Red lipstick

Passions were running high that Friday night. A 19-year-old flirted flagrantly with a young cashier at the supermarket. Outside, meaningful stares and intentional encounters of chance abounded. I could literally smell it in the air - the heady scent of lust, longing and pheromones. I was almost afraid that the tall, rakishly handsome man who'd been trying to catch my eye, would smother me with uninvited kisses on the sidewalk. So, I hurried home as fast as I could - away from the web of vice that my hot red lipstick appeared to have spun. Why did I have to wear red that evening? Pink, brown, purple, black. Anything but unabashed, come-hither red.

Winter

Every year, I feel the bite of winter anew.

The clouds of mist and the changing view,

the morning frost and the silvery greys

breathe whispers of short but melancholy days.

The melting snow and the bare-boned trees

Line the yards, the parks, and entire cities.

Autumn's last leaves offer a final escape

From winter's monochromatic landscape.

And when nothing of colour remains,

Moondust will leave behind its wintry stains.

A life spent in hiding

I have lived

A life spent in hiding

From people

From shadows

From all the myriad things

That strike fear into my timid heart

But I do so love this cave 

This cocoon that I've built for myself

Where it's dark and lonely

But ever so peaceful.

And like a tortoise,

I carry my cocoon wherever I go

It keeps me safe

It keeps me calm

When I can't say the same of the world.

It has been my life's mission

To put into words

The things that don't have a name

Like this feeling

That maybe I haven't lived enough

But there is no 'Enough' when it comes to Life.

There is only Death.

My Happiest Memory

I have spent 32 years on this planet. Yet, whenever I close my eyes and think of a time when I was the happiest, the answer is always the same. When I was 8, I used to go the local swimming pool with my dad and elder sister. Dad would give me swimming lessons while my sister swam laps all by herself. She was already an expert. I was in no hurry, often content to just float on the water and gaze up at the sky. Being in the cool water in hot summers – it was so rejuvenating. And since we always visited in the evening, the sun would inevitably set when we drove back home.

My sister was usually nice enough to let me take the front seat. I’d roll the window down (I could be trusted not to do silly things like stick my arm out) and rest my head on the windowsill, feeling the breeze sift through my hair. I’d watch the lines on the road whiz by and the gorgeous colours in the evening sky. And I’d dream. I’d dream of one day writing a novel, becoming famous, and doing great things.

Every evening when we drove back from the swimming pool, I was convinced that I was destined for greatness. Life and its possibilities seemed limitless as I sat beside my dad and watched the world go by in all its twilit glory. The sensation of what a beautiful thing it was to be alive filled me till I felt breathless with joy. And I experienced all of this in silence and with a smile on my lips. When we went home, I’d tell my mum and no one else.

Some kind of alchemy

I sing for you, my growing toddler

And sometimes, your eyes seem as enthralled

as that 4 month old who used to lie back

unable to do much else

yet, content (most times)

to gaze at mama's silly antics.

And I know it's you, still

and it was you, then

but somehow, every version of you lives on

independently.

Your growth is some kind of alchemy

A transformation not quite linear

And every day, I have the gift of a new you

With the bittersweet knowledge of past yous

Because every you, my darling

Has been more perfect than the bluest sky and the sweetest apple

Every you has been a reminder

That there is nothing mundane about humanity

And everything magical about growth.

Culture: The root cause of social evils in India

While scrolling through my Facebook timeline today, I came across some outrage regarding a Bombay High Court ruling that pressing a minor’s breasts was not a sexual offence if there was no disrobing involved (article link: https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/mumbai/sexual-assault-under-pocso-needs-direct-skin-to-skin-contact-bombay-hc/articleshow/80435122.cms).

As disgust, fear, and disbelief knotted inside me, I felt for an instance transported back to my days as a an adolescent and then a young woman in Mumbai, India. The newspapers were inevitably riddled with stories of rape and molestation involving minors, babies, animals, the elderly…there seemed to be no lines left uncrossed by the perverted sections of society. What’s worse, I lived that reality every day of my life – groping incidents, men following, staring, name calling on the streets, the railway station, the bridges, the bars, outside the airport in the wee hours…they were the norm rather than the exception.

