Family

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The Inheritance Of Suicide And The Beauty Of Endurance

I have inherited a lot of my father's traits, both physically and emotionally. I have inherited his sense of guilt, fear and worthlessness; he has left me his legacy of depression. For the longest time, I couldn't imagine what my father must have gone through when he took the final step. But in a terrifying way these days, I somehow can. Earlier I judged him for taking his own life. Now I both sympathize and empathize. And that is scary. Yet, I fight…
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Dear Future Mother-In-Law, Let Me Call You ‘Aunty' For Now

I hope you do not think of me as that woman who can never leave her family of origin behind while she starts one of her own. I would like to think of it as our families joining, melding and expanding to make more room in our hearts and our last names. This is my dearest wish, Aunty. My other wish is to have such a warm relationship with you that calling you "mom" comes naturally and from the heart for me.
Sakshi Nanda

We Are Losing Our Zen, And We're Grieving

Part-by-part and day-by-day our Zen is going away from us. Remember Maruti Zen, the oldest model? It's a 15-year-old car I got married to, after my husband bought it as a young adult with his father's hard-earned money. We know it's going away because every month it needs to be upped, with a part needing replacement or some other dying permanently. The engine is coughing with over-use, protesting at every ignition now. Mysterious groans of ageing are heard through every trip.
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Why You Should Give Your Children The Gift Of Boredom

Time moved slowly when I was a child. The days seemed endless. It's a contrast to my children's childhood, where all their activities seem scheduled weeks in advance. They'd widen their eyes if I told them how much time I spent doing nothing. They'd look at me as I look at those older than me who boast about walking barefoot to school. The way you do when you catch an uncomfortable glimpse into a time before civilization.
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The Best Getaway Of Them All...

Summers for me meant endless days at my grandfather's house, which was the enchanted land of do-what-you-want. We would arrive at his gates the moment our vacations began and leave, kicking and screaming, when July sprung upon us, all-too-soon and without warning. Our mother, to our unimaginable delight, was not only barred entry, but was also made to renounce all parental control.
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Second Mothers

My own mother was so busy working full-time and keeping house, she hardly had the luxury of a leisurely chat with me. Though she was a rock solid influence in shaping my health, conscience and general happiness, my emotional growth was pretty much dependant on my grandmothers, aunts, older cousins or sometimes even neighbours.

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