Good News Bad News !!!!!!

Tring Tring

Tring Tring

She hurried to answer the call.

Reason: It was him calling obviously.

"Hello".

"Hey.....", he seemed to be quiet happy and excited from his voice.

"So, tell me....somebody seems to have something good to tell me", and a lot many things started to churn her stomach with pain.

What could it be??

We visiting some good place??

Some good news regarding his home or job.

He’s getting her something??

What could it be??

A lot of thoughts flashed into her mind in those five second pause in their conversation.

He was giggling.

“Tell me…what is it…”, she was more than curious to know what it could be.

Every second silence was killing her patience and increasing her curiosity to get the secret revealed.  

When you make up some suspense, it’s really important as to how it’s revealed in combination with the atmosphere built up for the suspense to be a great success.

The curiosity of the listener should remain till the last word of the secret’s narration.

She stood their dumbstruck to hear the excited innocence for the craze of ShahRukh Khan.

“ShahRukh Khan’s new movie trailer has released”, he shouted.

“Go and watch it now on YouTube”, and he hung up on her.

Confusion !!!!

"Here, take it", he said pulling out something from his pocket.

It was pitch dark on the pavement so there was no question of  making out as to what was being pulled from the smart blue shirt's pocket.

"Keep it", and a yellow flower was placed on her palm.

A flower that had earlier that day survived from being crushed under the foot of some devotee.

"So from where is this coming?", was her next question.

It was not the general category of flowers which she had received in the past.

"It's from the temple", he replied.

"Temple??", she was startled to hear that.

"Yes, the one which is near to my office, remember?", he said.

"Yea...yea...okay", she got the source of the flower.

"But you went to the temple? When ? Why and with whom?", a lot of inquiries were done. Usual nature of women.

"I don't need a company to go to a temple", he found the question way too weird to answer.

"But yaar, I don't know whose temple I visited?", he said.

"You don't know? Matlab (what do you mean?)", she was confused now.

"I mean, I went to the temple, offered the prayers, got the Pundit's blessings but I actually don't know which God or Goddess I worshipped !!", his reply was enough for her to keep laughing for next few minutes.

Smita

Fate of Destiny.

She sat there, calmly smoking the cigarette neatly perched inbetween her fingers. The remaining fingers supported the whiskey glass in her hand. She inhaled the smoked and felt the mild kick her brain got. It felt good, it felt relaxing, it felt better. She needed her mind to stop working for sometime, and though marijuana was the perfect drug for her, she preferred the cigarette. She drank occasionaly, but wasnt this a perfect occasion? She smirked at herself and gulped down the undiluted neat whiskey. She took a deep breathe, the effect of cigarette and whiskey was wearing off, maybe she really needed to switch to marijuana, she thought lazily. She walked to her private bar and poured herself another large peg. Again draining her glass completely, she thought she needed another cigarette, but before she could light the next one, the glass stumbled out of her fingers and she slumped down the marble floor. She was no more in control of herself. She looked around her lavish expansive room and tears ran through her cheeks, smudging her perfectly kohled eyes. 

  "I dont think I'm ever going to marry Anu. I dont want to marry. Thats it. What do I lack in life? Nothing! I have everything...parents, friends, you, money...everything! Why should I ruin it all with a guy and marriage? No way, I am not marrying!"

  "Oh comon, dont you want a good loving husband? A caring guy? A few kids to to call you mumma and run about your house....dont you want all that?? Oh comon! I too have everything that you have, but I want to marry so eagerly! I want to have kids....lots of them!"  and they both giggled together just like they had always done since childhood.

  "But you want to do that because you have a guy in your life, I dont! And honestly, I'm happy without one. They are just useless. Look at me, dont I look happy and content? Why do you want to spoil my happiness Anu?"

   "Idiot, I want you to enjoy and experience happiness which is beyong the happiness you currenly feel. I want you to be a happy and a complete woman, not just a happy and independent girl!"  and like always, Priya had to agree with her childhood best friend.

  "I know my mother has bribed you get me married, she just cant stand her daughter so happy!" She sulked and Anu chastly kissed her cheeks and hugged her tightly.

  "You know we both want you to be happy!"

