A Mother’s Footsteps

Mother’s day. Another western custom that has slowly filtered through into the more conservative eastern culture. Growing up in a Muslim Indian home with relatively strong traditional and Islamic values, we really never celebrated Mother’s day. While the message of the day is to show love and appreciation for our mothers, I grew up with my mother firmly saying that we should be showing love and appreciation for all important people in our lives every day and not just on a randomly selected day each year.

With that in mind, I thought back to my early childhood days and wondered back on lessons from Islamic classes (aka Madressa). I was looking for guidelines on how to show appreciation and who to show it to and for some reason the only one hundred percent clear lesson was the words of Prophet Muhammed (P.B.U.H), “Paradise lies under the feet of your mother.”

And as the words rang through my mind, I found myself wondering how many stories the feet of our mothers had to tell. With the help of one of my best friends, I set out to discover the world under the feet of mothers around me and as I delved into unknown depths I discovered striking, strong women and the people they helped mould.

Continue reading

The Rebel Queen

2

Once upon a time…

That’s usually how all love stories and fairy tales begin or with something equally as cheesy and ridiculous as that well worn phrase we all grew up hearing. The familiar tones of stories with beautiful endings for the perfect couples. The princess always finds her prince. The evil witch always burns. The kingdom lives and thrives under the rule of a happy young couple groomed to be the new king and queen and well, as the story goes, everyone lives happily ever after…

I’m as guilty as everyone when it comes to consuming book after book of these pale painted “romances” which lack substance and paint all girls as weaklings but, what if I told you that with a new age comes a  new story. A story called reality. In this story there is no damsel in distress. On the contrary, this girl was groomed to be her own  warrior. Her armor is not shining but dented, scuffed and worn from the battles she has faced head on. The wars she has worn and the milestones she has conquered have left her with scars she regards with pride. This is no weak princess. Continue reading

Still A Kid

30cc027c62c0266e0b5d210443f4e1f0

Have you ever caught yourself saying “when I was a kid…” and then realised, hang on a second I still do that. If you have not, you clearly have hacked life because for me and most of my friends we still catch ourselves being immature and usually bratty kids on, at the very least, a weekly basis.

For those watching us, I’m sure we are a rather amusing sight, if not decidedly annoying. After all, a bunch of college students getting excited over something like skittles or chocolate or dancing in the rain or singing “the wheels on the bus” at the top of our lungs between campuses is not the kind of thing people would expect at med school forget any where else. I still buy those cigar sweets and pretend I’m smoking and pick out all the colored jelly tots before I eat the black ones. I’ve jumped from concrete dividers counting out loud. I still climb into jungle gyms, even though I’m way way over the twelve year old age limit, and play arcade games to win toys I’ll never actually use. As a group of friends, I suppose we take the idea of a wacky Wednesday  a tad literally. Continue reading

My Heart Beat

Every day I wake up and fight with myself to get out of bed and face the dawn with a smile. Sword at the ready to take on the demons waiting patiently to attack. Every day the shadows creep closer and every day I push them further away. It’s a constant battle. A new pain, a new ache and a new scar to prove that each day came and went leaving me as the survivor.

Neil Armstrong said “Every human has a finite amount of heart beats. I don’t intend to waste any of mine”

Continue reading

The Business of Marriage.

Growing up in a relatively traditional Indian home “Failure” is one of those taboo words you never mention unless you want to be condemned. It’s quite possibly on the same level as admitting to having contracted the plague or H1N1.

So in the current culture of success being solely based on how many A’s you get in Matric and how rich you manage to make yourself by 25, the pressure is always on.  You are always expected to achieve nothing less than exceptional. Every parent believes they have groomed the world’s next Mukesh Ambani.

We are taught to dress ourselves in the latest fashions,  buy the most expensive make up and drive the fastest sports car our dad’s can give us. Our generation has slowly been conditioned to believe status means more than character and that money replaces love.

tumblr_mlbrt0cvTN1snl8neo1_500

Sounds harsh?

A friend of mine recently expressed an interest in a girl and was willing to meet her to decide if he wanted to propose to her…(yes, this sounds a touch old fashioned but he is one of the few who enjoys doing everything the correct way) Instead of her mother running the usual background check via the “samoosa gang” and the “Who’s daughter you” committee to see if he was a decent guy with a good reputation, her only request was “make sure he comes with his degree and university results.”

She could have just asked for his proof of employment and current bank balance… Or maybe a CV, since it seems that this is going to be a business meeting instead of a marriage proposal. Maybe the mother is justified but that seems a little harsh considering he isn’t even sure he wants to marry your daughter yet… It’s almost as if she’s conditioning her daughter to think:

05130f453ae5ae478254cd95735a502fb616a2-wm

I thought that was the pinnacle of ridiculous requests until I asked a few other friends and the list included (and I quote word for word):

  • She asked me if I would buy her three Mac lipsticks a month
  • Can I afford an apartment in Dubai for holidays twice a year
  • Do I own a business
  • Does my apartment have enough cupboard space for her 30 pairs of shoes
  • she said “I expect R5000 spending a month minimum and a BMW with a drop top. If you can’t afford that, don’t even bother”

Shock? Horror? Despair?

