The Politeness Barrier

Like the sound barrier, the politeness barrier fascinates me no end. Let me define them first. The sound barrier is what you break when you travel so fast that you surpass the speed of sound. The politeness barrier is what you  run into with some people who have honed their manners to the point that it envelopes them like a shield. You know the type- you have interacted with them for years and years and your conversations are still at the acquaintance level. No personal info breaks free. You slip them a piece of juicy gossip and are met with a disapproving silence. You ask them about their mother-in-law and they change the topic. 

These people are like formal wear. Always polished and shiny. Not a crease in sight. You can never be comfortable with them. When you meet someone with friendship potential, you expect that your relationship develops to the point of 'home pajamas'- faded, has holes, a few stubborn food stains and dangling threads. Your mother looks at you, shakes her head and mumbles to her husband about the sacrifices they made. But that's okay. It's comfy and cosy and relaxed.

I always retreat from such people, confused. Why can't you open up? Tell me everything, damnit. I want to know. Sometimes, I wonder if it's me. I've often encountered the politeness barrier in other forms as well. These are the memories that make me cringe and look at the stars- please aliens, come down and take me away. I need a fresh start on a new planet. 

One incident stands out. I was in sixth or seventh grade. There was this new male teacher, someone who I eventually understood to be a really good teacher with real interest in his subject. On Day one, he asked us to put our notebooks out on our desks, open to the last page of questions and answers. He walked around, quickly inspecting each student's book. When he came to mine, he flipped a few pages, looked at me and said, "I think you'll be a good student." I don't know what prompted that- my handwriting, the organization of my notes or my shining moon-like face (ahem!). But he said it and moved on.

A few days later, I was daydreaming in one of his classes. As people do, I was staring off into space, at a point somewhere at the bottom of the blackboard. I didn't realize it as my vision was unfocused, but Sir walked up and stood in that exact spot. Suddenly, I stopped daydreaming, came to my senses, and realized he had moved in such a way, it looked like I had been staring at his crotch. I lifted my eyes, and sure enough, he was looking at me. This is how much the Universe loves me. 

To a young teenage girl, there are many embarrassing moments, but very few that wants to make her die on the spot. My heart sank and it never recovered, especially since he never treated me the same after that. He was too good a teacher to neglect me, but I felt the shift in his attitude towards me. This is another instance of the politeness barrier - there's no way you can open a conversation about this with your teacher and explain it all. "Hey Teach, remember that time I was staring at your...." No. Nope.  

There are times when I have set up the politeness barrier on my end, hoping to send someone packing. But they're immune to it and come sit beside me and tell me about their hospital visit. I mean, come on!  Those are the moments when I would like to break the sound barrier myself- BOOM! I'm getting off this planet one way or another. See ya!

Pathetic Parenting.

I have a friend. She recently sent me a picture of her and her toddler sitting on an elephant in a popular tourist destination. Now, I shy away from telling people what I think about animal exploitation, especially in the tourism industry, because I think people these days know it is wrong but do it anyway. Money, pleasure, selfishness, whatever the reason may be, I say nothing because people are okay with being wrong, but not okay with being judged wrong.

This friend was close enough that I felt it was okay to tell her about the extraordinarily rich, matriarchal, close-knit society that elephants belong to and what a tragedy it is to separate a child from its herd, break its spirit and put it to work. She agreed with me that it felt wrong, but her almost two year old insisted and she went along. She assured me she would explain it to her child later.

Now, I admit I have no enthusiasm for her response. When in life again are you going to be standing in front of an elephant with your child, that you can impart a great moral wisdom that will shape the child's character? Your teachable moment came and went. 

This same friend drives her car with her bouncing toddler on her lap. I told her how dangerous that is, and she told me her uncle told her too how it was actually illegal in many countries. She continues the same practice, because her son would throw a tantrum if she doesn't allow him on her lap. If she had just put him in the passenger seat the very first time he got in the car, buckled him in safely and explained that it was impossible to drive with him on her lap, that child would have known that THAT is a rule.

I am disturbed and angered by many of the parents I see, not just now, but for many many years now. There seems to be a competition going on to see who is a better 'friend' to the child as soon as it leaves the womb. Everything else falls by the wayside, discipline being the first item in the trash heap. 

I find I want to say something that people would find offensive, but I don't think it is. Your love for your child is special, but your child itself is not. Human beings have been birthed, have lived and have died for millennia. Your child is part of that process. We are animals who reproduce. We are not special. Your child is not special. 

The fact that people think it is okay to do something wrong just so that their child feels pleasure is, to me, one of the most selfish, bestial attitudes parents can have. They are creating monsters, who will grow up to dominate, hurt and abuse people without thought. 

