Appreciating : the mother

I wish my mother had aspired for me to be President of the USA!

Just kidding! Well, actually, a little less than kidding.

'Coz, I became what my mother aspired for me - financially self-dependent, mentally independent, valued, sometimes despised, maybe noticed - maybe ignored, but never swept aside.

So, I wish my mother had aspired more for me, like, for me to have my own business, or for me to travel the world - paid ... nah, now I'm really kidding.

Since a very very young age - say 6 or 7 years, I have considered my mother as a fragile being, a thing to take care of, for me to take care of. To protect, to stand up for, to fight for. Fight her mother-in-law, nasty neighbours, inconsiderate co-passengers ... whoever dares wrong my mother.

I am slowly opening my eyes to the fact that she fought for me much more, much more than I fought for her. 

Yes, she has her flaws. Biggest of them being, she could never believe in herself. She never thought anything of herself, she had needs, but never a "being", an "astitv". She could stand up for me, but not for herself. Maybe these are in-born flaws, maybe the result of how she was raised, maybe, in context, in her generation, she ought have had someone to stand up FOR her. There were "auntie"s, where the "uncles" stood up for their wives, but that is not the point of this post.

My mother's greatest quality is her sense of duty. In India, we have this analogy of "bhav saagar taarnaa", which means "sail across the mortal world", as the mortal world is an ocean. My mother has, with help from paid help, of course, & some help from my father, "taar"-ed 2 sets of parents. As long as I have been conscious, I have had a grandparent on deathbed. My paternal grandfather, 5 years bedridden from paralysis, which started from the legs & consumed his entire body. My paternal grandmother, completely blind for the last 11 years of her life, & senile dementia for the last 3. My maternal grandfather ( my maternal grandmother helped in this) Parkinson's disease, & for 2 years, a broken femur, & never got up. Finally my maternal grandmother, (I helped in this. I was adult & living with my mother). She nursed each of these, bedpans & bedsores, till their last breaths.

People who write mushy lovey lines about family, will  be at their wits' ends. I learnt what FAMILY IS.

My mother's best quality is that she is unpretentious. She never presents herself as a "positive", bubbly, happy person. She is not. She is a serious, intense, melancholic person. & such persons have a right to exist in the world. Just because you are "positive" & refuse to look at the news of child abuse happening everyday, does not mean that the evil in the world ceases to exist, nor does it mean that everyone has to similarly turn a blind eye, only someone who sees a problem can do something to solve it.

My mother's most important quality is that she is a survivor. People look upon persons suffering from depression as "of weak mental strength". While the truth is, depression is a disease, as diabetes is a disease, & it happens to anyone, AND, only the STRONGEST SURVIVE DEPRESSION, & keep on functioning, while feeling worse than dead inside. My mother is what strong is.

I have learnt to empathize. I empathize with those who keep all their problems to themselves. I also empathize with those who need an outlet. I empathize with the stoic. I empathize with the needy, weepy, clingy.

I have not only learnt the importance of being able to see the wrong in the world, but also to embrace myself for what I am.

& she raised two women to value themselves, & find their place in the sun, & still have a sense of duty despite having a sense of self, & to know the difference between "your" & "you're", & to still respect people who didn't know this difference, because there is a reason that they don't know, & to call bullshit "bullshit", & to know when to offer a silent shoulder. 

I know she is a difficult person to be around, but she has been around way more difficult, nasty, toxic persons, shunned by a mentality which says 'a woman's "ardhi" - death procession - leaves her in-laws' house, not a woman herself', yet fulfilled her duties towards the people who wrong her so ...

I think she is one heck of a woman, & a very valuable person, & the world is bettered by her existence.

You weren't thinking of THIS effect of screentime

There is enough general concern about the (general consensus - bad) effects of screentime on children.

First off, there is the effect on eyes. It is generally accepted in the ophthalmological fraternity that continuous exposure to luminous screens is harmful, & screentime should be as limited as possible, for adults & more so for children.

Then, there is the concern that it "dulls down" children. Well, not necessarily. In fact, some research shows that using gadgets indeed helps academic development. There is the matter of exposure to inappropriate material. That, frankly, is everywhere, & is basically a parental/guardianal duty to prevent. Granted, electronic media is more difficult to "parental monitor" than the physical world.

