them in a more realistic environment.

I cant imagine that Rakhi cant see through the 5 men who are in the final round now. All of them, every single of them came on the show expecting to face the camera and get whatever little mileage they could get from the show. I could be a little harsh by putting all men in the same category but sorry, I don't think like Rakhi. Even as she thinks that one of these will marry her and her future mother-in-laws, grooms family etc will be exactly what they were on camera then she is highly mistaken.

I wish she would read this blog and realise that she cant demand marriage the way she has been doing on the show. I mean does she really expect the grooms family to tell her, on-air that they are uncomfortable with her celebrity status and that she can never really be that obscure bahu in a small little town...If Rakhi thinks that her bollywood item numbers in semi-nude dresses will never come back to haunt her and a small town family of in-laws, then she needs a wake-up call.

Ms Sawant, my humble little advice is that you need to be friends with your future husband, meet him like a normal woman (without the glare of cameras and possibly without any make-up to show him ...er, your true colors, which the man should be made aware of if he constantly salivates over your beauty), do talk to him about your past and make sure that he does not read out flowery and filmy poetry as you unfold chapters of your life. Believe me, men are most insecure about a woman they marry and her life before marriage and they generally try and be very politically correct about their stand– well, most men not all. And from what I have seen in your case, a regional movie star should be a big no-no as they are the best case scenario for someone who is looking for his time under the camera lights with you and that does not constitute for love.

I want a 'caring and loving' wife/husband

2009-07-16T18:47:00.004+05:30

Yeah, being home alone has a lot of side effects. One of the shining ones is the free and uninterrupted access to television and remote control. So, after steadfastly avoiding the news channels that are preferred by my hubby while he had the control to remote control, I landed up watching a serial on Star TV called Star Vivah [Yes, it has a dedicated website too]

Essentially, the show is about showcasing a bunch of young, not so great looking, eager wannabe grooms and brides who are desperate to bag a partner by telling the host and hostess of the show that they want "loving and caring" husband/wife. Really, how precise is that description!And boy, the serial producers must have really malleable ears to hear these wannabes out, episode after episode.

The particular episode that I saw had this 24-something chap hailing from a family in Indore. While the father-mother looked on, the son described the qualities he was looking in his future wife.

Wannabe Groom (WG): I want her to be loving and caring.

Host: Okay. And what else are you looking in a wife?

WG: I work in Mumbai and when my wife comes [he wants a working wife, by the way] we will buy a house in Mumbai. Then I want my parents to come and stay with me. She should adjust when this happens. She will have to love, care and respect all family.

Host: And what will you do?

WG: (A split second pause) I will also love and respect her. I am a very caring person. You can ask my parents. (pointing towards his beaming parents)

Host: (laughs; indulging parents look on) What I meant was, if you expect your wife to adjust to your parents and family, what will you do for her?

WG: I can help her in kitchen. I know how to cut vegetables.

Host: But if she is working, then she might have a lot of pressure with managing your family, house work and professional commitments all at the same time...don't you think so?

WG: (gives a confident smile, that says - Oh I know this answer) That's why you see, if she loves and cares for the family, and me she will manage.

Wow....We still have these male varieties. The thought buzzed in my head. By this time, I was so hooked to the show, that I even ignored an incoming call from my mother. The WG wanted a "loving and caring wife" who has to be a superhuman in doing all that he expected her to, and also manage her professional commitments as the WG clearly is in favor of two members earning in the family.

After this fella, there came a 19-year old girl who described herself as "I am very loving and caring and I like to cook food." I felt as if I was seeing a 80s Bollywood flick where the sole criteria of marriage was a ability of a girl to manage the household and keep the kitchen fires run smoothly.

Now this wannabe bride (WB) wanted a husband "who will not smoke and drink." That was her only condition. She went on to say that she likes to cook, draw rangolis, stitch clothes, was doing a course in Mehndi art. When the host asked her if she was looking at husband from a joint or nuclear family, she promptly replied, "I like joint families. I am okay with joint family. I can cook for everyone in the family."

I am not saying respecting elders, cooking for family or taking care of family after marriage is demeaning for an educated girl. My only qualm is that when men (and women too) begin to think that marriage ONLY means getting someone to respect your parents (from day one without even bonding with them; after all feelings come only when people bond with each other) or worse, getting a person who will cook and keep their homes.

I was so disgusted with the matrimony parade on this show, where grooms showed off their masculinity by asking for traits in wife that I thought were archaic and women meekly asked for men who would "love and take care of them" as if they were the stuffed dolls of the past who could do nothing on their own.

