BAGALAMUKHI

After a long time a calm has settled over me- one that belies a resolution of conflicts that have terrorized me for years. As I stare into the embers of the dying flames in the fireplace, my mind wanders to a time long past, a man I used to think I knew. Well enough to trust my soul with but he turned out to be a reaper of hearts and beliefs Dressed in black with his long hairs loose and tucked behind his ears, his face expressionless and still revealing everything he looked like reincarnation of Indra. I’ll never know if I had imagined the crinkling of his skin when he found something to be humorous or the upward slant of his lips when he was happy. What is true and what was faux? I used to think a lot about that in the beginning, now I have learnt to forget. But it creeps up sometimes like a broken stream finding a way through the creaks and breaks in the wall.

He is my biggest glory and my biggest shame. Self -hatred came easily to me even before ‘us’ but he broke something inside me that no amount of care, anger or love ever fixed. Since him I have lived a half life, a secure happy one but broken, almost torn between what came easy- depression and what I had to fight against to stay sane. I never loved again, cared yes even found it in myself to adore. Excuses like fear and self- protection have been given various times by my mind but my heart never lied. It knew that after a soul mate anything else is always less, even if it is better. Unfortunately, love doesn’t discriminate, it just is! ! It doesn’t see that the man you’re falling for is less than you, a bastard or a kind affectionate man. Eventually, character may or may not matter. Who knows when and what leads to love. Personally sometimes I feel that his seduction played a part but I also know I was a willing participant too enchanted to care about being duped. Sometimes I pray that the veil of deceit had never been lifted- I could have remained naive and innocent. But that is not to be.

Many years have passed and I am going to die in a few hours, will finally fall asleep without having to worry about who ill wake with early morning screams of fear and pain that in my unconscious state I have never been able to suppress. How ironic…. even on my deathbed I remember the one man I loved and despised…the one man who engulfed, broke and remodeled my entire living.

Note- So i've been gone for a long time. Th summer was exciting and a lot changed. But, we'll come to that later. Right now i'm posting an unfinished diary of my travels to India. Sorry, but lack of internet stopped me from writing a word the whole month i was in Doon so my diary stops when i left Kolkata. Well HAVE FUN!!

THOUGHT 1
It’s weird- I feel like I’m going home, even though India hasn’t been one for almost five years. What defines home I wonder- Family, comfort or habit?. Some connect home to the four walls that are brought down to the denominator of measurements, number of rooms, or even the color of the walls or the designs of the windowpanes. Therefore, home is equated to a ‘makaan’. Therein lies a certain problem, especially with the dawning era of globalization.

Globalization has started to reduce the world to one large nation. We are coming full circle- the world began as a whole and in every sense of the word is returning home! People are buying land and building houses in all continents in the name of real estate demoting the emotional value to monetary terms. Where is home in all of this, especially when the family is distributed among all these houses.

Somehow it seems that I have returned to my earlier explanation of home. That is being a synonym for comfort and safety. Though it is sad that today people find those in bars, single room motels or even their offices. This fast pace world dissuades people from finding support, as it then seen as sign of weakness. Feminism, liberalism and the many other schools of intellectual thought, that have become ideals that define society, encourage individualism. Home has no place in it. Houses are just which can be sold to the highest bidder.

Nationality, too, has been transformed from feelings of patriotism and a sense of belonging even amidst conflict into a collection of government failures and fiscal and monetary policies. Government and international institutions encompass the idea of nationality to such a degree that instead of becoming a component it has taken over the idea itself. People have lost their identity in these chaotic negotiations of peace and war. NRIs belong more to the country that live in than the one they left behind. India is just a hazy memory; at least it has become so for me. This world has started to churn out youngsters who have no idea about traditions or their own history. Because if they did, they would be stuck between two opposing belief systems and never belong to either. The choices are slim- stay behind by clinging to ideas that are incompatible to the place they live in or move forward by becoming one with the residents. I have an Indian passport, an American Visa, a Singapore Permanent Card and a Student Visa for Canada. Which is my home- India, Singapore or Canada?

