Share Your Moments

Our monotonous lives do have multiple moments of frustration, disappointment, anxiety, anger, and depression. But there are moments of happiness, hugs, loud laughs, satisfaction, and calmness too. These positive moments define our lives and make us what we are. Through My Diary Pages, let us share some of those low moments as well as the positive sides and experiences of life. Please share your experiences with us on sharediarypages@gmail.com and we would publish them as posts.

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When I Met Harry

Harry came to my life when I was in the eighth standard. A bespectacled young boy with ruffled jet black hair, green eyes, and a scar on his forehead; a boy to fall in love with. Don't blame me as I was a teenager who wanted a spell of magic in her life and to run away to the Hogwarts. I hated being a muggle and aspired to become another Hermione Granger. I imagined myself boarding the Hogwarts Express and reaching Hogsmeade, going to that magical school, and learning to wave my wand. I had once written a secret letter to Harry on Valentine's day and later decided to keep it safe in my diary. When I watched 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' for the first time, I lost my mind (and heart!) over that young and extremely cute Daniel Radcliffe. I remember keeping newspaper cuttings of anything and everything related to him. I still have them, safely secured in my old trunk. Well, that infatuation lasted for a couple of years till I graduated from college. And...

Protective Mothers or Rape Deniers?

Who else can teach a young boy about the meanings of 'consent' and 'harassment' better than his own mother? (Image credit: Pixabay) I came across an interesting article in The New York Times last month about a group of mothers defending their sons who had been accused of sexual assaults at college campuses. In the U.S., the guidelines on campus sexual assaults had been pretty stringent so far. However, these guidelines have been blamed to presume the accused students as guilty, who are usually suspended or expelled from the college campuses for a certain amount of time. Needless to say, most of the accused are men. These mothers are on a mission to save their sons who, they believe, were “wrongly accused.” As protective mothers, they had compelled the college authorities to relook into their sons’ charges. Some of them consider themselves as feminists and hold opinions that how girls today have misconstrued the definition of sexual assault. ...

The Transformation of a Foodie

Being a Bengali, I was taught to appreciate the taste of prawn, crab, Hilsa, Rohu, chicken, and lamb from a very tender age. Though vegetables are termed as "Ghaas Phoos" (that literally means grass) in a typical Bengali household, I was fed with quite a generous amount of spinach, okra, bitter gourd, beetroot, bottle gourd, and eggplant as well. I could not evolve as a fussy eater, thanks to my mother's stern looks at the lunch or dinner table. However, I also could not realize my love for food until I started staying in a hostel. Poha, Upma, Chole Bhature, Daal Baati, Gatte ki Sabzi, Malaiyo, Raw Mango curry, Thalipeeth, Appam, Pooran Poli, Pithala Bhakri- I was introduced to new flavors from various parts of India. At the same time, I started missing "Ghar ka Khana", the much sought-after homemade food. "Those who love to eat do not necessarily love to cook." -Writer of this blog post It is said that people who love to eat can also cook...

Being a "Housewife" and Baking Shit

Even though my mother and mother-in law are both successful homemakers and I have immense respect for homemakers who are unsung superwomen, I still find the tag of a 'housewife' as my identity pretty insulting. Blame it to the spirit of feminism that arises from time to time to attack my poor husband or the fact that I had worked for five years at a stretch before marriage and had led a very independent life, I never thought that I could be labelled as a housewife. Alas! God had some different plans. Early this year, moving to the U.S. on a dependent spouse visa made me the quintessential housewife. I bawled, shouted, and argued with my dear husband whom I held responsible for my plight. As if my feminist rants were not enough to torture him, I decided to exhibit my limited culinary skills to feed him, making good use of all the free time I had. The Birthday Cake August came and I started planning for my husband's birthday. When we were in a long dist...

Finding Happiness

There are a thousand things in my everyday life that I do not like. Peeling garlic, commuting through traffic, folding clothes and cleaning my closet, getting my hairy legs and hands waxed, looking at a pile of utensils in the kitchen sink, indulging in small talks with people or getting dragged into a discussion about makeup products (I know, this one makes me weirder)- the list of my dislikes is pretty long. Keeping my dislikes aside, I wonder about the little things in my day-to-day life that give me pure joy. Enjoying a big steaming hot cup of tea accompanied with my favorite biscuits is a bliss for me every morning. Feeling the warmth inside while gulping the hot tea makes me happy. Strange enough, I usually fail to appreciate such simple pleasant activities while rushing through my monotonous schedule. After a bit of introspection, I have listed down a couple of things that take me to the 'happy zone'. Whether it is a long shower after a tiring day, a bowl of hot...

A Journey

Train number: 18610 Boarding Station: Lokmanya Tilak Terminus, Mumbai Destination Station: Ranchi Traveling long distances by trains is nothing new to me. However this particular journey in 2013 has been vivid in my memory. Thanks to my peanut salary and a last-minute travel plan, I could not book an air ticket for that trip. So, I decided to go by train. Cherry on the cake, I could manage to get a berth in the humble non AC sleeper class only. My journey started on a scary note when I found a drunken passenger next to my seat. Thankfully he got off at Kalyan, the next station. I heaved a sigh of relief and waited for my other co-passengers to board the train. One middle-aged woman came and sat next to me. A married couple followed her. Two college going teenagers filled the remaining seats. And my long journey of thirty-nine and half hours actually started. Sitting by the window, I enjoyed the view outside. Small talks followed. The middle-aged woman...

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