I look at the eyes of my friend's child, and I see already, that this child is cruel. Sure, he will outgrow the biting and kicking, the tantrums, and all the rest, but he will grow up to be unkind. His needs will come first, always. I do not wish to know him now, or then.

If a juvenile elephant tries to bully another, the mother or grandmother or great grandmother will step in and stop that behavior immediately. What unbelievable arrogance it is that humans, most of whom can't even say no to their children, think they are superior enough to warrant climbing on to a majestic elephant's back and riding it. The shame.

Disclaimer: Yes, I'm not a parent. I don't know how difficult it is to raise a child. But I have been a child raised by parents, I have been a teacher, and I am a person with reasonable intelligence and common sense. So I consider my opinions on child-rearing valid. 

I am agnostic, leaning towards atheism. However, I do believe that science meets spirituality in that all the Universe is vibrating energy that responds to consciousness. I stay silent, though, when people talk about their beliefs. My thoughts churn and roil, refuting, rebutting, resisting, but I stay silent for two reasons; one, I respect each person's right to what they believe, and two, I am always ready to acknowledge that I may be wrong. 

These last few weeks, I have been struggling to be silent. I came across the page of a family whose child is battling deadly cancer on Insta. I liked a reel, and the algorithm decided I needed more. Since then, I have come across many such pages. Babies, toddlers, little kids who are fighting for their lives. Many of them lost and the pages have become memory capsules. Most of these pages are run by the mothers, who all seem to have this immense faith in God.

I swear, I start channeling Christopher Hitchens when I read the content. I do not get it. All the mothers of the kids who have passed on claim that their beautiful angel was so loved by God that he took them early and now embraces them in his heaven. It was his plan and they have faith in his plans. All the kids who are fighting like crazy are apparently waiting for the same God to perform a miracle and heal them, say their mothers. They believe in his mercy. He will bless them. 

All this is about a God who gave these babies cancer in the first place, is watching them suffer through horrid chemo and raditaion, puking and shivering from experimental drugs, tubes coming in and going out of their tiny, frail bodies, and wasting away in so much pain that they are on morphine drips. It seems to be a coin toss, whether he will "embrace" them or "heal" them. Heads, the kid survives, tails, let's go. 

I cannot understand this faith. It is so contradictory. It seems to me a kind of willful ignorance to believe in this being who gave your child a fatal disease. Grasping at straws to explain what this mighty benevolent being is doing. Explaining his actions and intentions. And he remains silent and mysterious and invisible forever. 

More, it makes me angry. When the family of the child who 'miraculously' survives says it is because of his goodness to them. "Here is the proof of his greatness! Look at my child!" What about the hundreds of kids who suffered and died? Were they unworthy? Was the six month old baby unworthy of his mercy, of a chance at life? So you're happy that God singled you out? But why did he? What kind of God does that?

Can you imagine any parent behaving that way? Yet the Ultimate parent has his reasons, so we must believe in him and have faith in him. Ludicrous! 

I see faith as an extension of hope, and I would never deny hope to anyone who is struggling to survive. But when hope become intentional blindness and faith is placed in that which is unworthy, I wonder. I do not use the word 'unworthy' lightly. But I do not hesitate to use it. It's a two way street, big guy. You want to judge and choose? So do I. So do I. 

P.S. I wish with all my heart that Brielle makes it. An amazing, beautiful little 9 year old with neuroblastoma, currently on hospice care. Her insta page is briestrongerthancancer. 

 

 Bastards! What an enlightened government we have! Why don't you do your job and ensure the funds for govt. corporations all over India to neuter street dogs, open and run shelters and get them off the streets?! You allocate meager funds most of which line your own pockets. There are ruined buildings which are supposed to be govt. animal welfare offices. You do next to nothing, and you criticize and attack kind-hearted people who feed them?! How have foreign countries dealt with the street dog "problem"? Are you blind as well as cruel and corrupt?

How many rapes happen in a minute in India? Every day kids are being raped. 6 month old babies to 60 year old nuns. It's all over the news. Why don't you ask people to keep all their men folk at home behind locked doors? Is that the solution? Bloody bastards.

Pack Attack

Odisha's gang rape case. Four of the ten males were minors. Below 18 years old. School age.

I love dogs. But I am always extra cautious when I move among a pack or spot a pack in the distance. Even if there is a dog that I know to be friendly in the pack. Because I have observed 'Pack Mentality' often enough to know how dangerous it is. A dog on its own that is friendly and loving can turn in an instant when it is part of an attacking pack.

