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skbmart Nov 2013
Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree. This bollywood wedding saree is beautified with resham thread embroidery on pallu portion and panels of the saree.Shimmer embroidered patch patti is placed at border of the saree add extra beauty to the saree. Blouse pattern shown in image is only for photo shoot purpose. Ara Priyanka Chopra Beige net Saree color of the product may differ from that shown on your computer screen. Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree difference in color is mostly due to flash, monitor or camera settings. The images shown are only for you
skbmart Nov 2013
Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree. This bollywood wedding saree is beautified with resham thread embroidery on pallu portion and panels of the saree.Shimmer embroidered patch patti is placed at border of the saree add extra beauty to the saree. Blouse pattern shown in image is only for photo shoot purpose. Ara Priyanka Chopra Beige net Saree color of the product may differ from that shown on your computer screen. Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree difference in color is mostly due to flash, monitor or camera settings. The images shown are only for reference.
Aslam M  Jun 2018
The Red Saree
Aslam M Jun 2018
Lal rang ki saree ka jawaab nahi hai.
Aisa lagta hai ki Rooh ka libaas hai.  

Haseen Badaan  ko chupati bhi hai
Dil kai dhadkanai kau badaati  hai.  

Kamaar ki woh thar tharanaa.  
Kamil naaf ka woh chup chupunaa.  

Woh gehri aur nazuk sai sozen kari
Aap ki khobsuraati ka izafa kar dehti hai.

Lal rang ki saree ka jawaab nahi hai.
Aisa lagta hai ki Rooh ka libaas hai.
ln Aug 2014
Maybe it's the way the national flag flies so high
Despite the country's imperfections
Maybe it's the way we're united
Not separated, despite the difference in cultures,
Believes, traditions, languages

Maybe it's the way you see an Indian eating with chopsticks,
The way you see a Malay in a saree,
The way you see a Chinese making ketupat's for Hari Raya.

Maybe it's the unity you see,
Maybe it's the goosebumps you feel when you say Merdeka,
Maybe despite the hate you have towards history,
Deep down, you know how grateful you are to be Malaysian.

Maybe it's the way you walk into a mamak,
And say
" tauke tapau roti canai 1 milo ais 99 "
And maybe,
It lies in diversity,
Beyond everything else.

*Malaysia, tanah tumpahnya darahku.
Shyamu  Jun 2020
Ode to the sky
Shyamu Jun 2020
Her husband presented her
a very long blue saree
Since she has been using it for ages
it has many white patches
hither and thither...

When he roared in anger
striking her with a (f)lash
She'd use her grey saree
and weep bitterly...

Her s(u)on would often come and go
He'd give her a reddish orange saree
in which she looks dazzling...

Her daughter'd visit her in the night
with thousands of her grand children
At the time she'd wear a black saree
She'd narrate them many stories
they'd listen curiously with winkle...
Guess the other characters...
In the morning I heard  the Koel’s melodious call
It is a sure sign of Sneaking autumn’s fall
What a striking difference between winter and spring
It is undoubtedly  season’s eternal king

I love nature’s green saree
She smiles with an uncontrollable spree
Her saree is full of beautiful flowers
there are very many different colours

Nature’s Bindi is the glorious sun
Her hair pin is the shining moon
She cools herself with her natural fan
Her stay here might be of a little span

She sits with an yellow sarree in the palanquin
The bride groom looks at her as if she were a queen
Her beauty and shyness is her divine pride
She is a newly married mesmerizing bride
the villages are replete with ripe corn
All the birds enjoy this beautiful morn
Nikunj Dec 2012
out from school we came to jmc,
to become what our parents wanted us to be.
with NC we enjoyed harrapan and vedic civilization,
Ashima mam taught us Transition ( paleo to noelithic).
writing 10 sides answer seemed IMPOSSIBLE,
15/25 only left us numb.
coming for hindi at 8:30 was really irritating,
mam's msg of cancelling the class was even m
ore *******.
Tues and wed 8:30 were scolding days,
since frustated JS splited her anger on us.( though i like her lot)
om sai ram and gandhi was KN's department,
though antique, she was another inspiration.
enjoyed Montage for the first time,
Chronicle was the accomplishment for the lifetime.
first year ended so rapidly,
90%ees were satisfied with 60s.
then we met the iron lady of our department (chaddha mam)
she asked questions after every second point.
RS Sharma got replaced by sultans of delhi and Satish Chandra,
every notebook had words like sufi, bhakti and Iqta.
transition frm feudalism to capitalism muddled our heads,
Dobb and Sweezy never left us till the end.( remember jha's ******* :P)
enjoyed boston tea party and civil war in States,
though never understood out of khiljis and tuglaqs- who is great?
****** taught us stress, depression and suicide,
we almost got killed by Bronte's Wuthering Heights!
Orcha trip was another milestone,
Khajurao sculptures turned all of us on :P
pool party with "tinku jiya" was superfun,
each one of us made good connections.
Second year also got over and we entered in our own little world- T9.
everything was new to us,
future tension always bothered us!
Journey to China and Japan with Chakko was great,
though we never grew intellectually and understood decline of Shogunate.
Gazala mam introduced us to napoleon and bismarc,
became our friend. guide and mentor.
Chadda mam took us to royal court of mughals and rajputs,
but Iqta and jagir still confuses us!
Sleeping time came with menon's class,
18th cent and 1857 always bored us. (though i admit she is a great scholar)
we stopped studying and started enjoying life to the fullest,
since history taught us no matter what Peasant is the one who will be suppressed!
Montage 2012 rocked,
DJ Aqeel's ferrari left us in shock!
Postponing and preponing the classes was 3rd year's trait,
petty fights over it were always great.
Since first year we all wanted this day to come,
to wear saree and have FUN.
BUT....
the Farewell day has passed :(
From now onwards... NO cancelling or preponing classes, no prof to scold us, no NSS hours to complete, no deadlines of tuts, no canteen's samosas and macroni, no diwali mela, no Montage and Chronicle, no Ashok bhaiya, no ******* and commenting and last but not the least NO HISTORY HONS 3rd YEARS (2009-2012)
No one realised how these beautiful 3 years passed away.our eyes are wet but heart is content.
just wanted to tell everyone that i will miss you all. though i may have not interacted much with everyone, but I wish you all the very best for your future...

So superseniors,
leave all grudges behind and enjoy the last week of your college life at JMC to the fullest
This yellow saree she wore
Just once in her life had wrapped
A coy twenty-year-old bride
Tentatively setting her dainty foot
Into the hesitant bridal home .

Somewhere in the backwoods
Several industrious silkworms
Had spun miles of salivary yarn
In the foliage of the mulberry tree
To make this golden yellow saree .

The rustle of her silk drowned
The wails of the boiling cocoons
The worms died that beauty would live
In their plaintive cries lay bridal hopes .

My mother, the bride of yesteryears,
Is now as non-existent as the worms
That had ceased to exist spinning
The smooth silk for her bridal finery .

Her bridal fragrance lives on among
The delicate folds of these gossamer silks
That the worms had died weaving.
Death is so fragrant , so memorable.
In India pongal is the best festival
It is not a mere ritual
We celebrate it in January
It is very very customary
It lasts for three days
Bhogi,sankranti and kanuma are the days.
On the first day we have a holy bath
Thinking that it sets us on the right path
Early in the morning we sit around the bhogi fire
Thinking it is the demon Ravana’s pyre
We put on a new and attractive attire
Dreaming life is a joyful boat shire
Children make wreaths of cowdung
Throw them into the fire like a gold ring
The villages are full of colourful bullocks
We sing folk songs taking neem sticks
The bride groom leaves for the mother-in-law’s house
The bride waits for him wearing a new saree and a blouse
Father-in-law gives the groom a costly gift
Mother-in-law makes a sumptuous feast
Younger sister-in-law teases the groom
The bride and the groom confine to the room
Mother prepares delicious dishes and pickles
Father goes to the farm worshipping the sickles
On the last day we go to the temple fair
I hope I made the happy pongal very clear
Yours sincerely,
JVL NARASIMHA RAO
Ana Habib Nov 2020
The family of two would soon be turning into 3. Jasmine and Robyn  Banerjee were a young couple who had gotten married only a few short month back and were now eagerly waiting for the arrival of the baby. Jasmine, did not care if was a boy or girl. She and her husband agreed that as long as the baby was healthy had her mom eyes and dads smile everything was perfect.

Her in-laws had other ideas. They looked after her and was very understanding about her plight. The morning sickness, violent mood swings, acne, aches and pains. They advised her on what they thought was right but every few days or so her mother in law had something new to say. “ Don’t eat too much of something or the baby will have birthmark just like it somewhere on the body” or eat fish so that the “baby will be smart” or something more annoying like “ do not bathe, the baby might be born early” The mother to-be smiled politely or rolled her eyes as far back as possible while silently wishing someone would take her a way from these kooky people.

Jasmine, was a school teacher by profession and her husband Robyn ran a very successful travel agency. She had been told that it would be best if she resigned from work, at the very beginning of her pregnancy. Robyn provided for both and why did a woman need to work after a child is born?

Baby Dia was born on a Friday at 8pm in a clinic after a long and tiring labour. Both the doctor and nurse were smiling when they handed the pink bundle of cries to Jasmine. She did not even have 10 minutes alone with the baby before the door burst open with an eager set of grandparents and a father who looked, troubled.

What is it? Cried one of the grandmothers

“A girl” said Jasmine smiling

“hmm”

“a boy would have been better”

“ I Know she would bring bad luck to the family”

Not something to tell a new mom but everyone was suddenly looking each other instead of her. No one went to congratulate the mom or take a second look at the baby. Jasmine’s mother in law looked upset. Her mom just patted her hand, hurriedly mumbled something, and left the room with her father in tow. Jasmine felt bad upon hearing everything and wondered what kind of people she had been living with till now. Her husband was quiet the whole time.

Baby Dia grew up to be a happy smiling baby who made little to no fuss, slept through the night and always seemed excited about expanding her palate. She did not see much of her father or grandfather. They never showed much interest in her. They never warmed up to her. Robyn smiled, picked her up or played with his daughter every once in a while, but for the most part he worked long nights, on the weekend and went on week long trips when he needed to.

Robyn was working late again for the third time this week. He had hoped for a boy for so long but ended up with a daughter. She was precious to look at but women are complicated, expensive and overly emotional.

One afternoon, 4 year old Dia was playing outside with a few of the neighbourhood children. She had great fun but came home looking a little more then just *****. Her pink frock had holes in it, her wavy hair came undone and she was holding only one shoe in her hands. Her mother was no where to be seen but her grandmother hollered at the girl.

“Look at you, dirt all over the place,” why cant you just play inside with your dolls or toys only boys get this ***** and stay out so late” Dia paid no attention to these words and went to her grandmother for a hug. The old woman shooed the little girl away and locked her in the bathroom.  “Don’t come out till your squeaky clean” her grandmother warned. What was the big deal about getting ***** Dia wondered?

When she had turned 7, Dia started attending events and invites with her parents. They were all invited to a wedding on a Saturday night. She no longer had to wear scratchy frocks anymore. Her mother had bought her something better. A pant suit with a pink scarf. Dia loved it and dressed up by herself with no help. The dress was great, but the scarf was a nuisance. It was long and she felt suffocated. What was there to hide? Her mom draped in a pink saree, frowned when she came out wearing no scarf.

“Put on your scarf it comes with the dress”

“I don’t want to its ugly and I wont able to play with this on”

The normally calm woman, suddenly felt annoyed.

“Look, I have a shawl and your grandmother is wearing one too” that’s just how women dress, and that includes little girls.”

Her grandmother sitting in the back of the car murmured something about teaching her manners and modesty. Dia didn’t flinch

“ I have manners and my legs are not showing” Modesty in the “Banarjee” household meant that woman were not to expose their legs or back or any other parts of the body except for the hands and feet” Such rules did not apply to the men.

The next morning Jasmine spoke to Dia about the incident.

“I wanted you to wear the scarf last night because its how girls dress. You are a girl and you have to cover yourself to avoid trouble. Good girls always cover themselves and listen to their parents.”

Dia nodded but she didn’t understand anything. She was hungry and just wanted to eat.

When Dia was 11. One of her father’s colleagues came over. A kind man, his wife and annoying son. She liked them. They always brought over presents. She had gotten blue bangles last time. She saw them, from her window. She could not leave her room until her mother called for her.  It was always to work in the kitchen, Serve the guests, tea and snacks, set the table and do the dishes while everyone talked in the living room or sat in the backyard. Everything had to be cleaned up and the tea had to be exactly right. Not too dark, or too sugary. Grandmother says that if a girl did not know how to make proper tea she would not get a good husband in the future. Dia smirked when she heard this, her husband can have milkshakes for all she cared. She hated tea. Drink too much of it and she would get darker. Drink to little of it and the headaches would start. Dia could only leave the room when they left. No one really stayed over except of her mother’s parents, cousins and the occasional 50 pounds overweight aunty who always had her face in the refrigerator and inquired about her grades and skin tone every single visit. Girls were expected to stay indoors as much as possible. Always hidden but from what Dia could not always understand.

A few days after Dia turned 12 she had gotten her period. She read all about it on the internet and the librarian at school had lent her some books while explaining everything to her. Such topics were never discussed at home. It was a horrible experience. The bleeding, cramping, headaches and bouts of anger. All this because she was girl, every month for a very long time. 50 years perhaps. Her mother and grandmother smiled, when she told them. They took her out for lunch and bought her new clothes. She could no longer wear shorts or sleeveless tops anymore, even in the privacy of her own room. A brassiere had to go with everything now and long scarves and vests were a must. Along with this Dia had to follow other rules. She could not wash her hair on the first day of her period, she could not bathe in hot water. She could not paint her nails, have anything sour (pickles, lemonade) or make food for anyone because everything will spoil. She could not enter a place of worship or cradle baby because he/she might get sick. Dia thought all this was pointless and when she inquired about it, she got a smack to the face for questioning ancient rules and rituals and was told that this was how it was for every woman before her in the family. She earned a second smack when she asked who made the rules. Probably a man.

On her 14th birthday. Dia had gotten into a fight with one of her best friends. It was over something trivial. What to wear for a school event? Dia had settled for a saree and her friend settled on a gown. Dia was not fair but a little dusky. Her friends skin tone was like milk. The girl took great pride in that. She went as far as saying that Dia’s grey saree made her look like a crow. Dia was too upset to say anything in return, so she quickly walked home. She walked to her room and did not come out till the next day. Jasmine had noticed her daughter’s sour behavior and snappy remarks, so she asked what was wrong. Dia tearfully told her the truth. Her mom laughed and said that good friend’s squabble over anything and forget it 2 days later. Gave her money for ice cream and a movie and left for work. Her grandmother while doing the dishes told her that it was normal for girls for fight because women are competitive, they always want the best for themselves and have no problem belittling someone else to get it. Dia asked why, she got the usual response. “that’s how girls are” Dia through her grandma was being extra negative that day.

When Dia turned 18, she met a young man through one of her classes. She was studying health sciences and aspired to be a dentist when she was much older. Teeth always fascinated her since she was young. Her friend was a taller a bit older (21) and studying to be an Emergency Medical Technician. Dia and this boy had been friends for awhile now. He came from a good family and had no siblings. But she always thought him to be a friend. They studied together, hung around and had fun. He on the other hand started asking too many questions and took up a lot of her time. He was nice, positive and always made her laugh, but she had to let him know how she felt about him. She thought of speaking to her mom about this. Her father had heard everything instead. He sat beside her, listened to everything, and told her to wait for the boy to come to her and then break him the news gently. There was no need to talk to him first and cause a scene at the college campus. This would affect her studies and make her look her bad. This upset Dia in a major way. A woman was able to have feelings, but she could not voice them out? She could not take the first step in a relationship?  She mumbled her thanks and took a long shower that night, thinking everything over. The next day she approached her father again. He gave her a long look and said that if she broke things off with him first, he could go around spreading rumors or get her in trouble at school. No one likes a bold woman who always speaks her mind. She should just focus on her studies. Dia did not press him any further. She went on with her everyday life and lost him as a friend in a month’s time.

A week shy of her 21st birthday, Dia received an acceptance letter from a prestigious university. She was ecstatic and did cartwheels after reading the letter. Her parents had no qualms about her studying at a university that was far away from home or living in a hostel. She had matured into a young woman who they could trust and she had not made a faulty decision till now. Dia was not interested in parties, drinking, or staying overnight with friends. She was a good girl. However, they only let her go after letting her know that they would start looking for a boy once she graduated from her program. Dia said yes without thinking to much about this. Graduation was still 4 years away.

Dia went to complete university in less then 4 years time. She did not waste any time after graduation and enrolled into dental school. She had flunked only 1-2 courses during one semester. Her grandmother had died during one of them and her grades fell just slightly. This brought upon change in the Banerjee family. Her father had changed after his mom’s death. He was no longer in a rush to get Dia married and stopped working. He picked up a hobby and worked on that. Her mother took a break from teaching and now worked as a guidance counsellor for teens at a reputable high school.

During this time Dia was going steady with another dentistry student, with her parent’s permission. He was alright in most ways but sometimes pressured her to take their relationship to the next level. She always resisted and asked him to wait till they get married. Woman had to remain pure till they got married. If one’s purity is gone or lost it would bring great shame to the family and the couple. He said he he understood until one day he did not anymore. In a fit of rage, he let her know she belonged to him and he could do what he liked. They would be getting married soon so why did it matter. She resisted the urge to strike him and let him know that she belonged to no one but herself. He called her names before calling it quits. It hurt, but Dia knew that she would meet the right man sooner or later. Her parents did not say anything to her regarding this.

When Dia was 25 she did meet someone, he was a doctor and she went to become a dentist. They did not a have a grand wedding but a small private ceremony. They had paid for everything and Dia sent her parents on a much-needed vacation. Her husband, he did not pressure her to do anything she did not like. He grew up abroad and helped her in all the things that men did not normally do back home like cooking, cleaning, shopping because this was considered to be “ Woman’s work” and was “normal” This surprised her at first but amazed her later on. One night after too much wine and fun her husband went to bed.  Dia was still awake giddy from the wine and had other things on her mind. She gently woke her husband up. He was not pleased. “Let me sleep woman, its not the time to do anything and I have to get up early. He left it at that and was snoring in minutes.

She looked at him and frustration and wondered why it was normal and acceptable for men to satisfy their needs wherever and whenever possible, but a woman was always rebuked when she wanted something from her husband. She had certain needs and rights over him. She quickly undressed, slipped into a nighty, and went to sit in the balcony for a bit. The moon was out and the world was dead asleep.
Dia poured herself the last of the wine and thought about everything.

A woman always has two choices to fight or to follow the rules. Since birth woman are groomed into becoming a certain type of woman, once they get to that stage they are either married off or left to work and hop from one relationship to another. They were taught to be quiet, obedient, smart and always fully covered.

Why did a woman need to be covered at all times? Not just her body but her mind as well. She must keep mum about her wants, her needs, and desires. She always must think about the others and society before deciding on something. No one looks up to a woman who speaks her mind and focuses on herself. No one appreciates an independent woman. She must always be dependant on a male somebody (father, brother, husband, son). She must always do what she is told and taught because that is the way it is. That is how girls are.

This is all Dia grew up listening to. Who came up with the rules? Society. A society, where men dictated most things and told woman what they should and should not do. When a man will never understand what women go through or why they must handle and balance out so much. School, home, family, career. A woman always has to choose.

Everything comes down to a choice and she will forever have to sacrifice something or the other because it is the womanly thing to do. Men are never really questioned about their choices. They talk, they lead, and the women follow. That needs to change. People need to unlearn these age-old stereotypes. They hurt both the men and women. A man grows up but ends up lacking so much in terms of emotional intelligence and respect for the other gender. He grows without understanding what gender equality means and why it is needed.  A woman grows up but not without sacrifice, selflessness, and crippling obedience. She is seen as inferior, weak, or untamable if she does not do what she is told, asks too many questions and wants to better herself in some way or form.

A woman’s identity should not be made from excuses and lies.
Megha Balooni  May 2015
Crackers.
Megha Balooni May 2015
I saw her
I saw her smile
Focus out through the sparkle
Reflecting from her danglers
And the ones in the atmosphere.
Turquoise sequinned with beige
Crackers, all around her
Our first new year
Where she took me by
My hand, entangling fingers
Lacing, when she thought she'd
Lost me,skipping between
White walls and brown floors
Finding a way out
Through the maze.

Low hung ceiling lamps.

Dragging me back through my memory doors
Remains the same
White walls and brown floors
While I wait outside.

Inside you're having your chemo.

Crackers
Inside my heart
Slithering through my mouth
I see her in between
Those flinging and swinging

Prayer flags, I recollect
Hanging them in the backyard
Of our home, you
Bargained them out
A flea market, before
That year's Diwali
You had inside of you
A life that would bless us
In three months.

A tangerine Georgette Saree
And rhyming with it,
Rani colored bangles
Sneaking up on the roof.

Crackers
White walls, wooden floors
You lie quiet, unmoved.

A skyrocket ups in a distance
As I light you up in flames.

Crackers
You'd always come back
Focusing, defocusing
My memories' pitaara
Sparkling, dangling
Skipping and lacing
Through all those crackers
Lighting me up
Sharina Saad Jun 2013
When I was small
I had a favorite game
A game only girls loved to play
Paper dolls, pretty paper dolls....

My sister Sara dressed the paper dolls nicely
Elegantly dressed, pretty dolls...
and we loved to style them our ways...
We got bored easily and Sara begged me to buy more dolls...
I used my childish charm to get a rupee or two
My grand papa joked about our  paper dolls
"no saree wearing dolls"? " no chapati making dolls"?
" No parantha making dolls?
and both of us replied.... " ohhhh.... shut up grandpapa"

When we grew up a little,
My sister and I were sent to a boarding school.
It was all girls school
and we were taught grooming, social etiquette
and how to be a lady...prim and proper
Dressed smartly, talked only when necessary
and sat up neatly, no head turns..
No giggling... only smile delicately
No tantrums or emotional plays...
just be poised... controlled.. poised and controlled...
Of course
We were not allowed to play paper dolls anymore

After awhile I hated the school...
Told my sister.....  They were turning us
into paper dolls...
Paper dolls have no say...
They only follow.. They are puppets
Remember paper dolls we used to play?
All pretty in the outside but there is no life
to breathe....
Suffocated i felt here.....all I wanted to do is flee
Sis, cmon this is certainly not us... let's flee

WE SAID GOODBYE TO OUR BED AND WE DID RUN....
We managed to be who we wanted to be in the end
to live in real world, be with real people
given a freedom to choose what we wanted to do
with life...
We enjoy our life not the traditional way anymore
Have career and still we dressed nicely and elegantly
We are real people...
Unlike the paper dolls , who only look poise and beautiful..
but inside they are freezing.... lifeless....paper dolls..

— The End —