The grandiose of freedom

                  Freedom in comparison to something,

                   because of something

          from something

     to do something

                 not to do something

                            as a thought

                       as a feeling

                 as a notion

          as an action

            as a bestowment

                   as a dream

                       Here lie all the struggles

                          In these leashes and loops

No woman no cry

British India:

That night the household was a flutter with arrangements to furnish the room where the young daughter will lose her virginity. Some one gave the idea of a mirrored room with many lamps, many ran to fetch mirrors and lanterns from various houses, in turn making the entire community participate invisibly in the sexual act to be committed. Many middle aged men sighed in anticipation of the night putting themselves in the bridegroom's shoes.

Revathi was afraid and wistful and relatives joked around trying to lighten her mood as they mistook it for the fear and shyness of a virgin girl of seventeen years. When the hustle bustle of marriage preparations started months ago, she tried to feel the excitement as people told her that she was fortunate to get such a match, it is not everyday that a girl marries a Tehsildar who travels around in a horse with a big entourage at his beck and call. No one mentioned twice the fact that he was a 40 year old widower. 

She was gently shoved into the room full of mirrors and lamps at the appropriate hour. The man who is her husband now because of the ceremony was waiting impatiently. He drank the milk she brought and pushed her onto the bed to examine her more closely.

While the lamps did a devilish dance of light and shade making him look handsome at one point and menacing the other. Before any further action, a scream tore from the base of her stomach which pierced the night. She was stunned by the intensity of her scream. Her thoughts jarred the next moment as a huge hand slapped her hard.

As if in a trance she jumped, sprinted across the room and bolted out of the house in a flash. She ran till she came out of the village and walked till day break to reach the village next. She hid in a wagon which was un tethered from the bulls which were resting. She fell asleep though she willed herself not to.

(she was fetched from the village by her elders, her bridegroom was coaxed into consummating the marriage after the emissaries from her parent's side worked relentlessly for two more years. she gave birth to 4 children and became a widow early on. By then all the joyfulness in her was drained leaving her bitter and coarse)

Independent India:

Leela wondered whether female orgasm was a myth. She wanted to experience it once at least but her boyfriend believed in quick gun Murugan approach without much of foreplay. He fell asleep afterwards promptly as well. She finished on her own much later after his soft snores became steady. They had been lovers since a year. Clandestine meetings were exciting initially, now she was not so sure. She did not understand the hype created around sex as well. What next was the question she asked herself from time to time. Though Madhu was 'eligible' in every sense of the world, she was afraid to tell herself that he was not right for her. Unaware of her inner world, he thought that she enjoys sex as she  never  says no and her whimpering which is  due  to pain while making love sounded to him like appreciation of his manliness. 
Over cups of coffee or  over  pegs of whiskey with his friends, he discussed 'how the court should recognise marital rape is real and perpetrators should be punished'. (since parents got  a whiff of their affair, they were married combining  both their cultures, everyone involved feeling 'progressive' for doing so. Whimpering continued..)

My writing sliver - flickering as it starts again

Trying to  grab the  world and its meaning again. Not in a philosophical way but 'my world' which had quirky me,  sober me, creative me and so many more  mes'. Now this  sounds shallow after putting it like that. I remember Kung Fu Panda 3 - where Po mocks in frustration 'chi  chi chi chi, chi this and chi  that' or something to that effect. Now I  am sounding like  that 'me, me, me, me this and me that'.... 

I am floating in self absorption and it is ok to acknowledge it. I feel people are self absorbed but do not talk about it or acknowledge it, Like say for example, no  one  says, "I am not able to tolerate you right now because  I am self absorbed and your self absorbed line of thoughts are not what I  am happy to listen to" or "I love your self absorption so much, it makes me wanna share mine, can we  talk about it?" 

After arriving at this thought for the day, I  am  feeling exactly  like Po,

Stopping  my other chitty, chitty, chat, chat ...

How  cool is that ;)

 

Rants

 Rant 1: Recently met lot of old friends from college over a happy  occasion. First thing which came to my mind  each time I bumped into a familiar face was joy which was reciprocated too. The seed of this rant was planted when a long lost dear friend said that  he does not feel  old at all and he feels like some event we did together 15 years ago happened yesterday. And generally spoke about how it is important to feel young to be young (this happened over drinks when we met again in the night).  I know one angle of this  is also that when old friends meet then they pick up where they left off and such. But, obviously  there was another  thought which came to me 'ya right! you are a man!'. As a woman how I am reminded that I  am getting older each year, going past my prime, my face is showing signs  of age, my hair is greying and thinning - tips about what I  should  be doing, how to tighten my skin from now onwards, how to do this and how to do that... No wonder I  do not feel 22 any more. Though patriarchal male privilege is done to  death in various circles, I feel the  feminist female disenfranchisement.