Nowhere else do I so strongly realize how much humans are animals as when I come across gang rape stories. A few years ago, I read about a couple of girls who went camping. Encountered a group of guys also camping. Everything was fun and friendly. Then the mood turned. Two of the guys initiated the attack. Everyone else joined. In the aftermath, the friends and family of a couple of the attackers were in disbelief, because they were known to be decent, great guys. But they 'went along'.

Remember Nirbaya? The boy who couldn't rape her didn't want to be left out, so he used a steel rod.

If you haven't watched the movie Gargi, atleast read up on its plot. Insightful.

Always avoid packs, women. How many ever legs they have.

Hyper Understanding

I saw a post on Instagram today in which a man narrated a relationship scenario and in the end, quite respectfully, asked women to chime in so that he could get insights into the age old problem- understanding women. To be fair, he talked about a specific aspect, namely, relationships being broken because the woman 'outgrew' her man. But I think it's a smaller aspect of the larger issue- men stating that they don't understand women. 

To me, it is quite clear. There are obvious differences because of biological gender, physical abilities, societal roles, cultural expectations, family dynamics and professional environments. These shape the outlook and attitude of men and women significantly and the impact is felt differently by the different genders. But these issues are all out in the open, something everyone is aware of, understands to a degree and tries to change positively. 

But there is an undercurrent of tension, something simmering below the surface that rarely gets talked about or acknowledged. I am talking about the 'Anger of the Oppressed'. 

When colonial rule ended in various countries across the globe, the newly independent did not snap back into prosperity and development like a newly released rubberband. It took years for physical changes to manifest. It took longer for the emotional and ancestral pain to heal. I must correct that- it still has not healed.

Take a look at the comment section of any video or reel in which a foreigner comments on some aspect of a third world country. Mention the British crown jewels to an Indian. Talk about children working in mines to certain Africans. You will see what I call historical anger or rather, 'The Anger of the Oppressed'. This is the anger that simmers long after the fires of revolution have been extinguished and freedom attained. This anger has memory, it is defiant and it is vigilant- never again will my people be crushed.

I draw a deep parallel between the freedom attained though Independence Revolutions and the freedom attained through the Suffragette Movement. (I will use the latter term Movement to represent the systematic fight against patriarchy that was and continues to be waged across the world).

What men sense and are afraid of, rightfully so, is this anger. That the women before us had to fight at all, that they suffered for centuries, that we still see pockets of oppression in so many sections of populations based on culture or religion, that on a day to day basis, we still encounter men who want to put us in our place, that still, still, we fight tiny tiny battles that constantly drain our emotions and energy within our homes, everyday.

Not loading the dishwasher or doing the laundry seems so trivial to men. But for women, it triggers a spark of that simmering fire- Why do I have to ask you? Why don't you do it? Why is it my role? 

The origin of those questions come from one single question- Why am I your slave?

I will stop generalizing now and I shall speak my truths- 

I am hyper independent. It is a part of my defense system, the one that ensures I will not be oppressed again. I will not be my mother or my grandmother. 

I am hyper vigilant. I must ensure at all times that I am not being sidelined, persecuted, unfairly treated or mocked simply because of my gender.

I am hyper cautious. Somehow I am not comforted by the "not all men" line, since one is enough to maim or abuse me, and that one does not come with a forehead tattoo.

I am hyper aware. Man, I have let you into my life, yes. But even a smidgen of patriarchal superiority in any of your thoughts, words and actions would hurt, would make me question your character and the nature of the relationship. It is a rot that can only grow.

I am hyper woman. I carry with me the weight of the Movement, the bravery of the women who came before me, the determination to justify their sacrifices, and above all....

...to clearly say, "I will never be shackled again."

The ashes of any form of freedom struggle take time to settle. Decades, centuries. I hope this helps some men atleast understand some aspects of women. That understanding will bring tremendous emotional intelligence and growth, it will solve so many problems within relationships and it will bring about something women so desperately need and have never asked for - healing. 

 I just read the story of Nida Merchant, a solo Indian traveler who had a harrowing experience at a Cambodia port where she was eventually denied entry. She was lucky to escape unmolested.

As a single Indian woman who has lived in Thailand, I'd like to chime in.

Travel, in general is a very subjective experience. If you're a white man, it's a mostly phenomenal  experience. I see so many videos of white men having the time of their lives, especially in Asian countries. This is because they are generally treated like Gods. The hospitality is enough to bring tears to your eyes. "What a warm, wonderful people!" the guy gushes, vowing to return as soon as he can. I can go to that very same house and chances are the people there call me a whore and tell me to get out. 

