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confessions of a sharenter

Confessions of a sharenter
A few months back I decided to start a parenting column in a local newspaper, and while researching for articles on parenting I came across the term ‘sharenter’.
A sharenter is a parent who ‘over shares’ information about their child, whether it is cute travel pics, naughty playtime pics, food habits, milestones, even sleeping pictures of their babies.
Now to be honest, I was over sharing about my life even before my baby was born. In fact it was during the first three months of my pregnancy, out of fear that people might guess that I am pregnant, and would jinx my chances of happy motherhood, I reduced sharing parts of my day and life on social media, I deferred from sharing details of my pregnancy.B So what changed after the baby was born?

Well, even the most social media averse person, tends to share happy news with the world. And there are people of FB who have only two posts on their wall; one when they got married, and the other when they had a child. The…

I am not a flower, but watch me bloom

“I am not a flower, but watch me bloom.”
The Bougainvillea seemed to say, to all its naysayers, especially in this summer heat, when all the other spring flowers seem to wither and die.
They said, leaves can’t have colours, but the bougainvillea in brilliant shades of pink, orange, salmon and yellow, seemed to be breaking all the rules. Leaves don’t look pretty, leaves can never bloom, leaves are just food for caterpillars, said the naysayers, and the bougainvillea that had been relegated to the ‘bract’ family, not fit enough to be a flower, seemed to be showing the haters the middle finger.
I am a huge fan of Bougainvillea , infact every summer I am drawn to write about it, or repost one of my favourite pists from 2010 The namesake
A couple of months back, the people in Goa seemed to have their collective egos in a twist, when the coconut tree got renamed a grass, but did the coconut tree care?
 It stood head and shoulders above all the trees, even when the taxonomists said a grass …

Mario in the playground

A few days back we graduated from going to the beach for our evening outings, to going to the park, and it was as if the little one was going to a public school after being home taught. For the past 18 months of his life he had been content in knowing that he was the only baby around, he happily went around collecting his sea shells and stones at the beach, and the sudden change to seeing swings of every size and shape, moving in all sorts of directions , with children of every size and temperament on them , had him stunned to stillness for a while.  For the first few days he was content at playing with the stones at the park, doing acticities he was familiar with at the beach, but Mama wanted more. Mama wanted her little boy to discover new skills- and he did.
Soon , Shreysht started climbing up the steps of the play gym, one step at a time. I was filled with growing pride, as my 19 month old, navigated climbing up and down on his own.
Now a little about this play gym. It is a stra…

this women's day let's empower our men as well as our women

“It's women's day again! Didn't we just have one?” Was my husband's reaction when he heard about women's day celebrations on the radio.
And I wondered why?
Was it because I had been the nagging badgering feminist that he had taken this stand , or was it part of a bigger picture?
At the outset I might as well confess that I am a feminist evangelist, I was all spit fire and outcry when Nirbhaya got raped, I loved Pink the movie, and for days discussed the ' no means NO' and how even a prostitute can say NO and it should be respected.
I get that; and yet I am offended when the recent Amazon ad has the girl putting up her feet and saying 'Pink’, and when the husband is actually tuning in to see the movie, she takes out the nail polish and says ‘ laga do '. What do I find offensive? It's her tone. Would you use that tone with your friend, your girl friends even? Then why the husband? 
Today's media doesn't seem to understand the changing dynamics …

sunsets with my son

Watching sunsets have always been a kind of therapy with me, bringing into focus what are important, helping evaluate how the day has gone by, and more than anything to revel in the miracle that is nature. This is by no means my first ode to sunsets, read another one here but this one is different as in , this one is about sunsets I have been sharing with my 16 month old son.
A couple of days a week, and sometimes even more frequently, I take my 16 month old son to the beach , to catch the sunset. It helps that the beach in question is a five minute drive from home, and a high spirited walking and playing at the beach helps him sleep deeper at night. Here are a few of my reflections on these precious moments I get to spend with him during the golden hour, of the sun setting in the sea.




Buddha and the boat.


He has recently begun to say the word ‘bu- da’ for the Buddha paintings at home, and while at the beach, we see a few fishing boats on the beach, and a few on the high seas as well…

New year resolution , investing in myself

As the year draws to a close , I found myself asking , should I make new year resolutions , or am I too old for them? Are resolutions for the young and hopeful?
If twenties were about self discovery , then the thirties surely are about ‘ghar grihasti’, the home and the family. But then, rather than letting the winds of time buffet me on my journey, would it not be nice to have a road map, a compass to which way my thirties are headed?
With these thoughts in mind I decided to design my new year resolutions this year, not for a year, not for a few months, but as long time goals.
I got the idea from my financial advisor actually. This year has been a year of monetary upheaval, for the country at large, with demonetization and such. For me personally, it has been a year, when I started work after a year long sabbatical, without the safety net of a job to go back to, I started a-new as a self employed doctor/surgeon.
The worries and woes that, that entailed is for another time, but what I le…