My Karwa Chauth, My Choice

And No, I Don’t Need Your Certificate of Feminism

Every October, two types of people become active: first, women who celebrate Karwa Chauth with joy; and second, a handful of privileged influencers and celebrities who try to shame them for doing so. 

This year, it’s Twinkle Khanna saying, “These days, by 40, you could be on your way to your second marriage, so what’s the point of fasting? You don’t need men to last that long anymore.” 

Before that, it was Ms. De calling Karwa Chauth regressive—a ritual for insecure women with nothing better to do. She even called it “Karwa Ch*t.” A woman of her age, an author we all grew up reading, saying such a thing was a shock to me. Both women are well read and well educated, and they have large followings.

Let me tell you my story. 

I started fasting on my own. My husband told me very clearly on day one, “Please do what you want to do. Mom might ask you, but it’s your choice whether you follow any rituals or not.” This wasn’t just about Karwa Chauth; it applied to all the festivals and rituals followed at my in laws’ home. I will always respect him for putting me ahead of himself. 

I was not forced. I was not brainwashed. I was asked to choose what I wanted to do. I am grateful for that and I value it. My mother in law took care of everything, as she understood the difficulties of being a career woman and a new mom. In fact, my in laws played a huge part in raising my two boys. They literally helped raise me, too. I learned what it meant to run a home and a family from my mother in law. This happens with almost all women, but many choose not to acknowledge it in the name of individuality or freedom - call it whatever you like. 

I am an educated woman and a feminist. They say education opens people’s minds. I guess I worked on that part - jokes apart, I have two undergraduate degrees, two postgraduate degrees, and a PhD. I founded Indian Women in Hospitality. I have spent my entire life advocating for DEI and for women’s right to work, lead, earn and speak. I have been working for almost three decades.

And I KEEP Karwa Chauth. By choice. So please, don’t tell me it’s regressive. 

The problem with these so called influencers; and what irritates me - is their sheer disconnect from ground reality. They live hugely privileged lives, with a battery of servants at home and PR teams to write their thoughts. Some are school dropouts who have never had to struggle for a day in their lives.

And then they sit in their penthouses and preach to women around them and to women in small towns - about what empowerment means. 

By the way, who reads their thoughts? Maybe thousands or even lakhs of people on social media. Do you think the women in our villages and small towns follow them? They don’t. 

I have seen women in villages on Karwa Chauth. Do you know what that day means to them? It is the ONE day they get to care for themselves.

They get to dress up like brides again. They get to wear new bangles, apply mehendi, and wear new sarees or beautiful lehengas. They get to enjoy themselves with other women - to laugh, sing, gossip and bond. For a few hours, they are not someone’s daughter in law, mother or wife who is cooking and cleaning. They are just themselves: beautiful, happy women celebrating together. Praying together. 

You want to take that away from them and mock them; and call it feminism? What is the harm? What is the harm if a woman wants to pray for her husband’s long life? Everything we do is based on a belief system. Even God is a belief. 

To Ms. Khanna and Ms. De: Let’s Be Honest

Saying that by 40 you could be on your second marriage, so there’s no point in fasting, trivializes marriage itself. Commitment is not a joke. The fact that second marriages exist doesn’t mean first vows are worthless. If anything, it proves how much we value companionship. Even if you are divorced, would you wish something bad for the other person? 

And calling women who fast insecure is easy when you have never lived the life of an ordinary Indian woman. Insecurity is not fasting. Insecurity is needing to mock other women to stay relevant. I am married to a seafarer; he is hardly ever home when I fast, but it’s one beautiful bond I share with my husband. I know he is often far away, across time zones and we can’t even speak. But that’s the beauty of love, trust and care. 

My feminism does not ask me to hate men. My feminism does not ask me to mock other women. My feminism allows me to be strong at work and soft at home, to lead a boardroom and also fast for the man I love. Both can coexist.We don’t need men to pay our bills. We want our husbands to live healthy lives. We can survive on our own. We have built our own careers and livelihoods. 

I fast because I pray for him and for us. Because I love him. Because we built a family together. Because love is not a transaction based on need; it is a choice of the heart. 