Screentime also promotes Bad posture with a capital b, eats into family time, free-play time, & face-to-face social interactions.

However, the most dangerous effect of thrusting a screen in every hand is that children are growing used to CONSTANT ENTERTAINMENT. They consider this as the normal. Even 10 years ago, "waiting" was a concept. When you took a child to the dentist, to the bank (because there was nowhere to leave him/her, even then), to any place which involved waiting for one's turn, one had to wait. Adult & child. It did not make us nervous & fidgety to the point of snapping. Sure, it made the child restless & whiny.

We, & the child, did two things. First, invent a way to entertain ourselves/ each other. Though my mother always carried enough magazines in train journeys, even she wasn't enlightened enough to carry entertainment for the dentist's appointment. We struck up a conversation with other people in the queue (& we called it "line", remember?)

The kids started playing impromptu tag or hide & seek with other kids, if the administration allowed. One could spin the glass paper weight (another extinct little tool) TILL the administration caught one with her piercing eye, one could leaf the pages of a calendar, one could ask scientific & philosophical questions of one's parents, one could hop down the steps to the clinic, count if the steps were many, slide down if there was a slope for a scooter (with MY kind of parents cursing the day I was born, of course!) one could be a smartass with the administration.

In train, not all parents remembered magazines or playing cards. Antaakshari was played, often with strangers (In my generation, we were already NOT EATING anything strangers offered. That doesn't mean we couldn't sing with them!!). Clapping games, chit games like Raja wazeer (in which, absurdly, the wazeer has to discern the chor & sipahi!!!), book cricket on the pages of a railway time-table, trying to catch the names of the minor stations whizzed past ... Parents actually talked to their own children. & the children of those parents who were simply too adult for their own children ... ran about, hung from the ladders for climbing their upper berths, jumped down, cut & bled from their lips, basically made life hell for the rest of the passengers.

The second thing we did in the pre-pocket electronics days, was, wonder of wonders, sit & wait!!!! We accepted waiting as a part of life, we considered it good manners to sit in a place & not trouble others, our parents tried to inculcate it in us. Waiting was not a 'waste'. It was part of the process. Boredom was an irritation, not a misery. & we had inner worlds, & inner processes. We THOUGHT. To ourselves. We did not need a computer program to engage us.

(We did have walkmans, but music, I think, should be considered separately from screentime. Indeed, I've read in some "reduce screentime advice" to actually use voice commands more)

Both these skills - tolerating boredom - without sulking - & entertaining oneself, are rapidly getting lost.

Now consider, long term life is not so different today as it was 10 or even 50 years earlier. Life makes one wait. Life makes one miss legitimate turns, & wait more. Life brings periods of self-doubt & lulls, unemployment & adversity, & sometimes such standstill in one's career or personal life, that It is truly painful.

How will our children cope? They have never learnt to withstand boredom, how will they deal with stalled progress in job or business? They have never had a still moment, forever been filled with false activity, illusion of movement, how will they heal from the emptiness of a broken affair?

Please. Let your children get bored. & DEAL with it. Trust me, they'd survive it, & so will you, & they will fare better for it in life.

Moral story - Why?

Nothing against teaching children morals, or morality, & nothing against moral stories personally … okay … maybe a teeny bit.

Recently came across some attempts to get kids to read, but the feel of the queries was all wrong. The reasons for getting the kids to read …

Like ‘improving vocabulary’, like ‘enhancing personality/ confidence’, like ‘imparting morals’ … I assume, dear Ma/ Pa, that you yourself have a completely different hobby?

Ah!

See, on behalf of reader Mas & Pas, lemme tell you, it’s not gonna work. When one, anyone, tries to do one thing to a child (read ‘improve/enhance/ market-ready’ them) in the guise of another thing ( say, reading/craft/ volunteering), dude, it does not work. These are “side effects”, not the “desired effect”. If that be your goal, AND there is nothing WRONG in that goal – sincerely- then please go about it with honesty. Trust me, your child will respond.

