Rain, books and music.

My craving for filter coffee and hot bajjis kicked up marking the beginning of the South-West monsoons. My bedroom window facilitates the occasional splashing from the outside downpour compelling me to look up from my kindle and right out of the window. I can see

the cold hearted Ms.Havisham, the proud Estelle and the boy who is head over heels in love, Pirip. All the characters from my eBook,The Great Expectations are engrossed playing themselves against the backdrop of pitch black quadrangle. The garden is disappeared and a stage is raised in its place. There's this song that's being played on my playlist, 'Yeh Fitoor Mera...' and then I realize that I'm falling in love with that Charles Dickens and this Arijith Singh. 

Books and brains are interlinked and entwined. What you read is mapped by your brain through the inner cornea, per se. Isn't that amazing? And the showers are just the magical quotient needed. I don't know how many times you have read the same book but it's a different feeling altogether reading the same book while it's raining right outside your window. The cold breeze playing the prank by your ears, thunder & lightening insisting you to look away from what you are reading once a while, the scattered spatter on your book coercing you to carefully wipe it off with your fingertips and the smell of that rain soaked sand is all it takes to you to that brain mapping called Disneyland of your visual effects. You would see all those signature characters that touched your heart from your sub-conscious past till the conscious present. 

When it rains and everything else is all quiet (especially when both kids are in bed), the uproar of the water storm sounds like that rock music you never want to miss. It's the time when you want to break open that door to nostalgia against the rock music sound because you know it's got your back. On the top of my head, Mr.Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, Scarlet O'Hara and Rhett Butler, Sirius Black, Col.Brandon and Marianne, Professor Dumbledore, Gatsby and the like are some of them who make me homesick sometimes. That's when Rafi, Mukhesh,Kishore and the like help. There are a lot of things that rain makes you think of but beyond books and music there's nothing that stays with you for a lifetime! 

Anatomy sucks, so much for wisdom in life?

" How are you doing my dear, you look very well." My dentist greeted me in his usual style.
"Really? Then what do you call this swelling on my face?" I asked sarcastically.
"Oh that, I would just say that you have added a kilo or two." he said it with a grin while I rolled my eyes. 
Ouch, that hurt my face !!!!

He took a look at the problematic area and announced that my wisdom tooth had gone rogue. How dare it did! 
"What would you suggest?" I asked fearing the unspoken solution.
"Well, get it out." He said it as a matter fact.
"Or?"
"Or get it out." He grinned again.

Oh man, so much for wisdom. Neither I had any nor I'm going to retain my tooth. Anatomy sucks , doesn't it?

"Yeah well, thanks for being so nice." I mocked.
"Yeah well, I'm a dentist and my livelihood depends on how nice I am."
"Dentist and Nice are like oxymoron, isn't it?"
"Yeah well, most people would omit the first part of that word. But I wouldn't blame them."

I went back after the swelling reduced to have my teeth extracted. He said I needed to get two of them out on one side at once. Ouch, the very thought of it set my pulse high and dry. But, did I have any choice? He took a look at my face when I walked in and said
"Oh god, the swelling is still not reduced?"
"Are you kidding? That's my original cheek there" 
"Oh is that so? Boy, you have work to do then."
"Nope, that's called baby fat."
"You are not a baby."
"Yeah well, it's the fat that I added when I had my babies and hence baby fat."
"Hehehehe, whatever makes you feel better."
I held a forceps between my fingers and threatened him with it. 
"Yeah sure, if that makes you feel brave. But once you are in that seat, look at the forceps again and then we will talk, that is, if you can."

Well, who can argue with an old dentist who knows his way around other people's teeth. I stuck my tongue out like a kid and plopped down in the chair. He looked like someone working in a mine or a tunnel with a flash light attached to his head but it was not my turn to laugh, I remembered.

"Is it going to pain?" I asked , worried to death.
"Nah, what this? You mean like pulling the third molars which are crooked and half buried under your thick gum? What do you think?"
I cast him a look but he didn't care. I'm sure he's used to those looks from all his patients in his life time of experience. Old bugger!
"Don't worry, the difficult part is injections and once that's over, it's smooth as butter."
He tried to comfort me with whatever he had known.
"Yeah right, Injections, that's the hard part you say? You know how many I have taken those during my gestational diabetes phase?" I mocked him.
"Well, suit yourself." With that he held my face up and stuck a needle at the back of my mouth.

