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My Story is About Sisterhood

 My Story is About Sisterhood My story is about sisterhood--how three women forged a strong bond of sisterhood, taking energy from their own experiences -- family honour, love, love loss--and as the need of the time.   Photo by Cottonbro from I was born in a rural village in Kerala, firstborn in an ordinary family of five siblings. Kerala is a conservative society, gendered and unequal in general. My parents never got customised to the general; for them, I was always the firstborn. I never experienced the impact of gendered attitudes until I got married. How my hopes and ambition for a normal life as I had in my parent's homes got trampled by those people shocked me. They had committed to my parents and me in a public ceremony -wedding- that they would take care of me as an equal member of them. But the truth was different. To say it was shocking covers only a fraction of the mental trauma I suffered. To complicate my thought process, it wasn

The role of Culture to the cause of Mental Health

  What is the Role of Culture in the Cause of Mental Health? What is culture? What role does it play in championing the cause for mental changes? Why should it be considered important while considering the mental change in others? The picture was taken from   You champion the causes depending on who you are; you can instil hope and compassion by sharing your own story.   You managed to make a breakthrough from your own harrowing life experiences making stern steps.  Or when you sink deep down in your worries or mistakes or are confused about things happening around you, finding no escape from them, an angel dawned on your life pulled you out of it by giving you the correct perceptions about life.   Or a government agency, a women support group, or sisterhood intervened in your case to find a solution.  Or you are part of a self-help group or professional holding an office responsible for social/family/women upliftment; you are championing great causes.  Eac

My Father's Favourite Lux

  My Father’s Favourite Lux This is a post on the theme; my memories My mother washed my body first time with the Lux soap, and my siblings; I can say with surety because my father, addicted to Lux, brought only Lux, white   I wouldn’t know if the product was available in different colours, or my father had discarded other colours      How had my father got such a fascination for the Lux?  I have no idea; how funny those kinds of questions never get asked in the family—everything gets taken for granted.  My father wasn’t a harsh person, never in the habit of invoking fear in us.  All these thoughts lined up in my mind last week as I stood in the healthcare section of the Checkers Supermarket while shopping for the bath soaps.  In front of me, shelves stacked with a variety of them.  My eyes fell on the Lux. They come in different colours with subtexts on the silky wraps. I got interested in knowing more about the Lux family, hoping to find a reason for my father’s fascination. Th

My Father's Favourite Lux post 2

  My Father’s Favourite Lux My father was an Ayurvedic physician.  He would have some knowledge of what oils and cents went into the product.  He kept a disciplined physical regime to maintain his physique and advocated personality through skincare and glamour.  No doubt, h is addiction to Lux had popularised it among the fellows in our village.  I don't think I commit a mistake in considering him as an ambassador of Lux in the time and place he lived.   When I think of who I am, my father stands in front of me, in my memory .    Every time I see things he liked and situations he got involved in, I get his memories.  When I was a child, I hardly remembered him or thought about him; he was always present in my space, or my brain hadn't developed to think about him, I have no idea.  I began to learn and understand him after I had left his space to have my own space and faced the struggles to get established there.  And he became a constant presence in my memory

Nelson Mandela Day

 18 July Nelson Mandela Day As the world reflects Nelson Mandela's legacy, we thank his life, leadership, devotion to humanity, and humanitarian causes. Mandela (18 July 1918--5 December 2013) Nelson Mandela, the Republic of South Africa's first president, does not need an introduction to the world.  His birthday, July 18, is declared Nelson Mandela International Day, and South Africans take this opportunity to celebrate his life the entire month.  South Africa became an independent republic in 1994, overhauling the apartheid that ran the show as a legal regime since 1948, Mandela, its first president.   Mandela's contribution to the peaceful transformation of South Africa, from a racially pitting people into a rainbow nation, is the most celebrated example of positivity.  This positivity shines on every individual when they make an individual positive action to help and reach others.  July is a month for taking this action and spread the Mandela values--fighting injustice,

Mother's day

  Mother's day.  I had doubts about where to put the apostrophe before the 's' as the singular possessive or after the 's,' a collective possessive.  Thanks to Grammarly for directing me.  Its right position is before the 's' because mother's day is an individual celebration:  "Each family should celebrate its own mother, so that individual woman across the country could feel the love, even in the midst of a broad celebration of motherhood." And how did it all start?  According to Grammarly , mother's day started as a single women's effort to dedicate her remembrance towards her mother, by Anna Jarvin, an American, in early 1900.   She started a campaign for an official holiday honouring mothers in 1905, the year her mother passed away, and held the first large scale celebration of the holiday in 1908 as her memorial day in Grafton, her hometown, in 1908.  Her campaigns found the result: in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson signed a procla

Apple of My Eye

  Picture from Google. Madhuri stuffed her bag with the tiffin box, flask, purse and car key, dropped with the grocery list on the coffee table in the living room together with two office files pulled from the side shelf, just another day. She waited on the sofa.  The September sun sneaked in through the window signalled a throbbing headache, a lacklustre sensation.  She was strongly inclined to take a break from everything for a trip to somewhere alone.   "One minute ma,” she heard Ankush calling out from upstairs.  It was nearly eight. She should be on the road now.   "I have a test in the first lesson Ma, cannot wait for him,"  Megha complained from the sofa across from her, ready for the school, packed her lunch herself, kept an uneasy look in the eyes.  "He will be ready soon," Madhuri pacified her daughter. "He is lazy, selfish, makes me late every day."   Madhuri looked at her daughter with a pang of anger. Boys are boys: the species got a soci

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