Fragile Masculinity

Recently I read and article by Buzzfeed UK about the fragility and sheer insecurity of masculinity that we all (not only men) have. You can take a look at it by clicking here.

While I was reading it, I was wondering that how the whole process works. Commodities, advertising, the falsified notions, men and women buying these projections, notions into practice, practice into daily routine, routine into culture and so on. I mean, come on? I can’t help but thinking about the shallow notions made by the society of what masculine and feminine nature  should be. And the worst part is that: These two notions DO NOT exist independently. Their sphere of working collides, and realistically, it is against women.

Coincidentally, I had another experience Today to make me believe how far we have fallen into these traps of demarcation of features and characteristics called essentialism. Men have to be controlling,dominating, ruthless and, women have to be supportive, submissive, and innocent-like. I am cent percent sure that these are the notions not believed by many of us ( at least that is what I hope for); but the embedded nature harnessed and seeded by the society  brings out these.

As I was telling earlier, I had an experience as an evidence of this.

I am currently working in a project which off course has Women and Men alike. The Head is a man, and I am working under his supervision. Let’s name that person A for convenience. ( I mean I have to be mysterious and all cliched like, right?) So, A is a person I have made acquaintance with and seems pretty amiable. He keeps on giving all of us subordinate to him importance by saying that the project is not his but all of ours, and we are equal to him. I do not believe this, because come on, I am being paid for a task for that project, it is not as if that particular project is my brain-child or I will be there permanently throughout. But that doesn’t mean that we are not attached to the project.

So, one day, A had to contact me for some directions and all. And what i nightmare it was. I mean the nightmare that I as a girl hadn’t thought about until now. I was being cutoff in the middle of my sentences, I was being mainspalined, my voice was being overpowered by his loud volume, my views were dismissed as if being like that of a peasant. And let me get this thing straight, except for the positions in the project, everything between us is equal like, age, talent, capabilities. I mean dude, I was just giving my opinion on the project; did my opinion just hurt your masculinity so much that you had to behave like this. I am so sorry for you.

I had a thought about leaving that said project, but on second thoughts I have decided to stay. Not because, I am getting paid, or not because I am going to put up with this behavior but because, the next time this happens, I am going to speak the words I have written here, and then leave.

Why is it so hard to accept that women can have opinions as good and even much better than yours, men? Even if they are not brilliant according to you can you just stop dehumanizing them?


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It is brutal out there

“I’d like to consider myself as a powerful woman”, she said, with hope of becoming one truly and completely. She watched, observed, noted down, and dreamed of being that woman, who has that icy stare, yet approachable face and that tall, proud yet humble posture. Yes, a paradox. Possible or not?

As she transitioned from her fantasy land to a land where her fantasies could be realized, she retrospected her goal in life, her personality and the people surrounding her. Enthusiastic and realistic, strategic and yet adventurous; she took that leap of faith and proved she was worthy of being strong.

But just like any story, as the fate dawned upon her, just one thought remained – It is brutal out there. “I am powerful, but am I powerful enough. I am strong, but am I strong enough. I am the person I want myself to be, but am I that person truly, deep down?” Yes, a paradox. And, it is possible.

Letter to every mother from a regretting child on this Mothers Day

Dear Mumma

I write this letter not to wish you a mother’s day. I write to feel sorry that you have to live this day where your children are supposed to thank you; and they do thank you, but yet they do not value you. I rather be straightforward because I know now your time is precious. You live each second of your day to fulfill the needs of your children. You might be preparing food for them now, or maybe dropping them off to school, thinking about how to let your rebellious teen know that you still do care about them, or maybe to get a makeover so that your children know that you are keeping up with the ‘modern times’, even if the cost is completely forgetting yourself and your comfort.

We are fortunate that we got technology. But you leave this to our materialistic tendencies that we use to share our life and not express it. I opened my instagram today, and I found my feed full of People kissing/hugging their mothers with hashtags #mothersday #loveyoumom #nothingwithoutyou became an instant popular item. I do not intend to project that I am against such posts because nothing is wrong in that. I am against, what I call, the hypocritical posts.

I am sorry that your children  are only concerned with the filter to put on instagram so that your imperfections get unnoticed and they get to prove that their momma is as cool as ever. I am sorry that they are concerned only with the likes and retweets on your picture with them. I am sorry that they invest their love and time for you into things that do not matter and do not make ‘Real Memories’.

Off course, not every child is like that. If he expresses your love with even a simple thing as much as a hug or a kiss or lending a hand with the laundry or even asking you about your feelings, I consider that child lucky as he got to make memories that will make him smile after whatsoever when year he might not be able to be with you or you might not be able to be with him.

This is to every mother whether or not she experienced the above, whether she received a hug, kiss, card, a gift, a social media post, or just a letter like this because you might be reading this miles away from where I am now.