Oh god, he was right. That hurt....like hell and then, there was this numbness that spread around my jaws followed my by lower lip hanging low without my control. Oh god, do I look like Sid's granny now? I guess I did but it was blissful to not know what went on after that. He repeated the same process to remove my upper third molar too but thanks to him and his staff for taking care of me through out. 

"Here, he handed me over a bowl of ice cream promptly and said
"After half an hour, have this and you will be back to normal soon with a little help of pain killers."
Well, it's been 4 days since then and I still have 2 cheeks and a little more on right side. Two more teeth to extract next month. Till then I'll shut up and bite my lip when I can still feel them.

Thanks to my male toothfairy for paying up my dental bills and taking care of kids that whole day and the following weekend. Dental is no joke mister!

One's life is one's right to do things!

After having accepted that I'm socially challenged, I have started making attempts at overcoming my handicapped self. You know how they say, you first have to accept the problem to fix it. So, here I am. I decided to test waters by interacting with one of the housekeeping women since I thought that was the level 0 but what I didn't know till then was , there was no level 0. I guess I'm like Po, I set standards as I roll on. Well, there's a happy thought that I'm like the Kung Fu Panda except, the fact that I also have the same sized belly as him but I guess I should remind myself about looking at the silver lining only.

I spoke to this woman casually, asking about her family and kids. She said she didn't have any kids yet, so I apologized for asking. She didn't seem to mind, instead, she said it's only natural that people ask and she gets asked many times. I felt good about making an attempt to know people around. Then I guess it was too soon to conclude. She then looked at my little girl in the pram and said that she was very cute and that everyone should have daughters as they are the reincarnation of Goddess Lakshmi. I reacted in haste and told her that I didn't like the comparison even a tad bit. It's not fair to little girls when people pin down their expectations on them or blame them for ill fate.

I have always felt that 'the Lakhsmi is born' is not a compliment. It's belittling to women of all age. Why are girls money banks to the homes they are born in or to the homes they might step into later. Have you ever heard people say 'Kubera is born' when little boys take birth? It's always 'It's a boyyyy." So why can't it be just 'It's a girrrrrl'? Anything else sounds like you are consoling yourself for having given birth to a girl. That's my opinion and I meant to explain it to her but when I looked at her grin and blink at the same time, I realized that my intent was lost in transit. So I closed my mouth which was ready to present my case and chose to smile before moving on.

 That same day when I came down for my night walk, I overheard her telling her fellow housekeeping woman that 'this madam doesn't like that her second child is a girl.' I rolled my eyes silently and turned on the Bluetooth on my phone and head phone. Just before I pressed play I bumped into a fellow walker who had told me that she was into literature and stuff. She asked me what was wrong that I was rolling my eyes. 
I said  " Looks like I have contracted foot and mouth disease." 
She responded in disbelief "Just how?". 
I thought pun was intended so I chose to reply "I have been putting my foot in my mouth of late and hence the foot and mouth disease." 
"Oh God, that's so disgusting. Why would you do that? Stop before your kids pick up that habit." She spoke looking aghast.
"I guess I should." With that, I pressed the play button on my phone and took off after waving to her.

It often makes me think that there's some problem with me. Otherwise why would I find it hard to make small talk or make friends in the neighborhood. I guess I have an unnamed phobia, or they just might name it after me! I made an attempt again. I spoke to that fellow walker again on another night when I could muster a little courage and some confidence. She was sad for some reason and I didn't know if I could ask or not. I was in a dilemma. I took a decent approach "Is everything ok?" She seemed to take it well, in fact she answered enthusiastically "With me, ok but with the world, not ok." I didn't know how to respond to that. "Why would you say that?" I asked. 

Before she answered, a young girl went past in her car, driving out of the premises and waved at my fellow walker. She waved back promptly with a big smile. She spoke even before her wave died out. "Look at this Prathyusha, she got pregnant and she's not even married." Now, how would one respond to a comment like that? I wasn't just wondering, I was seriously asking if anybody knew what to do, inside my head. "Welll Di, everyone has their lifestyle, you know. One's life is one's right to do things." She replied immediately to what I said. "Then why would she commit suicide?" Now I was speechless. I wanted to get to the bottom of it now. "Who Di? You just waved at her. You mean she attempted suicide, not died, right?" She laughed at my ignorance of things. " Come on Geetha, I don't know this girl's name. She stays in the flat next to mine and we wave now and then. I'm talking about the TV serial actress Prathyusha Bannerjee. She, ofcourse, died. It was in the newspapers too, didn't you read that?" She laughed again at my stupidity and lack of knowledge about worldly affairs. I nodded, smiling sheepishly !!!!!