Lol. 

Racism is rampant in a lot of these countries, and I include India in that list. Thailand as well. I have felt unsafe many times. I have been discriminated against many times. Only by living in a protective bubble, was I able to navigate my life in Bangkok for two years. You won't hear too much about it from most Indians settled there. They have families, they stick to their Indian communities, and they have established a few contacts that gets them what they need. For a single, brown woman who doesn't speak the language, the story is very different. As a tourist, you can go on for months without any problems because your contact with the people is minimal. But if you're there for work, with the necessity to interact with them, there are mindful precautions you must take. 

Of late, I have come to the opinion that Indians are better off in India. Sure, it may be dirty or unsafe, but it is familiar, and you are armed with the knowledge of how to survive. For better or worse, you at least have the security of belonging. No one can tell you to go back to where you came from. You can stand on the street and shout for help, and people will understand and come to your aid. You don't have to desperately call your embassy and pray they answer. 

Travel, explore, do what you will, but if you're any shade other than white, know this- the world can seriously be unfair to the un-fair. So be prepared. 

The Busy Lying Bee

The Busy Lying Bee

When people say they're 'busy', let's face it, it rarely is true. Unless you've gotten into a situation where you have to switch off or surrender your phone, being busy is just an excuse. Especially when people can see you being present on social media. It's hard to believe someone can't take the 10 seconds it takes to type out "Hey, hope you're doing good. Let's catch up later on."

Sure, just saying one is busy is an easy, diplomatic response. But when you have a close relationship with someone and you have an established pattern of communication, suddenly changing it and crying 'busy' is a slap to the face. It's an insult to the other person's intelligence. Here are some phrases I like to use, because they are true and I believe that level of honesty is more respectful to the other person:

I was feeling low/ I was low on energy.

I haven't been feeling sociable/ I was taking some 'me' time.

I wanted some mental quiet, so I tuned out for awhile.

I was going through a tough time and I just withdrew/couldn't bring myself to reach out.

I've been sorting through my priorities, so I took a break from communicating.

I've been juggling quite a few things, so I haven't been connecting with people.

My focus/attention has been on my family/work/health/x, so I took some time away from my regular routine.

I'm not great at networking. I make an effort, but sometimes I just slip back into old habits.

Keeping in touch is something that I struggle with from time to time.

From what I have experienced, there are a few reasons why people would rather tell me they're busy- I hold a position of very low value/worth to them, they were never really in the relationship to begin with, they think it's 'useful' to keep certain contacts around, a certain level of pettiness/ ego that keeps them from initiating communication.

After I've made the effort, and identified the pretense, I get busy - Snip, snip, bye bye!

Bubbles everywhere

Facebook tells me that I wrote this in 2013:  

Life seems full of these terrible twin questions...

Do I do what makes me happy or find joy in what I do?

Do I seek people who enrich my life or find worth in those who are in it?

Follow my heart or follow my mind?

Gulab Jamuns or Rasagullas?

Damn it all.....

I am surprised that ten years later, not much has changed in finding answers. Except the last one- definitely Gulab Jamuns anyday. The second question really hits hard. I don't know if it's just the people around me or have people generally become shittier human beings?

Pretty much everyone in my life- family and friends have next to no social media presence and/or passion. I don't know what they do. But what really baffles me is their reaction or lack thereof to all that I do. As I churn out pics and videos, I am amazed at the lack of appreciation, support, enthusiasm or passion for anything concerning what I do, from people who claim to love and value me. I feel like shouting. "Are you all dead inside? What's wrong with you?!"

More and more, people are becoming encased into tiny self-sufficient bubbles that contain their immediate families and their phones. There is a narrow conduit connecting them to the entire world that does have a million branches, yes, but the branches are flimsy ephemeral filaments that are not nurtured. Snap, and you're gone.

Recently, a young girl approached me asking me for advice on an essay she had to submit entitled 'Has the Internet brought the world closer?' The answer seems obvious but I'm not so sure. Everyone has access to everyone else, but is it more voyeurism than connection?

I don't write this from a place of sadness, more of surprise. I will always cheer on everyone in my life, and everything they do- with pom poms if I feel it necessary. But I've always been a loner. One of those people who built walls as a defense mechanism very early on in life that have enabled me to step away and step around people with relative ease. I am not saying it's right, of course, but seeing what people are like these days, maybe it's not such a bad thing after all. Gulab Jamuns give me all the warmth I want ;)

Wrote this a long time ago :D

 "I didn't ask you to."

"But you didn't say no, did you?"

"So?"

