ShradhaGiriblogs

After a decade of updating my older smart phones with newer costlier ones only to loyally keep checking my Facebook page I decided to quit Facebook cold turkey - one fine day. I knew I would inevitably melt down with anxiety and hallucinations that I felt the urge to cling harder to my Instagram (sigh!). For a few days I wondered what those people who frequently showed up in my wall were up to? Did they attend another party? Did they meet secretly at first and announce in their wall about their meetings with their few favorite people. Did someone just flip and suddenly decide to rant about their loved ones? Or did they just give up on everything and started uploading selfies every two hours. Funnily (and sadly) I realized I cared less. And that how little anyone else cared about my life displayed shamelessly in their walls sans their consent.  A day later the thought of a digital companion whom I followed so closely for the last ten years didn’t seem to matter anymore. The person

I know I complain about everything that happens in Nepal. Small things matter right? I read a blog about a Nepali man’s frustration over how Nepalese wait patiently in international airports and behave all goody good and when in Nepal immediately try out some stunts to move ahead of the line. What is wrong with us I reason. Well nothing I reason back. Is it our culture that makes us so unruly and egoistic that we take extra care to follow all the rules and regulations in a foreign land but then slack and attack and abuse all of our own? A week back I went to a bakery in Jawalakhel to order a birthday cake for my daughter who turned seven L and while I was there for approximately 20 minutes the owner (male) would not even look at me and his wife kept on chewing on the diced fruit from the counter. Occasionally the male would munch on it too. They wouldn’t appreciate the fact that I was doing business with them and that the monetary gain was all theirs. No its not Herman they hav

The importance of being Ernest, 1995 This morning I checked out a book titled ‘The Emperor’s Clothes’ for my 6-year-old. I remembered an old school play our juniors had performed. I wasn’t a part of the drama (told you I was a late bloomer check my senior school play pic ;)) but I couldn’t wait to see how our school would dress the naked emperor. Obvious it was a skin colored body suit. Duh! And then move forward 20 years and here we are in 2016 still reading news about how women should dress up. The burkini in France created quite a stir and then the Tourism Minister in India came up with a wittier way to combat rape in India – women should not wear skirts especially the foreign women. Remember one of the televised US election coverage where Elizabeth Warren and Hillary Clinton shared the stage. Ninety-five percent of the coverage was about how these two ladies dressed up similar in sky blue shirts and trousers forget that both these powerful women talked about women empowe

Yesterday was one of the most awkward lunches I have ever had. You all know it was Teej and here I was tagging along with my husband and my 6-year-old to the famous KFC in Durbarmarg. Well the place isn’t for vegetarians it’s after all famous for fried chicken. I was the only other female present in the entire restaurant besides the employees. The other lady dressed casually in a red salwar suit sat with her male companion but she refrained from eating. And there I was chowing down the famous zinger (only wishing they had the spicy one too) kind of awkward. I had like zillion thoughts in my head running thinking wondering what the guard and the employees of KFC thought about serving me chicken in Teej while the rest of female longed for the day to end. Majority of women observe fast on this day to exclusively lengthen their husband’s lives. I have reasoned many a nights thinking how my lifestyle choices affect my husband’s health and life. Thinking aloud that I would run a 100 miles

Let me say this first. I was a late bloomer. I had my first period when I was 14 years old while almost all my friends had had their periods when they were barely 11. So while these girls bled, while these girls complained of having to change their pads in the coldest nights of Kurseong I prayed for my own periods to show up as fast as possible. By the time I had my periods I was about to sit for my 8 th grade final examinations. You can imagine my excitement. I knew the rituals to precision. I walked to the dormitory and announced the big news. The finals were over and it was time for winter vacation.   During the vacation one fine day my periods showed up. So when my sister and my mom learned the news I thought I would be taken care of and loved. I had no idea they would pack my bags and send me to my elder sister’s house because traditionally I wasn’t allowed to see my father or my brothers. So there I was living with my elder sister who of course was kind enough to treat me

You're imperfect, and you're wired for struggle,  but YOU ARE WORTHY of love AND belonging - Brene Brown A few years ago one of my female colleagues stated she feels left out in her husband’s home because no one consults her. Decisions are made and that’s it. Obvious for her to feel that way, she being the eldest child looking after her younger brother and helping her mom and dad to run errands, she owned her responsibility duly or naturally transferred to her. She enjoyed the responsibilities, she felt wanted and she felt important. I wasn’t as lucky as my colleague who enjoyed the responsibility in her maternal home because being the youngest child I felt left out. I know my husband who is also the youngest shares the same feeling because decisions are made and we have no clue what the hell is happening. My husband and I were both leaders in our schools, our friends value our opinion (I hope they do), we may or may not be raising our 6 year old appropriately