Over time, I found ways to minimize such incidents. The patriotism I used to feel as a child was slowly taken over by a deep sense of mistrust and fear. I felt no kinship with a large chunk of my countrymen. And I wasn’t the only woman who felt that way. In 2013, I travelled to London and Paris on my own. There was a moment or two when I did not feel a 100% safe. But other than that, I felt like I was in paradise. I could walk alone in the night and not feel like there was a threat in the air. I didn’t feel the need to jump at shadows, look over my shoulder or hold my handbag close to my chest. Most people barely noticed me and there was no place frequented only by men (which is the case with many shady corners in India after dark). 

I was depressed when I returned home. I knew now that the reality I lived was not the reality women had to face all over the world. Perhaps there were places where it was worse. That did not justify the state of affairs in my own country. I didn’t want to hear “it’s not as bad as the Arab countries.” I didn’t want to hear “no country is perfect”. And I most definitely did not want to hear that women had to be careful. Why? Weren’t we a civilized society where women no longer needed anyone’s “protection”? For the sake of my own sanity, I stopped reading the newspapers. I stopped getting into debates I couldn’t win. I stopped reacting to comments by sexist trolls on countless online forums. I simply began to plan my escape. 

There was a time when not a single day went by when I didn’t feel smothered by the indignities that women in India have to suffer. And what is their reward for somehow surviving all the abuse and the general denial (from both men and women) and the apathy of the courts? Their reward is a lifetime of servitude under the guise of marriage. 

We Indians love to crow about the fact that we take care of our elderly, unlike the “west”. Well, how many married couples do you know who live with the wife’s parents? I don’t know of a single one. It is a part of the esteemed “Indian culture” for women to move into their husband’s parents’ home after marriage. And then they must serve not only their husbands but also their in-laws and at times, even brothers in law. So if you want to avoid spending your old age alone, you better give birth to a son. Alas, nature does not work that way. And it can happen that you keep producing daughter after daughter. And daughters must be married off, the expenses of which you must bear. And daughters cannot take care of you when you are old and unwell. Little wonder then that India has one of the highest female foeticide incidents in the world. 

Anyone who doesn’t realize how closely culture and social evils are linked needs to have a reality check. My rant could go on and on but I know there will be those who will find ways to justify and twist every single point I make. One thing is for sure – change is slow and hard. And I don’t see it happening as long as we keep conforming to a societal model where a woman’s parents are somehow less important, where being older somehow entitles you to blind respect and obedience (case in point: after marriage, many women cannot even lift a finger without the approval of their mothers in law), where the suppression of women is openly portrayed in mass media and turned into entertainment, and where a Baghban will touch countless emotional chords but one post like this will fire up all the so-called “proud Indians” to speak up against this anti-national, west-worshipping spawn of the English devil. 

Of course, I no longer feel these emotions on a daily basis. But now and then, I still fear for the little girls in India. I hope they wake up to a different reality tomorrow. 

Pain and poetry

All art is an explosion

of built up pain.

The pain builds up slowly

brick by brick

until it forms a wall

that can only be broken

by the flourish of the pen.

The right words will write themselves

and poetry will rain down on the wall,

filling the air with the fragrance of moist cement.

Once inflamed and throbbing,

the pain will now be a thing of wistful beauty;

its scent -

reminiscent of their own sweet sorrows

to all those who walk by.

No photos of autumn this time

Sadly, I have no photos of autumn this time

I was far too busy

Watching the motion of the falling leaves

The way they sang

One last song. 🍁

I was too caught up

Walking through groves of gold

More precious than gems and stones

And so much more fleeting. 🍂

I was unable to tear myself away

From gardens cloaked in autumnal rainbows

Gently nudged by a frosty wind

To surrender to winter. 🍃

Now all I have left to photograph

Is a lone tree in a carpeted park

That refuses to acknowledge the advent of December

Like me, it was too wrapped up in nature's magic

To notice the passage of time. ⏳

Post-Shower Bliss

That feeling of contentment after a long, warm shower

When thoughts have settled and the mind has quietened

And the body feels lighter

Somehow.

