Happy Women's Month. One of the most fundamental issues that still need attention, especially in third-world countries is education for women as an empowering tool to uplift themselves. There are still voices of dissent and people who scoff at women who rise in their ranks and claim their places as leaders of an industry, or masters of their chosen profession. Here I would like to share a little bit about Education in Women.  Shobana's Musings (https://shobanasmusings.blogspot.com/2023/03/education-for-women.html) I have incorporated a spotlight on my daughter who has just completed her Master's in LLB. A proud moment for us indeed. I have started a Weekly Newsletter and I hope that you will consider following the blog where I share my views on all and sundry. I have a new book published which has garnered great reviews so far on Amazon. You can read the first 2 chapters and the reviews at https://www.amazon.com/Where-Rain-Falls-Shobana-Gomes-ebook/dp/B0BWK6YBH6, Or read it on Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/my/en/ebook/where-the-rain-falls Have a great week. Best wishes, Shobana Gomes https://alittletimewithshobana.blogspot.com

https://alittletimewithshobana.blogspot.com

The life of a working lady is not easy. This is something that I've been trying to prove my whole life. There are people around me who assume that being a working lady is a piece of cake. Those people include almost every other human being I know. My usual day starts with the struggle to get up. “Get up Saira, its 6:00 A.M.” “Ok, I'll get up after 15 minutes”. And I'm off to sleep again. BANG!!! “Oh God! its 7:00 A.M. already, you traitor alarm clock, why do you always go off”. But it didn't actually, I snoozed it myself. It's a routine for me. Every night, I promise myself that I'll get up early, finish my morning chores and will reach office timely and every other morning, it's a complete disaster. “Alright, Ammar, please empty the room, I need to get the kids ready for school”. That's me to my husband every morning, literally pushing him out of the bed so I can get complete bed space to make my kids ready. “Come on, Hania and Sameer, it's time for school.” After making the announcement, now I am ready for my kids tantrums. “Mom, I cannot get up, my legs are hurting real bad”. That's my daughter Hania “achoo… achooo…” that's my son Sameer sneezing continuously to get a day off from school. “Hania, if your legs are hurting real bad then I am sure that you can just keep sitting at your desk and don't even play with your friends to get some rest for yourself.” “And my dear Sameer, it'll take more than a simple sneeze to convince me that you are having bird flu or congo virus”. After rejecting all the non-verbal leave applications; now it's time to move to the next phase of getting them ready for school. “Stop jumping on the bed Sameer”. “Come here Hania, you had enough rotations around the bed, if you had been planet Earth; you would have completed a year by now”. Now moving to the next phase i.e. feeding all the three babies including my husband. “Mom, I will not eat without my candy”. That's Hania asking for her doll to accompany her for breakfast. “I want to see wheels on the bus”. That's Sameer making another demand. “Honey, I cannot find my breakfast”. That's my husband trying to find something that is not even lost. “Hania, you can eat with anyone you want as long as you finish your meal.” “Sameer, I have switched on the television so you can watch anything you want. Now please just eat your breakfast” “Sweetheart, if you would just come out of the kitchen and look at the dining table, you will find your breakfast lying right on it.” Now since everyone has their meal so now we are ready to take off. “It's your turn to drop the kids at school so have a nice trip”. This is my husband leaving for office freely and happily. “Alright kids, Sameer will sit at the front seat and Hania, go the back seat NOW.” After making all the seating arrangements, it is time for school now. “Will you stop fighting over who is going to sit at the front seat after the school goes off? Please also leave some drama for your father when he'll come to pick you up.” After playing a referee for about 15 to 20 minutes among my children, I am successful in dropping them off at the school. And now moving out of the traffic outside the school is another hard nut to crack. “For God's sake, why are you coming on one way in the opposite direction?” “What makes you remember that you have to turn right when you are in the last lane at the left side?” Finally, after crossing a complete Sahara desert of traffic, I am able to reach my office late as usual. “Asalaam-O-Alaikum”. Paying salutations to my boss's personal secretary is essential at this time of hour. “Walaikum-us-Salaam, Ms. Saira, you are late again”. He made me realized something I already knew. “I know sir, it's just that I'm constantly juggling so many household tasks in the morning and it becomes difficult to manage everything timely. At times, it gets tough to balance work and personal life”. “Oh yes I can understand. But you can still try to manage your time. If you would just get up a bit early, you might be able to manage your daily tasks efficiently.” “I'll try sir”. I nodded my head in compliance even when my heart was in denial. As soon as I entered my floor, one of my co-workers remarked: “The life of a working lady is a blessing. You can come anytime you want.” “Indeed it is. Don't you wish you were a woman.” I said “I am happy being a man.” He said firmly. “Are you sure you are happy because that does not appear to be the case.” One of my female colleague remarked. “What makes you think that?” “Well it's obvious you see. If you would have been a woman, you'll have the freedom to come late. But you would have to actually work during the office hours instead of merely pretending to work. How does that seem now.” Finally this comment of my friend made my day as I don't need to prove now what life of a working woman is actually like. “Here's to another roller coaster ride”. I say to myself and get to work.

