Juggling thoughts

At a conference I once attended to cover a feature story, a young, well-educated man presented his innovation: a kitchen appliance. His pitch leaned heavily on one phrase: “Made easy for housewives.” He repeated it often. And every time, it felt wrong. Not because the intent was malicious, but because the language was lazy. Two words: 'housewife and homemaker' are often treated as synonyms, yet they are separated by a deep line of respect. Then came a moment of quiet correction. A senior woman, who leads one of the state’s most respected women weavers’ collectives, stepped onto the dais. With grace and a smile, she said, “Let me correct this first. They are homemakers, not housewives.” The applause was instant and deserved. You see… a house cannot marry a wife. Because words matter. Because labels define worth. Let’s do the math society conveniently ignores: A full-time cook. A housekeeper. A tutor. A nurse An errand runner. A manager. A caregiver. That’s easily ₹25,000 a month...

 As I traverse the length and breadth of India, I'm constantly reminded of the deep-seated regional biases that permeate our country. The tendency to judge fellow Indians based on their geographical origins.  I feel media stance has amplified prejudices that has long being ingrained,and fueled divisions which isn't even necessary. The Blame Game: A Two-Way Street When deregotary incidents  occur in any  states, we often resort to blaming entire communities or regions.  Unfortunately, people from the North-East , including me, are not immune to this behavior either, frequently stereotyping every Bihari, every Punjaban, every Bengali, every Miyas and to an extent that every one from UP, MP, Maharashtra,Rajasthan are all non-local Biharis 😄. We sensationalize and generalize, attributing negative traits to entire groups. But it's not every North-Easterners who do that. So are no mainlanders the same.  The weight of misconceptions is heavy.  I've lost coun...

 Let’s pretend it’s the 90’s and we are reading Arundhati’s article on the morning newspaper. A long column, the kind that demanded your attention over chai, not a hurried look between two beeps of your phone. We are living in an ultra-fast world. A world that boasts itself on speed of delivery, of data, of consumption. Every day something new evolves, something transforms. Yet, in this acceleration, our lives are being reduced to those ten-second scrolls of distraction. We move too quickly between work, notifications, schedules. Always clearing schedules, never lingering.  No time for the real people around us. No time to pause, No time to read and truly absorb anything that exceeds three sentences because attention itself has become a luxury.  There was a time, not long ago, when friendship meant the freedom to knock on someone’s door without any notice, when affection was not measured in emojis but in cups of tea shared on lazy afternoons. Strangely, today we must fir...