The Story of a Princess

As a girl, I was very fascinated with barbie dolls, fairy tales and dragons. The fascination has not yet died and fairly tales still intrigue me, make we want more.

As you readers must have realized that the Mumbai local train is a great teacher. All you need is an observant eye. But my today's story relied more around what I observed outside the station. Daily as I cross the subway, I see a group of beggars placed very strategically in the subway. Previously they used small children, thanks to slumdog millionaire the focus has now shifted to older women. Seeing them daily you realize they are not usual beggar. The way they dress, the way they behave and most importantly their clothes are not soiled. They don't beg but just sit around waiting patiently for that nickle sound to hit their bowl.

These old ladies are employed by someone to beg and they are merely paid a salary. The princess in this story is not born out of royalties, she is rather a normal women who is still probably working for her prince. Not a proud moment for her but life's brutality never left her with an option. She needs this job to take care of her offspring and her husband.

When a girl child is born, its not a proud moment in people's lives. They bring her up as it's their job. All these girls were taught that your prince charming will come on a white horse and will hush you off to his palace. When the time for their marriage arrived, they went with what their heart told them to do and gave it their all. This is when disappointment sets in. The failure of not living like a princess starts killing them inside. Kids grow up, husband's are not worthy of their sacrifice, the poor princess is now forced to beg to make ends meet.

It's a humbling story of every women. I can't change their fate but can express my thoughts. My princess is tired and old,  but still putting up a strong front. These women are every princess in their own right. Beautiful from outside and inside. Thier demons are poverty, hunger and society, still they continue fighting. Life is not a fairy tale, but things get really bad when we give up and over think something too much. Specially something that we can't control. Take each day as it comes and smile. It may not resolve the issue but at least help you fight it better.

So next time you see an old lady begging... Don't consider her to be helpless.. but rather a fighter who has not quit living.. A princess in every every true sense.

God bless..

THE CELEBRATION OF “ME”

Diwali is around the corner.. Yipeee… It of course means that there is amazing goodies that I get to eat during this time. My diet is rightfully tossed outside the window and devouring fried chaklis becomes my eternal right. Diwali is a very Important festival in India and a very concrete  part of my life. Though we never celebrate this festival in our house, we did so in our locality. Bursting cracking, chatting with friends, having a street war with the children of the other localities, showing off my new clothes etc etc etc….

Flashforward 2016 , nothing seems to change. The gully war have become more corporate and moved to air conditioned place. These are now called aisle and cubicle. So like very year, we planned on a gala Diwali office festival.  An entire day of celebrations, bling clothing and games.  Stratergizing the event two week before the celebrations, we decide to dress in a traditional saree.  I don’t own a very glamorous collection of sarees cause its one of those wears that I rarely wear. The one which I wore last year obviously, I cant repeat them again, so I plan to buy a saree. I come home and excitedly tell my mother that I want to buy a new saree. My mom most instinctively tells me that “From now onwards you will never wear any saree again. You looks disgusting and like a very old women. When you wear a saree the entire world laughs at you. Don’t make a fool of yourself and me”.

Honestly I was expecting my mother to reject my notion of wearing a saree caused its one attire that she never liked, but these words took me by surprise. I was disappointed. I left the topic, but it never left my mind. I just realized that there was not one moment in my life that I was every appreciated for. I grew up being told that I am wrong.I always have been, I don’t analysie, I don’t this and don’t that, the blacksheep  etc etc etc. I was never once told that you are different and its ok to be one. Never heard an appreciation, never did anything right. I don’t blame them. I am not like other kids, but my difference was never celebrated. Hmmmm.

Well, disappointments bring you to think and think very hard. Saree in this story is just an example of how we let other change our thinking. You should wear this, you should think that, we live in a society, we are answerable to them blah blah blah blah. We start living a very pre conceived notion of what is right and what is wrong. Things are that traditionally done are right cause its just done and we should do it too. I have never understood this concept and probably will never understand as well. I do things because it makes me happy not because I want to show the world.

This bring me to a very important realization.  I know I am different and I am very proud of it. At 32 I am fat, not married, don’t have kids, but that does not mean I am less me. I am proud to be me. Don’t let society norms obstruct you from finding your true self. Focus your energy on doing the right not on thinking what is wrong and why it happened. Rejoice because if you are still alive, it means that is lots for you to do. Today I celebrate “Me”….

BTW… I am still buying that saree for my self.