A to Z Challenge 2016 – A for Alienated (Day 1)

Today marks the beginning of the A to Z Challenge, I am enthralled to join this crazy blogathon! Here is a poem beginning with the letter A. It is quite a personal piece, and I got on with it as I don’t plan on following any theme pattern particularly.  Hope you enjoy it.


Such was
the third daughter
of a proud man,
in her emotional
She struggled
to compete
with her sisters,
fair and bright,
A delight
to her parents,
Always the last pick
Always left behind,
she wondered,
Was I adopted?
she pondered,
Her fate,
That flicker
Of hope
As her own mother
Inflicting pain,
How was she
to feel elated?
A monstrous childhood,
followed by,
Loss of
Familial love,
even in,

This post is also a part of 3WW (Three Word Wednesday).

Elated, adjective: in high spirits; exultant or proud.

Flicker, verb: (of light or a source of light) shine unsteadily; vary rapidly in brightness, of a flame) burn fitfully, alternately flaring up and dying down, (of a feeling or emotion) be experienced or show itself briefly and faintly, especially in someone’s eyes, make small, quick movements; flutter rapidly, (of someone’s eyes) move quickly in a particular direction in order to look at something; noun: an unsteady movement of a flame or light that causes rapid variations in brightness, a tiny movement, a brief feeling or indication of emotion.

Halting, adjective: slow and hesitant, especially through lack of confidence; faltering



#ShareTheLoad – It Starts At Home



Nishad Aunty is my mom’s bestie. She is a lovable human being and a fun person to hang out with, specifically, the one that doesn’t ask too many questions about my personal life. I have stayed over at her place numerous times along with my mom. They have had their fair share of sleepovers when we used to come down from Dubai for our summer vacations.

Inadvertently, I have observed the way she treated her kids. It is funny how she had pampered both her son and daughter to a point where neither of them lifts a finger. She is a constant machine, buzzing about the house getting chores done in a jiffy. The kids just take undue advantage of her active nature, but it’s all on her. She is to be blamed for not splitting the responsibilities amongst them.

I would say that her daughter is the laziest. Even the paste on her brush needs to be present before she wakes up for school. Now, that is a tad bit too much! Here we are, talking about gender equality and this girl (who is now a fully grown woman and yet pesters her mother like a parasite) takes the cake for being a slothful monster.

Now, they are adults and the cawing never ceases at their place when the daughter flies in from Dubai (for a solid half year) and gets her mom to do EVERYTHING for her, right from her son’s diapers to the numerous breakfasts the kid discards because he is picky as hell. The son is equally competitive, he will shriek when he does not find clean innerwear before he trots off to work with a three-layered, home-packed meal.  There is a line between doing things out of love for one’s children and seizing the reins of a woman’s brain!


So far, we haven’t even come to the crazy part. The husband is the fascinating creature of all. Even though he walks by the kitchen and encounters a tea pan brimming with milk on the gas stove (Mind you, about to freaking spill all over the cook-top), he coolly beckons his wife to turn off the gas! I mean, what is wrong with this man?

You can envision how his skills to do chores can be after the incident I just narrated to you. Honestly, after experiencing these events, I thank God because my dad willingly helps my mom with the household chores (like bathroom cleaning, fan dusting, taking out the trash, etc.). Sometimes, he even cooks when my mom falls ill instead of ordering take-out. (He makes the best Malabar Parathas!)

The whole idea of the #ShareTheLoad campaign is to promote gender equality and I thought it best to bring up this story, of a woman whom I love, admire and respect. Though she bends to the whims of her family, her love blinds the possibility of establishing a code of sharing the workload within the family. The kids, even after becoming grown-ups, think it is okay to squawk their mother’s name for practically everything. Because the daughter obviously faces the same issue at her place, this family accepts that it is the duty of the mother to look after everyone, putting aside her desires and dreams.

We, the generation of today, must preach the message of equality to our children, be it a daughter or a son. We have to make them realize that it is a responsibility to uphold for many more years to come. This may be the foundation to their future life, not being hazed by a primitive thought such as a woman is to be burdened with the house-hold chores and the satisfaction of the family.

 “I am joining the Ariel #ShareTheLoad campaign at BlogAdda and blogging about the prejudice related to household chores being passed on to the next generation.

Don’t break them vows – #SadaSexy

Husbands can be tricky creatures, confusing even and they tend to be confused as well. It is not a joke when people say that a man changes after marriage, it is only natural that he does. The boulder of responsibility gets dumped on their shoulders and honestly, they struggle to find their place. I, happen to be a credible witness to my hubby’s monumental transformation. He is an amazing father, surprisingly, a very persistent partner. Fatherhood does that to men, I guess, which is undoubtedly impressive.

