THE NEED FOR VALIDATION

Social media is part and parcel of our lives now. We cannot possibly think of days without connecting with people on social media. Facebook, especially has become home to us. It has become a place of banter. A place to meet new people and most importantly, a place to seek validation. My question is simple. Is the validation that we seek from social media slowly becoming a reason for our sadness and happiness? I believe it is. Let’s not deny

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HERE SHE COMES

Here she comesUnmasked, UnveiledShedding all her inhibitionsBared, NakedDisplaying her scarred soulTo the world ,With no fear of losing anythingAfter all the years of suppressionEnough is enough. Enough of being politically correctMasking, HidingPretending, CoveringAnd fakingEnough is enough, she said. Even though she was stripped awayLayer by layersBruised and brokenWings being clippedHands being tied upAnd her voice being silencedBy the so called the self proclaimedSaviours of the societyBy those who whoDominated the women for yearsBut she decides not take it anymoreSuppressed for

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SARAH ZIA – FLUFF IN A CUP

My name is Sarah Zia Adeel and I am the founder and chief baker at Fluff In A Cup (FIAC), a home-bakery that started off merely as a hobby with no intention of turning it into a career at all. I was a communications and media student and found baking a sort of stress buster. I started baking for family and friends and once I began to receive loads of encouragement, I went ahead and made my Facebook page and

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GRIEF

ARE WE TRULY ABLE TO WEIGH SOMEONE’S PAIN OR GRIEF? The other day Maa and I got talking, and she was telling me about a death in the family. And, also how, even though everyone knew it was coming, still it was difficult to accept once it happened. I heard her. And she said, “you know, dealing with death and the aftermath is very individual. You can never weigh it from your own stance.” True na? How do I know

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JEALOUSY!

Once upon a time there was a village. The village had a library, a clinic, and a church. In the village lived a poor family, the Smith family. The family had Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith and their kind daughter Ivy. They were always a happy family until one day at night when everybody gathered around for dinner; which was the last meal for normal families but the first meal of the day for the Smiths’. They did not have good

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MONDAYS WITH MAITABI: ARE WE LIVING UNDER A GARB?

This is the only question that I ended up asking myself when I heard her narrate her tale. The other day in the yoga class, my instructor was a little off the hook. She was pensive. Not talking much. Being reclusive. So much so that her inner turmoil was visible. Clearly. So, once the class ended and everybody left, I put my arms around her and asked, “Kya hua? Why you look so worried today?” “Madam ghar mein bahut problem

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PARAMESHWARI THE LITTLE ASTRONAUT FROM PARAMKUDI

A visual treat and an epitome of a child’s imagination awaits you when you visit the Paramakudi municipal school at 4 PM. A petite eight year old is seen gathering a bunch of friends to play the game of launching a space shuttle. She takes on the role of her favourite astronaut Kalpana Chawla. “Welcome crew to Johnson Space Centre. We will be now launching our space shuttle to the big red planet, the Mars.” She gives them instructions after which

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RESURRECTION OF THE BURNT

With the snap of her neck On swinging branches that were cold Setting fire to her wit You could never burn her soul. Her tongue deemed diabolical Incantations that cast a spell Of intellectual opinions Of reasons and knowledge That your blind ego couldn’t tell. Cauldrons bubble with anger now Her soul haunts the creases over your brow History and fiction, both treat her as a glitch Guiding a man towards the fulfillment of his wish Was what people could

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MONDAYS WITH MAITABI: ROLES PAPAS PLAY!

How important is a Father in a boy’s life? I often wonder about this. No, not in terms of the financial security that a father brings to a child’s life. Or for that matter the social and emotional security. But, what a child, especially imbibes from his father, in a wholesome way. I have a boy who has just turned eleven. Growing faster than I could fathom. Doing and saying things beyond my permissible capacity. Stumping me every now and

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CINDERELLA’S STEPMOTHER

I am the stepmom of Cinderella, No one knows my fairy tale Or how it was harmed by a male. I was harmed by a beast Who did not care least. – When I was young and naive My uncle dug my grave. As he abused me and my soul Guess I lost will to live or find my goal. – I carried the guilt and shame Throughout life and started a game. A game to hurt one and all.

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