THE PETTICOAT JOURNAL

READ MY ARTICLE ON SAFETY OF WOMEN FOR THE
             PETTICOAT JOURNAL HERE

ABOUT THE PETTICOAT JOURNAL-

We beg not to be confused for a soft, polite and submissive platform just like you want your women to be. We are not even suggesting rouges and mascaras for women. We are here with the after-story. The story after the woman is decked up and all set for life. Does the world stand by her? Does she have the courage to go it alone? Does she get derided on the way?

You say, "Huh! What world are you talking about? You may be living in a time warp. We've come far from those days when all these questions were relevant." Well, we would love to believe you. But even as we were gathering the mindset to believe you, we came across official reports about professional, educated women being subjected to atrocities, verbal and physical, by men in their families. Men would not necessarily be husbands. They happen to be fathers-in-law, brothers-in-law, brothers, fathers. As we turned the pages of the reports, we realised that after all the grassroots work by various well-meaning organisations, women in villages consider rape and violence a part of life which they have to tolerate no matter how painful.

A lot has changed over the years. Thanks to activists and social workers and the handful of men and women who believed in change. But there are a majority who consider such change disastrous...to their hegemony, to their egos and to their personalities. It's here that the change is stuck. It's this filter that suspends change.

It's no wonder then that we deep in our hearts we keep the lowest of low opinions about women and nurture lowest of low feelings about their characters. It's so fragile that we start doubting a woman's character without instigation. No? Consider this.

How does the world react to a decked up woman waiting for her family in the middle of a market place on their way to a family function? We know what's the very first thing that hits people's minds!What does the world think about the woman walking late evening along a lonely footpath on her way back home from office? SUVs and sedans slow down to ask her what she'll charge for a night. A submissive woman may just be pulled into the car without even the courtesy asking her charges. Then, the next morning, we read about her raped, bleeding, abandoned body found in a jungle.

What does the world think of a woman who mixes with men in offices or gyms or other places where she is a regular like any other man out there? That she is a nymphomaniac...that she's interested in men.
What does the world think of a woman who is the female version of a Casanova? Err there's no female version of Casanova!! We only know of sluts!
The world is changing. but the thinking isn't. Women are moving out and striving to make a mark and break free. But men and some other women are going regressive. They want to pull the charging women back. The Petticoat Journal is for them as much as the women who have begun the fight to raise their status from a doormat to a human being.
We bring you the Doormat Revolution! Join us!

THAT GIRL IN A RED DRESS

That was a bad morning. I was woken up by the squeaky voice of my maid, who wanted to make my bed.
Before I could tell her not to disturb me, she pulled away my sheet and started jerking it so hard, that I had to wake up.

A bad start to my day usually turns me off. But then it started raining and rain always make me feel happy, ALWAYS !
I pulled up the blinds of my window. The roads were all silent, but there was a  blissful bitter batter of falling raindrops. Everybody had taken to some shelter, except  a girl in a red dress and a few other girls. She was neither dancing in the rain nor taking shelter.
I reached for my glasses on the side table, so that I could see more clearly.

Credits- Hari Menon Photography

 She was a short, young dusky girl with a basket of bright yellow flowers in her hands. She was not pretty, rather she was very shabby but her eyes were beautiful. She was selling those flowers. The next thing I remember is that she started singing to attract people to buy her basket of flowers. Her voice was enchanting, though I could not understand what the song actually was. The language was unknown to me.
It rained for long that day, but she kept standing right there with undying hope. Her clothes were dripping water and her hair were all wet. But the yellow flowers were washed and bright!

                                                               X- X -X -X

My maid pushed me aside to the sweep near the window. She would never let me live in peace! After it was dry, I came back to the window. The rain had stopped and the roads that were deserted a few minutes back were flooded with cars and scooters. The girl in red dress would have been lost in the hustle bustle of the city, but my eyes found her. A middle aged lady with curly salt-pepper hair was buying flowers from her. I noted that she bought the whole basket. The flower seller was pleased, so much so that her dry lips parted for once to flash her teeth. She smiled for the first time since I had been observing her.
A long truck obstructed the view for a minute. From beneath the truck, I could see her bare feet  making way for themselves. She suddenly tripped and fell. A few kind people helped her get up, and then I realized -

   She was Blind !
I felt so sorry for her. The eyes that kept me captivated for half an hour could not see, see the world around her, the  blossoms she was selling and the vibrancy of her red dress.

                                                               X- X -X -X


Next evening, I watered the money plant near my table and opened the window to find her right there, yet again, in the very same red dress. It was a marriage in the colony  that day, so the streets were decorated.
 This time, her left cheek had a big cut. The blood was dry though,  I am sure it would have been hurting her. That day I saw her talking, for the first time, to a balloon seller standing by the lamp post next to her. They became friends, I think,as they chatted for long.

Credits- Audi Photography

                                                               X- X -X -X

She was there everyday for the next one week. Listening to her songs and waiting for her to pack, gelled into my routine and became a part of my everyday.
Out of curiosity one day, I couldn't stop my self from asking her name, but I got no answer, just a faint smile.
I bought a bunch of flowers from her. She was trying to hunt for change from her little bag, but I told her to keep it with herself.
I tried communicating with her after that, but maybe I was too shy.
But now I regret that because she never came back with her basket of flowers after that. She just vanished.
I did not know anything about her. Who she actually was? And maybe I will never get my answer.
I remember  those days when I observed this girl whose name I never knew, with a sigh.

                                           For me she is ' That Girl in a Red dress'

Credits- Audi Photography

                                                       

COLLECTING YOUR JARS OF HEARTS

my take on JAR OF HEARTS has nothing to do with Christina's song ( actually is just the opposite)

Life is a difficult path that has a huge stock of hardships and obstacles for the traveler. 

at every step difficulties come up with the objective to break you down. But to survive the waves He gave us a jar, that lies within us. A jar, where we can store love, which will keep you going even in the most difficult phases of life. whenever we feel scared to step ahead those hearts in the jar shout out loud-" we trust you, we have invested our love and faith in you, we know you can do it, we are with you"
it gives us a push and provides us with the courage to overcome the hurdles. 

the immense trust of our loved ones is always a force that never lets us give up and face challenges. 

We ourselves might not be strong but the those hearts attached to us solidify the little courage inside us.

at times of emotional crises, everyone wants someone to pour their hearts to! at such times the owner of those hearts are bankable because they gave us a part of them. human,being as social animal cannot survive alone and at all moments of life you need someone you can relay upon. just take out you jar of hearts and the thought that so many people love you can take you miles ahead.

But how do you fill that empty jar He gave you? do we have a market that sells hearts? 

during the journey of life, we come across people who are willing to give and take love. 

identify them, be courteous to all and walk ahead only after gifting them the flowers with the fragrance of love, respect and trust. dispose off your ego, hatred and selfishness. 

loving everyone in life is not possible but not hatting anyone of them is easy.

If at any moment you feel lonely, you jar of hearts is not filled. You did something wrong during your journey. take the next step ahead only after you corrected yourself. 

its never too late to collect hearts.  just the will to share love can help.

those who take their own lives could never identify the jar inside them which was always empty. those who wish to live with others, for others have filled their jars and have given their pieces of heat to others.

life can be beautiful, in fact it is, just make sure your jar of hearts is always full and this can happen only if you have the will to make someone else's life beautiful