fledgling

Mothers create and nurture us. They are our rivers of unconditional love we can always count on. This Mothers' Day, I decided to take it a step further. My grandmother is the trove of love and wisdom for our family. I call her Ammamma, and you may have different names, but despite the name, every grandmother has the universal trait of unwavering love and distinct warmth our parents don't possess. Mother to five daughters, my grandma is the pillar of support our family leans on. This Mother's Day, I am excited to feature my grandmother, the strongest and most loving mama I know. Let's look at a mother's heart from the inside, tracing her origin. Walking down the memory lane.. MM : What is a dear childhood memory you still laugh at? Actually, there are many. We were five siblings together. I had two older brothers and two younger ones. I was the only little girl and the pet of my brothers. Being the only daughter, I was pampered and I was neve...

Thappad (2020) Cast : Taapsee Pannu, Pavail Gulati, Maya Sarao Director : Anubhav Sinha Genre : Drama Synopsis : Amrita lives that picture-perfect life every housewife would long for - a loving husband, doting mother-in-law and loads of liberties, until one moment shatters her life and forces her to question the worth of her marriage. "Just a slap is enough" After Mulk and Article 15, Anubhav Sinha is back with Thappad, a hard-hitting film that makes you think about a woman's position and treatment in a family. Thappad is the story of Amrita, a housewife who is happily married to her beau, Vikram, who quite obviously is running that endless marathon - in pursuit of that long-awaited life abroad. Thappad throws light on how one slap, just one, is more than enough to question a relationship. Again, it is not 'bas itni si baat'. It is that crack of a relationship, when mutual respect is shattered and loses its meaning in this delicat...

As a teen living in the 21st century, you probably might call this a silly one to pop in my head, as you brag about the progress women have made in leaps and bounds. But of what I have observed and experienced in my thirteen years - I don't think so. A few years ago, I faced an interestingly difficult situation. I was serving as the head girl of my school and I had to work with my male classmate, the headboy, to lead the Student Council. Despite my efforts to contribute as a leader, I felt my ideas and views were being suppressed by the headboy. My competence was constantly criticized. I could not find any equality in between, despite being of the same age and importance. Stepping into the shoes of the headboy, he was a student of my age who came from a patriarchal family, that exalted men to authority. He was raised by a family that favoured its sons over its daughters, and grew under the impression of a man's superiority over a woman. Despite my situation, I gave m...

The plump orange in the sky Ripens and tumbles down the horizon As the frosty dark strays across the skies The glimmering waters, a soft scarlet Numbing the energy of the oranges To a pale blue, of lifelessness. I dwell in the dusky realms of twilight My worn eyes, gently resting in peace As the flawless skies lovingly cradle The glistening dark, soft as a whisper The lake of voices unheard, Where treasures, left unearthed Of stories, left unrelished. When bustling cacophony of daylight, Is hushed, buried in silence. When the immature howls of man Wear off and die, in the troubled day air Man, like an infant, seeks refuge In the loving arms of Morpheus As he revels in innocent bliss Tightly wrapped in love and warmth Man, the child of earth Mewling sleepily in oblivion, Some, ripping his woes and troubles Full of wishes and wants, sans reason. Most break free of this gloomy spell While some never do. As the golden streaks of daylight Pierce the sky of ...

Death. When fire is silenced to smoke. When raging storms is reduced to a breeze. When gushing waters hush to a trickle. When lips hold secrets, Time is cut off, And words are trapped forever. When the soul yearns to flourish, Yet crushed too soon. When the heart longs to throb Just once, Yet suppressed too soon. When beauty unfolds in one's eyes And withers in moments. When dreams, created with zeal Crumble in your eyes. When fruiful joy in warmth Shrivels in icy hatred. When the last shred of hope Weakens and tears apart. When the infant, in lost search Loses grasp of its motherly bond. The premature lily, softly folded in silence Wrinkled in fear and refusal Forever hidden in oblivion A moist clump of earth, Now a lifeless carcass. Death, Is a beautiful rest. The drowsy eyelids Snap shut, One last time. The fiery heat of the flames, Thawing and embracing Icy twilight. When the hands of the clock Melt and creep closer To the ...

What have we done? We call our dear country 'Bharat Mata', but what do we do to her own daughters? We all proudly boast of the footsteps India has taken towards the future, but have we forgotten our daughters? Is this country only for men? When it comes to our daughters, it has more or less remained all the same. Women are still looked upon as mere flesh-and-blood multiplier machines without a heart or soul of their own. They are the toys men crave, and like every toy, used and thrown. They are the toys they vent their desires in, shamelessly without the humanity of the human race. The women of our country are still forced to hide beneath a veil of fear and still hide behind their fathers and brothers.  So, what is it that you are trying to say? That this country is meant only for men? Despite several leaders of the past tying the broken shards of our nation together, we still haven't recognized our women. A girl is born. You feed her with fear and shame and t...

In the mystic realms of twilight Resting in the fragile lap of the water lily The sweeping breeze, heavy with scent Her fragrant white blossoms, Gently wrapped around her flowing locks Dewy and pious as her, like still water Flowing and swirling like the stars Flavoring the nightly breeze The smoky dusk, curled up like a child in her eyes Glistening moist in the soft moonlight Her crestfallen eyes a deluge Of rejection and shame Of delicious passion and hope To craft her own story Every drop, hushed behind the dark kohl lines A marriage of ink in melancholy The blushing sun, soaring in the tan sky Of fire and passion's thirst As she lies forlorn Melting in the dry, thirsty flames In the gloom of the nightly mist The strangled tears left uncried Like unborn words trapped in her lips Slowly groans and escapes her eyelids Her sorrowful droplets, stroking the tender daffodils Clinging onto the milky petals Pleading to protect the delicate slumber To ki...