Rant 2: What is with all these soaps on the T.V revolving around romances which pan out agonisingly over years (keep glancing while I am at mom's and other places where I do  not  have control over the remote). This new trend of romance is evident in all the channels. Another trend is also majority of them are romances between 'married by elders in the same community' couples and either husband does not love his wife because he had a girl friend before or wife does not love  her husband because she has misunderstood him some how or  some thing equally inane. This new age sanskaari bahu can facebook, handle smart phones and all other things. But, she will be busy getting into  one after the other tangles in her in laws place. In between there will be slow motion scenes of these couples grazing their finger tips to romantic music!!

Rant 3: Not being able to get a home which  is decent to rent due to ever shrinking living space, ever expanding city, pushing of fixed income people to periphery which  is an implicitly agreed phenomenon of a capitalistic society.

Rant 4 till infinity: Along with these add all other triggers of being judged, being muted, passive aggressified, labelled and so on. Now that  compiles today's rants.
  

What stilled or surged seeing Thelma and Louise take the leap ...

Two women who want one weekend away from their 'regular' lives decide to go on a road trip. For one, the regular life is being at home catering to her husband who sells products to other people by sweet talk and his sweetness turns vitriolic when he is with his wife. Ok she living in that life is her 'choice' one can argue but let us come to that choice later. The other woman is a waitress staying single though she wants an elusive boyfriend to be more than that. She waits for him and calls him a thousand times and clings on to the hope that he would come around. She is outspoken and appears tough. That life is her 'choice' too lets say. Ya ya we will come back to that choice in some time.

The roadtrip turns a nightmare and they end up being forced to choose whether they would like to be shot or imprisoned for life or fly into the grand canyon. They laugh and chose the thrid option.

After watching the glowing and glorious faces of Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis as they make that decision, it struck me that women are 'given' those choices which seem like Dante's various levels of inferno today as well.

- Choose to marry or any man can think you are available

- If married (good girl) then choose to have children or the society will look at you like you are a person with difficiencies or you do not want a child to interfere with your merry making ways

- Choose to not have alcohol or you can get raped, beaten or killed – because boys will be boys

- Choose to think of your career as second priority in comparison with your partner's career or you might end up alone and so on and so forth

None of these are new and many of them are 'cliches'. But try to stir out of one of them, then see how that works out. Choose whether you want to be a 'good woman' or we will hound you with labels and will get away with silencing you one way or the other...

No my friends that will not work with us all now. We do not want your choices and we do not want your veiled threats. We shall laugh our ways to glory come heaven or high water.

Menstruation Ramayana

I remember boys were asked to skip one particular biology class in class 8^th. Our lady teacher addressed us girls and hurriedly finished off the chapter. So what is this scandalous thing that we learnt that day or did not learn because it was drowned in unfamiliar scientific terminology?

 It was a chapter on male and female reproductive organs. Some things which stuck then are,

- After starting my period I can/might become pregnant (the process of how was not registered properly; in post class giggle session, some girls said by kissing, some said it will definitely happen if we eat leftover food of boys/men and so on, )

- Before starting my period my egg is sitting and waiting for the sperm. When that does not happen it starts to disintegrate in a bloody way (tantrum thrown by the angry egg!)

- Men's reproductive organ – the pictures made us giggle and the teacher nervous

- pregnancy is a fantastic thing which ends with a baby's birth – placenta is there for feeding and so on. As an aside, we wondered about baby's crap and where it goes. Some of us imagined baby crap floating in the stomach and wondered whether that is the reason for preganant bellies.

Any way since I had liberal and progressive upbringing at home, I knew that night itself very clearly what happens, how it happens and why. I shared that with other girls next day and what happened next is another story. 

I heard even today the situation is not exactly different when young women from M.P or girls from Karnataka cities, towns or villages share their experiences.

Why the hell do people go on saying that a female egg does everything else hurriedly so that it can come and sit in a place waiting for the warrior sperm to come see it? Doesnt it parallel the story of Ramayan? 

Pardon the caricatured narration of it though: Sita after being born just to marry Rama is found in a box (Ovum) and she is reared by Janaka to be an up righteous young princess and she waits for Rama to win her hand ..... once that happens, in the second round she waits for Rama to rescue her from Ravana ...... in the third round she waits for Rama to clear her name......  in the round next she waits for Rama to own her offspring and so on.