Perhaps I am being a touch harsh, after all, I know there are tons of girls out there who aren’t this shallow or demanding but I have to ask:

What on earth do you think marriage is?

Where is the logic in asking a 20 something year old, straight out of varsity, man to fuel and pay for a lifestyle your dad worked half his life to fund for you?  And why do you seem to think you are entitled to such lavish luxury?

When did a person’s success become linked solely to money? When did we stop measuring a person’s worth and marriage-ability on their character and personality and start measuring it on their ability to give you five star accommodation and a luxury car?

When did something as sacred as Marriage become nothing more than a business? Nothing more than a means to get the lifestyle you think you deserve?

sms-4120

Ladies, yes you have rights but these rights do not include your ridiculous demands for luxury. Guys, you too have rights but remember she is your wife not your slave…

In the business of marriage, the person who fails to understand the concept of partnership is ultimately at a loss.

william-penn-leader-quote-in-marriage-do-thou-be-wise-prefer-the

But that’s just my opinion.

After all, I am not married nor am I a business major so I merely know the little I gathered from watching those around me… In all honesty, much like business and economics scares me senseless, this new concept of “The Marriage Business” truly terrifies me.

409aa611c3377ab8c8ad7486ac17d94e

Quietly Calculating,

BrokeBella

A Hairy Story

hair-comic-1 hair-comic-2 cassandra-hairexpectationsvseality-3

In the words of Coco Chanel, ” A woman  who cuts her hair is about to change her life.”

Let’s just take a moment to reflect on one of the many topics that seem to boggle the minds of men every where, Woman and Their Hair. See it’s quiet simple really, a woman’s hair is her crown. It’s her statement to the world and whether she covers it all day or leaves it loose for the wind to caress.

tumblr_mlbrt0cvTN1snl8neo1_500

At some point we’ve all been seduced to cut our locks as short as possible without looking like a member of the local boys soccer team… And at other times we’ve grown it so long our mums held us down and cut it by force simply because looking like Rapunzel isn’t very practical for a nine year old who can’t tie her own hair…

For most of our childhoods we experiment with different lengths of hair, fringes, bangs, little tufts sticking up, pony tails at the very top of our heads, hair styles that belong in cartoons and even those dreaded mushroom haircuts. But every woman finds that one hairstyle that she will stick with th

rough the whole of high school. It’s her signature look. Her entire image is built around that hair do.

Then high school ends and we all have this sudden urge to make a change… And guess what’s the first thing we all tackle…

Bingo!

OUR HAIR.

Now the guys are probably sitting there thinking to themselves “why the hell would you do that if you already have a signature look?”

As Chrisette Michele puts it “Truth is, I cut my hair for freedom, not for beauty.” For most of us dying our hair blue, pink or even orange was a sign of rebellion. Chopping half your hair off the ultimate symbol of freedom. For a few days we revel in the light and often healthier feeling hair. Then the next week we realise we miss our long hair…

Why?

It’s simple, we had a routine. A set number of steps that en

sured your hair would look semi-decent every single day of the week. With a new hair do comes new steps… suddenly you have fly aways and cow licks popping up all over your head. Your pony tail suddenly resembles the tail of the chihuahua down the street. And sporting a messy bun is as likely as you riding a unicorn…

Suddenly the new hair cut is a disaster… even though it makes you look like Victoria Beckham. On a serious note though lets be honest your haircut gives you a boost of confidence. A fresh outlook. A sweet new view on reality…. In the end, even when the hairdresser does the exact opposite of what you asked, regardless of how much work it is to maintain your new do it’s worth the drama.

original

Because let’s face it, Ariel Meadow Stallings styled it perfectly when she said “Life, Weddings, Relationships, road trips, gardening, making out, haircuts: few of the fun things in life always go as expected.”

So here’s to bad hair days and good hair days. To natural hair and Bleached Hair.

Here’s to expressing yourself any way you see fit.

May you experience:

tumblr_n7ir8d7seZ1t1prrio1_500

And until next time, may your personality be as epic and as sexy as your hair.

Stay Tangle Free And Glossy,

Broke Bella

90’s Kids V.S The 2000’s

Today I had a rather strange conversation with a kid who after asking my age decided that a six year age gap would not have any influence on his chances. In other words he decided the best thing he could do was hit on me and ask for a picture. When I turned around and politely replied ” Hell no, you’re like my sisters age” he somehow took it as a cue to ask for her pin instead.