And the pace of the world is

Just right.

And the silence sinks in as I lie on my bed

Listening to the sound of the traffic.

With the windows shut, it's only a low murmur

Almost a lullaby.

And if I fell asleep now, I know I would not dream

Except perhaps of a light blue sky

And thin, white clouds

Drifting along

As I drift now

Into my cocoon of post-shower bliss.

Rainy days

I do love rainy days

The way the droplets cloak my windows

In a silvery, eyelid mosaic

With the more adventurous ones careening down

To meet their watery, window-pane fate.

I like the way the sky has no gradient

An equal grey

And the sound of the raindrops means

I have no need to open my music player.

I like the way the tar roads reflect car wheels - 

Like dusty mirrors upon the earth

And the chill that stings the air

For it makes my tea feel warmer

And the day seem cosier.

Stay home, the rain seems to say

And watch me fill up the rivers.

And when you drink a glass of water,

think of me prepping for my next performance.

Not a native speaker

But I'm not a native speaker

Never mind that

The first book I

read

At 7 -

Devoured

Dreamed

Imagined

And smelled

Was in English.

Never mind that

The first article I

had to my name

At 8 -

A tale

Simple but true

Was in English.

Never mind that

When I dreamed

And thought

And wove realms of fantasy

I only used

English.

Never mind that

When hope abandons

me

And tears beckon -

I pray

In English.

I have slowly and with some measure of bitterness realized, that Indians aren't considered 'native' English speakers. This word - 'native'; it has grated on my nerves ever since I stepped out of the country. No one owns any language, even if it's your mother tongue. Languages are so complex, products of thousands of years of evolution and innumerable additions, subtractions, borrowings, and layering. And they are like babies; anyone can adopt a tongue and make it their own. The poem above encapsulates my feelings on the "official" classification of "native" English speakers, as someone who has heard, spoken, read, and written English since she was born. I do speak four other languages (three Indian, and one European) but for better or worse, English IS my primary language.

I don't want a tribe.

You talk to the opposite sex -

They say ‘Find your tribe’

You marry outside your caste –

They say ‘Find your tribe’

You go to another city -

They say ‘Find your tribe’

You go to a different country –

They say ‘Find your tribe’

But I say -

My tribe’s the whole world

And everything that walks upon it

And all that lies between the sky and the earth

And all that lurks beyond

And if not,

I’d rather stand alone.

Heimat

In German, the word 'heimat' is something akin to 'homeland'. Don't go mistaking it for nationalism - its origins and implications go much deeper than that. It's the place where you feel at home, the feeling of warmth and belonging that you carry in your heart wherever you go. Heimat could be even a person or a memory or just a fragrance that triggers a flood of sensations. But usually, when people are asked, 'what is your heimatland' - they will answer that it is the place where they were born and/or grew up in, which is normally their motherland or country of origin. Me - I've never felt satisfied with that answer.

India is not my heimat - at least not in the way that others seem to resonate with their birth countries. You see, I didn't have a lot of friends growing up. Nor was my family overtly religious or culture-conscious. My fondest memories are of going for walks in the garden with my mom and reading endlessly in the verandah on sunny afternoons. So, for me, heimat is nature. Heimat is a sunny afternoon, quiet and swollen with the fragrance of flowers. Heimat is all those countries and places and people that I read about, dreamt of, and imagined that, were perhaps living fuller lives than me.

I was never very chatty with strangers. In fact, I think, over time, I lost track of what I could possibly say to my classmates. I endured school, even if I was good at acing my subjects. College was slightly better. Working life brought with it a sense of weariness as my rose-tinted glasses were forcibly taken away. Growing up as a girl in India wasn't a bed of roses. At home, there was equality, freedom, love, and spirituality. Outside, there was noise, pollution, crowds, molestation, religious fanaticism, patriarchy, stench and squalor.