As long as Sita (in a one dimensioned list of notable  moral values way) is the role model for an ideal woman, this take on menstruation will go on.

Time and again...

I met my man who was a boy 16 years ago. We have been together since 12 years. Both of us fought over many things and moved on as either wisdom donned or we hit upon the solution. Now I see many young couples around me who are going through the teething years of getting together as partners. Though my journey seemed very unique because we are very different people and our situations and contexts were differnt blah blah it is interesting to see a pattern.

I know these are all bits and pieces of power struggle and so many other things like one needs to accept the other, is there love and respect, are people flexible enough, issues of gender sensitivity and patriarchy and so on. It is still interesting to see..

Scenario 1: Who likes to do what?

He told me that he is comfortable washing dirty dishes, clothes and anything under the sun, but he can not sweep the house because he does not like it. I said I dont mind doing anything as I know how to do them there is no particular task that I like for the sake of it, but I love cooking as it is very therepeutic. So what happened next? Though I wanted him to do the work of washing clothes, dishes and so on.. I started noticing that he does not do it so well and wastes lot of water. I felt the need to correct him and show him how it is done properly!! patriarchy seeped in to the extent where I felt the need to be the expert. It is not like he was trying to discover a new element and I am his guide, he would have figured out eventually the methods which are comfortable and so on as he is also above average intelligent guy. I set myself up to wash clothes, sweep the house and cook!! One fine day I realised that I am doing more or less everything and flew off the handle the moment he uttered 'can I help you?'... I ranted about how it is not helping me, it is what is needed for maintaining the household, I am not responsible alone, this wont do and what do you mean help me? Why cant this be shared equally and so on. Things became better after I ranted and we discusssed. So we started making weekend home maintenance task list. This list consisted of two columns tasks in one and who will do it in the other. So as soon as it was made (by me), he would take it first because I asked him to pick tasks first, he invariably ticked majority of them and in the evening we used to check and see that I ended up doing the majority!! Either it indicates that I am a control freak or as women we are conditioned to look at chores in a different way. So if I am cooking lunch, cleaning up the kitchen counters, dusting the shelves and dusting the elctronic items in the kitchen go hand in hand. While he would go and clean the commode though the task consists of scrubbing the bathroom floor, washing down the door, defogging the mirror and so on. That is how he understood it. Initially I got innocent compliments from him that while I clean the bathroom, some how it looks more cleaner and better!! The list and sharing of what is implicit in an explicit manner helped. Now we are equal partners wrt household needs. I see this fight happening in different degrees and different contexts around me.

Scenario 2: My friends, your friends and our friends:

I did not like many of his friends and he did not like many of mine. I felt his friends were stuck in boyhood and are deeply patriarchal, he thought my friends were pseudo intellectuals and pompous. So I went to his friends gatherings' with my nose up and he came to mine with his forehead knotted. We no longer have those deeply patriarchal or pompous ones in our lives. But this did cause some heartache in the first Act of our marriage. Now our friends are the ones who are great with both of us and we have our own individual circle of friends who are accepted lovingly by the other.

Scenario 3: If we love each other so much, how can we fight? How dare you not fight back? Am I investing more here than you? Why do you shut me off? Why do you yell at me?

Figuring out the fighting style that suits us so that things move forward and get closure than towards festering is an art which has to be learnt by each couple. There are no shortcuts to this process. We are active aggressor + passive aggressor combination on many days, it changes to one weepy hormonal entity + one bewildered soul on some days and one subtle manipulator + one subtle resistor or on some days and so on. All these styles keep on happening. Some styles have been retired by us over the years as they were mushrooming the issue at hand into something else. The first time my active aggressor yelled at him, he stood up, looked at me with deeply hurt expression and marched out of the house. He came back after an hour of walking and by then my anger had turned into panic. As soon as he came home, I hugged him and said sorry and he hugged back and said sorry. He whispered in my ears 'please dont yell at me' and that is the last time I yelled at him. When we feel like my aggressor supreme and his great resistor are getting ready to march in, we have taken a step back and have taken notebooks and writing to communicate what we are feeling. That has worked, along with many other things which we have found to be useful. We have also understood that it is better to share 'what I feel' than to say 'what you did'. I see couples struggling to understand their fighting and I witness the frustration and sadness when repetitively unyielding styles are used. Since there is no short cut here, it has to go on to give way to new harmony. I am also not saying that we no longer fight and have attained sainthood but we definitely know the difference between the issue and the person and how to go about it (majority of the times ahem). 

