Mother! Listen!


To

The All India Mothers’ Association,

Is it a protocol?Think stock - mother daughter

Is it?

You have to say NO

To every that thing I say YES

No matter

It is a boy or a toy!

That dress

You always think

Is provocative and a mess

Understand mother

Understand

That, that’s the latest trend!

I am a grown up sassy, mother

Sassy and sexy

But to you, I am a pile of clutter

You know nothing

That’s my skin like butter

Hair as that of silk

And an awesome bosom

And you call me

With a deep sulk

You cook bitter gourd

And it is ever bitter like you

Cook that cutlet

Before I sue

Mother,

But,

To

The All India Mothers’ Association,

I love you!

Pic courtesy – Think Stock

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My red ballerinas!


Whatever it be, I will look at my red ballerinas                                                                red ballerinas
Those unanswered texts,
Those hate letters,
A populace that envied
That pun that insulted
Whatever it be, I will look at my red ballerinas
My kohl laden eyes that hide some treasure
My gloss that musters sheer grit
My locks that may cause mayhem
A reflection of compassion
Whatever it be, I will look at my red ballerinas
My torn dignity that mends each day
My mammoth roar is the ray
I am shaping up
I am building up my own way
Whatever it be, I will look at my red ballerinas!

Pic courtesy – Internet

One of those days in a working woman’s life


woman furAnother day at work! One of those days when I am feeling broken from the inside. No aim to smile, no urge to gossip or any mood to have fun. Neither is it PMS. Nor is it love or something. I am getting drained and drained in those negative thoughts, mostly unintentionally. The only feel I am getting is being unlucky – unlucky at work, unlucky in relationships, and unlucky in being unlucky. For instance, I go to fetch some coffee and the vending machine decides to refuse me. Sounds funny at the same time. I do some touch up in the washroom to let the world believe I am alive and bathed. Standard lip gloss and kajal do the required to keep the day going .

I open my emails and realize the ton of work I have to deliver but mind says nananananaaaaa! I open Facebook, again and yet again. Sometimes, I do not realize that I am already on Facebook. Oh! Those two are honeymooning again precisely for the 500th time this weekend. They wanted a break it seems, aww, let me like their 835 pictures now and comment “fabulous pictures”.  I open whatsapp with an urge – you never know who pinged me with a message of secret treasure. If not the messages, mandatorily, I have to check who changed his/her picture and what does their latest status mean. Then I open instagram to content me if no one bothered to entertain me on other sites, at least a random fashion blogger’s latest look should do the needful.

I feel pleased and get a stimulus for next 90 seconds that I have to do something monumental in my life because that Kurta I have worn to work is too shabby now. So, I am towed to one of the ecommerce sites through the ads on the right side of my FB timeline feed. I see, they are offering some discount. Since, I have decided to do something historic in my day so I end up buying something which doesn’t allow either a discount or a coupon. Because I am unlucky in discounts too. Because I have to do something ‘historic’ as I mentioned earlier, I order a product.

The cash-on-delivery will be on Friday, 2 more days to create history. Let me sip my fourth coffee before I have my lunch. The vending machine is kind right now, it peed some dark coffee with almost no sugar like there is some draught inside. Austerity has a strong affect as I visualize.

I catch hold of the only seat in the cafeteria just the way people grab seats while playing ‘musical chair’. I decide to open my lunch box and I remember my mother is observing fast (so that I get married). But my lunch box looks like she is on hunger strike. The chapatti is taking its last breath before I gulp it down my throat with the help of the side dish that is always something I can organize a protest for. But, but, it magically makes its way in the lunch box and gives you a dreaded stare back like “Hey woman! Don’t look at me with that grudge. I will eventually go inside your tummy and mess with the intestines and other members of the family.” I eat it with disgust and take guest-appearance like bites from my colleagues’ lunch which is perpetually delicious than those master chef shows. I want to ask them, “Your mother never hates you, is it? Or is it just a syndrome with mine.”

Lunch is over by god’s grace. I retire to my desk again with a gait, enough to cause insecurity to a tortoise. Now, I am even drooling due to acute sleep. Good job side dish! Good job. I have to do something to bounce back from my post-lunch-sleep-protocol. There comes my savior – Pinterest, the last social media to drain my time in. Let me soak my eyes into the designer wear that I will never buy. Or maybe one day I shall. Probably, I will take loan to satiate my disorder for shopping. Also, my frequent visits to washroom are needed now because the drowsiness needs to get its due justice. I decide to shut the pot, sit, close my eyes and sleep till my colleague plans to go berserk on my ‘unusual-longer-duration’ because a normal human being is not supposed to capitalize time there. I am not making economic policies for the country inside. Am I? I get a jerk, get alert, wash my face and make way to my seat again. My last resort is probably my 6th coffee for the day after almost doing prayer rituals to the vending machine.

The day is near end and I realize, my manager is barking from another corner of the floor. Ah! The deadline I had to meet. Let me run for the meeting, get the briefing and get the work done. Run, run, run like Usain Bolt from one cube to another. I have to get the spreadsheet done, catch my cab, catch my breath first. I am a Ninja!

Oh! The day is over. Let me fall flat like an upside down dog, aimless paws spread, tongue out and sleep till the dawn breaks and another historic day takes place.

Picture courtesy – Internet