The mask

This time sunday scribblings came with a "smorgasbord" of ideas and that is proving to be my nemesis. Try as i might, i'm just not able to decide on THE pompt, from the 101 (yes, 101). I'm equally worse at a buffet...

so my two cents on masks...and...morning


I love my morning tea. This is the only time i have when i sit looking out of my window at the clear skies, feeling the early morning nip and hearing the birds chirp. Sipping tea with the hubby in silence but yet so connected...I need those ten minutes of silence before I come back to earth and wear my masks for the day. Before I throw myself into the hustle bustle of routine.

Everyone wears some kind of mask. There are innumerable occasions where I have been forced to be someone else, either because society demands it or because there is no other way out. The only time perhaps I am just myself is when I am alone with that little core of people who form my family.

Writing my blog was something which gave me happiness and allowed me a way to explore thoughts and ideas, mostly through prose and on few occasions as poems. Here I thought I could be myself and speak my mind. And it worked too, for a long while. But now, I wish I had maintained my mask of anonymity, but being me, I have let the whole world know who I am...Slowly you become aware of other readers' sensibilities, of blog etiquette, of minding my p's and q's.

With blogs being a public display of thoughts, you cannot choose your readers. You write with the hope that they are read by like-minded people, which has happened in my case. i've met wonderful people this way and i'm not going to stop. But recently I came across a friend's poem on his blog where his comment space soon became a sparring ground, with one person criticizing the quality (not the content, but the quality) and the others defending the writer. Surprising, because it was a nice poem, but the reader felt it was below the standard. Whose standards was he talking about?

So I ask myself, do I have to wear a mask here too so that I can be myself...? or do i have to wear one so that I can be someone else?

Empowered..

I still remember that trip in the bus when i got down seething with anger and humiliation, looking back at the sea of leering faces wondering who it was...(It was nothing compared to what most go through but enough for me to get down immediately at the next stop.)That was my last trip on any bus. It was the first time i had used the public transport in Delhi, inspite of being told not to.I was young then and did not want to feel dependant on the car or my husband for everything. This incident was a shock to me, coming as i had from a sheltered life. Relating this incident to a local friend, she informed me that pins, and sharp objects formed part of the necessary weaponry, that every girl must use for her defence. This is what every girl using the public transport goes through. That was the day I felt the weight of the shackles...the shackles of my gender. They were always present in other forms, only i had never noticed it.

Since then i find my safety in crowds, in my vehicle and in the reassuring presence of a male. I knew now never to venture in lonely areas, never to walk out alone after dark, to always take care of how i dress. I even got used to it.

And so it continued, till i reached Singapore. This place is amazing. It gives you that feeling of security. I found myself using the public transport without fear. I cycle around and don't feel intimidated by strangers in a lonely park.

I savor the freedom to dress the way i want, the freedom to walk where I choose, ALONE, the freedom to be myself. It is a freedom which empowers me. It saddens me that an alien country gave me back what my own couldn't - my right as a woman. Strangely i feel empowered here...but i know it will only last till that day when i go back...

but having tasted this freedom, would i start binding those shackles all over again...?

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This was in reponse to the writer's prompt...empowerment. i wanted to write about something else but ended up writing something more personal.

Passion

Boy meets girl, instant attraction
Unbridled passions, a nine month reaction
Lesson learned, always plan your passion!


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couldn't resist writing this in response to the sunday scribblings prompt...

word magic..

I just couldn't resist this prompt at Weekend Wordsmith, which asks us to write a whole story with six words...

Six-word memoir

Forever open, never closed, mother's heart

Missing the bus, my life story

Writing thoughts, sparking connections, irresistible addiction

Do you have more to add to this?...i would love to hear it

Timeless!!!

Following a train of memories through
Snapshots and videos, part of the treasury too
Traveling back in time, a timeless journey
changing styles, different moods,frozen for all to see

Flying on wings of hope and dreams
footprints to be etched, a mark to be made,
A travel forward, the future's new
Do you see you?

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The prompt at WRITERS is time travel......

Its magic!!!

Bare feet on grass, tired no more
Colors in the sky, a rainbow so high
Splashing in puddles, getting wet
Magical moments not to forget


A kick reminds; a little life here to stay
First steps; first smile; revel in the magic so new
Kiss away the pain, hug way the fear
The magic touch of love, every child’s due


Miles become shorter, calls connect
Families drawn closer, a magic of the web
A journey to places beyond, on big iron birds
A travel to fantasy on a carpet of words


Moments of joy, moments of love
Moments shot and frozen, sent to all
Wave that wand of awe, its magic that you see,
Its magic if only you want it to be

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Go to writer's island for more magic

One foul day!!!

A busy day, a foul day
Juggling jobs one too many
He saunters in, with his nose in the air
Sniffing something funny

A foul smell, a burnt smell…a dish beyond repair
The mood so hungry, we rush out the door
Pizzas eaten, ice creams dropped, the boys share
A little thought, “you really should burn food more”!!!


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