I had given up.
On one front, I had a tag around my neck, announcing I was a part of the rat race again-bringing with it the usual office drama, driving through Bangalore traffic, and coming back to kids' homework and class tests.
And on the other, it was the bindis and bangles, reminding me that it was "adjustment" time again.
But then there's nothing wrong with a bindi or bangles, isn't it? Just a tiny adjustment to keep the family happy?
Oh, but they are still unhappy over so many other things.
So I make few more little adjustments.
Don't wear what I want to.
Eat what I don't want to. Don't eat when I need to...
But then what's a little bit of acidity or some headaches when it comes to the family's happiness?
The family was however unhappy, because I slept when I wanted to.
How do I find the will or the space to think, feel, talk or write?
By counting the blessings that I have it so much better than so many other women?
After all, as so many other women rationalize, it is the family's happiness that matters. Doesn't it?
Yeah, but I fail to ensure that, once again!
And just got back to being myself.