I am not an expert in relationships and I will not advise what one needs to do in theirs. All the relationship needs is love and trust in the process.

What women want on bloody days

Letter to sanitary napkin advertisement makers:
Dear Ad makers,
I am a woman and I want to to share my views on what you try to sell me is a happy period. I also write this on behalf of many women I know who menstruate and use sanitary napkins.
Some of us are heavy bleeders, some of us are not, some have stomach cramps, some have bloated breasts, some have bloated stomachs, some have food sensitivity, some of us have back aches, some of us have legs hurting, some of our migraine gets triggered by the period and the list goes on.

It is bad enough we can not talk about some of us being emotionally sensitive before our period and PMS is a 'bitch' word. Now I have to sit and take it year after year, you guys showing what women can achieve during periods? Wear a white pant and run around? Or wear sexy clothes and go for dinner? Mother and daughter skip together on the beach? Or climb up a ladder and take photos? Or save the world and come back to cook for the family?

One wonders who comes up with these concepts? As a woman who bleeds every month, I can say this about these ads, one thing that is very cleverly ignored is, what women want on these days. I need rest, I need my partner to be helpful, if I am mother then I want my partner to pitch in, I might need a day off if I am cramping up, I might want to rest and read, in the office I might need a day where I can put my legs up on a foot stool or anything except what is shown. ...

So these patriarchal and capitalistic messages tell me to ignore what my body tells me because I am now able to overcome my 'menstrual disability' by being super efficient, super chirpy, super enthusiastic and super whatever?

So next superwoman movie should have the line 'strap on your sanitary napkin sister' you can do whatever you want? (not that superwoman movie is being made).

I do not want to discount the comfort of wearing a sanitary pad which absorbs more or does not let the panties stain or whatever. But we the women are clientele remember? Why sell it to make us ignore our bodily signals and push us to perform high gear all the time?

At work place as it is the patriarchal culture makes it a taboo word to use. Already women with reproductive organs are a liability for 'efficient performance', we have PMS, periods, pregnancies and the likes right. Now you are telling everyone that with a correct napkin, we can do whatever we want? What about other days? We do not exist in your ads except for applying creams to become fairer and win a guy, testing out detergents for whiter clothes winning the husband's heart, falling all over men with hypnotic deodorants, selling tooth brushes to insurance policies ... with body parts which are deliberately removed from the reproductive function...

So if women lived in the world created by ads how would we look like? How would our day be? Where would our happiness reside in? No prizes for guessing..
The Stepford wives we are not because they are not real ..

A letter to my 20 year old self...

My dearest 20 year old in the whole world,

You are 20 and you are considered hot by many boys. Fellow students in your college think you are a recluse because you are hardly there in the college and it pains you to see why these females do not like you. Your lecturers hardly know your face as you are either absent or sit quietly when you are present. Do not worry they will know you when the final results come and wonder who this girl is with highest marks.

You have a notion my darling that you are more comfortable with male friends than female friends. This notion comes from the base of patriarchy which encourages us to shun the company of women and embrace the company of men. Please think about this. The girl you like now as a classmate will be there in your life as a friend to count on forever. The boys who made you feel like they are your best friends are hardly there now. The happiness you feel sitting in the University canteen with your theatre group members (young men) is not just because they are your friends alone, you are enjoying being out  in  the  open - drinking  many cups of Tea, discussing poems, sharing your opinions as an adult and for being respected for that. You feel empowered and you do  not  have the feminist vocabulary of it  yet.

You feel drawn towards a man who is older than you and somehow feel like you need your parents and siblings to know this as well as endorse it. This also comes from the base of patriarchy my dearest. I ask you to explore who he is as a person more than worry about endorsements which might eventually lead to marriage. It is fine if he touches you with your consent but if (or should I say when) he touches when you do not want it, please slap him. You should not feel ashamed because it is what patriarchy tells you to. I can assure you that you will spread your wings wide and fly high.

You are experimenting with writing poems and secretly maintaining a notebook. Go ahead and fill it. Show it to friends and family. Do not feel shy when some are showcases of physical awakening of desire. It is natural and you need not feel shy as it comes from patriarchy too.

You are a young woman now and your experiences shape me. Take care of me for you my darling.

We saved his life - true story!

