Happy Covidiwali (to me)✨

Issue #81: All about Air India and Alliteration

Hello ji,

Ladies and laydaas, I have a small announcement to make.

After almost three years of luka chhupi bahut hui, finally, I have corona.

(A word of customer satisfaction here for Air India - which no longer deems it necessary to insist that the primates coughing and sneezing on its flights mask up.)

Photo credit: Shakti, CC BY-SA 1.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Nothing makes you feel like a Maharaja of the Skies like breathing in some primo virus in the skies.

---

And so it is that I am ringing in the festive season from the confines of a quarantine.

Gratefully, I have what they call ‘mild symptoms’. Unfortunately, I am still less than capable of making my usual weekly run of interviews and drafts and seventy-three redrafts.

That said, I have found you the perfect past piece to plug, people (wow, is alliteration a covid symptom now?)

I am thinking a lot about this piece as I am seeing the festivities unfold in the neighbourhood from the window of my cell. The balconies are getting decked up in lights, the curtains are being pulled down for washing, the floors are being scrubbed, the bathrooms are being deep-cleaned, and the delicacies I can no longer smell are being carefully handmade by… guess who?

Women.

I wrote a piece this time last year, called “Lamps, Lights, and Limitless Labour” (maybe alliteration is more of a Diwali symptom for me?) about how all festivals are celebrated on the back of rather backbreaking invisible labour of women.

I will plug that piece below for those who have not read it yet, and those who could use a festive reminder.

My Covidiwali is an odd way for me to experience how I can peacefully let a festival come and go without solo-shouldering the entire weight of its celebration.

So here is my Diwali message for women: This festive season, let us give ourselves permission to celebrate in a less than 100% deep-cleaned house, permission to feed the family store-bought sweets, and permission to let someone else dangle from the balcony if they want the lights so bad.

And while I don’t recommend the route this permission has come my way, I highly recommend giving it to ourselves, and to the women we put on this pedestal of patakhas and pinnis.

Alliteration Acceptance Achieved.

For proof that our festival celebration formats are injurious to the health of women we love, read on:

Lamps, lights, and limitless labour

Love and light (and a lady’s finger to Air India),

Mahima

---

❤️ Love Womaning? Show it by becoming a paid subscriber or getting yourself some choice Womaning merch.

🔥 If you are an aspiring writer - or even someone who just wants to make their emails shine - check out my storytelling course, which includes writing workshops and one-on-one mentoring to help you write better, write consistently, and write your own newsletter.