I travelled as much as I could, to escape as often as was possible. I sat alone at cafes and wrote poetry. I watched dazzling sunsets and tried to romanticise all my experiences, however little they were. But I only feel at home now that I am away from India. It is a feeling that is hard to explain to most, irrespective of whether the listener is a fellow countryman or a foreigner. But yes, my mother's voice is heimat. And now, also the embrace of my husband. Heimat is also the silly hope that someday all of humanity will rise above pettiness and self-destruction.

We are a blessed generation

The human race -

We bear the burden of many sins,

But also the gift of creation.

So much pain,

Yet so much beauty.

We are a blessed generation.

Not forsaken -

But drowning in the bounty

Of limitless possibility.

A Plan For My Old Age

There was a time when the average lifespan for human beings was not more than 60 years. In some ways, it was a blessing. One did not have to reckon with 30-40 years of old age, often compounded by poor health, dwindling finances, and inevitable dependence on one's offspring. Of course, life is like a drug, and we can never have enough of it. On the positive side, post-retirement life is an opportunity to sit back and relax, unimpeded by the stress of a 9-to-5 job, child rearing, and the indefatigable ambitions of youth.

There are inspiring stories (and I personally know many) of senior citizens travelling the world, giving back to society, and living to the fullest until the very end. But equally, there is the problem of elderly people unable to pay mounting medical bills, being hoodwinked by children who sometimes strip them of their houses, and conversely, throttling their offspring and children in law with their own desires, unending demands, and need for control.

Take a look at the number of Indians contending with the problem of joint families, an unpalatable concept for many women (and men, though they rarely seem to voice it) used to independence, free will, and the joys of living on one's own terms. After all, how can one be expected to make a living, tend to one's children, find time for recreation, and also manage to look after elderly parents with psychological and/or physical ailments? Life is not meant to be so punishing. And so, here's what I plan for my old age.

1. I will not live with my children or force them to live with me once they get married. In fact, I might have a problem if they wanted to do so. I value my lifestyle and in my sunset years, I imagine that I'd want a quiet life with much contemplation. Why would I want to put up with their busy schedules and babysit their children even when I didn't have the energy? I would love, however, to get to know my son/daughter-in-law as a friend, be there for my children always, and live close by, so I could spend time with my grandchildren occasionally.

2. I would try my best to be as fit and healthy as possible. This of course must begin now, with regular exercise and a nutritious diet that will keep diseases at bay when old age weakens my immunity. I will ensure I have health insurance, walk regularly, get sunlight daily, and solve crosswords and learn new skills to avoid mental degeneration. I will try my best to keep up with technology, although I promise not to intrude into the lives of those who matter to me. If it happens that despite my best efforts I need constant care and attention, I would be more than willing to live in a nursing home, which brings me to my next point.

3. I will save enough for my sunset years. I will make sure I am dependent on no one, and have enough equity and investments to see me through my post-retirement life. I want to be able to finance my stay in a nursing home if required. I would also want to travel, and not be a burden on my children as far as possible.

4. I promise never to have a superiority complex because of my age alone. Everyone grows old - what's the achievement in that? Everyone deserves to be respected and heard - young and old. And in fact, each decade ushers in changes that requires us to evolve. Hanging on to the past and expecting the new generation to adhere to outdated customs - what satisfaction would that bring me?

5. If in spite of everything, I end up living under the same roof as my child, I would never try to assert myself as the head of the house or interfere in their decisions. I would give them the privacy they needed, and expect the same for myself. Young children can be noisy, and if that bothered me, I'd go for a walk in the park instead of asking them to stop enjoying their lives.

Tell me, what, in any of the points mentioned above is unethical, immoral, or evil-natured? Yet, I don't see anyone reflecting such opinions in today's India - be it the parents who seem to find illogical pleasure in poking their noses into their children's marriages, or the sons who fervently condemn 'western ideals' of living alone. Here is some food for thought - life is short, and love can exist even with some space. In fact, relationships flourish when there is room to breathe. What do you think?

India: Is It Really Unity in Diversity?

I am critical of my country because I know it well. I am not anti-national, nor am I nationalistic. On an intellectual level, I don't believe in divisive concepts like countries, religions, or sub-communities. But on a practical level, I know such demarcation is necessary for the smooth functioning of society, and the administration of territories. What irks me is how emotional we get about these things. The place you were born, the religion you were born into, the sex you were granted - ALL of these are matters of chance. They do not make you. They only give you a framework to operate in.

