The sins of the mother, come down to her son,
But how long should we blame her for what he’s become?
One year of marriage – a journey together,
That year during which we learn more about each other.
Two years to bend, and to meet in the middle,
Three to feel the need to forge new ideas and new traditions.
Continue reading 5 Years A Victim
She’s a wonderful woman – that’s all I can say,
Let’s us make our mistakes and find our own way.
No protests when we make our housework easy,
With routines and ideas that would drive her crazy.
Continue reading A Wonderful Woman
We’re the women who dress up to visit our mothers.
We live by our own standards, don’t paint us with your colour.
Blow dry our hair and put on our best dress,
No it’s not a night out to paint the town red! Continue reading Paint The Town RED
She’s like the bottom of the pot, where the spoon scrapes.
When there’s less inside, to put on our plates.
The bottom of the barrel that bears the pressure,
When it’s filled to the brim and there’s no ease or leisure.
Continue reading She’s the bottom of the barrel
Can we call out that woman – the one who hates,
Who won’t support her sister until it’s too late.
Who gives support to the man who does women harm,
Even though she knows he’s the one in the wrong.
Continue reading Can we call out the woman who is filled with hate?
Do you want children so quick, or is it the pressure?
From family and friends who really should know better.
Who should let you do things at your own pace,
Take a little time so you have more savings and space. Continue reading Do you want children so quick?
It used to be Baby, ‘cos they saw I was young,
The one they looked after when her parents weren’t around.
Then, it was Didi – the elder sister,
A young adult woman without a ‘Mister’.
But 2 years of marriage and that was all gone,
Then I became Bhabhi, their sister-in-law! Continue reading The stages of my life