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Home is where you leave the Outrage at the Threshold

Until a few years ago, on most weekdays after we’ve dined and shut the kitchen for the day, we made a dash for the telly in the bedroom. There would be the customary fight for the cushions and pillows but with a prior unspoken arrangement between us, we always settled down in our pre-designated spots.

Home is Where you Leave the Outrage at the Threshold

Over the years, the telly got relegated into the background and gadgets ensconced themselves in our lives. We now plonk ourselves in the armchairs in the living room, each with a separate gadget, catching up on the happenings of the day and the latest tweets. We only look up from our screens to share some humor from our timelines or relate funny anecdotes or stories. Everything else hampers reading and is, therefore, an intrusion. And the mother threatens to wear ear plugs or leave the room.

Last week, on one such cozy evening, I learnt via my Twitter timeline that three of the five suspects accused in the horrific Delhi gang rape case would plead “not guilty” to all the charges. I felt disgusted, http://humanrightsfilmnetwork.org/amoxil betrayed and let down. I yelled out the contents of the tweet to the folks. The mother was taken aback too but she kept quiet; the father remained unfazed.

A few moments later, I came across this article, Delhi Gang Rape Lawyer Manohar Lal Sharma Says ‘No Respectable Woman’ Would Be Raped and went on an incessant rant. The mother heard me out patiently; a little shocked at my language perhaps. But she felt equally nauseated. She had that “I’m sorry, I apologize” look on her face, knowing that nothing she could have said would appease me.

The father, on the other hand, asked us to relax and calm down. “Getting agitated like this isn’t going to speed up the trial, so don’t get so worked up. Instead look to change the things you can control.”

We didn’t discuss this further, only buried our heads back in our screens again.

Home is where you leave the outrage at the threshold.

Shruti Garodia is the 20-something daughter of an exasperated mother. When not sparring with the mother, she reads, tweets and occasionally blogs.