I mean it. These things need to be taught. Want your child to be street smart? Send her to the street, watch her fend off the bullies, where you can see her, but she knows she’s on her own. Want your child to be able to outstare everyone in negotiation skills? Tell him that. Give him practice. Or, want your child to be God-conscious, to not tell lies? Talk the talk. Explain the consequences, better still, show them live examples. Take them to vocabulary class. Take them to speech & public speaking circles. These exist. (Although the will generally ask you to get your child to read…)

IMHO, Do not  give your child (esp., very young child) books for the purpose of – personality development – Vocabulary/Grammar/Reading skills/Writing skills development – Morals!!! What is going to come of this is, a lot of unnecessary tussle, tears, disappointment, ultimately, you saying “Aajkal ke bachchhe books padhte kahaan hain!” Spare yourself & your kid the drama & the unpleasantness, & just say – right away “Aajkal ke bachchhe books padhte kahaan hain!” … I promise we will smile & nod knowingly!

Reading is a hobby. We, who do it, do it for its own sake. I can add n no. of images here explaining why readers read. However, let’s take other examples. Someone who loves to cook. Why do they love to cook? Because cooking nourishes people? Because eating cooked food makes people feel happy & stay alive? Because Good cooking methods are good economy for the family? No. They cook because they love to cook.

Let’s approach this topic from another direction. We all know the advantages of sports. Discipline, teamwork, strategising, physical health, being a good loser … & so on & so forth. Let’s agree that some of us send our kids to play a sport because we want to inculcate these skills. Still. Just consider how this training starts. Does a little bit of ‘strategising’ be expected to be learnt by the 2.5 year old? No. The 2.5 year old is taught the skill of throwing the ball.

When your child is 2.5 years old, morals are a far, far, distant thing that they need. They need to ‘experience a book’. A 2.5 year old reads with her/his hands. Give them a book to manipulate. Give them a book easy to feel, & hard to destroy. Give them a book the tail of which can be pulled, which can be chewed on. Just let them TURN PAGES.

Ironically, considering the situation of readership declining, the Children’s books publishing is in the pink of its health in India RIGHT NOW. Now we proudly have culture-appropriate books for even extremely small, young beginners. Do you know why Julia Donaldson books rhyme? Well, that young a child enjoys rhyme! S/he also enjoys endless repetition, to the sooner-or-later boredom of the storyteller, they also enjoy to ‘complete’ the story, the familiar story that they are requesting the nth time, & you know what they also enjoy? Silliness. Morals can wait.

Sometimes, it backfires. I remember a story from a book which was a story for kids by Sri Ramkrishna. It involved a teenage gwaalin (milkmaid) & an established pandit, who was also a guru. The gwaalin has such faith that she literally walks on water, while the guru, who had only meant it metaphorically, is unable to muster literal faith on his own metaphorical words. I had an epephanous take-away from this story. For my entire life, whenever one has asked me why I am an atheist, I’ve humbly & genuinely told them, “Bhakti andar se aati hai” – faith comes from within. & I sincerely mean it. (If & ) When faith calls me, I will respond to it.

Anyway, moral of above story is … don’t push morals!

Don’t look for morals in books. Look for a take-away. If that take-away is 30 seconds of laughter, but if it was genuine laughter, & your kid enjoyed it, the book served its purpose. Don’t feel squeamish reading books to your child/ giving them books which do not have an obvious & pious moral. There really is no book that will teach nothing. Trust me, it’s difficult to even write that bad a book, & even though there are numerous enthusiastic publishers, nobody has the time & money to publish trash.

That said, I definitely recommend you to COMPLETELY READ what you are giving your child. Even within good books, there are personal opinions as to what you would like your child to imbibe, & at what point. There is considerable debate regarding certain books, ironically, those which actually have strong morals, for example, ‘The Giving Tree’ & ‘The Rainbow Fish’ (check here : https://bookriot.com/2018/11/30/the-rainbow-fish/). I’ve also found books like ‘The Susu Pals’ & BGF objectionable, while other parents (& readers) have heaped praises. Some have found ‘Good night stories for Rebel Girls’ world-changing, while others have found it wanting.

It certainly comes to your discretion. But, please! Do not insult the intellect of your own offspring! Please do not buy her/him a book full of stories from each of which a moral is to be derived!

If you are not a reader yourself, then take your kid to an adult/ teen who is. Generally, your nearest librarian will be the perfect person, as, now in 2019, being a children’s librarian in India is almost 100% a labour of love. Then again, there are such groups on Facebook. They will know which book will help your child start off. & get them hooked. Again a word of caution, not all are born readers, & if you do not personally enjoy reading, chances are, your kid will need some persuation. Please, not just reading – any activity – please do it ONLY in a way that you & your child both enjoy it, in short & long term. Happy Children’s Literature to you!