Home Alone

2009-07-13T20:17:00.002+05:30

I am home alone for the next 3 weeks and that's become a pain in the wrong places for me. It seems that after marriage, the woman (in this case, its me) is largely perceived as someone who needs to be taken care of and protected from the big bad world.

Weird .... as before marriage, when I lived in hostel in Pune, I was told to be brave and face the world on my own. Every time I remarked about staying alone, away from family, I was corrected by my mom that this was my chance to learn the invaluable lessons of life that are so important for girls. For the records, I did love every single moment that I spent in Pune studying, and even working.

Today, the same mother frets over me and does not forget to remind me to keep my apartment doors and windows locked and chained. “Don't just open the door to anyone,” she reminds me twice a day over the phone, “First peek through the door hole and even then kep the door chained and open only if you know the visitor.” The conversation also has to include at least one reminder about “not opening the door” to any male visitor after 9 pm, which includes the laundry guy, the grocery delivery boy or even the building guard who comes by to drop the mail or utility bills.

I still remember the day when after my HSC results (I was about 18 years old), I was “dropped” at my hostel by dad. He gave me a simple brief – here's the monthly pocket money that you will require. He said, He started a bank account in my name at the local bank branch (my first ATM card came only a year later). Pointing to the paying-guest accommodation, my dad said, “That's where you will live.” He also bought the basic kitchen utensils (one saucepan, one frying pan, one coffee mug and 6 spoons), a bedding, a plastic bucket with matching tumbler and complete series of Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie to shift in the PG. And later that evening, my dad left. I was “facing the world”, or so my mom told every one who asked her about me.

Now, after marriage, when I am “facing the world” in Mumbai (a city where I think living alone for a woman is far more easier than any other Indian metro), I am constantly reminded by my mom, mother-in-law, father, sister, friends, and whoever else has the time to think about me has different pieces of advice for me. My father and parents-in-laws have agreed among themselves that I should apply for a leave at work and join my husband in Hong Kong as soon as I can (PS: It does not occur to them that I have to apply for leave and then also wait for my boss to grant me the same). My mom thinks that I should just abandon all my professional commitments and quickly get to Delhi where she can take care of me.

My sister thinks this is the time that I should come and visit her in Chicago (She does not give a damn to details like spending a whopping amount of money on acquiring the US visa and tickets)...My friends, well not all of them, think that I should throw the towel in completely and take time off my career to start a family.

I lived in Pune for about five years, studying and working, commuting at odd hours, shifting PG's, shuttling between one college to work to another hobby class...but I was not fussed about. Instead, I was reminded by all and sundry that these were the things that will come handy in my life later. And I think they are coming handy. I know how to bargain with cheating taxi drivers, I know how to handle the work pressures between bosses and I don't squirm in discomfort when it comes staying alone at night -- even when Mumbai rains lash out at my windows.

A break ...but from what?

2009-07-06T18:34:00.006+05:30

"An extended break...that's what I need." I told my husband. He agreed.

No, we weren't talking of taking a break from our marriage (we ain't closer to that) but I was referring to a much-needed break at my Mom-Dad's place in Delhi for a week. It would be a working holiday for me, as I work from my Delhi office too. The big difference is a fussing mom and a buzzing dad. Within 36 hours of deciding that a trip to Delhi was what I needed to rejuvenate myself, I was packing my bags with a ticket in my bag to Delhi -- to my welcoming mom and dad, who practically open up their hearts, kitchen and loosen their purse strings every time I visit them.

Even though the lovely monsoon had just hit Mumbai and I was pre-warned by my parents of the hot, humid weather awaiting me at Delhi, it was only when I landed on a sunny Sunday, I realised that maybe the Delhi trip was a hasty decision afterall.
Worse, as I landed at my doorstep, my mom informed me of the malfunctioning of the AC's in my room and the spare bedroom.

"The power has been very unpredictable too, this week," complained my mom referring to the electricity supply from the generator.

In Delhi (or NCR) where I stay, the State Board power supply during peak summers is barely there and its the generator back-up that residents and gadgets survive on.

So, to sum up the situation back home -- there was infrequent power supply from the genrator, the ACs in 2 rooms were not working which meant that I had to sleep in my parents bedroom and the chances of AC repairman to land that day were slim.

My first night, during my so-called relaxing week at home, landed me in my parents bedroom with an AC that refused to cool even at 20 degree C and a sporadic power supply that woke me up at every hour's interval. Quite predictably, I got up with a headache on Monday morning, irritable and not-quite ready to go to my Delhi office. Worse, I called up my husband in Mumbai who coolly informed me that the city was in throes of monsoon showers and the weather was unbeatable.

Sure, Delhi too got its showers and dust storms later in the week but Mumbai's weather (I know from my last monsoon experience in the Maximum city) is actually enviable. The city is both alluring and dirty during rains, and yet its wet streets and cool weather linger on in your mind.