Women are a different species, but very sweet. Unfortunately, women do not head too many organizations. There could be a reason to it. Most women when they reach a respected level, they become obsessed with their career that they neglect their family. This arrogance reflects in business too and eventually they stagnate. It could be old fashioned to say that a woman learns the most in the kitchen. Some values do not change with time. A woman learns multi-tasking inside the kitchen. This doesn't mean she should be confined to kitchen. She should be given opportunities to apply her learning in a corporate environment. If she could show the care she gives inside a kitchen to her work, sky is the limit. In many ways men do not accept women to go ahead so quickly. But it is also true that you can push the ball under the water only for so much time. It eventually comes up. Men and women are equal but different. For example, 2+3 and 4+1. There is no point in comparing men and women. It is like comparing apples and oranges. They possess different qualities. They should understand their capabilities and work on it. The least anybody could do to a woman is to respect her and put a smile on her face. She deserves it!

He said to me, “I don't know why anyone wouldn't love you”. It wasn't a question. The old man wasn't asking about past loves. He simply stated it. Out of the blue. As I wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his forearm because his upper arm was too fat. It caught me off guard. And he noticed the tilt in my head and squint in my eyes as the words passed through my ears. How does one respond to that. Especially here, at work, in the hospital. Was he being inappropriate or just trying to be nice? Whichever he was, it left me with a pit in my stomach. “I don't know why anyone wouldn't love you”. We hadn't spoke of my love life. Maybe he noticed there was no ring on my finger. How could he know of a love I loved but did not love me back? He didn't. He didn't know there was someone he was speaking about when he said those words to me. A few moments passed, and as I took off the blood pressure cuff I had a response. “I guess I haven't met the right person yet”. It was a better response than “I don't know”. And I thought it would be satisfying to the old man. Just enough thought to entertain him, but not enough to continue this conversation. An art I have mastered. But to my dismay, he continued on. “So you are picky?” Now I was beginning to think this was dancing on the lines of inappropriate. So I told myself I would give him one more answer then this conversation would be over and I would leave. I have never let a man know me enough to truly love me, though he may have thought he did. He was in love with the mask I so carefully crafted. Until time wore down its corners and it began peeling away. He realized that in fact it was not me he was in love with at all. These thoughts never left. But as I left the old man's room, I fluffed his pillow one more time, turned down the lights, looked him in the eyes gave him a smile and said, “I'll be back to check on you in an hour.” Then pulled the curtain and shut the door behind me.