"So something was offered to you, given to you, and you received it. It was a gift that you accepted. So what if you didn't ask for it. Do you ask for presents on your birthday? Or your housekeeper or employees to go the extra mile to complete a job? Or your mom for the extra food that she packs for you?...Do you know why people do all that? Because they care, they love or they have a strong sense of duty and responsibility that won't allow them to do otherwise, or just because they want to do their best to be who they are. And do you know what they get in return? Ungrateful, narcissistic bastards like you standing  in front of them saying things like "I didn't ask you to," because you know there's no logical response to that. Congratulations on winning the argument. Hope it was worth breaking another human being's heart."

"You're just exaggerating everything. Don't be so sensitive."

"Shame is such a powerful thing isn't it? It can stop a conversation instantly. What you said now, about me being sensitive, that's a blatant attempt at shaming another person for what they feel. Don't be so sensitive. Don't be stupid. Don't be so serious. Don't exaggerate....Do you know what message you send when you say things like that?

"What?"

"That you don't care to listen to their concerns or care enough to find a solution to whatever it is that's bringing up the issue.  You just want to shut them up and go back to things as they were. That will never happen. You can't shame people into being satisfied. You can't shame people into feeling that everything is alright."

"Fine. Tell me what's bothering you then."

"No."

"No?"

"No. Think about what I said. Come back later when you genuinely feel concerned and want to know how we can work through this. Right now, you're just saying what you think I want you to say."

"Women!"

"It's true. Men and women are wired differently. It seems so unreasonable to you that you're saying the right thing and I'm still not accepting it, right?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, here's the one thing that you need to understand about anyone who is emotionally mature. It's not about the words or actions. It's about the intentions behind them. We can smell bullshit a mile away. And we respect ourselves too much to accept bullshit, however nicely you offer it. When you said, 'Fine, tell me what's bothering you then,' you had no zero interest in what was bothering me."

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't. That's why I called it bullshit. If you had taken a moment to think, you would have realized the truth behind what I said, you would have instantly and subconsciously restructured your mind - you could call it an epiphany, if you want. But the result would have been that you would have asked me what was wrong in a very different way. And you would never ever try to shame anyone again. But now, nothing has actually changed for you. I can very well see you saying the same thing tomorrow or next week or next month- Don't be so sensitive or serious or whatever."

"So you want me to change?"

"Yes. Shocking, isn't it? People treat that like it's such a crime these days. 'Oh my god, they're trying to CHANGE me! How dare they!' To me, actually, the reverse is shocking. That people don't want to change."

"You shouldn't change someone you love, you should accept them for who they are."

"It is the law of nature that everything that wants to survive has to move. A stagnant pool will stink and eventually evaporate. But a river that rushes forward replenishes itself. It is a fundamental truth isn't it- change is growth. And it is absolutely necessary if want to be in any kind of relationship with a person. It is absolutely necessary to evolving, to being a better version of yourself with every passing moment."

"But you should accept me as I am."

"No, I don't. I think what you're trying to invoke is unconditional love. Sadly, people all over the world are using it to justify all sorts of emotional abuse. No, change is growth. There is no refuting it. And if that's not something you want, if that seems wrong to you, then it's one of the first things you should tell a person you're getting to know. That you have no desire to change who you are. It will save everyone a lot of time."

"So I have to agree to everything you say, just to please you?"

"You don't HAVE to do anything. Get that into your head. The question is whether you want to, and what the motivation behind it is. I do things for you often, that I wouldn't if I was alone."

"Who asked you to?"

"No one. I wanted to. But that's a great question. Who asked you to. That's enough to shut anyone up, isn't it? You know, long ago, I read a quote that stuck with me. 'The power in a relationship belongs to the one who cares less.' I was so amazed by that statement. It's true. The one who cares less. They can get away with anything, because there is always the threat of leaving hanging over the head of the other person, isn't there? It's a sanction that allows you to be as thorough an asshole as you could possibly want to be. You just have to stop short of the breaking point and you can get away with it, every time."

"You're not making any sense."

"That's because this is more about emotion than logic. Why do people like you stay in relationships? Be it a friendship or a romance. How much do you value it? Value the other person? Not a lot. Not enough to do things that are outside what is comfortable." 

"Why should anyone? I just want to be myself. Not act for the sake of being a good friend or partner. That's fake."

"Valid point. Saying or doing something that you don't want to is fake. But why don't you want to lift up another? What is so lacking in you that you find no joy in that?"

"You sound so arrogant."

"Tell me something- if a physically weak person stands next to a strong person, who would you say needs to work out?"

"The weak one, of course."