The earth was spinning around her and she held the leg of the bar stool tightly. Someone was hammering inside her head, and it was getting intolerable. Hot tears ran through her cheeks and she wiped them off smudging the kohl on her blushed cheeks. She wished to find a dagger somewhere to end the pain she felt in her heart, but all she found was emptiness all around. The loneliness was killing her and she was willing to give away anything to end it. She needed someone to talk to...someone to hug...someone to wipe her tears and comfort her, but all she was left with was a big vacuum in her life. She wanted to get sucked into the black hole and get lost in the blackness forever. It was getting unbearable. She longed for companionship, for company. She needed someone around...someone to make her feel alive. She wanted someone to make her feel special, someone to make her feel happy. The emptiness was biting her, and she wanted to run away and save her life.

  "I cant tell you how happy I am Priya!"

  "I know bitch, you are getting married to the guy you love so madly!"

  "Yes, and see how happy I am? Now comon, either find a guy for yourself or start meeting these short-listed guys...plz Priya! I want us to get married around the same time!"

  "Are you out of your mind girl? You will be getting married by the end of this year, which leaves me with hardly 8 months! And you want me to find a guy and marry him in these 8 months?! You must be kidding me!"

  "No. I am very much serious! So you better hurry up!"

  "But...but...heyy...wait...listen to me...Anu...wait..."

She crawled up back to the bar table. The pain was unbearable. She needed something to ease her out of the pain, to make her forget all her past, infact even the present. It was the present that was killing her.... the past had been beautiful. Fresh tears blinded her vision, and her aching throat simply added to her aching heart. She caught hold of the Jack Daniel she had been pouring from and drank directly from the bottle....and slumped back to the floor again, only this time sobbing uncontrollably.

  "Hey baby...I love you so much...come here in my arms..."

  "I love you too darling..."

Her eyes were blood-shot, but tears kept flowing. Everything in front of her eyes started turning hazy. Her head was spinning and she could no longer make sense of the world around her. She though of him and a small smile played on her lips. She still was madly in love with that bastard. His eyes... His smile... His arms... His voice... was all she ever needed in her life. It was all perfect untill yesterday. Only if she hadnt anwered that phone call.

  "Hey sexy...am in town for a couple of days. Heritage Hotel, room no - 6. Be here at sharp 7...I'll be waiting for my naughty lover! Bye. And I missed you darling!"

  "Who is she?"

  "None of your business. Get away."

  "It is my damn business!! We are getting married next week!! Who is she?"

  "Mind your own business. I have to go. Get away."

  "Tell me the truth Raj...how long has it been going on..."

  "You wanna know the truth...fine! Listen, Its been 6 months since I've been sleeping with her! Anything else?"

-----

  "Hey Anu, Priya here. I called you several times but you never replied...so...ummm... mom was asking when should we call the beautician.... and..umm... Mohan said, maroon really suits me, so I was thinking, we'll get more of maroon tops...*giggle*... ok...and yea..u were right bitch, I did fall for him, and I cant believe I am getting married! And all thanks to you and Raj...man, you both are a couple made in heaven! Without you both I would have never agreed to marry! Thanku guys! And can you believe, its just a week for our marriage! You were right, we really are getting married on the same day! Isnt that super exciting! Ok, call me when you get this message. Need to discuss a lot with you."

-----

  "Mom, I hope she gets allrite. I cant contact Raj too, I hope everything's ok with him......Doctor how is she? Is everything ok? What happened to her?"

  "She's out of danger now. She had gone into shock, which led to depression. She's fine now."

------

  "Anu aunty...mummy says when I grow up, a handsome prince will come for me on a white horse, is it true?"

  "Yes darling, its true. You are a princess, and a handsome strong prince will come to get you on horseback!"

  "Mummy says even you are a princess...then why didnt a prince come to get you?"

-----

Stalker Chronicles

During the Infosys Mysore training days, even while “living on the edge”, I did two things very often. Checking out boys and checking out girls. The latter was for our desperate enthusiastic guy-friends.

Bhai..don’t look now. Blue tee at 10 o’clock

Dude! To my left. Square diagonal. White shirt and..wait...shorts *cheesy grin*

And me being this magnanimous creature *smug look*, took the latter part a bit too seriously. Finding efficient eye-exercise regimens for my male friends seemed to be my top-priority back then. Apart from trying not to flunk, that is. So the things being as they were, we got posted to Hyderabad and the batch was scattered all over the existing Infosys DC’s. By random providence or fate, I got the city closest to my hometown and I was pretty happy (actually 3 years down the line; I’m still figuring out if it is a good thing or a bad thing). Even though Hyderabad DC’s ‘homely’ look paled in comparison to Mysore DC’s opulence, I tried to console myself by going back to square one – checking out population of male variety that is

I don't know if you have had the same experience, but the snag I always come up against when I'm marshalling such an useful time pass is this dashed difficult problem - a certain kind of girl in the group (there is one in every group I suppose), who would consider this act as utter blasphemy. They will kick you under the tables when you are knee-deep in the said process, they will try to make useless small talk to distract you from following the object* of the regimen, or worse they will sometimes cover your eye-angle such that the object is not in focus. These women are usually of the married variety or the more evil-y committed array who don’t quite understand the benefits of this exercise regimen.