Bitchcraft

Apparently, it is the art of pissing everyone off by telling them the truth. The truth will liberate you, but first, it will piss you off.

& what if one happens to find themselves to be the pisser-off-general?

What is life if, full of care,

Well, William Henry Davies meant it a very different way.

I mean, it's getting skulduggery that I am not getting to yell at everyone, tell off & bite people's heads off, left, right & centre. Everyone is incompetent. Those who are, due to the bell curve, less incompetent than others, are annoying. & I am insufferable.

What is life if, full of care,

You can't tell the DGM to jump off a cliff,

You can't vanish the auto, & it's driver,

Who just scraped both the right doors of the car,

What is life if, You can't punch them in the gut,

Those who spit Paan masaalaa in the water cooler,

What is life if, You go numb reading of the kid beheaded,

But only for an evening, next morning,

You carry on as if nothing, because, Your life,

Goes on,

What is life if, you tell them you are a bitch,

But they will not believe you,

You have to be sane, you have to be normal,

Not just care, but be full of care,

Think, always,

What if, what if,

Think consequences,

You will never become DGM yourself,

You just can't, You not a witch, anyway, bitch or not,

You will go to jail,

You will go insane,

You will hurt innocent others.

Be full of care.

2019 Fathers' Day Post

Happy Fathers' Day to someone who was not originally one much for celebrating days :)

Baba is a “fix-it-up”-er. When we were small, Ma used to keep a list of stuff that need fixing. All week, or sometimes 2 weeks, items will be added. Sunday morning, after the Samosa Jalebi, which was our standard Sunday fare, Baba would take the list, plan his route, get the materials, & if needed, technicians, & return by midday, when the dining area would convert into his workshop.

I am not able to classify Baba's parenting style. Possibly because it was a flexible style, always-analyzing, always fine-tuning. But he has always been a cool person. I know people have aggressively angry fathers, & are proud of the fact, but what can they do, after all, they love their father & gotta rationalize ...

I was one of those excruciatingly infuriating offspring, who remember that a Map of South America, Graph-paper copy, or blue drawing sheet is required in school ... at approx 9:00 p.m., when the shops in the small-town religiously close down. Ma gave me a piece of her mind, Baba too let out a shout of exasperation, but I have never gone to school next day without the requisite specific! (Though I might have very well forgotten at home a book or notebook or geometry box which was already with me ...) Baba's constant chant of “Substance, not style”, “ Substance, not style” has made me this simpleton who can't even handle her own eyeliner. Yet, I remember I had the Dennis the Menace “Squeezy” water bottle with freeze-able gel packs, & one of the first Casio Tone Banks in town...

I see my colleagues, who are half a generation older to me, fret & fuss over their children going to hostel, or to live independently in the Metros. When I started seeing this, I was like “What wimps. AND they have sons. Baba never thought twice, never had the slightest doubt or fear” ... but after witnessing this 5 or 6 times, I have developed a strong suspicion that Baba did think ... a LOT, probably had ample doubts & fears, but KEPT them to himself, & behaved as if, dropping me in Hyderabad at age 17 was the most natural & normal thing to do. I guess this – letting go of the fledgelings – is as “natural” as “normal delivery”, only for both parents.

Baba never had “strict rules”. I do not really remember - anything of any value to me, that I asked for - being refused. It might be because I was an ideal goody-two-shoes. Or it might be because Baba was such a success, that the rules that he lived by, got internalized in me, & never had to be pronounced out loud. Even faith was a matter of exploring, never an absolute. I think that was the strongest strength-building, independent thinking-building influence on me – Baba actively seeking his faith, never embarrassed of the fact that he is experimenting something so fundamental as faith.

Baba is still the go-to person when something needs fixed. These are photos from last November. The monkey menace of Panki needed to be fixed. & without injuring the monkeys. I had seen a wall decor arrangement somewhere, & the Archies' photo clocks will not do ... I got made custom shelves by the carpenter, but now these needed custom LED lighting ... AND, when sometimes my “down in the dumps” needs fixing ... he says, that on these occasions I start the phone call with “Hello Baba, Khaali aachho tumi?” rather than the more definitive “Hello, Baba, Shono.”