"But when it comes to intellectual or emotional strength, why do people persecute the stronger one? You call me arrogant because I exercise my brain? Because I allow myself to feel and communicate my needs? Why don't you arm yourself with knowledge and understanding instead?"

"So I'm not your equal?"

"No. And one of the most important things I have learned in life is this- never go down to another person's level just to keep things smooth. It's better to leave. Goodbye."

One Lesson

A lot of women keep themselves in shitty relationships. I'm not talking about abuse here, just the normal run-of-the-mill ones in which a woman loses a lot and gains very very little. 

Through the years, I have NEVER kept my big mouth shut. I have actively pointed out what was wrong and encouraged friends to step away. Time and again, I've been cold shouldered because these girls chose the guy, chose the misery. I understand, in a way. It's easier to lose a friend than it is to cut out your heart. 

With my closest friend now, I stopped at one point. I am wiser now, after all. I just looked at her as she spoke of all her woes and realized that she would not leave this guy. So I clammed up after that because I didn't want this friendship to fall away as well. But to my amazement, I actually did affect change. And I wasn't even trying!

During her last visit, I was reminiscing about my past. I was telling her about a guy who told me his ex, when she left, said, "You'll regret not marrying me. You'll see. You'll never find anyone like me." I was telling her that ironically, those words were etched into my mind and it was what strengthened my resolve to stay away from him after I left that relationship. I was determined that I would never be as great a fool.

But it is an injustice to call it foolishness. We are indoctrinated from birth with fairy tales and romantic stories, with dreams of soulmates and 'the one', with true love and that 'one love'. Girls, especially, take this to heart completely. 

I told my friend how sad it is that I always hear my friends say things like, 'No one can love him like me.' or 'No one can take care of me like him.' I once heard someone on TV respond to that with, "Have you met everyone in the world, to be able to say that?" Brilliant response! We all desperately want to think we are special, that he is special, or what we  have is special and unique. And we could not be more wrong. My friend was listening quietly, and I didn't even think much about it as I told her- For example, this guy you find so difficult to leave, he's going to marry someone his witch mom wants him to if you left... and do you think that girl is not going to be a good wife to him? Of course she will do her best. And he will live a good life with her. He's not going to roll over and die. She will cook and he will eat. She will bear children, and he will be their father." As I said this, she was deathly silent. And after she went home, she sent a voice message thanking me for everything I said and that she took away several life lessons from our conversation. I was flabbergasted. After all the advice I had deliberately given her, a conversation about myself and my own learnings from relationships is what finally opened her eyes to herself. That she not only left the guy, but decided to enter into an arranged marriage is something that, surprisingly, doesn't bother me at all. Her mistakes are her own. 

I don't want to give the impression that I am cynical. When I say we are wrong in thinking an individual is special, or the relationship is unique, I mean it in this context- no relationship is the ONLY ONE that works or will ever work. But there are people who just 'fit' so well, who work so well together and consciously love each other, (love as a verb), that their relationship is special and unique and heart-warming. The problem is that everyone thinks that they are in one of those, even those who aren't. That's what makes leaving so difficult, when it is the best thing one can do.

If my ex hadn't told me what his ex told him, I wonder how long I would have been a naive romantic. How much more difficult it would have been for me to move on. My friend thanked me again and I decided to write all this down because this is such an important life lesson that changed a core part of me, one that needed to change. I am still amazed that my friend learnt it from me, of all people! It is important to share, to tell our stories to the ones we care about. It is important to say what we think and feel, even if it is social media, even if it might seem like over-sharing. That is the life lesson I took from all this. 

The Street Dog Menace?

Those living in India now, specifically Tamilnadu, must have heard about the latest issue we face- what the media has termed ‘The street dog menace’. We are being bombarded in the media with this news. Every day, the same videos are being shown. The Supreme court has issued a statement saying that those who feed street dogs should be held responsible for the dogs that attack people. Public fury is being whipped up. The steam is rising. The boiling point is fast approaching. Like in Kerala, where in the recent past, men in groups went around hanging street dogs from trees and beating them to death with sticks, people are being triggered. We all know where this is heading.

I have a lot to say. Let me say it. Listen, please. Even though it is futile, even though it will make no difference, I want to speak. I want to scream, actually, but I will settle for speaking. More than 2500 words are in this post. I have warned you. Read it all, if you can.

1) This Government is too corrupt. The disease is bone deep and I do not see how it possibly be removed. Human rights are being violated unchecked. Animals, who are an afterthought, have no hope in this atmosphere of putrid hate.