B is one such lady.

Now B has been married as soon as we landed ourselves at Mysore and is of the not-false opinion that I haven’t outgrown my college persona yet. So, when B stares open-mouthed not once pausing to breath, for a full minute, I HAD to follow her eyes. And I saw the object who had readily converted the dastardly B. Tall, lanky guy in the adjacent cubicle, explaining something over IP phone. Great! Irrationally handsome plus we already know where the guy sits. Awesome!

But just to get the an-eye-for-an-eye thing straight, I snapped my fingers in front of her eyes to get her back from la-la land. “Oye..chupa rusthum! What just happened there?”

And so it followed.
Being the liberated, novae convert, B took to exercise regimen as a duck to water. She was a natural. We were pretty discrete and efficient at the same time.

In the days that followed, we timed our lunches appropriately ;-), made sure we had our snacks in the pantry (in high-chairs, mind you) from where we could have a good view of the cubicle and even timed our juice-time after thorough homework. If you do these sorts of things so meticulously, the chances of not being spotted by the object are pretty slim. Hence - his blushing, when we were in vicinity, was hard to miss. That we don’t want. We wanted operation to be as discrete as possible. Having failed miserably, we decided to move on.

To another regimen...

One fine day after gorging ourselves on abomination that is the FC food, we were cooling our heels outside the FC, lazily eyeing the folks going in and going out. It was then we saw another tall, lanky guy who was walking into the FC. He was talking on his phone. We spotted him some days later, while sitting in the same spot, him talking on the phone.

And the third time we saw him, owing to our utter boredom or screwed up neurons, we decided to follow him. To his building. And follow we did, but not with discretion of CIA agents. But, with the bumbling enthusiasm of Amazon orangutans. Doing the trying-not-to-giggle-but-bursting-out-laughing in the most miserable way. Object does a head-turn, eyes the culprits and smiles. Operation Failed at first lap itself! Abort mission.

Needless to say, we moved on....

This was two years ago. B and A (another accomplice) are no longer with Infosys.
B is about to complete her Masters and now pings me to tell about the cute Iranian guy in her class. And another accomplice A is now happily married and in another organization, she says she hadn't stalked anyone at all since she moved away. Sad, I know!

Yesterday, when I was on my way out to catch the bus home, I saw TallLankyGuy1 playing ping-pong with TallLankyGuy2. Life has suddenly come full-circle.

I slinked away as discreetly as possible.

And, tried not to think of the conversation they’d have, had they seen me.

Seen that girl going there, she used to stalk me...

What no kidding, she used to stalk me too.

Girls these days...



DC-Development Center
*kindly excuse the blatant male-objectification. It is fun though :D

"I love you to the moon and back"

"Taylor Swift performed a new song,  “Ronan,”  to raise money for patients battling cancer. Her song “Ronan” specifically was intended to draw attention to cancer in children and to tell the story of one little blue-eyed boy.

Maya Thompson, Ronan’s mother, had no idea that when she showed up to one of Taylor Swift’s meet and greets, Taylor would already know who she was. Taylor and her family had been following Maya’s blog about her son’s fight against Neuroblastoma for months, and were devastated to learn that Ronan’s battle with cancer was over; he had died on May 9 2011, just three days short of his fourth birthday.

After reading Maya’s blog, Taylor was inspired to write a tribute, not just to Ronan, but also to children suffering from cancer and their families who support them. In the song, Taylor takes the point of view of Ronan’s mother, Maya, as she grieves her son’s passing. Although the song draws details from Maya and Ronan’s own life, the song is relatable to anyone who has experienced the heartache of losing someone dear to them."

This isn't a funny post. Or a story. Or an anecdote.
I just wanted to share this story, and this song with all of you people who read DOV.

I am a huge Taylor fan but this song isn't about her, it's about this 3 year old boy, and his mother. And I swear to God, this made me bawl my eyes out.

It's sad. The beautiful kind of sad.

Rest in peace Ronan. :]

P.S : If any of you are the 'buy-all-songs-on-iTunes-person' , do buy this song as all the proceeds shall go towards charity.