I have to hand it to him; he has been taking hits like a punching bag this past year. But with me being a woman and all that, I still remain immensely unsatisfied. I don’t think I can help it. There are about a bazillion things I would like for him to promise me on this woman’s day, but I am also glad that he quit smoking after I announced my pregnancy (Thanks to Safreen, my little chubby tubby).

Can be frivolous,
Can be binding,
Can be a burden,
You don’t have to
Overthink it,
Just stand by your word.

15 Free, Pinnable Inspirational Quotes Graphics About Life, Love and Success  | Cuteheads:

Promise me, my “better” half that you will write to me (a simple email or a letter) at least once a month. For there is nothing more powerful than words were written down to express what you truly feel, which you cannot say out loud.

Promise me, that you will you will NEVER surprise me because you know exactly how ridiculous it feels (For the both of us).

Vow to pursue your passion for cooking for all eternity. I don’t think I am going to admit it to you, but you are a hell of a good cook. I mean, the sizzling Hyderabadi Biriyani to Spicy Mutton Kurma.

Make a promise to never stop fussing over my wounds, no matter how small it is. It makes me feel loved, it makes me feel wanted. In fact, it is better than professing your love for me.

Promise me, you won’t forget your penchant for traveling. We are yet to see the world, and Europe doesn’t cover all of it!

Promise me that we will revel in our secret jokes, using our code of satire that no one will ever comprehend!

Make me a promise, to not forget our fights over silly things only to laugh about it later.

Vow to be imperfect because perfection is a fantasy and those who choose to believe in its existence are wasting their life.

Promise me that you will be my everlasting rock, as you are now.

Promise me that we will never forget our friendship.

Promise me that you will always put your family, above all else.

 “I’m blogging about the kasams I want from my man this Women’s Day with the #SadaSexy activity at BlogAdda in association with Set Wet.”

#6 Poetry 101 Rehab : Partition

Just a fortnight

I keep chanting

To myself,

Soon, I shall reunite

With my incredibly sweet mother,

That amazing woman!

The geographical partition

Terrorizes me and

I cannot cope,

Responsibility is creeping

Into every chore I do

And every decision I make,

Tears glazing over

And hands trembling,

All I can do is choke,

I am that child again

Who got lost at the supermarket!

This week’s prompt is Partition and my take is clearly focused on a “tomorrow is better day” sort of mantra. As I have written in previous post on this blog, my mom left Sweden about four days ago and I wanted this poem to be a follow up to that. It is most definitely a confession type of poem, hope you enjoy reading it. Feel free to pop in and leave your comments.


   This post is a part of Mara Eastern’s (Hosted by Andy Townend) Poetry 101 Rehab.

The mom appreciation post

Okay, I know the title sounds awfully cheesy, but you can’t blame me for branding this post that way. I am not going to start this post with the clichéd lines that people use to praise their mother, so I am just going to cut to the chase and get it over with. This has a rant element in it as well, then again, which post doesn’t!

It has been four days since my mom left me home alone with my baby girl – Safreen. Fine, she has a family of her own and she had to go back to India and resume her life. I am just in denial, don’t mind me. This post was due on the day she left but can you get things done the way you want when you have a three-month old in the house, hell no. I was so paranoid that I even downloaded the count-down app on that very day. In case you are wondering why I did that, I will now proclaim that I am supposed to be leaving in a fortnight. Go ahead and roll those judgey little eyes at me.

Let me tell you what really kills, the fact that Safreen looks about for her Naani (maternal grandmother). It was gut wrenching, mates, it kind of emotionally destabilized me. I might have a wept a little (YES, LIKE A LOT OR SHOULD I SAY LIKE A FREAKING BABY). You can miss your mom for a lot of reasons, and this just happens to be the primal one. But it does not mean that I miss her because of that reason alone, okay, now I am just justifying myself.

ugly crying

It never hits you until they are gone and it rips you, not a pretty image, I can guarantee that. I look at the front door, waiting for her to barge through with the groceries (yes, she didn’t even let me do that, that sweet selfless woman!).

But I am happy because we did not fight a lot when she was here with me, which felt good because she is quite the sensitive type. Insha’Allah, I should be joining her soon, in India and get pampered like crazy again. You would want to be treated the same way if your mom stayed with you for five months postpartum and then had to leave you behind because your child had visa issues (Yes, I hate my life right now).

I think that just about sums up my ramblings about being left alone with a baby FOR THE FIRST FREAKING TIME IN MY LIFE. Yeah, I am totally okay with that (hells to the no).