Let me tell you a story. I was returning to Singapore from Vancouver and at security check, the officer, making conversation, asked whether I was going home. I automatically answered yes and he thought that I had come to Vancouver for a holiday. I had to explain that I was studying in Vancouver and would be living in a rented house next year. The man laughed looking at me as if I were crazy and quite scornfully told me that, then Vancouver was my home and I was going to Singapore for holiday. It did not matter to him that for me, Singapore is my home and my time in Vancouver is the four months of college term. The officer saw just the house that I had rented out In Vancouver and the number of months that I stayed there. Thus, he conveniently, without my permission, reversed my identity for me.

I cannot wait to go to India to reconnect with my past and the world I left behind. I want to seek out my identity and find out for myself where my comfort and security lies. I wish to decide for myself where I want to stay and find home, my version of home. Join me as I muddle through my chaotic array of emotions and paint/organise my portrait/palette of emotions. Stick with me as I dive headfirst into this long, winding journey……

FIRST ACCIDENT
I am a confirmed klutz …. seriously, accidents and I are linked like an old married couple. This unspeakable relationship reared its ugly head as I attempted, with a fatal consequence, to jump off a rikshaw, wearing heels and a skirt. Obviously, I, well being me, fell and had to be carried by my aunt and her old mother up the stairs to her house. Then, amidst the chaos that erupted, I decided to not act my age and broke into bouts of tears, asking for my mommy. My feet, which by this time had swollen to the size of a small lemon did nothing to alleviate my fears of a broken toe. I was rushed to the emergency room where I refused to sit in a wheelchair. Though everyone thought that It was extremely brave of me, that action was a result more out of embarrassment than courage. In comparison to all those in the intensive unit my pain seemed inconsequential and I felt bad about the preferential treatment I was receiving merely because my family was friends with the doctor. Anyway, eventually me fear were proved wrong when the x-rays showed no sign of a fracture or a sprain. All that chaos for a mere wound! I limped my way from Kolkata to Delhi and then to Dehradoon with a lot of help from attendants at the airport as well as the station. Thank God… I am finally in my hometown mostly safe and sound. Gauri, my closest friend came to pick me up and we have a lot of plans for the coming weeks… lets hope they all plan out just the way we have imagined it. Signing off now... see you in a week.

Chote Se Lamhein (Small Moments)

Vo Miley aise
Yoon miley aise
Dekhne bas unhen vaqt bhi tham gaya
Vo pyaar tha
Choone jise ek pal ke liye
Aasman jhook gaya.

Vo bichde aise
ki phir na miley
Bas gaye rooh mein unke
yaadein beshoomar.
Bachakar rakhte yeh unko
jaise aakhon ke aasoon ko.

(This has been written in Hindi but with English letters.)

Spicy Chicken Curry and Hot Chapattis!!!

Have you ever missed something so much that you could sense it? I have….. the hot, spicy taste of chicken masala and the feel of the the hot, butter soaked, soft chapatis has been on my mind for the last few months. My taste buds (which according to my mom is highly developed!) craves good food and has become numb/ obsolete from being forced to taste bland , fried chicken strips and bread.

Today, I entered a beautiful, place, a fragmented reflection of a part of my memories. Sarvana Bhavan gave back to me a piece of India, a place that has become smudged or exaggerated to such epic proportions that it has become more an illusion than reality. I cannot remember what my house looks like, or, the way from my house to school, or even the local bookstore (where I spent major portion of my childhood). Like the edges of a peripheral image I can not bring to my eye the exact picture of my cousins or ‘mashi’ (who I was as close to as I am to my mom). Can I chalk it up to life and the changes that come with it or is it some personal failing?

Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like if my parents had decided to remain in Dehradoon. Would I have given up my dream to study Arts and chosen the easier route and taken commerce in the same school that I had studied in for 12 years? Would I think the same way as I do today? Would I be going to LSR and traveling four times every two months by train to make it back home? Would I have made new friends or stuck to the old ones? Should I be jealous of that girl or feel relieved that the change happened? Do alternate universes exist and the path that my life has taken- is it because of me or my parents?

