Rekha's Ramblings

  Today’s Writing Prompt: When was the last time you screamed and why? This blog is going to be in four parts. Part 4 The original prompt was exactly that — When was the last time you screamed and why? Hmm, that’s not a hard one to figure out. I scream a lot — several times a day, in fact. People often say I don’t have an indoor voice. I’m always loud. I laugh loud, argue loud, cheer loud. I suppose I was born a screamer . But things have changed as I’ve grown older. So I changed the question to: Screaming then vs. now — how my voice has changed I’ve always been loud. As a girl in 70s India, that was my quiet rebellion — to never be quiet. When I was younger, my screams were raw — all fire, no filter. I would shout back at rules, family, injustice — anyone who tried to box me in. My father encouraged it. Never shrink , he said. Never whisper when you can shout . Now, my scream has grown up with me.  It’s softer (questionable) sometimes, but it cuts deepe...

  Today’s Writing Prompt: When was the last time you screamed and why? This blog is going to be in four parts. Part 3 The original prompt was exactly that — When was the last time you screamed and why? Hmm, that’s not a hard one to figure out. I scream a lot — several times a day, in fact. People often say I don’t have an indoor voice. I’m always loud. I laugh loud, argue loud, cheer loud. I suppose I was born a screamer. But with age, things have changed. So I changed the question: When was the last time you held your scream in? I was born a screamer — I had to be, literally and otherwise. There were a billion people, and I had to make myself heard.  But with time, I realized I could scream differently. Not every scream needed to be out loud. These days, my biggest scream isn’t always a shout — it’s these words. Every time I write a truth that makes people uncomfortable, that’s me screaming. Every time I hit publish on something raw and real, that’s me sc...

  Today’s Writing Prompt: When was the last time you screamed and why? This blog is going to be in four parts. Part 2 The original prompt was exactly that — When was the last time you screamed and why? Hmm, that’s not a hard one to figure out. I scream a lot — several times a day, in fact. People often say I don’t have an indoor voice. Being loud is the first thing people notice about me. But with age, some things have changed about me. I am no longer the screamer I used to be.  So I changed the prompt to: When was the last time you wanted to scream but didn’t? These days, my voice betrays me — not because it’s soft, but because it hesitates. The last time I wanted to scream but didn’t was just a few weeks ago, during an argument where I chose silence instead. I wanted to scream: Why don’t you see me? Why don’t you hear me?   But I swallowed it. It’s funny — people think I’m always loud.  And it’s true: my voice rarely stays inside. It’s strange, though.  Fo...

  Today’s Writing Prompt: When was the last time you screamed and why? This blog is going to be in 4 parts.  Part 1,  (It was inspired by a post by one of my friends, The Life enhancing Life , asking her readers to open the gate, let all the emotions out. I had written this particular blog but never posted it.) Hmm, that’s not a hard one to figure out. I scream a lot — several times a day, in fact. People often say I don’t have an indoor voice. Being loud is the first thing people notice about me. I’m always loud. I laugh loud, I argue loud, I cheer loud. I suppose I was born a screamer. But when I really think about it, maybe it’s not just about volume. Maybe it’s about who I am — and where I come from. I was born a girl in the 70s, in India. Societal constraints dictated that I be quiet, submissive, agreeable. But I wasn’t. And that’s because my father wouldn’t allow it. He raised me to have a voice — not just a whisper, but a roar when needed. He told me nev...

  When my middle child was in ninth grade, I had the privilege of being the chauffeur for him and five of his friends on their way to a Model UN conference. The car ride was alive with youthful energy—six teenagers, between the ages of 13 or 14, passionately discussing or rather arguing their topics, world events, and geopolitics. Each one arguing their points with such conviction that they almost forgot I was in the car. Or maybe they didn’t care I was there. They debated fiercely, citing facts and passionately defending their points of view. Sometimes they backed down, other times, they dug deeper, refusing to waver in their stance. As I listened, I was struck by their passion. It was inspiring—and a little bittersweet. These were the kids who believed in their cause, who genuinely thought they could solve world problems.  If only the Model UN worked the same way in real life. If only the leaders of our world would sit down, argue with facts, listen to each...