Tell me a story

“Mummy, mummy, story, please!” Little Ritika hovered around tugging at Indira’s sari. “Not now, dear, I have a lot work to do”, she bustled about the kitchen chopping, frying and stirring. Rishi had invited his friends for drinks. Again.  He’d called her just as she was stepping out for her yoga class, and told her …

Ladies, play nice

For as long as I remember, I have been called a ‘feminist’. This is usually accompanied with a sneer of derision, a mildly ridiculing smile, a roll of the eye saying ‘here she goes again’ or even a shake of the head to indicate my ‘lost-cause-ness’. To all those who choose to place this sobriquet …