Alamelu Janaki

  Most of the times, I am overwhelmed by the little things people do for me, in my desperate state.      I am a year old since my delivery, now that i recall my pregnancy process, i remember all the people who  participated in the process.  Strangely all my memory concerns food.       When i was carrying , I used to be super hungry once I come home from college. There will be nobody at home, kalyan will be at his mother’s place, I will go straight to my friend Prathi’s house. She wouldn’t be there either. One such time prathi’s brother in law was in town, seeing me he was like “yenga, pasikudha?” (are you hungry? ) my face failed me, and poor thing he made a large glass of coffee and was like drink it up, he gave me three biscuit packets as well. It was an inexplicable feeling.   Every time, I think of this, I tear up. I don't find exact words to describe that feeling.         During my pregnancy, I think I longed so much for that warmth and comfort food. I had no access to coo

  The more I shun myself from thinking about the distressing events happening around me, the more I become guilty. This write up (outpour) is a reflection of the clashing questions, thoughts that linger in my mind.   Is there any rationale behind r*pe? Of course not, no crime is just. I have always thought r*pe is due to uncontrollable lust, an exploitation of helpless people.   More than exhibiting power and displaying violence it feels there is more misogyny and desire to control.   why will a man  r*pe ? What eggs him for such an act of violence? Is he aware of the repercussions? Or does he even know it is violence and unacceptable?   The following are my propositions: 1.                       😓   Because he/they is/are able to do it and get away? 2.                        😓    People in power and position exploiting the vulnerable? 3.                         😓 Patriarchal mindset. Hostility towards women? 4.                        😓 The claim that men cannot

  Postpartum Blues       I don’t know if I am usually like this, or my howling has got something to do with my postpartum depression.  Recently, I find myself deeply vulnerable, sensitive and I long for a loving, comforting, acknowledging, appreciating cocoon. I feel lonely quite often nor do I enjoy the company. In the recent quarrel episode, I was scared about myself. The self- harming and self-loathing thoughts I had were so terrifying.  I tried to recall the trail of events and string of thoughts to bring  a rationale to my outburst. I am writing this to come in terms with myself. If I am angry, the following can happen: 1.     I hurt myself or the one i love, deliberately. 2.     My emotions and thoughts take control over me. 3.     I want compassion, but show no signs of receiving it. 4.     I want it to stop, but i will have to be the person to utter the last word. 5.     Once my threshold is hit and nozzle is open, it just pours. No turning back. 6.     All th

  TO BE, OR NOT TO BE AT HOME? To be, or not to be at home? is the question that constantly rummages my mind. “To be of use” or “to be productive” is always the situation.   It's been more than one year since I took a break from my full time job (technically a year’s leave is extending itself). I was 7 months pregnant then and now my girl is a year old. Much has changed. Sometimes, I am glad that I am able to participate in my baby’s growth wholeheartedly. Sometimes it feels like the world is pacing forward and I am super stagnant. I am finding it difficult to deal with the pressure of being in the game. They say, nurturing a baby is the penultimate goal of one’s life. They say, babies grow by themselves, they need an independent environment to aspire. They say, I am just sitting at home and lazing around. They say, my qualifications are not exactly put in use. I am being judged as a mother, as a wife, as a daughter, as a teacher, as an employee. My therapist said, not