I feel like a fool but I'm not going to give up just yet. While I was too full with how people don't get me crap,I have realized now that it's how other people might feel too. I've decided to make an effort to understand what one is saying without interrupting with my views and opinions. It's possible for all types of people to co-exist if you just be patient and suppress your urge to keep explaining yourself every time. 

My six sigma project has just taken off and to begin with I have found the top 10, most popular TV serials, that people watch here in my neighborhood after, carefully completing my census with most of them. I have hatched a plan to join the sorority sisters in a way that's approved by them, there by overcoming my social awkwardness. Now even if there's a re-run of 'The people Vs OJ Simpson' or Downton Abbey or the likes, I still switch to browse Colors, Sony, Zee, Star or the likes. Now my next important lesson is to stop sighing before switching the channels. 

P.S: Tips are welcome

In the name of the father - A Eulogy!

I think I was 10 or 11 when I first saw him. His black curly hair swayed to the tunes of breeze while his eyes emitted kindness. He smiled always against the backdrop of thick mustache and beard. He was the most chivalrous and ruggedly handsome man I had ever seen with an old fashioned charm. He could disarm anyone with his mannerisms.

 I'm sure he could have been anything he wanted but he chose the path of God. A man with the aura of an angel but looks of a ruffian, was always seen getting his hands dirty unlike men of his stature. He personified the saying 'work is worship'. In his old pair of blue jeans and a tee, he would go about his laborious work from, carrying and laying bricks to, cementing it with his own hands. I can proudly say that he built my school.

I remember vividly, holding his fingers and walking all around jumping and hopping. He would always spend tremendous amount of time playing with all of us and knew the names of each kid by heart. What drew us closer to him is not very clear but I'm taking a guess now, I think it's because he was so unconventional and very humane. He was every inch human as opposed to any Godmen. He reciprocated our feelings, he took sides as against the so called impartial ones, he became one of us within no time. 

I have a lot of memories of him of which, not even one unpleasant. I don't remember him in his white robe much and I think it's because he preferred to serve God by doing his duties than praying with in the enclosed walls. He took interest in carving and molding us into fine citizens than making us memorize the verses from any holy book. Since couple of years I had this urge to look him up but due to various reasons I kept on pushing the thought to the back of my mind and today, I kick myself for doing so. 

Father Chasara, our beloved visionary man from my school, is no more today but I know for a fact that he will always live in our hearts no matter how many Godmen may come and go!

Pesudo Journalism and its by-products!

You know how they find French or Greek people more desirable? Yeah, I don't get that. French people with thick accent is supposed to be sexy but Asians with the same nuance are not, I wonder why? Is it the skin type? We are black, brown and/or yellow and they are, well, pigmentally challenged??? Nah, it's not a spiteful post on my blog. It just amuses me how people across the world react to the same phenomenon very differently when I have difficulty deciding who's sexier, Amitabh Bachchan or Robert De Niro! 

We need to learn how to be secular from Brangelina couple. They adopted kids from all around the world and the entire family manages to be on page 3 for one or the other reason. Whether her mastectomy or diversified adoptions, it's news to one and all. I wonder how the faces of those women, who have actually survived cancer and lost their assets, look like. Do they look like Jolie? But publicity is not limited to western celebrities. You remember our lady, who's not a celebrity but became one since she ran without a tampon and created awareness around it ???? What's all that about? 

She says it's a taboo in India, so she ran without a tampon to nullify the stigma. I don't understand how? And where's the cause? There were people who worked their ass off to ace the marathon but unfortunately all it required was, the absence of a tampon and she stole the show in a race against sweat breaking work out and practice. Since my husband is into running, I have a fair idea how much effort goes into that. His running buddies and him work all year long to achieve their target but tampon was never one of the criteria to be met till that day!

There's so much furore created by pseudo journalism that it makes me wonder, whether racism, bad publicity, intolerance and the likes are just the by-products of it. Even in India, we have so many conflicting views and so much hatred towards each other that 'unity and diversity' sounds like a mockery. Democracy has never been a laughing stock before I guess. I pity the Russians who thought otherwise but the grass is always greener on the other side fellas! 

One good thing is, the diversity we showcase to other people, may be the reason as to why we don't have a national language at all (people who keep imposing that Hindi is our national language Refer the article from The Hindu here and Wikipedia Info) but 22 officially recognized languages (Assamese, Bengali, Bodo, Dogri, Gujarati, Hindi, Kannada, Kashmiri, Konkani, Maithili, Malayalam, Manipuri, Marathi, Nepali, Odia, Punjabi, Sanskrit, Santali, Sindhi, Tamil, Telugu, Urdu, English). If you pull out an Indian Rupee, you will see the alphabetical listing of all 22 languages and I'm sure it was done as a sign of equality to one and all belonging to different parts of India. That's another way to unite India besides cricket!

Sports, Food, Movies, Music and so on. If we have the right lens, the world becomes a better place for us and our children. We don't need the cheap 3D glasses handed over to us by media and power hungry people. Let's reason it out and unite people. 

Unite India, Unite Nations, Unite people from all over the world and say yes to right kind of journalism and a better attitude in life! 

Nomad and lands of unknown!

Whatever we become or wherever we go, they say, the inner self remains unchanged. So then, it must be true why I'm such a nomad at heart! 

Every life style has its pros and cons and if it has none then it's an immobile one, definitely not worth living. Often it happens that once we grow our roots in someplace, we fall in to the comfort zone and get complacent. The older the roots, the harder it becomes to uproot oneself and get a new life. Moreover, we might even feel who needs a new life? Surprisingly, I do, more often than not!

At the risk of being called a careless person, I want to say one thing. Nomadic life has more to offer than one realizes it. We learn from life better than what we learn in schools. It's the cooler version of Educomp and yet more efficient. People often talk about alternate schooling or under-the-tree-classroom-learning and the likes. But the thing is, I'm less concerned about schooling or its alternatives and more inclined towards empowering my family and myself with life skills. What do you call it? Unschooling? No. Living? May be! 

 When you are a teenager or even when you are in 20s, you think you are adventurous. There's certain itching in the gray matters to try out something new but it's limited to strokes of adolescence until one day when we all give up and settle down. Nomadic way of life is way different than the experiments we try out when we are young, in a limited laboratory called one life. That's not what I'm talking about. Smoking, drinking or orientations do not define nomadic life, it's more to do with hippies' lifestyle. Nomads, on the other hand, are survivors. They have known better things, have seen more places, much wiser than any of us who have never attempted anything revolutionary in life. 

I want to experience how it feels when you look into the eyes of a stranger and smile, without alarming the other person and at the same time, not feeling insecure myself either. What do we all wait for to start anew? When is the perfect time to start afresh? I don't think there's any particular time or thing that we need to wait for. Why not start, like right now? Blow the conch for a new beginning, pack all your bags, leave everything and everyone ever known to you, far behind? My heart has been aching for a journey like that. Walk into the lands of unknown, drop your guards, unlearn what life taught you so far and make room for new ones. Wouldn't it be wonderful? 

The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.

It gives me goose flesh just to think of the stories that might unfold before me or the possibility of many stories that I might become. I'm quite a story teller, not because I write. Because I do tell, to myself most of the times. It's such an enthralling experience that just the anticipation itself gives me a head rush, in a good way. For your entire life you are told to hang on to the old friends or some family because they say that's the right way. The life is always defined and categorized into right or wrong. And then, you get to be a nomad. You get the opportunity to doubt whether there's a right way to live your life? And that's the opportunity I have been looking for. 

Be a nomad, be a no one, be whoever you want to be and then tell the stories!

I choose Brave and not Barbie!

My little monkey girl seems to have got flubbers under her foot. I like how she jumps around, climbs up all the furniture, restless every minute when she's up. She likes to dance to the tune of some of my favorite tracks, no clue how she gathered that information though. She likes to make weird sounds and shriek with joy when she watches us admire her. The mother in me wants her to stay like that forever, freeze the moment, put a lid on my pickle and keep it with me for all the eternity. 

She's growing, I wonder I fear. She shakes her head and her thick black curly hair sways rhythmically challenging the wind and breeze. She screams with overwhelming joy throwing her pillows and toys out of her crib, she measures the carpet area when she's down on her feet. She's unruly and carefree, she's stubborn and persevere, she's loud and celebratory, she's all that one loves to be and much more. More importantly, she's mine!

And the fresh change is that, she's not much different from her brother. She loves cars and other vehicle toys, for some reason she seems to find the stuffed toys repulsive and I'm completely ok with that. Sometimes when I go looking for toys for little girls, these shopkeepers come up with dolls like barbies and alike and I ask why? I remember, all four of us hated barbie dolls when we were young since it imprinted definition of beauty in the  young minds and barbie still stands for that rancid thought. 

When I want my little girl to explore beyond all the limits, why would I want her to play with something that comes with 32' 24' 36 limit. Do these makers think that we want our daughters to get inspired by Kardarshians? Big boobs and bigger butts are not called ambition, it's called cosmetic surgery. I hope and pray that people stop buying these ridiculous ones for their young ones if they want them to be something other than synthetic tanks. 

I also wish they banned brainless fairy tales, why would any sane person wants to feed their little girls with irrational and baseless stories? Mine may not become a kick boxer or she just might but I don't want her to wait for some prince charming to rescue her. The new generation animated movies are more hopeful. Merida from Brave could be a role model. Brave shows that little girls don't have to be dreamy, naive and ready to fall in love always. They can be as real as they want to, as crude and unlady like, as long as they nurse an ambition to become something other than the damsel in distress. 

Professor Snape - A retelling of Beauty and the Beast

The child in everyone never dies or at least in most of us, otherwise Harry Potter series wouldn't be that big a hit, isn't it? That's the best thing about us, we believe miracles happen, magic happens and there's a happy ending to everything that happens. I guess that's why HP series appeal to us, in more than one ways. 

The first tragic death was that of Sirius Black. I mourned his death for days and my eyes start welling up every time I read 'The Order of the Phoenix' or watch that movie. If only Rowling could bring back the unfortunately defamed soul who had very short time to live his life before throwing himself at the sacrificing altar to save his godson. That was followed by Dumbledore in the next book. Rowling has no idea what happens to the one who reads it while she strategically takes away the legend and leaves us stranded on a mystery island. Oh Rowling how cruel are you? But bringing him back, even for only a couple of pages, did assure me that he could come back whenever he wanted. A legend, like himself ,will live forever or choose to die at their own will. Well, what a relief! He's like our Grand Regent.

Sadly, there are no tears shed, neither the heart bled nor any words said when a helpless Snape is bitten to death by nagini. His mortifying look, cold gaze and shady character didn't make the reader feel depressed, not at all. I didn't even pause to feel sorry for him but not out of vengeance, let me make it clear. There was no emotion attached to an incident like that which was expected or anticipated. Once his past unfolds before the reader layer by layer, was when I began to feel sorry for the unrequited lover called Severus Snape aka Professor Snape. Besotted he was by Lily Potter, continued to reserve a place in his heart for her even after she was long gone. And that's when my heart goes out to him and that's when Snape's many shades of grey turns to a pearly mystique foggy white. For me, that's another type of 'the beauty and the beast' milieu. 

Alan Rickman, a fine actor who essayed a character role like that, did more justice to him than my imagination could ever. I had no idea that a man who was so handsome and charming could do a stiffly, creepy Snape and send shivers running down the spine. Anybody(read women) who watched Sense and Sensibility was left hallucinating by an overdose of romanticism, of course it's because of  at Col. Brandon and it's needless to say Rickman played Colonel. He's handsome and yet chivalrous! (Is he the kind that my mom warned me against???)

Out of his countless works and performances, I will fondly remember the Colonel and the Professor since both draw similarities in being a quiet besotted unrequited lovers who never professed their feelings but never lost focus on things that needed their attention either.Now I wish there was a Rowling in real life who could bring back the professor from the strong jaws of Nagini, but only this time, there's no Rowling and the Nagini transfigured herself under the guise of carcinogens. 

Mr.Rickman, you will be fondly remembered as a curt Professor Snape with a smile on the face and as Col.Brandon with curling toes!

I lived and that's enough for me!

Another year gone by while a new one dawns upon us. It's the time that you are posed with questions about the new resolutions. Well, for people like me who have bid farewell to 34 years, it's a fact well-known and proven that you don't make any resolutions on the eve of a new year. Why? We all know why. You don't make anything just for the namesake as you know very well by now that it won't stand a chance in the roller-coaster hubbub of the thing you call life! 