India is actually a shining example of oneness over differences, with its numerous languages, customs, and states. So when I see the subtle imposition of North Indian ideals on the whole of the country, I can't help but be appalled. Whether you look at movies in popular culture or the agenda pursued by the current government, it seems that they would want all of us to become "Sanskaari" sari/dhoti-clad, temple-going, joint family-respecting, women-subjugating Hindu nationalists. But why?

India is a free land; a democracy, that is veritably on the path to becoming a global superpower. What place do such petty politics have in a nation backed by rich spiritual history and a tradition of tolerance espoused by Mahatma Gandhi, purportedly the Father of the Nation (yes, he was not perfect, but his contribution to India and the world is unparalleled)? I used to believe that the current generation would embrace open-mindedness and egalitarianism. But I see the same conversations that have always polluted our thinking - caste, religion, blind following of traditions, and unfair expectations from women.

I was once an idealist but I don't really know where the country will go from here. Here's praying for a better, wiser future, with less communal fanaticism and more focus on crime and poverty reduction, afforestation and wildlife preservation, cleanliness, and regard for personal space and choices. No country in the world is perfect, but the Scandinavian countries have consistently topped happiness indexes. And you know what - the reasons include good social support, financial and job security, affinity for the outdoors, work-life balance, trust, gratitude, and community spirit. Nothing to do with grating nationalism or changing city names to reflect a twisted image of what certain groups believe a country should be. 

Finally, A Dating App That Knows You’re More Than Just A Picture

Courtesy: Pixabay

A good selfie, a bunch of hobbies, your age, sex, and location – is that all you are, really? And would you want someone to like, and eventually love you on that basis? If you answered a big fat NO, then you should probably give OkCupid a try.

We can all agree that finding a suitable partner in today’s times can be very, very difficult. #ForeverSingle might seem comical on social media but for many of us, it’s a depressing truth. We trudge to work, oversleep on weekends, and perhaps go on the occasional blind date on the recommendation of a family member or friend. And yet, the years go by, and true love remains a distant dream. Not everyone wants to jump into an arranged marriage with someone who probably comes with tons of baggage you never wanted or asked for. Nor are we all Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, willing to ‘experiment’ and have crazy one-night-stands in the quest for a real, fulfilling relationship.

Enter the much-disputed world of dating apps. Love them or hate them, you can’t really do without them when Mr/Ms Right isn’t crossing your path in real life. But the fact of the matter is, most of the platforms out there are either matrimonial sites or hook-up apps without a conscience. Navigating either can feel like a desperate exercise for those who’d like the luxury of exploring a serious relationship at leisure – you know, get to know someone slowly, so that perhaps one day, you might do that thing that your parents are dying for. #OkCupid has been designed for people like that.

OkCupid gets to know you the way you’d want to be known.

 

Courtesy: OkCupid on PlayStore

There are a million things that make you ‘you’. Maybe it’s the way you purse your lips when you’re worried. Or the fact that you sometimes like your Maggi cold. Your most precious moments and the most embarrassing ones, the times you danced and the times you wept, the people who made you and the ones that broke you (for a while), the days that life seemed perfect, and the days when the sun just wouldn’t shine – what if an app wanted to know all of it?And that means, so would your potential life partner. Imagine the ocean of things you’d have to talk about on a first date when you’ve been privy to such intimate details about each other. When you sign up on OkCupid, chances are, you’d go on a journey of self-discovery, because the app asks you so many quirky, interesting, and exhaustive questions in the course of setting up your profile. So no, you aren’t just your height, weight, and vital statistics. You’re a living, breathing human with a gamut of passions inside you. You are #SubstanceoverSelfies.

