Who wears the pants?

Well this is a rhetorical question right? But we do give a lot of importance to pants..Don’t we? If a person is a professional working in an office he/she has to be in pants and if a person is not in pants/suits but in pajamas or in this case salwar suit playing with a kid, he or in this case specifically she is judged as non-working homely home maker aka housewife. And isn’t it surprising that she has E-MAIL in her mobile??

Oh My Dear Lord!! A salwar suit wearing, playing with her kid type has an E-Mail facility in her mobile. This is shocking!! Yes the advertisement hits a shocking node. This is breaking news...She can afford an E-Mail because it is available only for Rs 1 per day. Oh My Lord..Dear Lord!! What a life saver for homely home maker!

This advertisement gave me goose bumps. Literally I sat up straight and saw it multiple times. Every time it took me to another level of disgust. I normally don’t pay much heed to ads. They are mostly hideous, part of a race, trying to outsell each other. And in the process out-sell every moral and ethic in the book. I have been a part of the process, seen things take shape quite closely and hence I am more disillusioned.

But this ad took being judgmental to a new level. Look at all the elements. The lady who is obviously a working professional gives a skeptical look to the other lady who is homely poor woman with a child, not wearing pants . Literally the look tells us she is already looking down on the other lady for no reason.

Even when the homely lady who doesn’t have anything better to do, offers help; the lady in pants gives an incredulous look and says something that qualifies as a taunt...big time.

And Voila!!

What happens?? The lady in pants is proved wrong because the homely lady [Not in pants] has an e-mail facility in her mobile, which she can easily afford now because it is so cheap. Otherwise how will a homely lady with a child [Not in pants] be able to afford such facility?

Oh My an E Mail!!

This advertisement speaks volumes about the judgements prevalent in our society. We mark people and roles in water tight compartments and refuse to believe otherwise. We follow what is convenient and everything that is different is not convenient. So we pick up stereo types, don’t fight them, rather sell them and sell our products through them.

I know marketers draw their target audience [TG] and define them as a single person. So in this case who was the TG? A 30 something homely home maker playing with her child, who otherwise won’t be able to afford an e mail facility but is now using it because it is cheap. So now she can help an office going professional [in pants]. But my question is what is the basis of this TG definition?

Do they really think there are these two type of women?? And through this ad they are reaching this identified type??

I am not sure how many homely non-pant wearing females would relate to the advertisement but I really really want the marketing brains behind this ad to come and live where I do.

I would love them to see some of us home maker aunties with kids roaming around in hot pants with our i phones/ i pads, checking e mails and FB and speaking in ENGLISH.

Oh My GOD...maybe next they can try and sell some English speaking courses to us. If e mail is so unexpected from us, then English speaking courses are gold mine.

Common teach us English Mr. Marketer!!

Master of puppets

 I am a broken toy without your string

Still dancing without you

Alive but fading each second without you

Master of puppets

You asked me to leverage my best

Let go of my past

Burn like a candle

Eat dark and spread light

Burn little by little

Scald little by little

Die but live

like a cricket’s quiet courting song

Knowing the love is near yet long

Voice weak yet strong

Be the carriage of borrowed glow
Like a moon 
Round still edgy

Dark still beaming
With a belief in goodness

On the edge of precipice

Wanting to fly on fall

But your words keep me grounded

My promise keeps me alive

Away from you,

To be with you,

With my words for you

Master of puppets

I wonder like calypso in Odyssey

Waiting for you to be immortal

Knowing that this is just a bubble

That you are gone

Leaving me alone

Asking me to wait

For the dawn

Master of puppets

Your dreams pepper and infuse
fancy in reality
bite after bite

Of your love
thrust after thrust

Of your lust
cryptic and real

Raged and surreal

Your memories

Your touch

Master of puppets

I rise like soufflé 
rapidly falling in a fizz
drumbeats of your kiss
still banging in an abyss
You climb up in each moments
Moments that are broken

Moments those are empty

Moments that are bare

Because you are not there

But I am there keeping your words

Being alive

(C)Juztamom 2013

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A Day Through My Nose

I got up in the morning, stretched my arms and smelled my palms, then hugged myself. The biggest baddest hug possible; then I closed my eyes and felt her. My mother is always around me especially in the mornings, though we live 1000 kms apart but there is something that has kept us connected.