It was late when I woke up from my nap, my grandmother, who came home late from work, woke me up, "Oh poor girl, how are you going to spend your night?”. I didn't say anything as I was thinking. After a moment, I asked her, “Can I go to John's house to watch a movie?” She responded, “I won't walk you”. I begged her to take me because I was afraid of the monsters in the dark. She knew that I would keep begging her, and she accepted to take me. John had the only television in our neighborhood, and he had many domestic animals. It was hard walk to John's house because of all the animal feces. My grandmother stepped in it, “Oh no! See what you have done to me!” she pointed to her foot, “Why couldn't you stay at home?” I apologized, and tried to help her, but she refused me. I went into John's home, my grandma left me as I did, walking back home. When I entered the home, Luke, John's son, was watching football. Football isn't my favorite, but I greeted him and sat down to watch football. Eventually the game ended, “What do you want to watch?” he asked, I politely replied, “A movie please”. He changed it a movie “Where's your family?” I asked. He said, “They went to the wedding and will back soon.” Usually, the house was full of people but that day it was empty. After thirty minutes of watching the movie Luke stood and came to sit next to me. I moved over so he could have space, but I felt scared when he came over. He kept moving towards me. I was only twelve years old and Luke was seventeen. I kept watching the movie while he was kept inching closer. Something inside me told me to get up and run to your home, but my legs froze. I felt heart beat strong. I hoped someone would open the doors and rescue me. I was shifting and breathing hard, he asked, “Are you okay?" I was not, but I lied and said “Yes, I just want to go home” “Why?” he asked, “I thought you came to watch a movie”. I quietly replied, “Yes, but I think I should go home and help my grandmother”, Luke was not in the mood to listen to me because as I stood up he held onto my hand and insisting I finish the movie, and then he would take me home. After another moment of watching the movie, he decided to bring water from outside. I should have left as he was gone however, I stayed, and he came back with water. We watched the movie, he put his hand on my shoulder, “Don't worry I'm your brother”, he assured me. I sat stiff but after a moment, his lips were on my cheek. I pulled back in shock, “Why did you kiss me?” He said, “Because you have a beautiful cheek.” I moved away, “I want to go home now.” I insisted. “No, you don't because there are monsters outside. If you go, they will eat you. Trust me”, he said, “while I was outside, I saw monsters that looked evil.” Do I have any choice other than to stay with him inside the house? I sat carefully, aware of my place. He continued to sit with me and then touch me. He put his hands on my chest and I cried, I begged him to not touch me. I wanted to run but I'm afraid of the monsters outside. I felt as though I'm stuck in the middle of a horrific dream. My legs were frozen, and I wanted to close my eyes to pretend that everything was okay. He kept kissing me. His breath smelled rotten. He was a monster, dressed as a man. When he tried to hold me to him, I pushed him harshly and stated, “I will scream.” His home was remote; he knew that my scream would not help me though. I wanted to go home, but he kept insisting, “There is a monster with big teeth and a scary face waiting for you.” I was crying, begging him to take me home he said, “No, not unless you sit and let me do what I want to do” he bargained. I had known him since I was seven years old and I remember I used to play football and other games with him. He was the one we played seek and hide with, he was always willing to play my part, because he knew I was afraid of the dark, but now he has changed into a monster. I shot out of the seat, “I will walk home. I would rather be eaten by the monsters.” I went to the door, Luke fast on my heels. He tried to stop me, blocking the door, but I shoved past him and sprinted home in the dark. I knocked on the door and grandmother answered, surprised, “Oh! You're early. I thought you were watching a movie?” I didn't answer but entered my home tried to calm my heart as there were no monsters I found. I knew my grandmother wanted to ask me questions but refused to ask. I couldn't sleep for hours. There were no monsters I knew this. It was a story to tell children. I got up and left. He used my fear against me, to manipulate me. I swore I would not let my fear show and not let it control me. I won't let my fear cloud my mind. Now, as I'm older, I speak the truth about the power fear, and I walk without fear. I walk freely in both shadow and light, seeing the beauty of both worlds untied. Because even in the shadows, stars shine though.