I was may be 8 years old. Happy playing with the 3 month old fox terrier pup, getting scared when my big brother said 'Kashmoooraaaaaa', embarrassing amma when she took me to her friends' homes by blurting out 'I am hungry', getting mid night whacks from my sister when I wet the bed and she had to change sheets as well as my clothes, secretly dreaming and being thrilled about my fathers green trunk as my friend told me she thinks it is full of money! Holding Hari's hand (who was 10 and some months old then) while crossing the road and listening to him say the same sentence every day 'come near my School as soon as yours is over' and I responded with a big nod while moving towards my class as unwillingly as a French convict facing the guillotine.

I did not yet know real sadness or trauma or drama even for that matter. One fine day, I was in School and my brother’s friend came to fetch me. My teacher looked sad and shocked as she spoke to him outside the classroom and she said ‘Aparna, please go with him, you are excused from the class’. For me I knew the friend and he told me guess what jokes when he came home so I skipped away from school happily behind him. (Guess what! Amma is gummy, appa is thorny but the sons are like Amitabh Bachchan – guess what is it? Answer: Jack fruit! clap clap clap)

He had come in his cycle, instead of making me sit in the front and pedal away, he started walking pushing the cycle and told me ‘Little one (putti) your anna had an accident, one more friend has gone to fetch Hari (my other brother), we need to go to the hospital ok?’. I said ok.

I did not know the meaning of accident and related hospitalization. Till we reached the hospital, I was happy about skipping School that day. When I reached, my mother, sister and brother were already there. We went to see where my brother was. We were taken to the general ward; all the beds were full with patients and their attendants. We searched for the familiar face of my brother and someone in the entourage said ‘here he is’.

All cots in the general ward were taken so they had made a makeshift arrangement on the floor with a bed and related sheets. The person who was on it had a fully swollen face – especially his right eye. I did not recognise him. He was unconscious. Amma was hysterical asking people – why is he not awake? what happened? Where is the doctor? Why is he on the floor? Please shift him to private ward and so on.

Naanna was away attending to his office work. He was informed. We were assured that as soon as the private ward is vacant he will be shifted. He was hit on the head by a fast cricket ball while playing the match and a neuro surgeon is coming from Bangalore (or some place) to examine him.

Nanna came and private ward opened up. He was shifted. I did not yet know the significance of him being unconscious for one and half days, I was not around when the neuro surgeon examined him, I did not yet know how lucky we were that he was alive though the impact of the ball left a dent in his skull forever and there was internal bleeding.

My belief then was if some one is sick, they go to hospital, they get better and they go home. So I was not worried much. Hari and I skipped school as many days as he was in the hospital, received well wishers and friends to the hospital room in all the glory of sister and brother of the patient, received bags full of fruits very humbly to be divided and devoured by both of us as soon as they left! I do not remember offering a piece of fruit to my other brother who was sleeping and waking at random intervals.

May be children with their strong beliefs and happy thoughts make miracles happen unknowingly.

Of rains, scorpions and love

She was thinking of cooking lunch in some time. There was no hurry since they had a good and late breakfast after which he had watched some T.V and slept. Easy, lazy Saturday for both. All of a sudden the sky was overcast, dark clouds gathered very quickly and it started raining heavily just like a PMSing herself would cry over a song or his inconsideration or over missing her people - big, heavy rain drops.

She always found herself excited when it rained and there were many reasons for that. Rains in her life time of 30 something years happened with animation. 

What was her first vague memory of heavy rain? Her family was in a transit home before moving into a proper one which would be made ready for them in some months. This was an asbestos sheeted living space which leaked every where when it rained, she remembered sleeping on the cot with her siblings while her parents sat with two big umbrellas to cover them. In retrospect, she felt sorry for her parents but for her the memory was of excitement of huddling together, giggling with her siblings and being up beyond her bed time. 

 

During later rains as she grew older the first thing her mother shouted when it started raining was 'hey it is raining, quick go get the clothes drying on the clotheline, quick close  the door, quick quick', this was accompanied by her and her siblings running in a mad dash to get dry, semi dry clothes from the line, becoming a bit wet, bumping into each other, tugging some clothes in impatience and tearing some one's precious garment and so on. Always what followed after the rain gave an implicit permission to throw the regular routine in the wind. Demands for pakodas or chilli bajjis were put forth and later when she was an young adult her brothers spoke of having some alcohol in the night to celebrate the rain. They all did too, she blossoming  into an efficient bar tender with a clever hand which tipped less to the tipsy and more to people who kept an eye on the pouring including herself.