Love 

Dreamzzzzz...

Hey all,

I am back after a long time. How have you all been? Missed you darlings so much. With lots of things happening in life so much, I had practically no time to even think about writing. Yet we always come back, no matter how busy we are. That is the one of the things that I like about blogging. And likewise here I am. 

With this post, I thought I would share a few weird experiences of mine with you and know about your take on it. It is this thing about dreams. They always fascinate me but at the same time they freak me out too. I know our sub-conscious puts in a lot of mixed visuals to cook up it's own story and hence we cannot have any control over it. Also, we all would have had experiences which we would not even remember but would have come across a long time back, recurring as our present day dreams. All this I can accept and discern logically.

However, there are a couple of dreams that I have had that I cannot bring myself to accept and I still wonder how the hell I could experience certain feelings (both physical and emotional) when there is no way that I could have experienced them. For example, I had a dream a couple weeks back. It was a one where I could fly. My focus of this dream is about the fact that in the dream I experienced how it would be to fly. My body, my mind and everything about me experienced. it was not just some blur in which I assumed that I was flying. How can I experience a feeling that I have never encountered in life? My body doesn't even know how it would feel to fly. And for the record, if you think that this might be a correlation of the feeling of flying in a plane, no. The reason I have not yet traveled by flight in my life yet. I never had the necessity. So here I am yet to have a normal flight experience, but my dream made me feel the action of flying like a bird, with wings and all.

This is just an example. When I discussed these dreams with my guy, he suggested maybe there are things recorded in our DNA/genes down somewhere. So deep that we cannot fathom. He was also not sure, but he was just giving out thoughts that might justify this. Then, it would make all the multiple births and other things revolving around it true. 

I cannot think of any explanation to such dreams. Have any of you had or heard of such experiences? What is your take on it?

Until later,

Keirthana

Be Barfi!

Few movies in recent times touched my heart as Barfi did. 

Which is saying a lot - because I’ve quite a reputation of being stone-hearted.

Spread on a deeply saccharine canvas, Barfi! is a simple yet poignant tale of selfless love. It is set in 70’s which makes the goodness and the selflessness of the characters quite believable. It is quite a task to base one central character as mute-and-deaf and another as autistic, but Anurag pulls it off beautifully with the support of his wonderful actors. The disability of the characters never gets melodramatic in the sense that they aren’t specifically tailored to evoke pity and sympathy from the audience. The adorable way in which “radio on hua, amma off hui” from the song Ala Barfi is pictured, is proof enough for it. And you cannot NOT fall in love with Barfi and Jhilmil. Their characters are pinnacles of innocence, always finding happiness in little things in life making you aware of things you wouldn't usually think about.

The movie opens in present day and keeps going back in flashes to the 70’s. Barfi is a sweet guy from Darjeeling who falls in love with the already-engaged Shruti. Due to some circumstances, life takes Barfi to his childhood friend Jhilmil and the way their lives entwine with each other forms the crux of the story. This is Ileana’s debut in Hindi and she fits the bill. She carries out Shruti’s character with measured grace. But if you ask me, looking good in beautiful cotton saris, a big-red bindi, figure hugging sweaters is not much of a mean feat.

But doing that silly, lop-sided unaware-of-myself grin and looking extremely adorable in the ugly sweaters is! Jhilmil, small though her character, is the life of Barfi. She makes you laugh, she makes you cry, she makes you resent the ever-adorable Barfi and she makes you hate Shruti – never once overdoing any of it. I don’t know who styled PC, but sometimes you see the clothes and the way she carries them and your heart leaps up because they are so right and she does full justice to them. PC deserves all the accolades she’s been getting. As my friend puts it – you don’t see PC on screen, it is Jhilmil all the way. 

Move over Rockstar’s Jordan, because Barfi is here and how! Ranbir Kapoor proves yet again, that he can fit into any shoes quite comfortably and even make them his own. You see a Raj Kapoor in him and at times Charlie Chaplin and at times Mr. Bean, but everything has a distinctly sweet Barfi flavour to it. Priyanka and Ranbir’s onscreen chemistry sizzles in the most unexpected way. In the scene where Barfi finds a supposedly lost Jhilmil and they stand in the doorway hitting each other, and then stand close, noses pressed, waiting with bated breaths and closed eyes at the sheer joy of finding each other again – the obvious happiness and sublime pain tugs at your heart strings. And Priyanka had never looked more beautiful than the scene where she claims ownership of Barfi by coming infront of him cutting him off from Shruti. Kudos PC, you rock!