Her bright radiant eyes, her tender shoulders, the long fingers, that glitter on the nails, those closed yet telling lips….relax friends..you are on the right page! We are not heading into an excerpt from a romantic novel. We are talking about the biggest consumer in the world that we live in. The clothes that she wears, the holidays she dreams of, the house she makes you buy….women today run the world economy!! This is a bit of a hurt to the egos of the lesser souls on earth…the marginalized..the species that wear the same jeans to a no. of parties and yet find it good enough for next. This species can be content with their favorite couch for light years. And holidays ? well isin't it supposed to be endless biking treks? What is the need for luxurious hotels? Yes this species got a name too, the Men. Hi! Who is chuckling there. We need silence to read the rest. Let us not be hurt, it's about the facts. Acceptance of the ultimate truth. Men like to believe, they run the states. The big units, across the world. Those board meetings, the sell and buy world. Demand and supply. Product and people. People? Did they say people? The marketing books went wrong here. It needs to be changed. Product and women. This is better. Sounds good. Works better too! Still not convinced? Aw! You are the boring statistical and facts type. Well then, get some coffee in your hand while you read the stats. And as I said before..acceptance of the truth. “Women are the most underutilized economic asset in the world's economy,” says Angel Gurría, the secretary-general of the organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. From Harvard business review. Women make the decision in the purchases of 94% of home furnishings…92% of vacations…91% of homes… 60% of automobiles…51% of consumer electronics. Since you got me in the serious statistical mode, let me play it for a while. The world is well aware, that women still largely suffer inequality in the workforce. Childcare is seen as an end to the careers of women in some states. While in rest they still struggle to make place in all kinds of work. Some states see women as just fit for rural work, farming and fishing. And the worst scenario is, the places in the world where every girl child is waiting for proper education and living conditions. What helps then? Awareness, Lets strive for women empowerment.This time for a higher GDP. Let us provide safety measures, care and concern. Smile…we are at the end of this write up…but at the beginning of a new world. A world where every country is seen as the best country for a women to work and stay in. Thanks for reading. And do shop new clothes for that next meeting Sir, just a request.

After the day's turmoil, I generally embrace the one corner of my balcony. Away from the chitter-chatter of the room, that place offers me all the solace in the world, and I can ponder for hours together. I might have blabbered with friends throughout the day, might have cried my heart out before my kins, but that 'sometime', when the setting sun colors the sky, I find the perfect time to set on long discourses with my inner self. And I do it quite often. Perhaps, because monopolizing conversations is rare. And it's not mere chance that that 'sometime' dawns upon me the important realizations. When the mind is at peace, and not under the influence of the great ideas and advice from the folks, do we get the chance to listen to our own voice. The setting is perfect to see things in the light, in fact in a new light. And one of such times was this last evening. Grabbing my cell phone, I plugged in the earpiece to tune to my favorite music, and moved to and fro in the gallery. As the music neared the descending scale, my mind gave way to recollecting the day's events and activities, and a deep sense of appreciation crept into my mind; appreciation for the wonderful creation of God - women, often addressed as princesses of their fathers. However, life always doesn't play fair with them. I certainly hold no biases towards any gender, but the kind of transitions a girl goes through the landscape of life is commendable. From an innocent child, living under the care and security of her father, she is taught to abide by the family traditions, and then one day pushed into the space of competition. She struggles to dig her heels in these customs, parallelly striving to make her identity in the crowd of millions. Expectations keep chasing her; sometimes of family, of peers, of professors, of friends. And as an instrument she dances to everyone's tune. Then the big change faces her - solemnization of marriage. With great pomp and show, she is tied in a relation for life. And this becomes her whole and sole focus. From what she wants, she feels, the wheel of thought turns to what he wants, what he feels. And the never-ending internal debate between the opponents starts to witness new settlements off and on. With every new sun, she wakes up to making endeavours to serve her family, and the organization she works for. And what an irony! The managers become more appreciative of her efforts at the workplace, but for the members in the family, her contribution remains insignificant. This certainly shatters her heart, yet she smiles, for the baby in the cradle has brought her new hopes in life.The new member finds shelter in the warmth of the mother, and she ensures to imbibe the teachings and values detrimental for the foundation of a strong character. Often, a woman sacrifices her career but would not let the family bear the consequences of the strict deadlines at her workplace. She invariably places relations atop her priority list. And even at the end of this, when people are thankless to her impeccable standard of devotion, no other misery causes her more mental damage. Although, these indelible scars have no medical cure, an environment of love and affection shall always see them diminishing with time. Sow us in the soil of love, Nourish us with care, Guide us in the right light, And from buds...We will blossom into fragrant flowers.

