The Crimson Cat

Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall “You are mediocre, average and a big disappointment . No wonder you ended up this way ”  said her father, shattering her heart yet again. It had been a statement she was used to by now; having been the essence of every interaction she’d  had with her father through her growing up years. She belonged to a family of educationists; one that bred scholarly doctors, teachers, social activists and important people that manned important positions in important places that mattered to the majority. Excellence was ‘expected’ to be a part of her DNA.  The pressure to always be first was injected into her life goals schema during her vulnerable adolescence.” Nobody remembers the 2 nd  man who stepped on the Moon. It is 1 st  or nothing” , preached one of the elderly family members.  Constant reminders of the importance of being first in every stage of life (starting from class tests to sports and cultural activities and everyt...

Originally dated: 8 January, 2016 I have been busy mastering the act of procrastination. I had the best excuse to cling on to – I am a single mom. I mother a hyper active 2 year old. Lethargy and procrastination have long been my friends. How did I find these few minutes to write this down? Well, that’s the whole point. Just as I was beginning to believe that we (the momma-daughter duo) had hit saturation point of doing things in a day, she fell sick, very sick. A normal day in a (single, working) mother’s life is on auto pilot mode. Wake up, boil milk, respond to the morning cuddles or tantrums depending on which side of the bed you got off, play various versions of peek-a-boo, balancing a glass of milk or / and a plate of biscuits or / and a bowl of massage oil or / and a diaper or / and anything at all that would shorten the lifespan of the foreplay. The ONLY objective of a working mother on a week day morning, is to wrap up the games...

Foreword:  My story is no different from that of a lot of people out there. It is not as special as I think it is. This is a page from my journal. I hope at least one woman going through a similar phase reads this and finds solace. “Hello You! I understand your struggle. I understand your pain. This too shall pass and you will rise again”. Returning from a stressful workday with a terrible headache that put death to shame I realized there was no reason to hurry to get back home. It was anyway just an empty space that drank the last few drops of my passion and hope. There was no little D to welcome me with an endless tight hug; there was no Amma (mom) to apprise me of each minute of the day I missed. This place was a scary skeleton of what I had imagined my new home would be. I kicked my shoes off, dropped the bag right in the middle of the room, and threw myself on the bed with a sinking heart. This had become me. This is it-this is what ‘rock bottom’ would feel like. There is no ...

Stability — what does it mean to you? A job with the least risk of getting fired, a family/partner who doesn’t show signs of leaving you, a fixed income every month that helps you pay your bills, a promotion at work every 2 years, and an increased income linked to it, a home, a car, an annual vacation with your loved ones, a rough idea about how you will spend the next 5–10 years of your life…one, a combination or all of the above? I was unemployed for over a year prior to which I had jumped 4 mainstream corporate jobs in 6 years. Many successful corporate leaders predicted that I was heading toward collateral damage in my professional life. I always got bored with jobs easily. I was seeking fulfillment in every professional role that came my way, but the strings attached to corporate work, alias work politics, the huge amount of pretension that had to be sprinkled in every walk of work life, the idea of being innovative and available 365 days in a year to ensure a spot in your manag...

And then he began to dance. He had waited long enough; he had suffered and survived dry, barren days. He had taken on the blinding heat with grace and poise. Yes, he had waited enough for this dance. A dance that felt like the first kiss, a dance that was contagious enough to make those butterflies in the stomach catch on with his adrenaline filled moves. A dance to celebrate, to feel, to seek and to find. He had waited long enough.. Monochromatic earth spread in all directions around him; shades of brown were all he had seen in the last few months. There was dryness everywhere and it spread like an epidemic conquering lands and living beings. Amidst all the burnt earth stood a golden shower tree in full bloom, like a warrior who had won over all miseries nature threw at it. How can something so beautiful be created for a season such as this - he wondered. Do these yellow bouquets symbolize prosperity for real or is the heat making me hallucinate?  The freshness seemed t...

Women empowerment, showcasing of women as ‘no lesser breed’ and ambassadors of #respectwomen are in limelight now. All this hullabaloo over trying to prove to the world that women are on par with their male counterparts forced me and my band of girls to get into an hour long debate. We were meeting after years; some of us were married, some chose to get out of it and the some were busy mastering the art of single parenting. We were all in what may seem like an ‘anti-male’ spot in our lives; but none of us hated men. We've all had our good and bad times with them. I still have a few male friends who vibe with me like my own spirit.   In an attempt to showcase a woman’s caliber to grow and equate her output with that of a man’s (in scales relevant to him- ability to reproduce and bring up a child are not included in this equation!), we are only reconfirming our inferiority. The tales of a man qualifying as a pilot or he traveling to the moon are less dramatic than that of a wom...

T oday I write to that lump in my throat that announces the arrival of a series of howl-filled cries interrupted by brief phases of silence reserved for reflecting. My hands shiver, my head reels, and I am unable to breathe. I want to run as fast as I can, screaming my heart out, terrorizing the entire world with the horrendous noise of agony and self-inflicted pain. My universe, limited by Little D, me, our petty issues, and life, is under threat now. This magical universe of mine has been fed to fire. I can feel the heat, I am burning; I can feel the burnt meat against my charring bones, I see how ugly I look. I see Little D in a corner, flabbergasted by all the action and light around her. She shouts for me “Mom, fire – fire is hot, fire burns”. Yes, I had taught her that – or was it my mom? Well, she has always had 2 mothers. Maybe she was referring to the other mom - ammamma  – the more patient one; the better one. Fear is nasty, fear is unkind. It sweeps you off your...

Where is the finishing line and who is tracking time? We have all been running so fast for so long that some of us have clearly forgotten the ‘why’s. We were born and asked to join the marathon and sure, we did. Where are our kids, spouses and friends? I saw some of mine run past me and some are left behind. ‘To each his own’ and ‘you snooze, you lose’ define most of our core purpose at least at a superficial level. We have been asked to win the race, no matter what. We are allowed to push our friends, our fellow runners and take their spots, it’s OK to shoot and stab people where it doesn’t kill them to grab a more favourable position in the race. Who started it? Who gets to call the shots and choose the winner? Out of the corner of my eye I see a few onlookers with ecstatic faces and glowing lives. They are the ones who opted out; they are what ‘the runners’ call ‘losers’. I see them have time to sing, dance and smell the rain. I hear their laughter, I sense their bliss...