When I was moving out of the house my mom told me to hug myself every morning, like I use to hug her when I was with her. She said she is in me. And this way I would be able to continue our morning hugs even when we are apart.

I tried doing it but in the starting I just couldn’t feel her. I didn’t know what was missing and I called her and said may be you are forgetting me, maybe that’s why I can’t feel you when I hug myself in the morning.

She laughed and told me to close my eyes, open my senses and my palms and smell them before the hug. And then take a deep breath and hug again.

I closed my eyes, smelled my palms, they smelled of her. The smell of our shared love of cocoa body butter blended with a whiff of gulabjal just like her. I could smell the haphazardly cleaned turmeric stain from my dress last night, just like her. Yes she was there in my smell, in my habits, in me. I hugged myself and I could feel her warmth around me. From that day onwards I have always felt her presence around me.

Warm and sunny, like a bright Sunday morning

There you are pulling me out of the bed, yelling in my ears “Good morning”

Rise and shine and take on the world

I am there with you, always holding your hands unnerved

As I walked towards the kitchen, I saw you keeping the tea to brew as always my love. The Kettle whistles and lets out its steam and the kitchen was filled with an aroma of fresh and mint

Fresh and minty just as I like

My first cup of the day always with you

Parle G dunked and licked

Newspaper opened and flicked

I close my eyes and sip through the memories

Of each cuppa shared with you, each sip divine, each memory exemplary

My life, my love, my other half

Just then it started to rain, I ran and opened the balcony.I felt the rains on my face and closed my eyes. The smell of rains and the sound of water gushing down took me to memory lane.

Last few days with you

We walk down our favorite lane

And just then the rain gods came

People ran and got shelter

We ran and got wetter

Spicy chat and sweet Popsicle

Spice burns and sweet tickles

Our last alone day together

My sis, my love, my saviour forever

I came in completely drenched relishing the memories and picked up the towel. I wipe, sniff and snicker. The towel smells flowery. It smells of spring. It smells of lily and rose together. It must be the new washing powder I laughed and said it out loud. How nice, flowery and wonderful. Just like our weekly trips to the temple when we were kids. How funny is our mind, how weird is our memory? My pink fuchsia towel takes me to a trip of the pious land, our family temple.

Petals and petals of flowers

On the lane leading to the temple

A look at the face of Shri Ganesha

And my heart trembles

I sing loudly, songs in your praise

My trust in you strong, my believe never strays

After this I head out to the kitchen with a head still wet and a heart still warm with so many wonderful memories. Wanting to make something special that would make this day more precious; I started looking around the cabinet. And saw my spice rack. It looked inviting filled with spices, colors and memories.

The turmeric....It reminds me of my endless coughs and sneezes followed by a glassful of yellowed milk

Red Chilly...I take a sniff and get teary eyed. It reminds me of all the gol gappas we had in a blink 

Garam malasa....I open the bottle and the kitchen is filled with memories of Sundays; spent on the dining table waiting for Mom’s special Chicken Masala and our finger licks.

I smiled at the memories and added all the love flowing out of my heart to the food. A sumptuous lunch and a long afternoon nap later I got up feeling all refreshed and bright. As I walked through my house tidying everything, I realised every object around me has a story. Not each story is important but it is still a memory.

A deodorant brings back college memories,

A sniff of room freshener brings the first date back

The rose incense stick burning brings back the memories of our wedding night

Fresh cut mango takes me to that summer afternoon of first kiss

Whiff of freshly fried Samosas reminds me of the treat I gave from my first salary

The smell of something burning reminds me of the first burnt chapatti after my wedding

So many more moments, memories countless, immortal living through our sense of smell

There are some moments that would remain lost like a hazy or a lazy memory somewhere in our brains but weirdly our sense of smell gives them life. It makes them more vivid, more colourful, and more nostalgic. So many things, so many smells, so many memories alive and throbbing forever through our nose.

