life's a kick

The silver oak tree...with its golden flowers Kasauli shivered in the summer night. The COVID era wedding allowed for only 25 attendees, and all of them were unprepared for the cold. Who packs up winter clothes in north India for the month of May? Moth, earwigs, and other insects lay dead or dying, also unable to cope with the whistling winds. The wedding was arranged in a hotel that stood atop a hill with the valley on one side and a lawn on the other, the latter being used for the functions. The white and golden canopy of the wedding tent was complemented with the simple and startling decoration of hundreds of tea lights. Though electronically controlled, their flickering flames looked real in the weather. Yellow fairy lights swirled around tree trunks and branches around the lawn. Natural mist diffused the lighting (and the mood) in a way that most exotic places couldn’t match. It looked like the place was ready to welcome gods of heaven. A sickle moon rose above the imposing Deod...

Not-at-all-dear Patriarchal Society, I know that I’m a huge disappointment to you. I couldn’t have been happier with myself for that. You’re right when you say that women like us have imbalanced the societal order. We indeed have. And we will continue at this noble task till the time that gender balance is restored. Till the time that personal interest, and not gender, determines what we do and what is expected out of us. You’re right when you say that we have corroded your ‘value’ system . According to your values, women are paraaya dhan. Therefore, a lot of you nurture your daughters believing, and making your daughters in turn believe, that marriage is their end goal. And that the daughters’ actual family is the conjugal home, and not the natal home. Naturally, the sons grow up believing that they are the real inheritors and only care-takers for ageing parents. Hence, you forever prepare your daughters to adapt to a new home when they grow up. You ask them t...

“Orphanage children restored to their families.” Makes great headline. No? The writer feels instant catharsis. The reader feels a warmth going down her legs. Allow me to replace the warmth of a garb with the chill of truth. Lakshya, 7, is an orphan. He was handed over to the police sometime after his parents died, by his own relatives. They admitted without qualms that he was a burden. The police assigned him to a care home where he was to be one among a hundred boys, aged between 5 and 18. Given his middle class background, fair cheeks and chubby appearance, Lakshya was immediately adopted as a Teddy Bear by one and all, who cuddled and spoiled him to no end. Never to have known such love (Lakshya was born to a wrecked marriage), the boy felt at home for the first time. He rejoined school, with ample seniors to help him cover a sustained gap owing to family turbulence. Four years in the care home, despite its due share of fights and constraints, Lakshya grew with love. A hal...