My Gender

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“Because of your gender…”

“Because of your gender…”

“Because of your gender…”

It has become a revolving chorus in my head. I have been stubbornly silent for the past month – afraid of what might just spill out if I start ranting. I think I have calmed down enough to finally talk about it.

Basically, it has been a circus at work and I have been trying for a while to make a few horizontal transitions into a new department. I have never quite handled something like the new opportunity and the prospects are exciting as well as challenging.

While the murky politics of the movement played out, I got to meet with the super-duper-head of the new department a few weeks back. We are talking about one of the movers and shakers of the company and I couldn’t believe I was getting to speak to him. I walked into the conference room with my head held high and overwhelmed with what I had prepared to speak with him.

And it went downhill like nobody’s business. Not because he wasn’t happy with my work or my skills, not because he didn’t speak properly with me.

But because he stated precisely four times, that I am going to have tough time adapting to the new role given my gender. Given that I am a female. That his advice to other folks is different as they were all men. 

Four times.

Without even looking or knowing about my background or the work I have been leading these past few months. 

I chose to keep a straight face and not respond during any of those circumstances. I was expected to, I think, but I couldn’t dignify those comments with a reaction. I was afraid of what might spill out. I have never faced such blatant sexism – it is usually equivocal. And it delivered a sucker punch to my self-confidence.

I have cried and vented enough to people and I do not wish to put it writing – I am wondering if it makes me cowardly to want to forget it happened. It has been almost a month and I am trying hard to not dwell on it during those idle moments.

On one hand, I want to prove that any role is beyond gender.

But more than that, I just want to forget the way I felt when I walked out of that room – small, shrunken and insignificant.



Dancing Lessons

In the quiet solitude of midnight,

Bare footsteps tread softly on rose petals.

She carried a bouquet of baby’s breath

To keep her fingers from trembling.


It was the twilight before winter began,

That started her first dancing lesson.

Like soft silk she stepped into his arms

As a crown of snowdrops feathered them.


Under the chandelier of moonlight and stars,

They swayed to the music of whispered laughs.

Her two left feet guided almost weightless

By the confident signals of his eyes and mouth.


Losing track of time as the moon traversed west,

They spoke of lifetimes and memories and silence.

Impending rays of dawn brought incomplete farewell

Of the rare kind when strangers in love bid goodbyes.

Some moments to cherish 🙂

Not Detached – Jotting

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I am not expressive. That is not to say I don’t feel things – it is just that when I do, I am not exactly intense and emotional about it. Holds especially true for hospitals, clinics and general information when informed about how a person is sick or tragically passed away. I cannot work up appropriate responses and gestures! Don’t get me wrong – I do feel concerned and empathetic … But I just don’t fall into the depths of it?

The cold white tiles, the green robes, the pristine beds and the smell of disinfectants just do not register. The somber faces, the awkward slouch of a long wait and the muffled sobs fade into background noise.

I am not saying this correctly. Maybe what I want to say is… I isolate my heart from the whole scenario. I run from the emotion and stick to the situation, keeping my practical wits about me. I don’t get swayed with anxiety or trauma. And it is not a conscious decision drawn out of some childhood memory or incident. I just happen to be like this. For example, when my grandfather passed away – I was very much there. I was upset. For a few seconds, I was shocked and went into a corner so that I could just cry for a moment in peace. Once done, all that remained was looking after the family and friends gathered, making tea and taking care of grandma while the logistics were being handled.

But I can’t just explain this with being an introvert, can I?I know I am not disconnected. I know I feel things. I do get affected. I care…

I just don’t know if and how I should tell you about it.

Thank you Linda for getting me into the writing groove again….The Just Jot It January 13th prompt, brought to you by Charlene Bullard is: “Hospital.”


I tied it. I tied the knot. I got hitched. I was one half of a wedding ceremony. My arms and feet are inked with henna, almost still abloom in bridal glory.

I don’t know how I am expected to feel. Surreal maybe? With my head or heart up in the clouds. Floating and full of light. Instead – I just feel happy and normal! And very much down to earth. I have been eating like I never ever have so no way am I full of light ready to float. My heartbeats have not picked up… they are very calm. They feel safe.

That is definitely a good thing right? I look at D and I go… Ah! It’s you. We have kinda known each other for 6 years now and for the better part of the last 4. I just go… It’s you! All this time…

It happened on December 24. It was a day full of sunshine and promises 🙂 A good way to start baby steps into forever!

Merry Christmas!! 🙂 And a very Happy New Year! I hope 2017 starts well for our promises and resolutions and diets! 🙂


I moved.

I still can’t get my head around it. It has not yet sunk in since I am at my parents’ at the moment and will be around for some time. But I know when it is time to move out of this oyster, I will have to accept and embrace the fact that the place I have learnt to think of as “home” is now…. not.

I had ample time to prepare for it. I took my time with the packing and boxing – savoring each moment and the memory it brought back. But still, I could not stop the torrent of lasts that went through my head. The waterworks came without warning and the entire calming process would come to a grinding halt.

I am stubbornly avoiding thinking off what is coming. I already feel tired at the thought of making yet another place my “home”. Warming up to its corners and quirks and making them my own. I almost feel scared of it. Because I know even that is going to be temporary; just as I get comfortable I will have to uproot and replant myself all over again.

I have always thought of it as a “gardening” process. When you leave a place, you cut off a stem. It hurts and it bleeds – it is sore for a few days. Then slowly it starts filling out and grows into a new one… That is how growth happens. But nobody talks about the time lapse between the cut and the growth. It is sensitive and more susceptible to harm during those times; if you don’t  look after it there is a chance it can just wither away. That’s a part of you that has died.

My head and heart are in that space right now. The healing process has just begun but I am scared this time. And I just hope, the stem doesn’t wither away before it has had a chance to bloom.

I hope this also explains my absence. How are you doing? 🙂