This post is my entry for “Smelly to Smiley” contest at Indiblogger sponsored by AmbiPur India

Conversation

floating on water

nothing is scary

we are nature

 

nature is us

flawed and flawless

piece of art

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hand in hand

off the cliff

blending with the nature

blending with the nature

floating in air

finally free

Written for Carpediem#280 Conversation

Image credit here and here

Pain

What is this sharp pain? Where is it coming from? I can’t bear it. Where am I? What is this loud sound? Who is singing this loud?

I opened his room’s door and saw Ansh singing out loud, with ear phones as usual plugged to his ears.

“Please stop! I will go deaf and with your superb voice I will lose all sense of rhythm and tunes very soon”. I said tearing off that thing from his ears. I detest touching it for even a second. What is with this generation and their love for weird things? It gives me creeps, looks like a live wire or a weird creepy crawly stuck to his ears.

“Maa please let me be. Why can’t I do what I want in my room? And you are my mom, you are not supposed to discourage my singing like this. Didn’t we see that program on discovery together? You can demotivate me from singing and music like this forever. You will scald me from music like this”

As soon as Ansh says it we both burst in laughter.

“Okay I will not scald you for life. Now will you please be a good boy and run to the Kirana shop and bring me some onions right now. No onions at home and Mr and Mrs Shrama are coming for dinner. Please do this first and then go back to your horrible yelling you call singing.”

“Maa one last song and then I will go promise” Ansh says and hugs me tight.

I feel a warm glow at my 18 year old son’s hug. Warm and fuzzy feeling...but what is this pain, this piercing pain. I can feel it starting from my heart and spreading all over. Wait, Why is Rohini running around?

“Rohini come here please” I yell at my 10 year old daughter. Stop running away and take your cough syrup now. You don’t want remain sick? Do you? Common!!”.

She looks at me and runs in Ansh’s room. As I begin pacing towards their room, I could hear deafening laughter, I peek and see Ansh trying to catch her. And finally she gives in and takes the syrup from Ansh’s hands.

Both of them together Ansh taking care of Rohini like a parent fills my heart and my eyes. A tear trickles down. Why am I crying? No, I can’t bear the pain. Please someone help me. Please. I want to yell and cry loudly but I am not able to. I can feel warm gush of tears flooding my face. Why am I crying? This is a party? Why am I crying at the party? This is my home.

Ansh comes in with a large cake and I don’t know how many candles? I am still surprised and can’t believe this was all a prank, a joke. I seriously thought they had forgotten my birthday. I sulked the whole day and missed Raman. I kept thinking of all my birthdays when he was alive and kept crying in my room, only to be surprised in the evening with this party. They didn’t forget, it was a prank. All this while they had one of the biggest bashes planned for me. I still can’t believe how many of my friends and family members are here. Yes turning fifty is indeed special.

“Happy Birthday to you Ma” Ansh and Rohini sing loudly and smash the cake on my face. Why is it hurting? They didn’t hurt me, it was a soft touch. Why is it hurting so much?

I am trying to cross the road. There is so much traffic on this road today. I am going to be late now. I should have left a little early; I knew how important today’s performance was for Ansh. This way I will stand on this side of the road the whole night. I throw caution out of the window and decide to cross the road. A lot of honking and a loud screech......And then there is pain and darkness.

I can’t feel anything else except this pain. This pain has taken over all of my senses. It has spread to my whole body. It is gut wrenching, it is tearing me apart. I feel like pieces of me are falling one by one. Now the pain is also leaving with my parts one by one...and gradually it is reducing. I am feeling light, weightless, almost like I could fly.

I am flying...I look down and see my lifeless body lying in a pool of blood on the road. I want to feel sad. I want to feel the remorse for leaving my kids alone but I am feeling light, feeling content. No pain, no remorse.. I am floating, moving towards the light and I feel myself dissolve...part by part..fraction by fraction. And then bliss!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Writer's note: This is a short story about a woman, who meets with an accident and as she is lying in pain on the road, her life flashes in front of her eyes. She relives some of the moments from her life before giving in.