#lohriforher

January 13, 2014 § 2 Comments

Today is Lohri, a Punjabi celebration. Lighting a fire and waving phallic vegetables around it; forget what Wikipedia tells you about it being a celebration of winter solstice. Lohri is a time to celebrate your sons. Having a son is probably the greatest achievement in the wider Indian culture; if you manage it, you’ve basically succeeded in life. This brilliantly ludicrous attitude has caused the lowest ratio of females to males in India since records began.

Well, screw you, Lohri. We’re turning you on your head. We’re celebrating Lohri for my beautiful niece, Siyaan. She deserves to be celebrated just as much as any other child. For how can we expect our girls to prosper if we stunt their growth from the beginning?

We’re celebrating life. Real, meaningful life, not just how many sons you have.  We’re celebrating Indian men and women making their mark on careers, travel, family, friends, hobbies, food, art.

Happy Lohri! Join us and celebrate Lohri for your daughters as well as sons.

#lohriforher

New Year, New Me

January 13, 2014 § 4 Comments

I’ve recently felt a need to develop my writing skills (or current lack thereof) so I’ll be experimenting with something they call a lifestyle blog. I’ve always found it difficult to talk about myself; I consider myself to be in a happy medium somewhere between self-obsessed and self loathing, and I’m not very keen on attention. In fact, I can’t think of much worse than being that person who only ever talks about themselves; whose outfit problems are the end of the world; never mind extreme poverty, violence, gender inequality… But when else would one drag oneself kicking and screaming out of one’s comfort zone than January, the month for change. The month for running at 6am, eating celery and making bucket lists. New Year, New Me. I strut confidently into the abyss of the world wide web, tenacious, narcissistic.

Wait, what?

January 1st is just another day for me. I’ve spent far too many January 1sts telling myself that this was the year I would finally achieve all of my goals. But really this time. By April that poor neglected list I made has been demoted from the notice board to the drawer labelled ‘Not Very Important’. By September ‘get a six pack’ and ‘be exhibited in World Press Photo’ tumble suddenly into my head while in the queue at Waitrose. The floods of guilt carry me home, clutching my quinoa and kale to my heart as if they, too, might slip from my attention. I fantasise a funeral for my aspirations, left unrealised by my disregard. The kale bows its furry head and weeps. The quinoa spills an arc of uncontainable tears which multiply in size when they mingle with the wet ground (it’s raining heavily, of course). Earth to Earth, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust. Guests attempt to discreetly wipe ever expanding quinoa from their shoes. With December guilt transforms into determination and I begin January armed with a new list. I might as well have used the previous year’s list and at least been a little more environmentally friendly. That’s it! New year’s resolution: Save paper. Recycle. Plant trees.

Where Am I?

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