I am going to be staying in a home sharing space with three other girls from next semester. I am excited and for that am surprised. I should be afraid…after all I hate change. But, I want to go shopping for groceries, cook food at the end of the day, make plans for the weekend and have my own space. Are these signs of growing up? Or just me accepting that change will happen no matter what I do and accepting it.

Maybe it is a bit of both. Accepting that change will happen has made me more open to it and even excited to experience the consequences of it. Normalcy and consistency are comforting but make for a bland and safe life. I want to choose the rollercoaster even if that means that I have to puke and feel the ground shaking under me once I get off.
Memories are for storing, to be protected just as a toddler protects his first ‘find’. They should not be relived, just cherished as a reminder of moments lived. Change is not nature’s cynicism but a hope for a better reality. And that is what I have understood, slowly but surely, this past year and what I want to leave you with today.

Me: Hopes, Illusions and harsh Reality

A hope and a plan
is what I want,
A map with a goal
and a path.

Today, I am lost
with no sense or
idea of what
I love more.

In Conflict I am,
with a part that
wants to depend,
And the other
that only craves
Independence.

Confidence and self-belief
Is what I dream about,
so different is Reality
all I can do is Scream.

Actions scare me,
Dreams protect me;
Like a toddler I am
who is forted by
pillows and arms.

Plans with no motivation,
Excuses and illusions are all
that drives me on.
I crave excitement,
actions without fear, and
plans with self-confidence.

A better reality is what I am
praying for,
to be the girl
with the piggytails
and pink frock, in the park,
swinging without a care.


A/N: Hey guys this is the first ever poem i have attempted to write. So, if it has gone off track I apologize. Learning Process!!!

ETERNAL BONDS………..MY THOUGHTS ☺

“A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.” -William Shakespeare

Balanced reciprocity is an exchange of gifts between two individuals that creates a connection of debt between them, eg friendship is one such relationship where the exchange of loyalty and trust creates a bond between individuals. Today, I want to converse about this unique and special connection between people, what creates it and what keeps it alive. I have often wondered what makes people connect and become friends even when they have seemingly nothing in common.

According to me, life is like the journey of a river from its source to the point where it finally meets the ocean. When, in the early stages the lonely, single stream, flows over the various obstacles like rocks and debris it is unable to leave an influence of its potential but when that stream is joined by various tributaries, it becomes stronger as those other streams lend their power to the original stream. Similarly, an individual cannot live a fulfilling life without close friends who can support, care and lend their experiences and viewponts to you.

I learn a lot about life from television soaps……even the most melodramatic ones! When stripped off their excess plotlines, these shows leave behind the importance of, base emotions that tie people together. One such show that I recently viewed was a hindi soap called ‘Dharamveer’. It is about two cousins who are inseparable and extremely close friends. They live on one faith and that is that they may be two bodies but have one soul. This interdependence and fierce loyalty is surprising to me as their characters are completely polar opposite to each other- one acts from the heart while the other uses his head, one bases his life on old traditions and rules while the other does everything possible to break them. Then, how can theses two people agree on something long enough to have become friends? If art imitates life, then this question stands for all friends who are so different from each other yet so close.

It’s not just in reel life that we find true friendship but more often than not, such friendship can be seen among people in real life. One of the most legendary friendships in history is the one shared by Prithviraj Chauhan and Sanjham Rai who during the battle against Mahoba saved Prithvi’s life by letting himself bleed, thus attracting the vultures to himself. He died a slow and painful death just to protect his wounded friend, Prithviraj Chauhan.

I have experienced such a connection with one of my friends as well. I knew about her for a whole year before we had any meaningful conversation. She is an outgoing, independent person who accepts and thrives on change and I am as different personality as one can be. It is impossible for me to pinpoint when, where and how we became friends. But what can explain, to a degree, I think, is the question, ‘Why?’. Shankarie maybe extremely different from me but her warmth and amazingly caring nature is what makes her a good listener and a trusting friend (two of the most important qualities to possess to be a good friend). And more importantly, we balance each other and she gets to act like my mom.