I am on the other side of 35 now and the mother of three awesome children. My son is an amazing person. He is a non-conformist and at times very caring and at other times, he's your stereotypical teenager. He is an artist at heart and I love him fiercely. He is strangely thoughtful and has been this way. At 6 or 7 years old, he surprised me with the questions, “what is love?” and “where does love come from?” Once, right in the middle of his homework assignment he said “Mommy, it must have been hard for you”. Not knowing what he was talking about I said “what are you talking about?” He said “Your mother dying when you were young”. He was wrong. While I am sure my childhood was different than the average person's since you weren't around, I never really dealt with your absence at that age; I began to process it when I was an adult. As a child your death was never something the family spoke about. We just went on living. We moved in with daddy and kept the play button of life on. I went to school, did what was required of me and moved on…until the teenage years. Daddy was a different kind of parent than you were: he favored the strict dad approach and I was very limited in the places I could go. As a result I did a little sneaking around and did some things I probably shouldn't have. But there is nothing I can do about that now. I didn't think I was worse than the average teenager at the time but I certainly wasn't the best. I only had a couple of close friends at the time and I don't know if that was a good or bad thing since she wasn't really the most sympathetic or sensitive person. But she's who I had, and I am grateful for her. Daddy got married to a woman I admire and love very much. She is one of the kindest people I know. She was definitely the motherly type but different than you, which is probably a good thing you know? If she seemed like she was a replacement for you maybe we wouldn't have gotten along. She was a worrier, always worried about other folks having what they need and often neglecting herself. I can't recall one bad experience with her. You were a different kind of mother; I like to think I somewhat take after both of you, you know? You were a creative, a poet who loved music and danced with me and sis all the time. I remember spending nights by granny listening to ‘Lady in Red' on my Walkman, smelling freshly baked bread in her oven. Those were much simpler times. It's been a bit more complicated in my adult life. I miss you most now because I am struggling with being a grown-up. Somehow, I feel like I don't understand what it means to be a woman because you were not here to teach me the rules. I don't know how to balance being a mom and a wife. Heck, I don't even think I am doing the being a mom thing right, and now that I have a teenage step-daughter and my 4 year old, I feel like I may not be preparing them for life as a woman. Sometimes I think that not knowing was an advantage for me but at other times I feel like life would've been easier if I would just follow the rules and conform. Would I want to teach my kids to conform to societal rules? Probably not, but I do think life would be easier if I could find that sweet spot between conforming and doing my own thing…I believe that is where life becomes easier to navigate. Either way, I suck at the balancing act of working full time, (full time and half actually) and being a mother. Not just a mother but a loving mommy that has the energy to play with the kids and clean and cook wholesome foods and not feel like I'm losing my mind doing that and forsaking my own desires to be who I truly am (which is not always kid friendly). I do not believe I am defined by this thing called being a mother and feel profoundly selfish for even having the thought of being something besides that. Realistically, I know you were more than a mother, but I suppose that is all I saw, and you seemed happy that way. Why do I struggle with that? I am most bothered by not being able to ask you for advice. It sucks that I can't sit with you as an adult and have a conversation with you, something I enjoy doing with daddy and my step-mother. It disturbs me that you will never hold any of your grandchildren and they will never know what you smell like (I still remember after all of these years). They will never know the awesome person you are, and they will never truly understand why I am so bummed out every mother's day and every August 28th (yes, I still remember your birthday). I'm not ready to leave my kids, but I am sure looking forward to seeing you again. I just want to talk to you. Take care of yourself. I hope you read this letter. With love, Your daughter.