I spent the week of my Delhi break, wishing that I would come back to Mumbai soon.

When you turn into a weekend chef

2009-06-19T18:50:00.007+05:30

Let me begin by confessing that I like to cook and I am not a staunch feminist who looks down upon housework or kitchen queens. I merely don't don the chef's hat often enough because I'm a working woman with fluctuating work hours. Hence, I have happily chosen the faster cooking methods like buying chapatis from the canteen in office, instead of toiling with the dough at home and keep a steady supply of ready-to-eat gravies/curries, and eggs of course which come really handy in dishing up a complete meal.

Mind you, I do love my dal chawal, rajmah, kadhi, aloo tarkari, koftas, palak paneer and cook it regularly (even on workdays) to tickle both my husband's and my taste buds. It's not always a short-cut for me.

PS: I don't have a servant to do the cooking because I prefer to eat a fresh hot meal. And plus, I like cooking, as mentioned above.

Coming back to the present, weekends just like every professional human being are much-awaited days for me. Pardon me, but I lust after a leisurely Saturday morning or an equally lazy Sunday morning so that I can sip my masala tea, have a late brunch and watch some inane tele-serials. Weekends are meant to lounge around in your shorts and uncombed hair, and have chips & Pepsi or Maggi or whatever you wish for that matter.

But if you have in-laws (or for that matter any elderly relative) over (and if they aren't used to your lifestyle) then everything has to be underplayed. Saturdays turn into days when elderly guests expect you to be out of bed and get in the kitchen. And then begins the day-long cycle of tea, breakfast, brunch, lunch, evening snacks, tea, cold drinks in between, and then dinner. Not to mention, a sweet savory to complete the day's routine. All this while, there is an additional task of making sure that the grocery and vegetable stocks are maintained to battle out another grueling day and that's Sunday.

It barely matters if you are a post-graduate or even more qualified woman. You are the mistress of the house and you are expected to be in-charge of the kitchen.

Sunday's are another nightmare. While you are battling your hiccups about a working Monday, your guests at home are wondering what new cuisine they will get to sample from your kitchen. And mind you, there's not much of a choice that you get when guests innocently ask you, "We heard that you can cook some really nice Indian fusion." You have to click your heels and get back to kitchen and think what fusion you can come up with on an erstwhile lazy Sunday.

How I wish I had married a chef instead of an investment banker, at least he could have been of some help in cutting and chopping piles of onion, garlic and tomatoes.

As I have confessed right in the beginning that I am a lazy bum on weekends, thus I find the 'mentioned routine' very tough to embrace. I admire the homemakers who do these tasks efficiently. I am really not beguiled by the charms of spending my weekends in kitchen, sweating away.

Parents-by-Law (Part 2)

2009-06-12T15:49:00.005+05:30

Most people (read married women and men) hear the term in-laws and the first reaction is "cringe". Speaking strictly for myself, I was fed on pictures of meddling, noisy and judgmental overseers who think we’re never good enough for their baby. Worse, movies and matrimonial horror stories too told us that dealing with in-laws is directly proportional to hating and bitching about them.

However, no one prepared me to deal with the opposite?

I have to admit that I was extremely apprehensive about my in-laws second annual visit to my teeny-weeny house in Mumbai. The first time, it 4 months after my marriage so nothing could spoil the joyride -not even a visit from the in-laws. This time around, however I was a nervous wreck (as mentioned in the previous post)

But as I write this post, I realise they are genuinely interested in my marriage but by tradition, they must perform the role of a watch dog. I also finally got it that every single effort of mine to know more about my in-laws and what they see as good in marriage has benefited me. For instance, when I saw my father-in-law attending to his wife's joint pains and caring for her food habits, I was genuinely impressed by the subtle way of caring for one another. And I said so too. In return, I was treated with anecdotes and stories about the old couple's bitter-sweet struggles with each other. It was sweet and hilarious.

Yes, I do wake up to the TV blaring about some yoga pose or some Godly tales recited in the most shrieky tones. But I also get a ready supply of milk, curds and other tid-bit groceries, which till 3 days back, was my headache.

I do have to deal with some hygiene issues (since I maintain a well-sanitized house)...but in return, I also get two very happy and content faces when I enter my home in evenings.

I still cannot criticize their son (even on a lighter note)...but in return, when my father-in-law decides to chide his wife and son, then I am the most sought after audience by him.

I do have to mind my behavior and keep it at a demurely respectful levels (I can be quite brash otherwise) but then my in-laws do not impose strict rules like conservative dressing or play-acting the TV serial daughter-in-law with all her married embodiments.