Money. The money that we need to fix this country is in the hands of politicians and celebrities. The staggering amount of money that is in the hands of the few cannot even be imagined. Crores of crores. And what is available is being spent in ways that boggle the mind. A statue that costs 300 crores. Run that amount in your mind and look around you at the filth on the streets. At the way our people live in slums. At the animals that are diseased and rotting on the streets.

Compassion is the privilege of those who are well fed and satisfied. And yet, miraculously, compassion exists in the lowest members of the social ladder. Open Instagram and see the homeless, the beggars on the streets who part with their food to feed street dogs. How many watchmen in India keep a biscuit packet in their pockets? How many poor women who run food messes feed street dogs with leftover food? How many butchers go around in the morning with a bucket of rice cooked with offal meat and bones? I have met these people and talked to them. I do the same whenever I can.

This truly is the Kali Yuga, the epoch of unchecked degradation of the human soul outlined in Hindu scripture. Why else would compassion be punished to this extent? Those who feed dogs should be held responsible, is it? Let’s look at some facts-

Cost of vaccination per dog: Rabies Rs.200 and Paro Rs.600 totalling Rs.800 approximately.

Cost of neutering a male dog: Rs.500 and a spaying a female dog: Rs.750 at the Government Veterinary hospital. Privately neutering and spaying will cost double or triple those amounts.

For the most part, the people who feed street dogs are not rich. What they do is already beyond their means. To ask them to vaccinate, neuter and take up medical treatment for street dogs is unthinkable. What the Supreme Court has done with their statement is frightened these people and perhaps even intimidated a few into stopping. How is that a solution? If you give ten rupees to an old beggar, do you think you should be asked to take him or her to a hospital and get them treated and provide for them? Don’t you want to just give them what you can and move away from them and forget their existence? Isn’t your compassion limited? That is your right. No one can ask more from you. And yet, people are applauding the Supreme Court’s statement. Everyone needs someone to point at, someone to make a villain of, someone to take the responsibility. Let’s talk about responsibility in depth.

2) Do you know that your local corporation has a responsibility to neuter and spay street dogs every day? They receive funds for it. There are countless Government veterinary doctors who ready to do ten operations per day per doctor. They are good people. I have talked to them. And yet, what is being done? A few street dogs are being captured and photographed. There are either released again or mostly, killed. However, their photographs are being sent to the head office saying that their operations have been performed and the funds are collected and pocketed. Do I have proof for this? Excuse me while I laugh hysterically. How do you get proof for the corruption happening in this country? Sometimes, once in a blue moon, a few dozen street dogs actually are neutered and released. The number is proudly published in the newspapers. It makes no difference- in the next mating season, the dogs more than compensate for it. So that’s how the Government executes its responsibility. Let’s move on to human beings in general.

3) I am appalled by the violence of the response against street dogs. Why this fury against animals who have a limited intelligence? It doesn’t come forth against members of our own species who are vastly superior in intelligence and morals. If you pulled up the statistics on how many women and children are being raped in a minute and how many people are being attacked by dogs in a minute across the world, which statistic do you think would be higher? And yet we don’t see any calls for men as a sub-species to be held responsible for the crime? In fact, when the ‘Me too’ movement was at its peak, there were men who were audacious enough to start a hashtag saying ‘Not all men’. It made the blood boil. If you are a man reading this, imagine what your life would be like if you knew there was a serial killer in your neighbourhood targeting men of your age group. Imagine what every day would be like, what all precautions you would take and how much it would influence your every single plan. That’s what it’s like for women from the moment we are old enough to go to the neighbourhood store till the day we die. One serial killer is enough. One rapist is enough. Life cannot be the same.

The point of this is that we are speciest. We pride ourselves on not being racist or casteist or sexist, but speciesm isn’t a trending fad yet. I hope it will become one, because only then will we stop the wholesale crimes we commit against other species without conscience or fear of punishment. Until then, we as a species are morally reprehensible. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves. We have single-handedly caused the extinction of complete species’ of animals and we continue to do so. And how do we respond to animals that are less intelligent than us who we see as a threat- just kill them. It’s easier. There’s no one to question us.

4) There’s no one to question us. That’s the greatest irony, isn’t it? Without thousands of religions on this planet with any number of deities, we still have no one to question us. I dropped off a friend at her home yesterday and her mother came out to speak to me. A devout Hindu woman if there ever was one. Starts the day with a bath and a complete set of rituals done before an array of gods in her pooja room. She talked to me proudly about her watchman who keeps a big pile of stones on the compound wall and makes sure not a single street dog even thinks about walking in front of their house. This way she does not have to be offended by the sight of dog poop anywhere near her house. She told me proudly about her cousin who walks the streets with a taser rod to attack any dogs that comes near him. Funny how her Gods have taught her more about hygiene than compassion.