Happy Fathers' Day, Baba, It's absolutely comfortable & comforting & tension-free having you for my father, there are some fathers who call their daughters princess, & perhaps also treat them so... but my father can fix it all.

To tip or not to tip that is the question

Almost an year back, my sister & I visited Prague. It was a sisters' holiday in the middle of a double date/ family holiday - the child's father & uncle went home to Amsterdam with the child. I had read a question in Quora - "If you could visit just one city in Europe, which will it be" - & Prague had featured multiple answers, of course behind Paris, & alongwith Amsterdam.

Prague was dream-like. It was so compact - after Paris - disorientingly rich - Prague was sunny in August, coulourful in Pride, cobbled beneath our feet. It was ours to discover & get lost in. Google Maps told us we  were somewhere, & we were not. Prague was scattered with small artists. People publishing postcards of their own art, people manufacturing jewellery from their own design; on Charles bridge, there were registered vendors, & each stall had something handmade totally unique. A girl in her early twenties was playing a marionette, & she was SO good, & she was a street artist too, accepting coins in her cap - Prague was warm & jovial & full of life force which doesn't reveal economic 'situation'. The guards at the Palace were so cool, almost comical, they were ALL in shades, & that is how the change of guards took place - with all guards in shades 😎

In Prague we first faced the question of 'tip'. It is in Prague that we took guided tours. How much does one tip? Exactly when does one tip? Tipping etiquette is different in different cities. Foreigners tip all around in Indian tourist destinations - domestic tourists in India never tip, tips are reserved for the festivals, & for 'faithful' servants.

The first guided tour we took was of the underground nuclear bunkers. It was only accessible as part of the ' Communism tour'. Our vivacious tour guide Zuzanne took us around city, on foot, tram & bus, her English clear, her passion real, & at the end told us, we could ask something in general about the city. Suddenly others in our group started to thrust tips in her hands. I & my sister looked at each other. Panic. If this was the norm, if this was even the good manners, we had to do this. But how much? We were unable to guess from looking at our group members, & the moment had passed. or so we felt. It could not be done graciously any more. I still wonder if there is a moment to tip, which passes!

That same night, there was the 'Ghost Stories Walk'. Oh, YES. It lived up to our expectations. Born after urban India was well electrified, we have hardly, if ever, known true darkness. The darkness in which ghosts might feel actually comfortable. But walking with Scot, even in brightly lit nighttim e Prague, his lantern actually smelling of Kerosene ... listening to the stories some of which featured ghosts, some supernatural happenings, & some tragedies, it was like being inside one of Dicken's stories ... the others in the group,the other rambunctious groups, the Beer-bikes (if you don't know these, look up!), all faded out ... the simple experience of listening to a story told by a compelling teller drowned everything. It's a pity the Astronomical clock was closed for repair, & so was a  park where Scot sometimes takes one of the halts. Even with two places minus, it was well worth the fees & the tip, well worth TWO walks around the city the same day, it was worth itself. This time I was ready with the money in my hand, when others in my group were.

In Prague, I didn't have any traditional Czech (or Slovak) food at all. One of the afternoons, we had an amazing Burrito bowl at some sort of a chain eatery. One of the afternoons, we had a wonderful guacamole quesadilla at the farmers' market. The guy who was making it was chatting with us, & told us about his recently ex-boyfriend. If felt like he was still not quite over it. I felt bad for him. Suddenly I realized that he thought us a couple - my sister & I. Nothing wrong with that - expect that I felt that my 'sisters' vacay' got a tiny bit less glam - faded - definitely - in comparison to a lesbian couple holiday -anyone's. Is it that way? Are some holidays less or more glam than others, just by being? I also bought a tiny witch-on-broom corn-husk figurine at the farmers' market, btw.

In the nights, we dined daily at the restaurant of an Indian hotel a few buildings from our hotel. Consistently good Biryani & Alu paratha. We didn't even vary the choice from that. The boisterous owner/manager sat around. One day attending to some guests, one day lecturing one of his staff on how he should be 'always prepared for a party'. For some reason, it was hilarious for the boyscout motto 'be prepared' to be applied to the context of an 'impending party'. Our server was a young guy Pradeep. He was Bengali, whether from India or Bangladesh, we didn't ask. He chatted us up. On the last day, I consulted my sister whether he was chatting us up for a good tip. She was of the opinion that he was 'bonding' over language, & might be offended that we patronised him. So, we didn't.