Mumma, you are strong as anyone can ever be for us and all the people that are a part of your life. And I do know that it might happen that this token of appreciation and tons of love might not do anything as you will continue to love and care for us even if we forget to wish you. But, I believe that every once in a while you need to know that you can be open with your children, it is okay to express yourself, because anyone can provide you with the things that money can buy but  I want to give you my time, my ear, and my heart to understand you, feel you, and make you feel that I am there for you no matter what.


The Family Curse

The mother pitied .

Pitied her Husbands’s fate.

Made to absorb but not to release.

Just to rein the tornado inside and never speak against, ever again.

She empathized and sympathized.

Took the decision to not let the Family Curse be bequeathed.

But what she didn’t realize

She had another child.

A child made to inherit the curse so that

the other could live without it.

So the curse continued

And this time it was Not her husband’s legacy

It was hers.



Conversations with A Perfectionist!

Disclaimer: It depends on the readers how they perceive it. Some might find it exaggerated, some might find it funny, and some might find it as revelation of some sort. Either ways, my purpose is solved.


ON 21st November, my worries end, and i finally get an opportunity to have a deep conversation with a perfectionist, after he commits perfect MISTAKE!

10 Minutes Before The Talk:

It is the day, the GOLDEN DAY ( if i should emphasize) when he gets a chance to do something  great. Address 1800 people, 10 esteemed people of the country, open the awaited ceremony and definitely prove himself to the doubting world… But Alas! (If i should be dramatic) the cliched mistake happens… one moment and he is BLANK! another moment and he is STAMMERING! ANOTHER MOMENT and he is enduring THE DISAPPOINTMENT…

30 Seconds before The Talk:

(If i should be quick) Done. I am done. I am a failure. And this is the end of my good sweet life.

The Talk: 

Me: Hey How could you even do this?

Perfectionist: …

Me: Now what? Nothing will be the same. Nothing, you will be a laughing stock, as usual.

Perfectionist: …

Me: Say something! Ask others, what do they feel? Did they get the mistake? Ask your mentors! Ask your friends! Ask your enemies! Ask the strangers! Ask every other person!!!

Perfectionist: OKAY! I ACCEPT IT. I MADE A MISTAKE. But you know what?Looking back the 10 minutes that went, I am HAPPY AND FEELING PERFECT, that I made the unintentional mistake. Yes, I admit that If I wouldn’t have done that MINOR mistake, It would be perfect for me. But it would BE PERFECT, I might not have FELT PERFECT.


Perfectionist: And yes for others, it will be an explosion of their expectations from me, but I realized that they DO NOT matter. Only it is me and my perception that matters, similar to what a perfectionist feels, but minor changes in the beliefs. I am still a perfectionist as you have been calling me all day, but yes it is different now.

Me: …

Perfectionist: I will still strive for perfection. It will still be for my own ego and expectations from myself. But now, whatever happens, whatever the consequences be, PERFECT OR IMPERFECT, it wont matter to me, because now only my capabilities matter and what they yield. (If i should put it in a philosophical manner)

Me: My purpose is solved, my friend. Go on. Complete your job of the day.


After the Talk:

The day ends with Revelation and,much more than happiness, it ends with content. Satisfaction. Ecstasy. The ‘Perfectionist’ is the same person who is writing these words you are reading. The person is the same. Still a perfectionist, but with a different belief. The perfectionist will make mistakes and will not freak about it. The perfectionist will learn from them. Make something PERFECT out of them.


Until Next time



Little Bit of Good and Little Bit of Great.

On a lovely day when an unfortunate thing happens, All you can do is either be a rock and remain indomitably strong or you can burst out crying and just let it all flow out.
Today she chose the latter. Today she chose to let her heart win. But as soon as she did that, her mind filled her heart with guilt – How can you be weak when you have been strong all along. Been brave.

But at the end of the day she learnt that when the life is not playing along with your harmony, may be some smaller figure, a smaller picture, can be just the ending you need for your day. And most of the time it will be unexpected. Such a joy. Isnt it?

That was a man. Not just any man – an old man. She thought it was a regular thing. Meeting people, listening to them, but you not being listened to. Irony.
The man although thrice of her age held something in common with her. Heal and Help.
She couldnt sense that he had seen the storm churning inside her. The confusion of past, the sadness of today and the desperation for having a secure future.  So all he did was just say the words she has been hearing all along, been all along – You are one brave strong girl. You can achieve anything-
Simple yet strong. Filled with trust. A trust from a stanger.

It wasn’t a surprise for her though. It was a reminder.
We don’t need words that make us happy. We need reminders, reminders out of nowhere, that we will have what we want ,that we will reach somewhere, there is something good in each bad and great in each worst. In each hopeless thing ever-There is little bit of good and little bit of great .

Until next time