There were scary memories of rain too. During her regular summer vacations in her grandparent's home with a mud terrace, she and her cousins were always woken up in the dead of the night from deep slumber to chaos of different relatives shouting different commands to different people, 'fold the bed sheet', 'do not run down the stairs', 'leave that pillow here', 'where is the lantern', 'children go with your grandpa he will take you down' and so on. The summer shower also brought scorpions out of their holes, she sat with her cousins bright eyed seeing scorpions every where in the shadows, snakes under the bed and too hyper to fall asleep forever. Nobody forced anybody to sleep, every body used to be wide awake and used to start talking and laughing again. This lulled her to sleep and not care for scorpions of  the  world. 

In one such Monsoon, her brothers met with an accident because it was rainy season. Those rains which started as an adventure while they were trekking the western ghats turned horrific as a train came un announced. Though they were lucky not to lose their lives the rain that night was the noisiest for her.

She remembered her first kiss. It happened when he was a new acquintance and there was electrifying chemistry between them. One fine night, they stood in the backyard of her friend's room, it started raining, there was no light, they were rooted in their spots not making a move towards going back in or going towards a shelter from rain. To this day both of them do not know what happened next, who approached whom, but they found themselves kissing. That rain was like a flower shower and intoxicating than any spirit she had ever tasted including Absinthe.

After that they made many trips to the pub regularly soaking wet and delirious in love. It was heady to drink chilled beer sitting in wet clothes engulfed by warm thoughts. They came to know that they will be together for ever during those nights and went there for every anniversary, birthday and family event.

Today the excitement of the rain made her bring the clothes from the clothes line, plan for making pakodas, call her mother, sister, brothers and sister in law and to kiss him awake.

Tripping on Monsoon

It has started to rain in Bhopal and there are bird calls every where and mating of crickets in the balcony ..

Crickets remind me of my summer vacations in Alampur. As children we were familiar with the loud periodic noise coming from various wet corners of the house, either from bathroom or from under the earthen pot row which had wet sand under it. Ammamma used to bury ginger pods in the wet sand and it used to grow and be fresh. As an aside, my ammamma was a goddess and she could do any thing with any thing!! shhhhh 

I did not know the size of the insect and its Telugu name 'keechu raayi' sounded ominous like 'Keechaka' or 'pisachi' which were names of Rakshasas or scary ghosts.

I remember the surprise I felt when I saw how small an insect it was in comparison to the high volume of the sound it produced. It was vibrating its being to send it out. If at all I can do some thing like that then may be extra terrestrials can hear my call!

I came to know later that it is a mating call sent out to attract the female of the species. I wonder how we would have fared if patriarchy did not operate in our societies... how would our men be? What sounds or songs they would have perfected, what other skills might have come up... since blood and gore is something females intuitively do not appreciate, may be we would have had nimble men gyrating their hips in dance with colourful costumes and what not...

I for one would not mind a cacophony of colourful men preening and strutting their stuff for a change :) 

Spontaneous and deliberate

While working outside
the day was
pre lunch  and post lunch

Now in the  break
the day is
breakfast, lunch and dinner

Though time and timelessness
are simple yet profound concepts
human beings trivialise it with
a mundane structure

structureless means spontaneous
which is being timeless again
vocally structureless is a structure

spontaneous and structureless
is the goal
Goal defeats spontaneity
Nice fix it is 
 

Bhopal day 2: a glimpse

Today we went out for house hunting. I prepared for the day long auto rides in extreme heat by buying Zandu balm ( scent of amma), aloevera gel (a bit of akka), pulpy orange (a bit of chin) and a bottle full of cold water.

Scene 0:
We are in an auto and following the broker who is in a bike, we wait under a tree because broker had to go fetch the flat keys from some place, the auto guy starts a conversation with venky...

A guy: Aap kahaa ke hein bhaiyya?

Venky: hum Mysore ke hein (then says loudly as if talking to a person slow in hearing) AAP MYSORE JAANTHE HEIN?

Aguy: nods and then lekin ithna lamba transfer kyu liya aapne?

Venky: Ye transfer nahi hein, hum south India me kaam karke vahaaki experience liya hein tho soche ki kuch naya dekhe, isi liye Bhopal aagaye?

Aguy: tho aapki company ka branch kolne yaha aagaye hein kya?

Venky: Mein company mein nahi, ek sanstha mein kaam karthaa hun, hum gaav me kaam karthe hein

Aguy: Yahan ke gaav patha hein aapko?

Venky: Nahi abhi tho nahi, lekin patha hojaayega

Aguy: (changed the subject - because it was like dude whatever), tho makaan khareed rahe hein abhi?

venky: khareed nahi rahe hein, rent pe lena hein

Aguy: Mysore mein ghar khareeda hoga na?