Of course, the app does cover basics like political and religious beliefs, and expectations such as a long-term or short-term relationship. And for every question you answer about yourself, you also submit your preferences in your partner on the same subject. A few examples:

• ·       How would you describe yourself: Intense or Carefree?
• ·       Would you rather be: Normal or Weird?
• ·       Would you date someone who was really messy?
• ·       Would you date someone who was in debt?
• ·       Choose the better romantic activity: Kissing in Paris or Kissing in a Tent, in the Woods
• ·       Is jealousy healthy in a relationship?

Courtesy: OkCupid App

And to the developers of OkCupid, here are a few suggestions from my side (feel free to add your own in the comments, and we’ll hope our genius is heard!):

• ·       If you could travel with only one thing, would it be your: Phone or Camera?
• ·       How long could you survive with just food and water in an empty room? One day, one week, one hour
• ·       Which one would you prefer: A Cloudy Day or A Snowy Day?

Once you’ve answered a few questions, you can view profiles and swipe left or right, depending on whether they appeal to you or not. You get a notification only if someone liked you as well (termed a “Double Take”). And after that, well, the ball’s in your court!

OkCupid believes in mutual trust and kindness.

The world of online dating can sometimes be really unkind. After all, anonymity and the protection of a computer screen let you get away with much more than you would in real life. While no app can control the behaviour of users a 100%, OkCupid does place a very important emphasis on being respectful. In fact, users have to “pledge” to follow a certain code of conduct before they chat with someone for the first time. When you meet someone new, things may not always work out, but it’s always better to part with dignity, right? ‘Hide’ and ‘block’ functions are also available to help you avoid certain profiles.

How do you find matches?

Courtesy: OkCupid on PlayStore

The app shows you best matches based on the answers you submit in your initial questionnaire. But you could also search for people by interests or factors like owning a pet. When someone likes you back, you both receive a notification, allowing you to take things ahead. And because profiles on OkCupid are so much more rounded than a conventional dating bio, you’ll have tons of conversation starters to choose from.

Is the app free?

Yes, it’s absolutely free to install and use OkCupid. However, there are some additional features that can only be unlocked with a paid subscription. It’s up to you whether to upgrade or not.

You can:

·       Find OkCupid India on Instagram

·       Download OkCupid for Android

·       Download OkCupid for iOS

Every week, 50,000 people in 113 countries find a date thanks to OkCupid. And for the evolved urban man or woman, it is probably the most discerning dating app in the Indian (and international) market. Here’s hoping you find true love before the next monsoon – because who wouldn’t like a rain dance with a special someone?

I just want to breathe.

Don't want no gold. No diamonds.

Just my peace. My privacy.

My little piece of sweet paradise.

Don't want to pretend. No fake smiles.

No small-talk. No cognitive dissonance.

Just silence, punctuated by bird song

And the stillness of untouched forests.

No complication. Just simplicity. Purity.

Don't want to navigate

The quagmire of human expectations.

I just want to breathe

And write the story of my heart.

We're all Cocktails.

Your neighbour might not look it

But she's as much a cocktail

As I am, in this foreign land.

She's white, like you 

And I'm brown

But we're both of so many hues

Inside.

We're both streaked

With the trails of our experiences

Changed unalterably

By all we've been through.

I might not look like you

But on some days, we might be more alike

Than you could ever imagine.

I sound different

But maybe my words resonate with you

I smell different

But perhaps, my thoughts have a familiar fragrance

We do share 99.9% of our DNA after all.

We're all cocktails

Shaken and stirred by a million things

But I'd like to think -

We're all someone's signature drink.

(Note: Living in a foreign country makes you think about the vast differences in our appearances and cultural backgrounds. So this isn't about racism, per se, but rather a commentary on why it's so hard to think of common ground between, say, a 45-year-old Tunisian mother, and a 19-year-old American teenager.)

Summer Storm

The sky roars,
           like a jungle suspended in the cloudy air

While unseen lions roam
           among its thunderous depths

Trees wave,
           in protest or glee, it's hard to say

But one thing's for sure -
           this summer storm has us all in its ancient sway.

(Written in Bonn, Germany)

To be young again

There's a bittersweet ache in my heart

When I encounter the innocent joyousness of youth

The music they sing along to -

Was once mine

And the possibilities too.

I'm not old but I do feel -

The poignant aftertaste of life passing by.

