A
woman has lots of issues and grudges with life. Her life isn’t too bad; it’s
defined by the routine Indian lower middle class challenges. But she puts
herself under lots of stress while recounting all the lamenting stuff. I hear
her discussing the tale of woes with her female neighbors so many times. I feel
like gently reminding her, ‘It could have been easily worse than this. You
could have been an Afghani woman, deprived of colors from your clothing, robbed
of the sight of your own hair, deprived of the freedom to walk, talk, exclaim,
look the way you like.’ But I don’t think she would get this, so no point in
telling her all this.
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