Bra Happy!

I was introduced to a pair of bra in my mid teen. I was thrilled to wear them as they made me feel  like a ‘woman.’  But after years of wearing them I developed this love-hate relationship with them.   

 Desiderious Erasmus, a Dutch  philosopher , said “Women – Can’t live with them,  Can’t  live without them.” Well that’s exactly how I would define  Bra. Bra can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Most days I throw them away as soon as I am home. The breeze,  after a long day of imprisonment. The best feeling any woman can have!

 Bras are always given a special treatment than the rest of the clothes.  I have seen my mom drying them in a dingy corner where no one can see them.  Though other clothes end up everywhere in the house,  bras are always kept out of sight. It is as if it is considered as a shameful piece of clothing.  It is not regarded highly  and not too much is spent on them, as it is not going to be ‘seen’ by others. The logic!  And when the strap is seen especially when in saree people jump to your rescue and mouth you or signal you that it needs to be sent back to its place. 

So that’s how I was made to understand them. Padded ones are for girls who are shameless and immoral. The old fashioned, plain looking granny bras that cover the boobs completely and make them as flat as possible are for the good girls.

Since I have started exploring my single, adult life I visited the padded bra section. When I try new things like making friends or riding alone to the mountains I thought Why Not this. So in my entire life, for the very first time I bought padded ones and underwire bras. The comfort they provide is indescribable. I feel so ‘free’ in them. They do support the breasts very well, much better than the morally good ones.  

 I spent close to one thousand on one pair and got the wrath of my mom.  But my ‘girls’ are happy.  Bras don’t need ‘special’ treatment. They are an essential and spending money on them in order to get the right ones is very important.

This is one of the  most  simple things that I  learnt very late (in my thirties...God!).  And I am not ashamed of admitting to have been this naive all these years. It is the idea behind the bra that is wrongly infused into our heads.  I am proud that from being a small town girl I have grown into a woman who is not afraid to express her faults or her feminine features.

Now I can breathe and my boobs are happy as well.

How to change the world!

I belong to the ordinary working kind. All my days pretty much are the same. I wake up at six thirty, cook lunch for twenty thirty minutes, wake up my daughter (which takes approximately fifteen minutes), cajole her to finish her morning duties. I brush her teeth and bathe her( as cajolery fails miserably). I shout at the top of my lungs when she complains about how cold the water is or how I pour the water in her head without telling her first.

 It’s a battle field, the bathroom.

 Then comes the uniform… the id card that goes missing every single morning.

 My million runs to the kitchen to make something that could be called as “cooked.”

Next, is the struggle to make her eat breakfast, which is just a small portion of the lunch I just made for school.  I shout incessantly,  while I am in the shower too “finish your lunch…sorry breakfast”, “fill your water bottle”, “wear your shoes”  … (Here I must say this “ Thank god for Velcro!”)

The battle is not over, it is only relocated!

 We hop on the two wheeler and off to school. The traffic on the school road is something scarier as kids are in the scene too. Everyone is in a hurry,  and every grown up there including me violates road rules. Once I overtook a van from the left and the driver shouted at me angrily. It was a total embarrassment and the presence of my daughter made me feel  even more shameful. And there were times when I am affected by someone else’s mistake. It is a mayhem out there. The bad roads to the school infuriated me. It made me think about the country and the serious infra structure issues we have.

I wanted to put an end this routine of mine. 

Now I wake up at five thirty. The first thing I do is play 9x0 or VH1. I cook what I have learnt from the net, quick and easy recipes, that my daughter loves. I stopped giving her lunch in the morning, instead I give her something simple like scrambled eggs and milk or dosa.  

I made her a checklist too “My Day My Behavior!” The first question is “Did I wake up with a smile?” and the last is “Did I brush my teeth before bed?” just simple eight questions that she has to check every night. And at the end of each week I reward her if she gets all eight ticks. Rewards include visit to a park, mehendhi  or ice cream.  I didn’t have to shout no more.

And the road to school…wow! I could feel the wind now, something very simple but that which I didn’t feel before. The world is beautiful again. And I changed it by changing me. Yes this is an age old technique and we all must have heard this mentioned by some wise men , but this one actually works! It is true.  Still there are unpleasantness in home or on the road or at work but I would say my morning routine has improved my life a lot!

Life as I know it

     I am a romantic. I grew up watching English movies and fell in love with the language. It sounded beautiful and simple to me. My summer holidays were spent watching movies all night or reading novels. The rage of the Angels was my first novel. I remember the first time I went to the Central Library in my hometown, Madurai. The place made me very happy.

     I hate crowded places and the English Fiction was the most secluded, unvisited section of the library. As I walked silently amidst the tall racks of books I was the only one who could hear my heart  screaming with joy. I wish I could remember the titles of the books I read in that period. My memory sucks! But I remember this one book that moved me deeply and shook me to the core – Anne Frank’s Diary! I saw myself in her. Having the habit of keeping a journal and growing up with sisters as rivals made me think so.

     The first pain I could remember was caused by my sisters, I was not included in their circle. I remember playing in the streets or in the house all alone all the time.

The second pain was caused by the society. I was termed as the dark girl. I remember looking in mirror and seeing what the others see.

     The third pain was by my body filled with hyper hormones. I was so longing to be loved  and to be touched. I remember drinking cough syrup to put me to sleep, as the “thoughts” kept me up.

The fourth and the most painful – My marriage. I have heard nasty things that would make one want to throw up! I was strangulated, slapped, kneed on my breast, dragged by pulling my hair, arm twisted to the extent that I thought it wasgonna come off my shoulder….

And now back to square one…

So I thought!

     But you know what all those pain were not caused by others! I am so not going to be a coward to blame others for my sad life. I ‘m going to keep my head up high and change the story of my life into a happy one. Let them try to screw it up, in any which way but I am not going to give “a tiny rat’s ass” about it at all. This is me.  

     I have been so arrogant to think that I was living a horrible life, a life of feeling so lonely from a very young age, a life of seeking for love in the wrong places, a life of verbal and physical abuse as an everyday occurrence.

     I am out of the pain I was in and now it seems like I am ready to count the blessings. When Holocaust did not change the person Anne Frank was, what I went through is nothing.  My battle is no more with the others.  Every step I take now is towards keeping myself happy, without hurting others.