I had always been moved by the plight of a shabbily clad limping man who worked as a maali in my neibhourhood. Though not a trained gardener, he could be seen wielding his khurpi (trowel), working in lawns and tending to flower beds in the locality.
H
Humour
The maternal instinct
I vehemently deny being a helicopter mother. I have neither hovered over my children nor followed them like a shadow. I am not a control freak; have given enough freedom to my children to charter their own course, at least this is what I perceive myself to be. I may not be a mother rooted in paranoia, but, to say that I have not been anxious about my children will be a gross lie. It is natural for a mother to feel concerned about the well-being of her children and to keep a tab on their whereabouts, friends and activities.
Random musings on farm protests
Impressed with resilience, organization and spirit of community service at the farm protest sites , I wrote the piece in early January . The piece was in pipe line , when 26 January happened.
This is an edited piece published in a prestigious registered online portal with strict rule that the article cannot be reproduced , hence posting the link of the website.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/283665092053420/permalink/1170501223369798/
A guilt outing during Covid times
Not even once did we cross the ‘laxmam rekha, remained confined within the four walls of our home during the first two months of the lockdown. All the items of daily use, including medicines and groceries, were ordered and delivered at our door step, quarantined at the designated corner before being put to use.
