Awakening

I’ve stumbled across many parents who say they don’t know how to raise a boy who is a feminist but then almost everyone seems to know what they want in son-in-laws. So I’m raising a son my future daughter-in-law will thank me for, I’m raising a son who everyone will want as their son-in-law. My son knows what periods are, he knows the pain & the PMS. He knows how to gently rub tummies that hurt during menstrual cramps and he knows to apply heat packs to the backs that ache; he is extremely good at back, shoulder and head massage for the tired souls; he knows how to support and hold up a sick person, never backing off from the pungent vomit odour; he knows to pack lunches and to grill & bake few things; he has his own few signature dishes that we love! He knows what “CONSENT” means and that NO means “NO”!! Every Friday after school, my son does all the laundry and hangs out all the clothes, he folds them too. It’s my son’s job to vacuum the home. He knows how to clean...

                                                  Someone could easily impale themselves and die on those loosely scattered tiny shards on the floor. Mya slowly turns her gaze away from the floor. She is benumbed and just a meter away from it. She rests her eyes on him without giving away any emotions. It is hard to tell whether he is getting angrier or pacified from her listless twisted face. She wishes that those shards laid closer to him.  Few hours have gone by when Akshya finally opens his eyes and feels the room spinning around him. No signs of life, he thinks. He could smell the pungent smell of his own dried blood, he could taste the putrid saltiness of it in the corner of his toothless left cheek. He shrugs off the heaviness from his drooping face.  Mya feels tightness in the pit of her stomach when she hears him shuffle. Two inche...

I struggle to come to terms with some cultures. The culture where while some trailblazer women are fighting for their right to light the funeral pyre of their deceased parents, some other women are still using excuses to avoid helping their frail and financially dependent parents. Culture where daughters are claiming equal rights in property, but without shared responsibility.  This is the very culture where they say daughters inherently love their parents more than a son; they say a daughter's love, gratitude and appreciation for her maternal home doubles once she marries and goes through changes demanded by new home/relationship.  Yet, it somehow seems so unloving when some daughters, in that same culture, intentionally hold off help towards their parents in the name of culture. Today, I want to question those unloving daughters why their love is so meagre when it comes to helping their own parents? Why use “culture” as an excuse and I wonder...