And yet, she runs to the gate when a cow comes along, so that she can feed it a banana and touch its head. It can definitely poop in front of her gate because its poop is holy. Does she know that 99% of male calves end up on a butcher’s block? She does. Only the females, i.e. the cows have been lucky enough to be singled out by God. Sometimes, I wonder, if I had to explain all this to an alien, what would I say? How would I even approach this hypocrisy?

5) Recently, I read a post in which there was this question- if a wild tiger or lion was roaming the streets, would you feel safe and say, let it roam? The implication being that street dogs are the same since they attack people. So they should be dealt with. Let me answer that question. No, as an animal lover, I wouldn’t want wild animals roaming the streets. I would want it to be humanely captured and released into a sanctuary or reserve.

But the thing is- dogs are not wild animals. We have a responsibility towards them that we do not have toward any other creature on earth. Tens of thousands of years ago, our ancestors domesticated a particular species of wild animals and brought them into their lives as companions. Through the years, those majestic animals have been bred and interbred to create the helpess dogs that we see today. These animals have zero capacity to exist in the wild. They have very little in common with their own ancestors. They have been bred to become creatures who are solely dependent on humans for survival. Street dogs exist on the kindness of some humans and the trash piles of all humans. This is the crime that we have committed against them.

In the recent past, the death of a British monarch caused the internet to explode in a frenzy of memes and posts. We got to see how much anger and resentment lives in the hearts of those countries that were former colonies. We want the British to acknowledge their brutal past and answer for their ancestors. We want reparations. Let’s acknowledge that what we have done to dogs is our responsibility. We answer for our ancestors and we owe these animals reparations. We owe them homes with food and safety, so that they don’t live on the streets, and they don’t become so desperate and beastly that they attack people.

Let me emphasize this fact- as a species, we have a socio-moral responsibility to street dogs. We created them. In that context, we are the Gods. What Gods we are!

6) Let us not close our eyes to what we are. Animals are being abused every day. I won’t go into those horrors here. I don’t have the courage to type all that. Go to Bangalore. Slow down as you near the city. You will see at least one Golden Retriever or Labrador on the highway that has become old, so their rich owners have abandoned them on the outskirts of the city. It’s happening more often than you think. Look closely at the packs of street dogs. You’ll soon see that one of them at least is a dog that has been abandoned. At the rate street dogs are reproducing, people are actually adding to their numbers by abandoning animals that have no street sense. Imagine the fear and hunger and helplessness those pets must feel. Imagine your little child suddenly ripped from its home and standing in the middle of some street somewhere. Close your eyes and feel it. Even if it makes you uncomfortable, open your heart and feel it. Do you think these animals chose this existence? That they want to live in such misery? That they want to go mad and attack people. What choice is open to them?

I have adopted 7 dogs from the streets. I don’t have the money or physical strength to do more. Even though there are a few hundreds like me, we are not enough. What we do is not enough. On a daily basis, my heart hurts that I cannot save them all.

I have friends. They don’t love dogs. But I know that they are kind people. When I tell them about street dogs, which is very rare, they express their pity. But that’s where it stops. I don’t blame them. Not everyone can take up every cause. Not everyone can be an activist. We all struggle, we all have lives. But, it pains me that people are unaware of so many things. Even those that are educated and well-off have no clue. The media that shows a video of street dogs chasing a man does not reveal everything else that I have typed in this post, does it? Furious anger is being whipped up. Compassion is being suppressed. Politics ensures people are kept poor and angry. That way, everything the Government says is seen as true, and people become puppets. Most of us know this. Yet, we have become so passive and submissive, that we would rather not think about it. Life is difficult enough as it is. Why open our eyes too wide and see what we don’t want to see. But we cannot afford to live like this, not for long.

7) What is the solution? There are two choices- kill them or adopt them. The Government will do nothing. They have started propaganda to ensure people support whatever drastic measures they are going to take. The media is their tool, as always. Public sentiment is being turned against animal lovers and street dogs. I am guessing that soon, we will see a wholesale capture and killing of street dogs across the country.

The solution lies only with people. Awareness and compassion. Instead of fearing these animals, feed them. Their instinct is to be friendly with and love humans. Everyone just needs to feed them. Earn their love. Keep their bellies full. What possible reason could they have to attack if they are fed and treated with kindness? Except for the occasional stray that contracts rabies and attacks- those ones should be captured and euthanized, yes. There is no other choice. