25.09.2025

Two homes.

Two names.

Two addresses. Two directions.

Two families, two sets of festivals—double the joy, double the responsibility.

Two kitchens, different flavors.

Two clocks ticking with different timings.

Two schedules running parallel.

Two worlds. Different duties.

And two hands, juggling countless tasks.

I am a woman.

A working woman.

A married, working woman.

A married, working homemaker woman.

Hey world,

Today I want to share a little piece of the life I live—across many worlds, all at once.

I call myself a “married working/homemaker woman” because I feel there’s a space we belong and to talks about. A space that isn’t fully defined. We are the ones trying to be everything, for everyone. And even when we give our best, there are days when we just can’t be everywhere at once.

Recently, I asked myself—am I a homemaker? Or am I just a working woman?

Because a “homemaker,” in its true essence, is someone who makes the house feel like home. She holds the little details together—the comfort, the care, the warmth. She notices what each person likes to eat, ensures the sheets smell fresh, makes sure the tap isn’t dripping, the garden feels alive, and the laundry is neatly folded so every morning begins fresh. She remembers who likes tea strong, who prefers coffee mild, and who needs their tiffin packed a certain way. She quietly keeps track of birthdays, rituals, and festivals so no one feels left out. A homemaker becomes the invisible string that ties every little routine, memory, and smile together.

But here I am, living in an ecosystem of two worlds, completely apart yet equally demanding. I don’t always know how to pick the freshest vegetables. I don’t know the names of pulses—I recognize them by their colors. Sometimes the curry I make tastes different every time because I forget the steps I took earlier. I may miss a laundry day or forget to clean the curtains. I struggle to remember if the bedsheets were changed last week or the week before. I laugh at myself when I can’t fold a bedsheet perfectly or when I burn the roti while trying to answer a work call. I sometimes forget where I kept the grocery list, or buy the wrong brand of detergent, and end up standing clueless in front of a shelf at the supermarket. And on days when the house feels a little messy, I silently wonder—does that make me less of a homemaker?

But no—I don’t think so.

Because I’ve learned the rhythm of what my people like—what makes them smile at dinner, what clothes they’d love to wear, what comforts them after a long day. I may not cook a perfect meal every single time, but I know who likes their chapati soft and who secretly enjoys an extra spoon of pickle. I may forget the grocery list, but I never forget to buy their favorite biscuits for tea. I may not fold laundry neatly, but I know which shirt makes him feel confident at work and which dress brings her joy on festivals.

I may not get every chore right, but I am present in ways that matter. I notice when someon has had a tiring day and quietly bring them a glass of water. I remember the tone of their voice when they’re upset and choose patience over reaction. I wait up late just to make sure everyone has eaten, even if I’m exhausted myself. I may not keep the house spotless every day, but I try to keep hearts warm and connected. I may not have all the homemaking “skill” perfected, but I give my love, my attention, and my presence—and sometimes, that’s what makes a house truly feel like home.

So yes, I live in two worlds, and both matter to me deeply. Both demand the best of me. But the truth is—I cannot be 100% at both, all the time. I get tired. I stumble. Some days I can’t make the arrangement on dinning table sorted, some days I can’t give my best in a meeting. And that’s okay.

Because being a married, working, homemaker woman is not about perfection.

It’s about presence.

It’s about trying, balancing, loving, and showing up—again and again.

And that, I believe, this definition is also ohk.