The confounding experience happened the first afternoon, we were back from the Communism walk, & it was 4 in the afternoon, & I was ravenous. Surprisingly, my sister was not. I was really tempted by an eatery in the shape of train compartments somewhere in front of the Jan Hus memorial. I was going to try The Trdelnik, which I had already read was a sweet misidentified as Czech traditional, but nevertheless, the name chimney cake amused me. I thought it will not be enough, so I looked for a simple Pasta. Here, the owner-manager came & stood on my head. He had huge objection that I was ordering just one main course & just one dessert for two people. Anyway, I was unable to get up & walk away. & then, he asked me, in these exact words "How much are you going to tip?" This was right after I had failed to tip the admirable Zuzanne, see, so I asked him "so how much to people gebnerally tip?" So, he says "10 to 20%". So, I give him not 20%, but 10%. I tip him for standing on my head, annoying me, & for demanding a tip, & I hadn't tipped Zuzanna for my first peek into the personality & background of Prague, & the revelation that we should do this sort of tour in every city we visit!

क्या पाया बिटिया होके

इन दिनों मन कुछ विचलित है।  पढ़नेवाले विचलित समझते हैं न? Disturbed. आज पुराने roomies से बात हुई।  WhatsApp पर . Roomies का हिंदी क्या है? सहवासी? कमरा-सखी?

बहरहाल हम तीनों disturbed हैं।  ज़िन्दगी उलझी हुई है।  किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़। बात चली की क्या SAHM - गृहवधू ज़्यादा खुश हैं? क्या वो सुलझे हुए हैं?

बात यह भी चली क्या  पुरुष होना ज़्यादा खुशहाल होता है? होता होगा। पर मुझे अपनी ज़िन्दगी का एक भी दिन, एक भी पल याद नहीं जब मैंने मादा होने की जगह पुरुष होना चाहा हो।

इसका मातृत्व से कुछ भी लेना देना नहीं है। Parent होने के लिए शरीर में धरना ज़रूरी नहीं, और ये सिर्फ गोद  लेने वाले माता-पिता की बात नहीं , कहीं बुआ माँ होती  है, कहीं नानी , तो कहीं कोई headmaster पिता -  बस होते हैं , कोई उन्हें बनाता नहीं।

 नहीं, बिटिया होना ज़्यादा है। ज़्यादा क्या? ज़्यादा सबकुछ। ज़्यादा विद्रोही। ज़्यादा रंगीन। ज़्यादा गंभीर। ज़्यादा चपल। ज़्यादा गहरा। ज़्यादा भंगुर। (भंगुर means fragile) कौन कम गहरा होना चाहेगा? कम  रंगीन, कम  दिलचस्प ? कम ज़िम्मेदार , उथला? हाँ , कम भंगुर  होना अच्छा रहता।

कल्पना कीजिये वो ज़िन्दगी के जब ऑंखें भर आएं तो कोई टोके - "क्या लड़कियों की तरह रोते  हो"
अगर माँ  की, पत्नी  की, दोस्त की  मदद रसोई में कर दें , तो दयापात्र, जोरू का गुलाम, और लड़की -पटाऊ कहलाएं।

कल्पना कीजिये वो ज़िन्दगी जहां बच्चे  को Science Fairs, School Fetes में, ... Park में football खेलने, कीचड में खेलने,... Music class, Karate Class, pottery class में, Mall में, Water Park में , ... कोई और लेकर जाता है - कोई भी और, पर आप नहीं, क्योंकि , अगर आप office से यों  जब-तब छुट्टी लें, जल्दी निकल लें , तो नौकरी से ही हाथ धो बैठें!

कल्पना कीजिये वो ज़िन्दगी कि  जब भी किसी की समस्या सुनें, तो बस दो ही विकल्प हों - हल प्रदान करना, या झेंप जाना। हल न दे पाने खुद ही असमर्थ महसूस करना। यह कभी न जानना - कि  सुनना - और समझना ही एक मदद है

कल्पना कीजिये ज़िन्दगी भर  पैंट-शर्ट या कुर्ता-जीन्स में बिताना ... कभी, ज़िन्दगी में एक बार भी, साड़ी न पहनना

वो ज़िन्दगी कम है। कम से काम नहीं चलता।