Like a river whose flow

I cannot stem.

Then again, stationery, it wouldn't be the thing of feisty beauty

It now is.

Sorry Sabyasachi, but the Sari is Not all it's Cracked up to Be

An Open Letter to the Esteemed Saybasachi.

Sorry Sabyasachi, but the sari isn't the glorious symbol of fine Indian culture that you make it out to be. And if you think less of an Indian woman if she doesn't know how to drape one, you are as rotten as the archaic, unfair and oppressive system that imposes this garment upon married women even as married men are free to don any outfit of their choice.

As a teenager, I always viewed the sari with a mixture of disquiet and longing. Longing, because of course it's a beautiful garment, and disquiet because it seemed unnecessarily complicated to wear and even more difficult to manage. Now as a grown woman, I can confirm that my disquiet was quite justified.

Yes, I can drape a sari but it is still the most uncomfortable outfit I have ever worn. And given a choice, I would probably never wear it. But you know what, Mr. Sabyasachi, I don't have an option. Like many other Indian woman, I am expected, nae, compelled to drape this tedious outfit on every festival, wedding, social function and even when older relatives come home. It is as though my modesty and virtue are concealed somewhere within the folds of the sari's pleats. And if I were to commit the blasphemy of wearing a salwar kameez (let's not even get into western wear), I would somehow be bringing shame on myself and the entire family.

Today, for me, the sari has become a symbol of oppression and subjugation. I am a modern Indian woman, born and brought up in Mumbai. But now I notice how in so many pockets of the city and beyond, women wear nothing but a sari. If you think that's because they are in love with this traditional Indian garment, I weep for your foolishness and naivete. Try and observe the envy with which they see girls skipping around in jeans, skirts and dresses. For them, these garments are as distant and unreachable as the shores of a foreign country.

Even in villages, you will see men strutting around in trousers and shirts. But no, married women must have their heads covered by a sari pallu. What gives society or any individual the right to dictate what another adult should wear? Perhaps men like you, who put mere clothing on a pedestal, even as that very item of clothing becomes a compulsion - inextricable from the role of a 'cultured' Indian woman.

Let me put it very frankly - a sari is inconvenient and uncomfortable. Yes, it is graceful and alluring. But maybe you should try spending a day and night in a sari before making the kind of judgmental, unfair statement that you did. How women cook and sleep in a sari day in and day out is beyond me. Even if it's made of cotton, a sari is just too much fabric to handle in the sweltering Indian weather. In your high society, women don saris for an hour or two during a party, and then go back to their comfy westerns. Not all women have that privilege.

Words like 'heritage' and 'culture' don't sound good coming from a privileged man who never has to put up with the dark and repressive side of Indian culture. Even today, women are expected not to speak up, to not cosy up to their husbands in public, to be demure, religious, great cooks, housekeepers and care-givers. Any other talent is immaterial and inconsequential. Any inclination towards atheism or tomboyishness is to be nipped in the bud. Kyunki log kya kahenge?

Lastly, to learn how to wear or not to wear a sari, to do anything or not to do it, is a woman's choice. And we couldn't care less what you think of it. So please keep your entitled and insensitive comments to yourself.

P.S.: I notice in your apology that you wanted to "call out women who say the sari makes them look older". You know what? Many kinds of saris do make us look older. And being a woman, I hate it. In a typical middle-class Indian family, married women cannot don strappy blouses and show off their busts the way celebrities do. The kind of saris they drape and the way they have to drape them - it IS boring. And just because you owe your livelihood and your renown to saris, it doesn't let you walk away from this reality. My own mother dislikes wearing a sari. And no, she has never worn a western outfit in her life.

Why just saris, I'd say CULTURE is not all it's cracked up to be. Some things are best left behind. And old is NOT always gold.

Peace.

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Local taxi: Engage Cabs for your half day, full day or extended requirements

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Weddings

Fading henna - 

Still beautiful,

Like the

Dregs of a striking sunset.

Birds by the poolside

A lingering melody

Even when

The shehnais have died down.

Bedecked and bejeweled

We try,

And fail

To match the bride's glow.