New year's eve don't teach you a thing about what to do with your life, which means resolutions are made based on the pure alcohol quotient in  the body and is generally dismissed by your mind next morning while the remnants of alcohol is still evaporating. Mid thirties are hard to get fooled or overpowered by such factions. Phhht, it's the time to get cynical and not theatrical!! Anyway, all of the above is just to prove that I'm getting somewhere in life. What a relief! 

There are a few lessons I have learnt so far whenever I got a chance to learn (not that I had a choice) and that's widened my acceptance range for any change that takes place. In fact, I welcome any change with open arms now. Here are a few lessons that the life chose to bestow upon me. 

• Now I know any sale is like a forbidden fruit, the more it tempts the higher it costs.
• One last bite or one small bite of any tasty snack will not deliver you from evil.
• 'I will not have another pet' is not a permanent feeling.(It still holds good if you replace pet with babies!)
• 'Beers are only during summer,... for cool treatment' is a trap.
• This is the last page before I close the book is a myth and so is the last episode I'm watching before going to bed.
• Fixing the number of books one is going to buy during that visit to a book store is a big fat lie.
• I hardly wear sarees so I'm not going to buy anymore cotton or hand loom sarees...phhhht! Yeah you wish!(Why do you think you have a big closet? Doesn't matter even if there's no space in it.)
• Adam Rayner is the last crush of my life. (Oh really, then what about Sendhil Ramamurthy? and remember you have a thing for dark complexion that stays longer in your head than a blue eyed hottie.)

On the top of my head these were the best ones I learned from the year I started accepting my lessons, till 2015. I don't know what 2016 and so on hold for me. That reminds the biggest lesson I learnt in 2015. Three days after I delivered my little girl, I walked out of the hospital room holding her in my arms. My husband carried all the bags while my son helped him with a lot of little things. 

I could barely walk with my lower abdomen still hurting with c-section stitches and there was this stinging sensation from the metal clips they had used around my stitches, biting into my partially healed wounds. My legs were trembling slightly due to the weight they were carrying but I kept walking until we reached the parking with all the might. That's when I learnt the biggest lesson of my life, I need no one else but these three people. I delivered the baby and carried her home when we had no extra hands to help. My husband and son stood like pillars and we all made it home and to a very new and happy beginning. My son will know the kind of man he should be when he grows up and my daughter will know what it takes to be a fine man as her dad stands for all that's true and golden. 

That brings me to the last point. We don't need people to connect on a SNS or on a chat/messenger(this is probably an old lesson and many people have already learnt that but new for me). Those who stand with you when you need them is all you need through out your life. It slowly sunk into me that I should switch off and de-socialize as it makes no sense carrying on with the show. You have everything in life when you have a home and a family that you need. I know it's kind of hard to make new friends when you cross certain age but that's the beauty of life. You don't need to make new friends or try hard to keep up with the old ones. You just need to be courteous with people around you than trying to connect with the ones who have already phased out. Whatever you think you need in life is not necessarily on cloud but it lies right before your eyes on the ground where you can see it.  

When I'm looked at as an agony aunt by my nieces, I know what exactly to say now.

• Walk away from a man if he doesn't want to apologize when he hurts you. He should choose you and not his ego at any point of time but if he's not doing that then wish him good luck with his ego. Same applies to you too. It takes two to tango.
• If a man doesn't correct himself and chooses to blame your tempers on your monthly blues, slap hard and don't apologize. Apology is an attitude adjustment and if he's incapable of doing that then show him that you are capable of being unapologetic. But attitude adjustment is not just for men.
• If someone wants to keep a child alive in him , it's ok but he should know the difference between being a child and being a jerk. If it's the latter he's mistaking for child-likeness then god save him but you save yourself first.
• And more importantly if you don't have a man in your life like the one I have in mine, don't stop looking!

Time flies, it's 2016 and I'm the agony aunt. Posters of Virat,Varun and the likes, on the walls of my nieces' room hint that they are ready to step into womanhood and make those mistakes before they become a lady. Well, that's for women who aspire to become ladylike but some women choose otherwise. They drown into anonymity and withdraw into untold stories that the history easily forgets. Isn't that a wonderful feeling that you never existed after having learnt the only truth about life, that you lived! 

Happy 2016 everyone :-)