Why My Favourite Word Is Maa – My Hero Who Is The Reason Who I Am Today!
If I am asked who the one person is to whom I owe most of what I am, I’d say my Maa. A strong woman who did not break in the face of her odds.
If I am asked who the one person is to whom I owe most of what I am, I’d say my Maa. A strong woman who did not break in the face of her odds.
Shaming women for asserting themselves and calling them ‘bad’ girls happens all the time. But I would rather do my thing than be one of the good girls! There is something about Indian society and its obsession with good girls. We often tell young girls that if you are silent and giving, you are good. And then, you are loved. In other words, we tell young girls that if you are good, you would be loved. Good basically means being nice, polite and giving. Growing up in the ’90’s these were the lessons taught to me. Good girls are not taught that boundaries are to be drawn. They are there for everyone, and she is loved by everyone. And popular media stressed on this thought.
What Matriarchy taught me: An Indian woman who grew up in a matriarchal family, Paromita shares lessons the strong women in her family taught her.
From her first poem as a class 3 student, Paromita Bardoloi has come a long way. A Featured Author at Women’s Web for April 2017, she shares more about herself here.
Long back, in the long summer afternoons of my childhood, my grandfather had something to say to my father. He said, “Not everyone is worth every gift.” My father was a very kind man. His goodness, came back to harm him. Even in your goodness, you need to be wise. You should not be good to a fault. This is how I see my father now.
Dear Daughter,
As I sit to write this, the smell of fresh mehendi is all around me. Yes, tomorrow is my wedding. Daddy sneaked me to his study where I could take some rest with everyone obsessing around me. Daddy’s study is my favorite place on earth. There is a small bed attached to it. It was meant to take a small nap at times, but for all the last 24 years of my life, I have just spent lazy hours in this small bed reading, writing, thinking, lazing, and maybe falling in love with Ahmed!
Not sure if I am the only one. But haven't you all seen reels and videos of men marrying two women and how happily they live? Armaan Malik tops the list but if you scroll through Instagram, you will see how it is a growing trend. There is this Rajpoot guy ( forget his first name) who is married twice and they make videos on YouTube and how the first wife truly loves the second wife.
This is the true story of a VP of a multinational company, a man who is far from ordinary, but who has been unable to have a truly loving relationship, lonely despite 'having it all'.
Some boxes just lie around the house; we seldom open them. Time passes like breath, unnoticed. Time passed through so many breaths; some unnoticed and a few loved. A dear friend wrote about her father. In just an unnoticed moment, I thought; what is that I would want to write about my father?
On the farthest of North-East -India lay a very sleepy town, it was so sleepy that time stuck itself to the roofs of the houses to rest. Not many people went in and out of it. People walked in the same rhythm and celebrated the same festival. However, there are so many humane stories that wove itself around it.
This is how Autumn comes in the morning while I sleep. Like a warm blanket. Like an early morning embrace. Like careless whispers. Like long conversations. Sometimes we fold it and keep it in our suitcases. Our clothes smell good. At other times we put it inside our salt jars. We use it while cooking. Or sometimes we use it to comb our hair. That's how we never get grey hair. Autumn comes as a sweet taste on the tip of our tongues. Like those sweets, we secretly ate during school time. Autumn is our favorite friend. It lingers. It's lazy. It's patient. Mostly silent. We miss it so much when winter comes to stay, chasing Autumn away. Winter is too talkative, it has stories of all 4 seasons. It thinks everyone loves winter, but we don't tell how our heart lingers in the softness of Autumn. Autumn is my favorite lover. It sheds the past and brings new smells each time. Each year. Each fall.
Dear Kiara,
I am often asked as a writer about my favorite word. I have always, without batting an eyelid said, “Maa.” The word itself brings me relief, joy, courage, and companionship. I find it very difficult to box my Maa in words. I don’t stay with her. She stays in Assam and I am in Delhi. But every evening we talk. And the conversations go on for hours at times. The relationship I share with my mother is beautiful and ceaseless because we can have any conversation with each other.
There is that one moment in life when you meet someone and you know, you are made of the same raw earth, the mad earth, and the soulful earth. It is always difficult to describe that moment, but within your heart and your soul, you know you were meant to meet and rejoice in each other’s company. She is a woman. I call her my soul sister.
This was first published on Twitter as a thread. And if I can say, it broke the Internet. My phone hung for 12 to 13 times because it was overloaded with notifications. Hope you enjoy the read too.
This thread went viral on Twitter. Had equal love and hate over it. I guess every media house carried it, Insta went on the rage that day.
#RocketBoys #Chandrayan3
Wrote this whole piece as threads on Twitter this June. Needless to say, it went viral. Read it here.
Went out for an evening walk with a very handsome boy. He says he is just like me, he too likes Tom and Jerry. And the walk went on, talking about cartoons. He talked about 'Antiks,' a cartoon he loves dearly. I am too old I realized to even know about 'Antiks,' so I let him lead the conversation. I kept nodding to his descriptions. I come from the time when Doordarshan showed, 'Jungle Book' at 11 am every Sunday then 'Talespin,' and 'Ducktales' would be aired. Sundays were the best days. My heart would beat faster every morning.