To me, Navratri has always been associated with Maa Durga. Though born in a Tamilian household, my childhood and youth was spent in communities with a predominantly Bengali population, so Durga Puja is a part of my cultural heritage, not Navratri golu.
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The frenzied beat of the dakis. The sound of conch shells. The smell of camphor and flowers, mingling with the tantalizing aroma of street food. New clothes and conversations. And reigning above it all the benign face of Maa Durga, home on a visit.
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Dashami was the day when all the excitement came to an end. Maa Durga would leave her earthly home, and return to her heavenly abode. For us, the excitement would come to an end, and we would be left with three words on our lips, আবার এসো মা/ come back soon, Maa.
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If you asked me my family’s traditions for Vijaya Dashami, I wouldn’t be able to answer. Perhaps even my parents didn’t know; they had both grown up in other states and had most certainly picked up traditions from the places where they lived.
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Dussehra assumed significance after I married into a North Indian family. But I was never comfortable with interpreting the epic battle between Rama and Ravana as one where Good triumphs over Evil.
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Rama was supposed to uphond the moral code, but he was not above breaking it himself and Ravana often conducted himself with more honour than did his antagonist.
As I saw it, in that particular battle, Good and Evil were labels reserved for the victor and the vanquished.
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I am not the only one who thinks that way. There are communities which mourn the death of Ravana, just as there are communities that celebrate the victory of Rama. To them, Ravana is the hero. And it's a valid interpretation too.
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That is what makes Hinduism unique. There is no common ‘Hindu’ culture or tradition. There is no single version of Hinduism. There is no one God all Hindus worship. There is no one way in which all Hindus worship a particular God.
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In the last few years, there has been a strong attempt to homogenize Hinduism. One deity has been given prominence over the others, and even his benign form metamorphosed into one who is ready for battle. A singular narrative is being thrust on the country.
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The essence of Hinduism has always been its plurality. It has been the ability to assimilate and cherish different cultures and traditions. To cherish our differences, and to take pride in our collective tradition. It would be a shame if that is lost.
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In my tiny home, we cling to the plurality. Though none of us is a practicing Hindu, we carry forward parts of the culinary traditions of our families.
Kala chana, sooji halwa and poori on Ashtami, because my mother in law requested me to carry the tradition forward.
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Shundal and payasam the next day because my mother wants that I celebrate Saraswati Puja on Navami.
And I hope the kids don't learn about smashing a pumpkin on Dashami day- I don't particularly want to clean up after them! medium.com/@nuts2406/our-…
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The last few months have been difficult for us.
We have been trying to cope with too many uncertainties; the Pandemic, the Lockdown, the Economic downturn, and the plight of the migrants that for the first time brought stories of acute poverty into our homes.
Though it took a toll on our Mental Health, we were not able or willing to acknowledge it.
To stand up and say, "I am not okay. I need time off to recover", was difficult in an environment, where you are expected to pop a pill and turn up even if you are sick
People lost loved ones to suicide, and blamed themselves for not knowing. But most people are not really equipped to go beyond the mask that their loved ones don to hide their real mental state.
A1. At a personal level, worrying about my mum, balancing work and home, trying not to worry about the kids, missing hugs
At a larger level, being devastated by how a generation of good work came undone, and wondering what the future holds for us all. #MyHealthChat
A2. Oddly, it's been my Twitter family that's been my greatest solace. Too many to name and I wouldn't want to leave anyone out.
With my real life friends, I've been the one offering support. #MyHealthChat
A3. Perhaps it is because they've been accessible that I've relied on my Twitter family so much. Or maybe because they are so giving.
I'm an introvert, so with real life friends, it's been hard knowing when they need me, though I've tried. #MyHealthChat
With nearly half the academic year over, and no sign of the pandemic letting up, the natural question one asks is, ‘when should schools reopen?’
From the pandemic management standpoint, the answer is simple- not anytime soon.
But can the answer really be that simple?
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Despite restrictions on the activities that are allowed, the number of new cases is still going up every day. There is still very little awareness among the general public on how to adopt preventive practices.
At this stage, opening up schools can colleges can be calamitous.
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When the first wave was over, schools and colleges reopened in some countries, but in almost all of them, they were forced to close down again after the number of people testing positive went up.
It is hard to keep the infection under control once schools and colleges reopen.
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A mask is like a sanitary napkin. It is uncomfortable. You don't like it. You long for the day when you no longer have to wear it. Yet, you have no choice but to wear it.
But that's not all; there are other similarities between the two.
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You cannot wear a sanitary napkin and forget about it. You must replace it when it gets saturated or after 6 hours.
Same with masks. You have to change it after a few hours, or risk contamination from the pathogens that stick to the mask.
Dispose responsibly and wash hands.
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Neither offers 100% protection.
Sanitary napkins leak. That doesn't mean you stop using them; you find the one best suited for your need.
You pick your mask after assessing the conditions where you will wear. Most commercially available mask are sufficient for 'regular' use.
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Growing up in a mining colony in the 1970, your defining identity was that of an Indian. At home, we spoke different languages, worshipped different gods and celebrated different festivals, but outside, we were Indian.
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“Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Isai. Aapas mein hai bhai bhai”, was not just a slogan for us. From the sheer diversity of food each of our kitchens churned out, to the festivals that were celebrated, everything was a living personification of “Unity in Diversity/ Unekta mein Ekta”.
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As we grew older, we continued to see the country through our ‘Indian’ lenses. The food we ate, the movies we watched, even the people we dated; everything was cosmopolitan, secular, Indian. Our Indianness was our identity, and we viewed everything through our secular lens.
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When I entered the formal workforce in the mid 1990s, it was a male territory. Yes, there were women in middle and senior management, but the physical and mental spaces were male.
You were often the only woman in the team, and to be accepted you had be as male as the men.
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Cigarette breaks in the landing were often the time when those outrageous ideas were thrown about and trashed like they couldn't be in a formal meeting room. Whether you smoked or not, you took those breaks because you didn't want to miss out.
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That often meant looking away when the latest "chick" was discussed. Far from objecting to it, you secretly took pride in the fact that you were accepted as "yourself" and not as a representative of your gender.
Looking back, it was so wrong, but that's how it was.
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