Just three days after Karwa Chauth is Ahoi Ashtami, when women fast for their children not just their sons (as it was followed earlier), but their daughters too. This is a beautiful adaptation. 

It’s not a hard and fast rule; it’s a choice women make. If they can’t fast for health reasons, they perform ‘udyapan’. Many have water after reciting the katha. Women don’t observe the fast when they are pregnant or lactating. They also choose to adapt the ritual to suit their needs and what they can do comfortably. It’s not forced. 

Karwa Chauth is also not necessarily like what Karan Johar made it look like in his movies. We sometimes dramatize our rituals too much. It falls on Chaturthi, and many people fast for Ganeshji. Some fast only until noon; there are different variations. 

I have two sons, and when they get married, my daughters in law will have the same freedom to choose what they want to do.

Let people have a choice.

Don’t want to observe Karwa Chauth? Don’t. We will respect your choice. But don’t you dare shame our sisters and friends in villages or working women in offices, who observe it with pride. 

Feminism is about CHOICE. DEI is about CHOICE. And my choice is to celebrate. So for Karwa Chauth, like many other women, I will wear my red bangles, apply my mehendi, and wait for the moon. Not because I am regressive, but because I am free. 

And no Instagram post by a celebrity will take that freedom away from me.

First posted on www.theiwh.com

Nine Days of Maa Durga, Nine Days of Devotion and Care

Navratri has always been a special time for me - a festival of faith, strength, devotion, festivity and togetherness. I began fasting during Navratri with my mother and later continued the tradition with my mother in law, whom I lovingly called Mummyji. This year, the festival feels especially emotional. Her name was Kailash Rani; a name that seemed so fitting for someone who was an ardent devotee of Maa Durga and whose faith and love filled our home. Everyone called her Mataji. She would begin preparing for Navratri months in advance: cleaning the house, shopping for goodies, arranging a Mata ki Chowki at our home and hosting kirtan on the first day of the festival. She would buy beautiful gifts for the women who attended and the prashad she made was unmatched. Everyone remembers her for her devotion, generosity and simplicity.

She taught me so much, not through rules or expectations, but through the way she lived. She knew that balancing home, work and children while fasting could be difficult. She never insisted that I follow any tradition; there was never any compulsion. But when I chose to fast, she took particular care of me. Even if she wasn’t eating herself, she would make sure I had everything I needed. She loved seeing me follow the traditions and we celebrated our festivals together. With Mataji, everything was a celebration. Life itself was a celebration!

This Navratri, I miss her immensely. Tomorrow will mark one year since she left for her heavenly abode. I feel the great void she has left and I miss her every day. At the same time, I am deeply grateful for the time we shared and feel blessed to have had her as my mother-in-law. She meant so much to me.

Perhaps that is why a simple gesture at work touched me so deeply this year. I work with The Park Hotels, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that my workplace, The Park Navi Mumbai had arranged fasting friendly food for colleagues observing Navratri. The chef had taken it upon himself to prepare dishes they could enjoy, including sabudana khichdi, sabudana vada, curd and fruits.

As I enjoyed some delicious sabudana vada, I spoke to Chef Amar and told him how this gesture of the hotel was appreciated. I learned that around 10 to 12 people were fasting and would come by during lunch time to enjoy the food. I wanted to know when this practise started and what had inspired it. Chef Amar shared the story with me and it touched my heart. Grateful to the general manager Mr. Rahul Makhija and his team.

I usually carry fruits with me during Navratri. But I began thinking about some of our team members

who start work very early. Preparing fasting food and bringing it with them might be difficult, especially for those whose jobs involve more physical work. It was such a thoughtful gesture and a beautiful reminder that when we care for others, we receive our share of blessings, too.

In nearly three decades of my career, I had never before seen a workplace / hotel take such a thoughtful initiative. It wasn’t simply about preparing a meal. It was about noticing people, understanding their needs and making sure they felt included. The hotel also supports colleagues observing Roza during Ramadan by preparing food for them to break their fast. Different traditions, but the same beautiful message: You belong here and we care.

Devotion is expressed not only through prayer, but also through kindness and thoughtfulness. This gesture reminded me that care can be as simple and as meaningful as a lovingly prepared plate of food.