I cannot explain what friendship is or how it forms but I can clearly tell that it means the world to every human being. It is what sustains us, giving us comfort and warmth in a world that is generally cruel. Friendship provides a safe haven amongst a community that will more often than not step over you in their path towards their goals. I may not have a theory or some great inspirational line about ‘polar opposite character’ friendships but any and all type friends should be cherished. I read in a book, a long time ago, about how friends are a family, especially in this globalised, fast paced, career minded world. It should be as important a bond to us as our jobs are; they should not be ignored, but worked at to make it stronger.

It is not friendship’s day but for me there are very few days I can think back and recollect. Since I have endeavored to do exactly that today, I wish to thank every Deity above for the amazing friends I have been able to make. In high school, I was saved from the inner politics of cliques because of the great support system I had. The experience in college was different and exciting at the same time. In the last two years I have come into contact with various personalities. Today, I may not be able to see the changes in myself but a few years down the line I might be able to and at that time I will know that the person I have become is because of the influences of these amazing people in my life. With honesty, I can say that the impact of these people on my life has been like a constant flow of waves over the sand on a beach.

A Cry for Hope and Peace

"In the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer
"-Albert Camus

Recently I heard a story about a young girl who survived two years of captivity after being raped repeatedly and the only thing flashing across my mind, at that time, was what if that had been me?

My grandmother used to say that where you are born is purely coincidental. At that time I was too young to understand the implications of that simple belief. The horrifying story brought to mind that idea and I was not able to shake off the fear that arose from a nagging question in my mind; the question that is haunting me days after hearing about that young girl: What if I had taken birth in the womb of a mother who was unfortunate enough to be living in a backward, violent home country?
I cannot imagine living a life in fear of stepping out of the boundaries of my home or being scared of having too much of fun or going out for picnics or holidays with my friends- moments and opportunities we take for granted everyday. I do not want to acknowledge a world where a mother has to ignore her child to defeat her rapist’s motives, where she has to depend on luck to escape a cage, where a baby has to grow up with the stigma of being a rape child and all the implications that come with it. I had been living in a world of ignorance where ideas like rape and molestation were just texts in a book or a piece of news to be talked about but never acknowledged as a part of your world but that young girls story told in the form of rules to remember by which a girl can protect her soul when her body is being torn to shreds, broke that dam of illusion for me.

When I stepped outside the bubble of security that my parents had created since the day I was born, for the first time ever I felt what it was like to be afraid and my stomach hurt out of the exertion. Now, in comparison to that teen who was sexually attacked and violated, forced into submission, I feel ashamed of my fear. A fear that I had deemed the worse thing that could happen to anyone, was in fact not even close to a drop in the ocean of pain that that girl and many more like her suffer everyday in the villages of Africa or even India, my own country.

Why am I so special that I was saved from living a life of constant danger? Or am I as free as I think I am. In New Delhi, which is a stone throw away from my hometown, in the first four months of 2008, 228 cases of rape and molestation were filed. In fact, “Rape Capital” is a term by which Delhi is often called. A city that is supposed to be the centre for business, economy, a symbol of a New, modern India, is still riddled with conservative families who have no reservation in burning their ‘bahus’, men who consider themselves a better and stronger sex and will not stop inflicting pain and humiliation on the women around them. Even though there are centers for rape victims, girls and women feel the need to shy away from the world or kill themselves to protect their families or from the shame of it all.

I cannot begin to imagine the pain of being invaded in such a manner and to feel so weak and I hope that I never have to. All I can hope for is a better world where a man is able to feel for and respect the women they interact with. And realize that every time they perceive a girl with contempt and as a toy to play with they are, quite literally, inflicting pain on their mothers and sisters and shackling them little by little.

A/N: The story was heard as a part of the Vagina Monologue that took place in UBC, Vancouver, BC