He stood alone in the outhouse, his back to the door held open by his girlfriend. If not for the twelve-gauge shotgun in his hands, he would have appeared to be doing what normal people do in an outhouse. But his plans were not normal. His companions' cheered and dared in the secluded, pristine northern California campsite. The friends were alone along the banks of the riverside campsite. In the offseason, few people braved the cold conditions, unless partying. The remote area provided privacy, a nice beach along the bank, enough wilderness to do some target practice, and a convenient outhouse. This site suited the needs of Danny and younger brothers Sam and Frank who planned the weekend outing to get back to nature, with their girlfriends. Older, more experienced, Danny ruled the group. Stronger than his size suggested, a true outdoorsman, he was the kind of guy people followed. The kind who'd been kicked out of community college when the admissions staff discovered he hadn't bothered to graduate from high school. “Wasted four months of my life,” Danny would say. Danny seemed to draw the company of attractive women with ease. His companion this trip was Amy. Wilder than most, with no fear in her soul, she stood ready for any adventure. An adrenaline junkie, she proclaimed life was too short to live it bored. Middle brother, Sam, more of a thinker the studious sort who, at age ten, calculated the trajectory and ricochet of a BB fired at a telephone pole, bounced it off and struck Frank in the head. The shot was legend in their family. Sam reveled in solving puzzles of all varieties; the more difficult, the greater the sense of accomplishment. Sam brought his girlfriend Kathy to the campsite. A wonderful girl, her heart wide-open to everyone she met. Her thick black hair stationed almost a head taller than everyone else in the group, her intellect hovered well below the dimmest. Youngest brother, Frank would rather play than work, viewed school as an excuse to play sports and date girls. Athletic, affable, with a smile that beamed likability, he slid through his youth on cruise-control, and did only as much as necessary to get by. Bore him with the mundane, and he would be lost to the lure of pretty girls or any other equipment that bounced. Frank's girlfriend Cheryl, a quiet introspect, preferred dancing or reading good books to trapesing around in the wilderness. Athletic, carefree, and nimble, she lied to her parents to go on the weekend outing. Just the type of girl Frank admired. During an afternoon target shoot, Sam wanted to experience the kick of Danny's ten-gauge shotgun. Kathy warned him to be careful. Afraid of the recoil, he held the shotgun away from his body, pulled the trigger. The gun flew out of his hands and landed behind him in the rocks. Sam stood frozen, his hands still clutched the now imaginary shotgun. Danny barked, “Go pick it up and clean it. Next time think about what you're doing!” That night they sat around the campfire, the only respite from the chill of the autumn air. Frank snuggled close with Cheryl. Sam offered well-chilled beers retrieved from the near-freezing river. Danny, his personality bolder than studious, pondered the effect of firing a ten-gauge shotgun into the outhouse hole. Cheryl cautioned him, stating she thought it a bad idea. Rather than dissuading his doomed-to-fail experiment, the rest of the group's shared inebriation resulted in rousing support. He decided it was a good idea, grabbed his weapon and strode to the outhouse. While Amy held the door open, he stood facing the open hole, shotgun at his waist, ready to fire. The others gathered nearby to witness. Danny pulled the trigger. The report boomed a concussive shock that stunned everyone. In an instant, the scene became surreal, played out in slow motion like a WWII movie. Danny stood frozen in place, as if unable to comprehend the need for retreat. His eyes followed a large column of thick, brackish muck as it rushed up to the outhouse ceiling and exploded in every direction. The group cheered and laughed. Danny stepped out of the outhouse; they laughed without control. Splotches of fecal matter in various states of liquid and solid forms covered his blue jeans and white t-shirt. His face showed the depths of his humiliation in the smears left from wiping the sludge from his eyes. His embarrassment highlighted by bits of toilet paper that clung to the splatter from his head to his feet. He stood there resigned to his misery and announced, “I'm going for a swim; anyone want to join me?” Most declined the invitation and left him alone to brave the frigid water. As everyone watched, Amy and Danny stripped naked and dove in. Kathy said, “That was great.” Sam agreed, adding, “But not smart.” Cheryl looked at Frank and said, “We warned him. When will guys listen to girls when we say what you're doing is dumb or dangerous?” “I'm guessing never,” replied Frank. “We're not that smart.”