This got me thinking. When and how did the generation that followed the 90’s kids get so weird? In an attempt to figure this out I decided the only way to solve the mystery would be to compare the two generations.

Let’s start with the obvious differences:

90’s kids grew up believing “shit” was a swear word and “Damn You” was the scariest insult you could throw at someone. If you spoke out of line chances are you got stared at with those scary big eyes and you automatically knew you were dead as soon as you got in the car to go home.

We ran around barefoot and covered in mud the whole day. We climbed trees, ate ants and made mud pies with actual mud. 90’s kids knew what play dough looked like and painted the garage door with magic markers. We covered the drive way in chalk drawings and played hop-scotch in the street. We got kites stuck in trees and footballs kicked into yards no one wanted to enter. We scaled fences to visit our friends and spent hours at the park.

We had badass sweets that you no longer find and drank coke most of our lives. The only organic food we ate was that one time we tried eating flowers to see if it tasted as good as it smelled. We hated being inside and wore ten layers of clothes just to run around outside in winter. We slid down hills in cardboard boxes and scraped knees and elbows falling off skateboards. We made friends with actual people and actually spoke to them.

No one ever told us not to play in the sand or dance in the rain. No one ever said we’d get sick if we ate a sweet before supper. No one forced us to play with educational toys or watch creepy cartoons that teach you to spell. We had no bedtimes or schedules unless you count waking up extra early on Saturday mornings to watch Tom And Jerry reruns.

But the the kids of the 2000’s are completely different. They would rather go shopping than go to the park. The other day I heard a fifteen year old proudly exclaim he could out cuss Eminem.  They don’t finger paint and have a more structured daily schedule than a New York Lawyer.

Let’s not get into all the fancy gluten-free and organic food they eat or the cereal that tastes like cardboard. Or the fact they don’t have a clue what Cartoon Network and Code Name: Kids Next Door is. While we on the cartoons issue, why is Flinstones suddenly PG13 when I grew up watching it from the age of three? Why don’t the 2000’s play in the sand or dance in the rain.

Why is it okay for them to talk to strangers online but not in person? Why does it seem like a normal idea for a ten year old to have a cell phone and a fourteen year old to have the latest IPhone in his pocket? When did girls start wearing heels and lipstick to primary school? And what does a thirteen year old know about contouring her face?

Lastly, how is it that the generation that parents seem to be sheltering the most are the generation that come to high school with a full understanding of sex, drugs and partying? When did ten year olds start having boyfriends? And since when is a kid allowed to hit on people six years older than them?

Is it just me or is there a generation gap the size of Kansas between the 90’s kids and the kids of the 2000’s?

Lost in thought,

BrokeBella

To Grow Up or Not To Grow Up?

                                           download (1)

Recently I found myself listening to a friend complain about her brother and his apparent inability to behave maturely. In my head I was wondering why she chose to vent to me of all the people she could talk to she chose the one friend who doesn’t have a brother and quiet frankly is very thankful for that fact. But as a good friend I pretended to listen to every word and chipped in with the occasional “of course” and “what’s wrong with him”. By then end of the conversation I had no idea what we were discussing but she was less emotional so I figured it didn’t matter that I was completely lost. In the end she let out a wistful sigh and exclaimed “Why can’t he just grow up?” before taking a sip of her coffee and moving on.

However, while she forgot all about her annoying brother within the day her words kept circling in my mind…

Do we simply choose to grow up and boom it happens? Or is a slow progression through a series of crazy and eventful changes that leads us into adulthood? And if so, at what point in your life do you realise hang on a second, I’m not a kid anymore? Is it a matter of simply waking up one morning and knowing? Is it as simple as buying a pair of shoes? At what point in our lives do we go from wearing pastel pink Sketchers and start wearing sexy six inch Christian Louboutin’s? Would we still choose the heels if we stayed six for the rest of our lives?

While I was spiraling into a full existential crisis, my friend was spending her time chasing her brother and his friends around their house trying to retrieve the pictures he’d stolen from her room. Within the next half an hour we were all sent pictures of a five year old her sitting on a toilet. Not even existential crisis could keep me from laughing at the picture and phoning her.

For the first half an hour of the call she went off into her usual “He is such a douche” rant. After that we made small talk and when we eventually got off the phone I was left with another thought. If growing up means girls go from sneakers to heels what does it mean for guys?

What do guys have to look forward to? There’s no Prada purses and Louis Vuitton outfits to look forward to. Maybe the reason my friend’s brother is a twenty year old with the mental capacity of a twelve year old. After all, if we wouldn’t buy a product that does not appear to have any benefits why choose to grow up if it seems pointless?

Have the guys figured it all out? Is growing up really all that? Or are women being lured into adulthood with the promise of fancy clothes and nice shoes?