 

 At times, the movie teeters on the edge of being a whodunit with the robbery and kidnap sequences, but stays true to its sweet flavor of love. You cannot put a finger where it strays off the track sometimes, but you can see it come right back with its magical moments. Ravi Verman’s cinematography makes Darjeeling and Kolkata come alive in the most enchanting way. Makes you want to book a ticket to Darjeeling right away. Pritam’s background score and music are immensely melodious and add much meaning to the cheerful tone of the movie.

I’d recommend Barfi to everyone with all my heart. It will not only make you smile a lot, but will enrich you. Go for it!

Late..

[Image Courtesy:Google]

She woke up with a start. A quick glance to her alarm clock revealed 10 a.m. Dang! Late! Arvind wasn’t next to her. She called out a couple of time, feeling her temper rise. So he left for work on time without waking her. She couldn’t wait to let off steam hitting speed dial on her phone. 

She frowned as she heard the ringing, following the sound. The haze cleared as she spotted her parents and in laws sleeping in the living room, a little diya burning bright in the vicinity. She sat down with a heavy heart as memory dawned. 

Arvind had passed away two days ago…

On Chetan Bhagat, Phulkas and Gender Biases

I am seriously considering skipping today's Phulka making in favor of writing a retort to Mr Chetan Bhagat's article that Rumali posted for all of us to read. "In my house , my wife never makes Phulka, we outsource it to the help" was one of the most pompous words I'd read in a long while on this issue from a Guy. I'm pretty sure , any person with ample money could outsource cooking and cleaning to a well paid house hold help regardless of whether the wife is working or not. Wouldn't we all love a day when we could just relax and have food on the table, clean ironed clothes and a spotless house with out moving a pinkie finger if only we could afford it. So what, he doesn't expect his wife to cook for him because he has a decent cook employed, he doesn't expect his wife to do washing ,because a washer woman does it weekly etc etc..And he graciously lets wife make all the financial decisions for him. So, ultimately he has to do nothing , but gets all the credit for being feminist???

I am a working woman, a wife , a  mother and  a home maker . He is a working man,husband  a father and a home maker. And we  live in a far off land where any kind of help is UN-available.Day starts at 6:00 AM. I wake up, become the alarm for my husband and 3 year old son and put water on the stove to make tea. Put Idli in the Idli maker to cook, and rice in the rice cooker. The tea boils by the time time I brush my teeth and I wake up my husband with his morning tea. He then puts on you tube in blaring full volume with my son's favourite cartoons so that he wakes up in a good mood. We both spend 5 minutes sipping the hot tea, and then rush to get ready. One person then starts packing food (breakfast and lunch) and the other getting my son dressed.  This totally depends on the day and my son's whims and fancies, and then by 7:15 AM we are all ready to go to office.

We both love the  work we do .We have hectic schedules intermittently. We are both people with interests other than just work (I blog and paint , he plays cricket) and we love spending all the time we can with our darling son. The double income lets us buy some luxuries and  vacations. We discuss everything from paying bills to office politics. Some times , this means we let the house be a little untidy. Occasionally , we have no home cooked Phulkas (to take the Phulka metaphor) on the table, because I spent all evening playing with my son , and he spent the evening playing cricket. Another day, I might spend the evening throwing away junk mail or making travel plans on the Internet while he makes mouth watering Dosa and Sambar. Yet another day, I might be trying out a new recipe from the Internet , while he plays DJ with beautiful music in the back ground. 

It take two people and a lot of effort to run a family. If ,in the previous generation , work division was more based on the idea that men went outside more and women stayed in the house more. now the lines are fuzzier than ever. Both sexes go out to work are more or less equally qualified to make financial decisions, with more or less the same skill (or lack of ) home making skills. As long as both have the understanding that this project of making a house a home can be successful in the long run only if both of them try. It doesn't matter what, both both must pull their weight. Men, do not expect your wife to cook like your mom, keep the house in A order and do everything else for you as well , as work in office the full day, and if she actually does all of this , be sure to appreciate her for being the wonder woman that she is. Please do not consider it as a charity that you let her go to work and that you let her take part in important decisions.Women (I refuse to believe there is a class called non-working woman, the only difference is in payment), while your job is tough, handling a lot of office work and extra office work and paying all the credit card bills, debit card bills and other myriad bills with out incurring a fine is no easy task either.  Add to it the vehicle maintenance, house maintenance , getting repairs done in time. Your husbands aren't as free as you think they might be.

