Sunderblogger.india_withoutmakeup.089

Sunderblogger.india_withoutmakeup.087 The Indian woman is no way different from her sister in any other part of the world; only she does everything more fiercely, most passionately, more single mindedly. She just cannot be alone; to escape this horror, she would busy herself with the concerns of her family, if she has one; when she has no children and no dragon of a mother-in-law to face, she would invite friends or visit them. She will, in any case, be up to something. This is about Indian upper and middle class woman, who, as in other counties, set the pace. The present if out of the picture, for she has no time or inclination even to look at herself in the mirror. She works from dawn to dusk, day and day out, until merciful death claims her; the working class woman too, is beast of burden who gets a brief respite when there is a wedding or a funeral in her home; the other women, wives, or daughters of the lower income groups (say, minor officials), have so many brats to look after that they literally spend their time from cradle to cot, from cot to cradle, attending to this or that child; the topmost layer of women, spouses of the very wealthy, the very aristocratic, or the very powerful, take up rival causes, the more outlandish the better, or paly bridge, go the races, flit from cocktail party to cocktail party, or lie in bed reading True Detective, True Confessions, and similar heartening magazines. To be sure, there are women who are wide awake and conscious of world problems, but they are too few to change the general habit of using time uncreatively. The average Indian woman moves between sour-destroying drudgery and stupid frivolling. Kind Regards! Sunder Thadani