So proud of the women on the streets of India tonight
And to men in solidarity, you are the ones standing
Between me and wondering what if the whole world
Is one Ivy League Group Chat
Where everyone is either vulture or voyeur
Or keyboard warrior
Archive for the ‘Real Talk’ Category
Not All Men Get that Ek Kachodi Do Samosa Need not Be About Them
In Poems, Real Talk on 2 October 2026 at 8:00 pmMy very round and not quite square average
In Real Talk on 4 September 2025 at 1:44 pmAt some point shortly before the pandemic I discovered that my phone kept track of my steps. I had had fun with pedometers before but never carried them consistently. Or they stopped working. In their heyday they were even among the give-aways at trade conferences, something that a vendor might put their logo on, like a pen or pen drive. Later when things got fancy with Fitbits and smart watches, I went digital in the sense of counting as I walked and noting every 100 on my fingers. Only I’d do paces as that was easier to keep count. Home to vegetable market – 300 paces. Deonar depot to home – 600 paces. If I recall correctly the young cousins in the family even started a spreadsheet to keep a daily tally and compare notes. Heady times!
Read the rest of this entry »Run Me Down
In Field Notes, Real Talk on 9 February 2019 at 12:38 pmGuest post by Hema Gopinathan in a new series called REAL TALK where Ask Amma explores issues we face when engaging with womanhood.
I look wistfully at the cute pair of neon running shorts with its matching tank top that I picked up from a big fitness brand store. An expensive waste, when I am fully aware, having been told over and over, that if you want to run you can even do it in a salwar kameez or a saree. The critical point to remember is to never call attention to oneself. Because that’s very bad, calling attention and any consequence would entirely be my fault. So I put on a pair of leggings long past their lycral prime and a XXL t-shirt in a colour that can be only described as puke-sia. The hair is bound tightly as are the breasts, so as to not swing and you know, call attention.
