It was one of those routine tantrum throwing days of mine in this freezing city of Nizam, while i reluctantly spend my winter vacations every year with mom. I was just about to tweet my oh-so-great-opinion on one of those new friday releases when she entered.
The first thing that caught my attention was her baby bump. i look up and notice a 5 feet little girl, draped in sari working her way towards the kitchen. 'she's the maid' my aunt says, reading my mind.
A pretty, fair girl, with a physique my friends would die for, with limited yet, surprisingly good english for her background is washing clothes catering to a baby. what have we come to? To accepting this?
Wasn't school the best days of our lives? When nothing mattered. we were free to explore and dream. 15. the age when all that matters is parties, popularity, 'chilling', social status, the number of friends you have on Facebook and inevitably the number of likes your display gets.
For some of them, its parenting, earning the daily bread and things so brutal that, the thought of it would make us cringe.