I had an extremely productive weekend after a long time. Last Saturday the first ever South Asian blogging event was conducted in London. The event had journalists from BBC, Sky, Media Diversified, UK Asian and Huffington Post as well as experts from Google and WordPress and not to mention all kinds of bloggers.  As a blogger, it was a great experience meeting fellow bloggers and experts and I was glad that I attended the event despite my initial misgivings.

Image via: Migreat

Image via: Migreat

The night before the event, I had a nightmare that I would go there only to find an empty room. Instead, I saw a room packed with South Asian women bloggers. Priya Changela from Migreat, the lady behind the event later said that it was only pure chance that all the bloggers were women. I was really heartened to see so many women bloggers from the same ethnic background like me. It only proved that writing is a medium that breaks the barriers of race and gender. The icing on the cake was that we also learnt some really techy bits that I must confess I would not have known without the event.

Image via: Migreat

Image via: Migreat

Image via: Migreat

Image via: Migreat

  • It is important to build personas.
  • In today’s smart phone obsessed world, mobile is everything. Think mobile. Always.
  • If you dig really deep, Google has all the answers on how to build an extremely successful blog.
  • No matter what keep the conversations going through your posts, your followers, comments and social media.
  • However don’t get bogged down by all this technological shizzle at the centre of it is writing. Honest, heartfelt and hence powerful. French novelist Gustave Flaubert has said, “The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe,” and I completely identify with this statement. Writing—be it creative writing or news features or about fashion or life—is like catharsis to me. It helps me to deal with my pain, doubt, insecurities as well as celebrate my few achievements.
  • My love for writing began as a kid; when I would spend a lot of time scribbling in my diary. Naturally, I thought of making a career out of it. I love how ideas can be converted into memorable written word (editors are you listening?). Even if one reader says that they liked my post and ideas, I feel an unabashed sense of pride.
  • So take that pen (or your computer) and write; it might just teach you a thing or two about yourself and the world.

Hope you enjoyed this post. Have a great mid week. Do show me your love with your likes and comments and don’t forget to follow me  🙂 You can also follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest

I wrote this poem after the brutal gang-rape and subsequent death of a 23-year-old in Delhi.  Yes, India is a land of paradoxes but no where it is felt more than in our treatment towards women. We pray to God and Goddess for sons. We celebrate our Goddesses only to ill-treat our women. Agreed not everyone is like that, agreed that not all families think of women as burden but by and large in India women are second citizens. I wrote this keeping our own prejudices in mind. Shakti in Hindu mythology is the personification of the great creative power. She is the great divine mother; the epitome of cosmic power and sacred force. She is revered and feared in equal measures. I imagined a place where even Shakti is crying because her daughters are abused and made to feel inferior in every step. I’ve tried to reflect this through this poem.

With her beatific smile and eighteen arms

Carrying many weapons and riding a tiger

Tall and proud.

She is the supreme goddess;

The slayer of all demons and evil.

The Mahadevi, she inspires fear.

People throng to pray to her.

To absolve their sins.

Spending hours singing her glory.

They beat their chests.

Cry hoarse.

For her kindness.

Her Gentleness.

The invincible answers

Smiling enigmatically.

But today the smile is gone.

Throwing her weapons.

A tear falls.

She is crying a silent cry.

For her daughters

who are attacked

their dignity taken.

Their gender treated

as a curse.

Teased and taunted.

Battered and raped.

Demeaned and killed

by the same men who

pray to her.

Yes.  Shakti cries

Hoping and praying

for her darling daughters’