Monthly Archives: December 2013

The Feminine Mystique and Indian women

I’ve just finished reading The Feminine Mystique, by Betty Friedan. I know, I’m a bit late to discovering this powerhouse of a book, and it’s a big miss on my part. It was published sometime in the 1960s, I think, … Continue reading

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Christmas in Aurangabad

It’s Christmas season, and, well, it is so even in Aurangabad. In its own way. Yesterday evening, unexpectedly, I bumped into some passionate carolers. Imagine it: tropical cool evening, some kids are wearing Santa hats, sweat beads forming along the … Continue reading

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The villager in the town

The fuschia pink turban sat loud and dignified, atop the elderly farmer’s head. I stepped out of the grocer’s brightly lit store, stocked with newfangled products, after exchanging a few words in Hindi with the proprietor while his wife mumbled … Continue reading

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Are you bored yet?

“Are you bored yet?” Family and family friends peer curiously into my face as they ask me this, searching for affirmation. They wonder, how can a city-bred like me be happy in a place like Aurangabad? It has been a … Continue reading

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Of cataracts and kinship

“You’re getting cool in your old age, mum,” I teased, as I led my mum out of the eye clinic, where she had just gotten a cataract operation done. A spanking-new lens fitted into her right eye, the world was … Continue reading

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Breaking boundaries by covering up?

Young women, in their early 20’s, zip around Aurangabad on their scooties, cousins of the Vespa. They’re everywhere, en route to meet friends, reach college or the office, or do errands for the family. Sometimes, there’s someone sitting behind them … Continue reading

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Why I’m taking a sabbatical

I’m on a sabbatical right now. Away from my day job for a year, I can do whatever I want for the next 365 days, every day. The possibilities are, well, immensely satisfying. I don’t have to wake up to … Continue reading

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The carpenter wants to English

My carpenter showed up at 8:30 this morning for his English lesson. He was freshly bathed, I could still smell the sandalwood soap’s fragrance coming off him. His curly mop was neatly combed down, though the curls were starting to … Continue reading

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