Venky: Nahi vaha bhi nahi khareeda

Aguy: (Astonished) kya mathlab - aap ghar kahi bhi kareeda nahi hein? lekin kyun? ghar tho hona chaahiye

Venky: Nahi kahreeda - kya aap ke paas ghar hein?

Aguy: haanji bilkul, maine khareeda hein Bhopal mein,

then he tried to get at venky from another angle

A guy: aap ka shaadi hoke kitne saal hogaye?

Venky: 12 years

A guy: Mera bhi theek 12 years, bachche kithne hein?

Venky: Bachche nahi hein abhi

A guy: Abhi thak nahi hein?!!!

Venky: Haan ab soch rahe hein ( as if to please the auto guy!)

A guy: Mere do beten hein - dono padthe hein

Venky: achcha! ( as if they going to school is the seventh wonder)

A guy: haanji bilkul, dekho saab ghar chota bhi ho bada bhi ho, khareed lo

by then the broker came and we moved!

There and then and here and now

Patterns are patterns
whether they are for resistance
or for acceptance
for love or for everything else

Some times, I am an island,
all my sides covered with
glorious self absorption or
thinly spread contempt
for the others

I am also a light tower
relentlessly beaming light
into distant sea
while it is dark near by
in the hope of greater good

Many a days I am a dejavu
repeating the days and times
and echoing the patterns of the past
and realising only after the repetition

I am on some days,
the green box in the attic
With the books and smells and scents
of distant past, preserved for
eternity

I am a remote on some days
with buttons displayed
for anger, sadness and
stand - by suspended

There are days when I am
the stream that flows taking
floatsam along with
scores of living - thriving creatures

Many days I am woman
who feels all the above and
wonders whether this is dejavu!

Lets run and lets not

Running away is so exciting,
from problems, from people
and from the self from time to time,

The adrenalin rush of panic
and fear of being caught unguarded
for some,
of elaborately woven rationalisations for some,
makes the act a lofty mission

Theory scares some, action scares some,
silence scares some, speech scares some,
morning scares some, night scares some,
love scares some, indifference scares some,

Invisible hierarchies cleverly
conditioned by the socialisation process
leaves each craving for a pat on the back
from the highest order and a notion
that the point representing pinnacle
is perfection

we are the perfect points and
we are the lowest rungs,

I am you and you are me
And we are a dialectical whole
in the twilight of opposites

Alice needs to get out of the wonderland

I remember crying in the lab for a day and then coaxed by the flower woman to examine what is happening to me and what are my authority issues and went through a moment of eureka! I found it. I thought realisation of our pattern itself is enough to change it. But as the saying goes, a good beginning is half the work done, I only began that day and I am yet to finish working on the rest.

Being the fourth and last child has its own advantages and disadvantages. Since advantages become disadvantages some times I feel its a mixed bag of mints of different flavour. If I am lucky I will get rose flavoured mint or a mango flavoured one if not it might be garlic or dog shit or horse breath.

I am a pampered one and I am loved by my family and in no way I am hinting at a traumatic dramatic incident or any such thing.

What happens is when I am with my siblings, I take or am given the position of a child while he/she will be the adult. This does not happen by a conscious design. May be I push them as well to be the adults and put myself as a child.

So I end up either meekly agreeing or rebelling in my own ways. This is a lose lose situation. My rebellion is also honed to hurt the Achilles heel of each one of them. Who does this unless they are child like?

Because of this, I kept score and whined constantly in front of my partner and the constant sentences were 'nobody asks me how am I or nobody is interested in my life or no one asks for my opinion, do they know me at all?'

I need my brothers and sister to acknowledge me, approve of me and pat me on my back and be proud of me. Isn’t this very childish?

I have experienced equal footing with all of them at one or the other time. Much more with one at particular times. And I know none of this is intentional.

I need my inner child which is forever banished from going up stairs to be with the adult siblings to grow up. May be writing this helps the child to climb the ladder and see the forbidden kingdom and then jump ahead to adulthood.

Otherwise the horcrux of my childhood anguish would forever be alive.

Searching for Sylvia I found Shiva

Bell jar seems poetic
beautiful and symbolic
of a woman in turmoil
I thought ....

Looked at many and
they all seemed
Phallic

searching for one symbol
I found another!
Bell jar forever is changed
for me!

