And no matter how much we try to be different from our parents, it’s amazing how we end up behaving just like them.
As I attended a session yesterday on feminism and surmounting abuse, I kept thinking of mom. Everyday that I go out and try to reclaim a bit of space for me, enter an uncharted territory where I am not welcome or speak up about women’s rights, I am following in her giant footsteps.
Every workspace starts off in the same way – an attempt to build a good equation- and eventually, it seems, ends up in the same way – with harassment, unrecognised efforts and verbal whiplash.
There is also something achingly sad about the photo, about a wedding where only a father and daughter are there, and the mother is missing on this happy occasion.
Life is all about twists and turns. My mom had four brothers and two sisters. All of them were poles apart from each other and landed up in very different situations.
At the end of the day, we are who we are. And we may not be perfect for everyone, but even if you manage to help or impact one person, it’s all been worth it.
Our primal urge is to seek the comfort of our childhood.
I read somewhere that you choose where you are born, that you get a sort of blueprint of what to expect. And only if you are okay with it, do you go through birth.
A marriage is like a good dish. It requires the right amount of tried and tested techniques, a dash of playfulness and a fistful of innovation. If the mix goes awry you might land up with something else altogether.
They say it’s a bad idea to mix work and your personal life, that it’s best to compartmentalise. But what if you can’t, what if your colours bleed into each other?