Navratri celebrates the nine forms of Maa Durga, each representing a different strength and virtue. For nine days, we pray, fast and reflect. This year, I find myself thinking of my Mummyji, Mataji to her friends and family: her devotion, her generosity and the way she made every festival feel special. I like to imagine that she is with Devi Maa now, celebrating the festival that was so close to her heart. She is in my heart and in my prayers, as she always will be. Some people leave this world, but never leave our lives. They stay with us in our traditions, our memories, our prayers and in the way we care for one another.

My thoughts now are - Nine days of Maa Durga. Nine days of care from the hotel......and a lifetime of love and lessons from Mummyji.

Regaining My Wellness Journey

A hospitality professional who's always thrived on perfection – when I think of college days; I was at my ideal weight, then moving to professional life - balancing high-energy careers at Taj Hotels and then moving to IHM Mumbai academics, now at Apeejay Institute. Without missing a beat—I've long been the woman who knew exactly how to course-correct if the scale tipped. Yoga has been my faithful companion; I am not a gym person. I love the mindful flow of asanas that keep me centered, strong and my weight in check. But life, that unpredictable guest, has a way of shifting even the best laid tables. Plans can derail as life happens but then that’s the beauty of life isn’t it?

Marriage happened to a perfectionist whom I loving called OCD and 'Neem Hakim' which means a practitioner of all things nature based. Family was into mindful living not just eating right. My in laws did everything that was near perfect. Twice through pregnancy, I gained 20 kgs each time; exercising mindfully, eating nourishing meals, and shedding it all post delivery, my mom in law guided me on the age old wisdom. I even blogged about becoming a ‘Yummy Mummy,’ sharing tips for new moms such as prioritize protein-rich sattvic foods like dal, greens and yogurt; weave in 20-minute yoga flows and track progress with weekly measurements, not just the scale - were some of the tips shared.

Life was on normal course, master mariner husband maintaining his sailing routine and me bringing up our two boys in the caring company of my parents in law; balancing personal and professional life. God knows where a decade went by.

Then came the ACL (ligament) tear - no surgery, just my doctor's wise counsel; I was fortunate to meet one of the best doctors who has remained a friend. The only one who told me I didn’t require a surgery in my 40s. Dr. Maheshwari said, "Stay light, ditch the heels." I followed through, blogging again to help other women: opt for supportive flats, strengthen quads with gentle squats and maintain ideal body weight to ease joint load.

Why do I share these personal stories? Being into learning and development; it’s a mindset to share information that might help someone somewhere. They're my way of turning personal battles into collective victories; because I've lived them and they can light others' paths too.

But the last six years tested me like never before. Watching my beloved in-laws battle incurable foes - PSP for one, Parkinson's for the other; shattered my illusion of control. They fought with such grace, yet medical science offered no cure, only relentless decline. My world revolved around them and I did endless research on PSP (Progressive Supranuclear Palsy - which has no known cause, no reversal and no cure).

It impacted me in many ways, not just emotionally - irregular walks, skipped morning yoga and scales gathering dust. I poured everything into their care, feeling helpless as they became my priority. Emotionally, it carved deep—cortisol, that sneaky stress hormone, wreaked havoc, spiking my BP and ushering in perimenopause with 6-7 extra kgs and borderline thyroid.

Boom! Within five days, both left for their heavenly abode. Suddenly, I became the lady of the house, decision-maker in a home echoing with their absence. Blessed with parents-in-law who loved me like their own, always prioritizing us—the shift brought stress I couldn't handle. As a counselor myself, I knew the drill: process grief, seek support and move on. But even counselors need counselors. Months blurred; then my BP spiked; a wake-up bell for me. I felt it was time to reclaim me. I had to take care of self to take care of my family; I often don’t have the luxury of my husband with me though we are connected 24 X 7 through Whatsapp (All thanks to technology) but time zones can be an issue. He is the best man I have known and I am blessed to have him on this journey called life. He is my cheerleader who has pushed me to try my limits and be the very best that I can, be it building IWH (Indian Women in Hospitality – I am the Founder) to completing my PhD to even author a book. He has stood by me rock solid! Only thing he couldn’t do is make me drive!

Enter resolve, that universe conspiring force. It was end of December 2025, I am no New Year's resolution fan, but it was perfect timing. My cousin Poonam’s transformation inspired me; she'd tackled her health issues with discipline. Chatting with Dr. Swati and Ms. Hema, I joined the Fitinspiration Club - an online wellness ecosystem with wake-up calls, monitored workouts, tailored diets, nutrition supplements and truckloads of motivation. I am glad I declined a nice job offer earlier in November just thinking of the 2-3 hour commutes each day—sometimes, doors close for better ones to open. This 2026 gem fits my life: sustainable, engaging and community driven. I also watch yoga by Saurabh Bothra who has created a wonderful online yoga community Habuild to learn more about yoga and wellness.

Then, Gunjan Talks podcast sealed it. Dr. Bhagyesh Kulkarni and Dr. Chandrashree Kulkarni unpacked DDEEC - a brilliant formula for wellness marathons, not sprints. I identified instantly; it's reshaping my "next phase." Let me elaborate DDEEC for women in midlife transitions-perimenopause, caregiving, career pivots. It's holistic inside-out fitness:

Diet: Fuel like a queen, not a crash dieter. Focus on anti-inflammatory whole foods. Cut processed sugars that spike cortisol; aim for 1.6g protein/kg body weight. Tip for women: During hormonal shifts, add omega-3s (flaxseeds, walnuts) to tame mood swings. Food needs to have the required nutrition.

Discipline: Daily rituals over willpower. Wake up early, consider gratitude journaling; no negotiations. I restarted yoga here -Surya Namaskar for energy, not exhaustion. Women schedule self-care like meetings, it protects against emotional eating.

Exercise: Move joyfully, do willingly. Yoga, walks, Pilates - 30 minutes daily builds resilience. Move your body so that you move ahead.

Education: Knowledge empowers. Read on cortisol's chaos (it packs belly fat, disrupts sleep, ages skin). I devoured PSP research, now podcasts like Gunjan Talks. Follow credible sources; understand your thyroid-perimenopause link to choose wisely.

Consistency: The marathon secret. Small wins compound - no all-or-nothing. Lose that extra weight steadily; that will help avoid developing lifestyle diseases. Women, forgive slips; recommit daily. Wellness isn't cosmetic it's soul armor.

Be mindful of your sleep and water intake - they need to be in right amounts. No less, no more!

Cortisol doesn't discriminate, but we can. Listen to that podcast; it's an eye-opener. Prioritize mind-body-soul: meditate 5 minutes nightly, connect with tribe (like Fitinspiration), and remember grief evolves into growth. I'm not "back" - I'm forward - getting lighter and wiser. Wisdom in reducing the many cups of tea during the day, beating that massive sweet tooth, introducing fruits and salad into diet with a vengeance, eating mindfully with a dash of essentail nutrients. Following discipline in sleep, workouts, water intake and keeping stress at an arm's length. Very doable things that we tend to overlook; till it becomes do or die. Why wait for that? Your health and wellness needs to begin now, there's no tomorrow - keep that procrastination at bay.

I am filled with gratitude for people in my life and all those who might benefit reading my personal account in this blog.

Here's to sustainable wellness - your story starts now.

PS: Pictures are taken from Google with due credits.

 

Ram’s Story: A Plot of betrayal

 

Ram – growing up years

The hero of this story, lets call him Ram – grew up as the kind of elder son who quietly shoulders more than his share, long before anyone expects it of him. Eldest of five siblings in a middle class home, he could see very early the strain behind his father’s disciplined service life and his mother’s silent sacrifices as a homemaker. Growing up on naval bases, shifting from one station to another, Ram learnt to adapt quickly, study sincerely, and think of the family’s needs before his own, internalising the unwritten Indian expectation that children especially sons  must one day become their parents’ strongest support.

As his father retired from the navy while Ram was still in junior college, the weight of responsibility became real, not abstract. He completed his education, joined the merchant navy, and began earning well – not to chase a flashy life, but to build stability for his parents and siblings. With his first substantial savings he bought a house so the family would never have to worry about rent again, and over the years he stood by each brother and sister, ensuring their education, careers, and marriages were taken care of, even arranging for all his siblings to marry before him despite being the eldest.

Ram’s sense of duty did not stop at his immediate family. He became a quiet pillar for his maternal relatives as well, responding whenever they turned to him or his parents for help. His mother, known in her village for her generosity, often extended support to her brothers and sisters. Ram stood by her emotionally, financially and morally never allowing distance or his demanding seafaring career to become an excuse. In doing so, he helped lay a solid foundation not just for his own household but also for the larger maternal clan that looked to his parents’ home as a place of reliability and refuge.

At the heart of all this was Ram’s deep reverence for his parents. He placed them above every other priority, determined that his mother, in particular, should taste some comfort after a lifetime of struggle. In their old age, when ailments and dependence crept in, Ram and his family gave their best, managing medical needs, daily care and emotional support, so that his parents felt cared for and dignified until their last days. Their passing has left a wound he still carries, intensified by the knowledge that many of his choices delayed personal plans, postponed dreams – were made so they could live with security and respect.

Even as grief weighs heavily on him, Ram remains known in his professional and social circles as a man of integrity: a respected seafarer, a dependable elder brother, and a son who fulfilled, in every possible way, the role that tradition and conscience placed on his shoulders. In a world where property and relations so often collide, his life stands as a reminder that true strength lies in quiet sacrifice, responsibility, and faith that, however delayed it may seem, justice and truth ultimately find their way to the surface.

A plot of land

At the edge of a growing city in North India, near a dusty highway lined with houses, shops and half finished buildings, stood a small plot of land that had become the pride of Ram’s family living far away in a metropolitan city in Western India. Years earlier, Ram had invested his savings into this piece of land, believing it would secure his family’s future and provide stability in an uncertain world.

For Ram, this plot was more than soil and concrete; it symbolized decades of struggle, his years of service as a dedicated seafarer and a dream that one day his children would stand there feeling secure and independent. He carefully paid the installments and preserved all documents in his name alone, visiting the site whenever possible while imagining a home or small commercial space that would secure the family’s future.

Behind this land lay a deeper story of family support and sacrifice. Ram’s parents  had for decades helped his maternal uncle, let’s call him Prakash and his family. They supported Prakash’s repeated attempts to find employment, even bringing him home in the city and helping him prepare for armed forces selections, though he never succeeded. Trusting her brother, Ram’s mother allowed him and his family to live on the plot, asking only a modest rent to add to a financial lump sum; Prakash never paid a penny!

Ram gradually expanded the original 50 square yard plot into 200 square yards as a careful investment, with the clear understanding that Prakash’s family would stay only temporarily until their children grew up and found their own footing. Everyone in the extended family knew this arrangement; everyone in the locality knew that Prakash lived on his nephew’s plot, a fact that was never hidden or disputed for years. Who would suspect a maternal uncle to cheat a sister and a nephew who had only ever helped him?

Ram’s mother had four other siblings and everyone was aware of the situation. In fact, she extended help whenever she could to all her brothers and sisters, as her family was financially better off than the others. In the village and the neighbourhood around the plot, people knew her as the sister who gave, and knew equally well that this particular piece of land belonged to Ram, the seafaring son who had bought and expanded it with his hard earned money.

Plot becomes a plot for deceit

Trouble began when extended family members, once beneficiaries and supposed well wishers, started to see the appreciating land as their own opportunity. As values rose around the highway and urbanisation crept closer, Prakash and his family, who had always promised to vacate when asked, suddenly resisted when Ram decided to sell or use the land for his own purpose.

What began as mild suggestions “Why sell now?”, “Think about us” quickly turned into pressure, emotional blackmail and systematic obstruction. They refused to cooperate, discouraged potential buyers and began confusing relatives and neighbours about who really owned the property, spinning tales that made it sound like a joint family asset rather than a plot purchased and expanded solely with Ram’s income. All this while, the original sale deed, expansion papers, tax receipts and other documents remained firmly and clearly in Ram’s name, leaving no legal doubt about ownership. Prakash, putting his wife forward and making it sound like one poor woman trying to get what was hers, while the masterplan was being made by him and his son. But the men hid behind the ladies in the house and allowed them to play victim game, making baseless and false claims – lacking any proof! Lodging false complaints, hiring some lawyer who was writing the story that is their version in typical filmy style. Everyone wants business and this family is trying to delay things as much as they can.

This betrayal cuts deeper when seen in the light of Indian family culture, where traditionally no property or money is taken from a married daughter’s side and nephews hold an honoured place in the hearts of maternal uncles and aunts. Yet Prakash’s family ignored both culture and conscience, maligning their own sister and nephew and fabricating baseless claims of having paid for the land or having some undefined “share” in it claims made without a single genuine receipt, agreement or record to back them.

Despite decades of help, Ram now faced cold blooded manipulation and calculated lies. Prakash’s grown children, now in their 30s and 40s, refused to vacate the property that had always been meant as a temporary shelter and stepping stone, not a permanent entitlement. Even after the passing of Ram’s parents, there was no condolence from Prakash’s side; instead, they saw only an opening to entrench themselves further and try to seize the land that had been painstakingly acquired through years of sacrifice, sleepless nights and lonely voyages by a private sector employee sailing across seas!

They did not stop at obstruction. They resorted to threats, attempts to browbeat Ram and false narratives before authorities, twisting facts to present themselves as victims and Ram as the aggressor. False and exaggerated complaints, a pattern increasingly seen in property disputes in India, became tools to harass and intimidate, turning what should have been a straightforward civil matter of ownership and possession into a maze of police visits, inquiries and legal notices, all designed to delay and exhaust. They had their ulterior motive planned much earlier in the garb of poor people and aged elders.

The human cost of this fraud was severe. The mental and emotional trauma weighed not only on Ram but also on his bedridden mother and ailing father in their last years, and on his wife who silently endured the harassment, the whispers, and the fear that one wrong step could be twisted into yet another allegation. What began as an act of kindness to let a struggling brother live on the land was now being weaponised against the very family that had given shelter.

Greed goes beyond relations

As this painful dispute dragged on, the emotional toll became heavier than any monetary value attached to the land. Ram’s family watched him grow anxious and restless, caught between his ingrained respect for elders and his duty to protect what was rightfully his. What was meant to safeguard their future became a source of stress, conflict and fractured family harmony, while the very relatives who had been helped for decades used delay, confusion and legal loopholes to stretch the conflict further.

Ram’s story is far from unique in India’s rapidly urbanising neighbourhoods. Rising land prices often ignite tensions where family bonds and property rights collide, and it is not uncommon for dishonest relatives to misuse criminal complaints or inflated allegations to gain leverage in what is essentially a civil property dispute something even higher courts in India have repeatedly cautioned against as an abuse of criminal law to settle civil scores.

This story reminds us that behind every small plot of land lie years of sacrifice, dedication and dreams. Legal documents can prove ownership on paper but they cannot fully capture the overtime hours worked, the nights spent at sea or the emotional investment poured into such an asset. When family members choose manipulation over fairness and falsehood over truth, they do more than dispute property – they erode trust, respect and the very foundation of family itself, leaving scars that no court order can easily heal.

Until society learns to honour both legal ownership and emotional investment, many families like Ram’s will continue to fight lonely battles to protect what they have earned with integrity. Property disputes may eventually be settled in files and judgments, but the wounds caused by betrayal and the misuse of family bonds  and by the slow, overburdened legal system where “justice delayed is justice denied”  take far longer to heal, if they heal at all. Ram, being a much respected man known for his honesty, professionalism, and helpful nature, continues to believe that justice can be delayed but not denied, and that truth, however much people try to bury it under fabricated cases and false statements, ultimately shines through. He, his family and his late parents will ultimately get justice.

Lessons to be learnt

Ram’s story urges us all to document ownership clearly, never rely only on verbal assurances in family matters and seek legal advice early before temporary arrangements turn into permanent claims. It also underscores the need for authorities and courts to quickly distinguish between genuine criminal offences and purely civil property disputes so that criminal law is not misused as a weapon to harass rightful owners under the guise of complaints and FIRs.

PS: Based on a true story. It raises uncomfortable questions: Is the law so easy to twist that good, law abiding people can be worn down by false cases and endless procedures? Why must an honest person run from pillar to post for basic protection of clearly documented property, especially in states where law and order are already under strain? And most painfully of all – have some relationships become so shallow that greed can overpower gratitude, blood ties and even the memory of all that was once done for them?

Pictures are taken from Google with due credits