'self' arangetram

Society has a responsible role to play in the life of children. Family is the primary unit of socialisation. Though this looks like the starting lines of Sociology for dummies, I started thinking about what shapes us or the I in me? Who am I? At various life stages I have answered that question with greater clarity. Some of the answers include, 'I am a feminist, I am a dynamic and creative young woman, I am this or I am that'.
I had identity crisis as a teenager and post that I carefully shaped my self image or let others suggest and took it to shape what I call who I am. I am not saying there is anything wrong with it or the approach.

Some times our life experiences become the pegs that go deeper into the earth and the rope which is tied to it will drag us close to the peg, may be we will be sitting or standing or straining just out of that hole. With a proud grin or a sad stoic stare about who we are and the reason being the peg deep in the earth.

For major part of my professional life, I stood next to the pit of my current life experience and showed that as 'me'. Some times I hoisted a flag there to make everyone look at it and some times I decorated the pit walls with squiggles equating the significance to early human cave paintings.

I was thinking about what depression does to me and I thought if I ask myself who am I? The answer would be ' I am a woman with depression and panic disorder and I am on the road to recovery'.
When I thought the above thought, it struck me that I have this pattern of sitting next to my life experience pit and calling it me.

I am examining it right now and one thing I can say right now is, I am not my depression, I am not just the social roles I play, I am not what you think I am and I am not what I think I am from time to time as well. I will eventually understand the many facets of who I am I think and it is ok if it keeps changing, expanding or shrinking or whatever. It is a good start when I know who I am not and the list of that is enormous so whew...

Ya to go back to family and society shaping us, I think children's personality is malleable, ductile, elastic and gooey. Adults leave impressions on the minds of children like dog leaves its paws on wet cement. People say 'you are like that person', 'her this reminds me of that', 'you are afraid of everything just like so and so', 'she sings well but cant dance', etc. Extracetera through out the years and it does not stop till I don’t know when. Many of these fall off eventually and some stick like the hardened dog paw on the cement. These are suggestions promptly accepted by the self without examining.

I did not question this or confront anybody about this, but secretly this anguish of the secret me gave shape to a fantasy me – inwardly crying Meenakumari who is not understood. Meena kumari is my symbol because she is stunning while she is in anguish. Her lustrous long hair floating on her shoulder, her kohled eyes intense, her face glowing in the intensity of the pain she feels. Her gasps or sighs are melodious. (and of course from black and white film era).

Some times there is silent but potent pressure from people (who do not even realise they are doing it) on me to be different, be bubbly, to make me understand that I am strong, I am creative and I am loved, I am lucky and I am da da da and di di di di. May be I put similar pressure without my knowledge on others and may be this is how civilizations progress!

OK that’s it for today. Feel like I am rambling.

Aphrodite becomes mortal

Whether I call myself feminist, atheist, leftist or whateverist, I make up my own fairy tales as I go along. There are time tested fables I have run successfully in my life and various roles I played based on many imaginary and mythical ones. At one end, there is the burden of patriarchal guilt. I wanted to be good at my work front as well as win brownie points for home maintenance or 'taking care' of The husband, at another end there is the feminist guilt for having the patriarchal guilt and so on..

Somehow one fine day unexpected shit happens in the fables and fairy tales I have kept on running and I sit in a corner in denial for some days, I rant and rave for some days, I just lost the capacity to weave a new fairy tale for future just like that. As if someone did some black magic or did some voodoo. This temporary loss in spinning my life tale is how I think of my depression and panic disorder.

Some of the reactions of people who heard I am depressed and recovering slowly has indicated how people perceived me and how according to my approved standard of behaviour it is, based on the fabled character I think I was. I have been so freakingly nicely behaved in life for so long, banishing every so called negative thought or emotion for so long, I did not have appreciation for anger, irritation, sadness, being off mood, lethargy, jealousy, pettiness or sheer rage. They were all put under the 'bad to have' label.

I am not intending to say that by being depressed I have become enlightened about THE TRUTHS of life and now I am a saint. Far from it, I am articulating my opinions without disclaimers or trying to push it all to the relativity realm and say ' at this moment I feel like this’. No I am thinking like this right now and I am sharing it with whoever that reads this blog what I am thinking.

There are brighter days when I want to get in touch with my friends and family members and there are days I won’t even smile back.

I am thinking of blogging away what I think and feel till I break free. I cannot promise that I will do it every day as that seems very tiring to even think. But I will do as the motivation builds up.

I have seen a good Psychiatrist and I am taking medication. As comments, I do not need suggestions about how to get out of depression unless you were depressed and got out.