Dear men, According to my Kurdisch-Swedish friend, a woman is like a friendly volcano. “She really is,” he stresses. “I'm not,” I huff, “but I see your point.” Indeed. A woman is beautiful and serene: one truly amazing sight that stands out. Like a volcano. Until she errupts. Her volcanic ash, along with her conveniently aligned pyroclastic and mentstrual flow, can and will destroy everything dear to you. Including your upcoming dudes-trip, tickets to the match of the century, or your precious porn mags. Especially those. I'd like to say I'm the exception. That I am, although womanly and girly at the best of times, more like ‘one of the guys'. I can burp for Britain, fart for France. I nod and say I understand perfectly well how men drool over a gorgeous woman's body, without a hint of jealousy on my part, knowing “it means nothing”. I claim to find women annoying, how I detest nagging, how women never really seem to know or say what they want. And when they do, they change their minds. I state that I don't get them either. I say that I am this serene and beautiful volcano too, though a dormant one. One you can easily take on your man-cation. While you try to drink me under the table, I will banter until you're totally tongue-tied. The exception. Me. Sure. I burp, fart, and banter. But the exception? Nah. Don't tell porkies. For I am like all the others, just as all the others are like me. Women are NOT docile little creatures that agree with you eternally; who scrub your floors; cook; raise your gaggle of kids; wriggle a soft, manicured hand down your trousers to warm and tickle your yearning third leg. Even the most devout of nuns, calm and chock-full of self-restraint as she usually is, has her boiling points. At times she grows so angry and frustrated that simple gardening won't suffice to diffuse the situation: a radish will perish from her ferocious and terrifying screams, cucumbers will curl up in fear. She too encounters moments when she's so pent up, she'll lock the monastery door, shut the curtains, stick her Bible in the fridge and sinfully masturbate for six solid hours until she gives herself carpal tunnel syndrome, just to find some form of relief. So, yes. That thing about women being like volcanoes? It's true. For all of them. Be warned. Best wishes, Volcanic Female.

If I talk about myself, If I get an opportunity to live at home for the whole life, I have no regrets for doing that, but the question is who will support throughout my life and how many days, 2 days 4 months, or 1 year, that's it. Than what? have you ever think If you are alone and no one gonna supports you than what you will do? Definitely anyone of you will not remain helpless for a long time. And try to find the means to support yourself, And definitely, every woman who is facing problems in her life should do a job. 1. In this so-called society, you can't survive without the job. A woman has the right to work and choose the job she likes too. She must feel that she is an independent person and has its own personality. She has been fortunate to experience in her career. It is one of most liberating aspects that you need to lead a quality life with respect. 2. It seems today that the feminists are yelling in the streets for more rights for women. You can make your contribution to the society. You feel more independent. You are in better control of your life. You are a role model for your family. 3. She has the right to Achieve her Goals in life, of course, she has to provide a moral good upbringing for her children. Hence, women should work in order to make the best use of their knowledge, or else their talents could be wasted. Meanwhile, they will realize that earning money is not an easy task and hence, they will help their husband to save money for emergency uses or as an education fund for their children. 4. She is not a decoration, she is not an extra piece, What matters is that her work makes a difference to her / their life. I feel that these days it is important for a woman to be financially stable and independent, lest she has to leave her husband, or they divorce or her husband loses his job, the financial security of the lady and her family is jeopardized. 5. Women have to deal with more depression and stress. But they are stronger than man. And studies show that working women and mothers are less stressed out and anxious than non-working ladies. A woman often must endure more than anyone can possibly think, dream, imagine. A stay at home woman who is sad with her life cannot be a positive influence or role model in her kids' lives. When you remain busy its most possible to avoid negative thinking. Women are more creative they should work to contribute to society. They are also more organized than men and they also know how to manage their time hence they can distribute their time among their relationship, children and work hence they are fully entitled and capable to go out and work. 6. The last thing I would like to say, I do believe that married women should not work, life is full of stress but if you want to live a peaceful life than its better to rely on your family instead of doing a job. Because you are their responsibility, they are not your responsibility. Because If you are getting to annoy with your life partner than what you advise to your children and what they will seek. I believe that a wife should have the right to force her husband to provide her with the necessities. Though she should first meet the responsibilities, and if she can balance home and work than definitely, she should work. She can teach the family the value of independence and interdependence.