 What we need is not chauvinism, nor is feminism the answer. The need of the hour is mutual respect and understanding. And there is no place for ego. Nobody likes being told that the other person has power to decide what he/she can do.

 And I'll stop right here , because, me having spent all of my evening blogging and my husband having just finished up some office work , we really have nothing on the table. Looks like the day is just right for some joint cooking experiments.


P.S : I have been MIA for a long time , but been busy with lots of stuff. Catching up on all the posts in DOV after a while. Great to be back here.

A HEART TOUCHING POST BY CHETAN BHAGAT

'Some truths on Career Wives----Girls should read, but Boys MUST read...

Recently, I saw the recently released movie, Cocktail. The plot revolves around a philanderer hero who has to make the tough choice between two hot women. The uber-modern movie was set in London. The characters drank, danced in nightclubs and had one-night stands with aplomb. They worked in new-age aspirati

onal jobs like glamor photography, graphic art and software design. And yet, the guy eventually chooses the girl who cooks home food, dresses conservatively, wins his mother's approval and is happy to be the ideal Indian wife. In fact, even the rejected girl, a free-spirited, independent woman agrees to change herself. To get the guy, she is happy to cook and change her lifestyle to match that of the ideal Indian wife.

While the movie was fun, such depictions disturb me a little. When successful, strong women are portrayed as finding salvation in making dal and roti for their husbands, one wonders what kind of India we are presenting to our little girls.

Really, is that what a woman's life is all about — to make hot phulkas? Of course, i shouldn't be so bothered, many would say. It is a Bollywood movie. The commercial pressure to present a palatable story is real. Above all, the makers have a right to tell the narrative they want.

Yet, when our most modern and forward cinema sinks into regressive territory, it is unfair to our women. It is also depressing because deep down we know such attitudes exist. Many Indian men, even the educated ones, have two distinct profiles of women — the girlfriend material and the wife material. One you party with, the other you take home. The prejudice against non-traditional women who assert themselves is strong.

Let us look at another part of the world. Yahoo, a leading tech firm and a Fortune 500 company, recently hired a new woman CEO, Marissa Mayer. What's more, she was six months pregnant when she was hired, a fact she did not hide in her interviews.

Marissa will take some time off after childbirth and will be back at work later. She can manage both. There is something to celebrate about that. Marissa is a role model for women and even men.

I'd like Indian men to have an open mind about choosing their life partners and revise their 'ideal woman' criteria. Having a traditional wife who cooks, cleans and is submissive might be nice. However, choosing a capable, independent and career-oriented woman can also bring enormous benefits. For instance, one, a man who marries a career woman gets a partner to discuss his own career with. A working woman may be able to relate better to organizational issues than a housewife. A spouse who understands office politics and can give you good advice can be an asset. Two, a working woman diversifies the family income streams. In the era of expensive apartments and frequent lay-offs, a working spouse can help you afford a decent house and feel more secure about finances. Three, a working woman is better exposed to the world. She brings back knowledge and information that can be useful to the family. Whether it's the latest deals or the best mutual fund to invest in, or even new holiday destinations, a working woman can add to the quality of life. Four, the children of a working woman learn to be more independent and will do better than mollycoddled children. Five, working women often find some fulfillment in their jobs, apart from home. Hence, they may have better life satisfaction, and feel less dependent on the man. This in turn can lead to more harmony. Of course, all these benefits accrue if men are able to keep their massive, fragile egos aside and see women as equals.

Sure, there are drawbacks also in being with working women. But the modern age that we are in, the phulka-making bride may come at a cost of missing out on other qualities. Please bear that in mind before you judge women based on their clothes, interest in the kitchen or the confidence in their voice.

My mother worked for 40 years. My wife is the COO at an international bank. It makes me proud. She doesn't make phulkas for me. We outsource that work to our help, and it doesn't really bother me. If my wife had spent her life in the kitchen, it would have bothered me more.

Please choose your partner carefully. Don't just tolerate, but accept and even celebrate our successful women. They take our homes ahead and our country forward. We may have less hot phulkas, but we will have a better nation.'

Dedicated to the women we love ... 

P.S. I know I haven't been giving time to blogging these days and this post is not even mine. But when I read this piece by Chetan Bhagat, I couldn't stop myself from sharing this with everyone I know, I love. This is what reality is.

And I am going through a tough time, please bear with me fellow darlings. I will be back soon :)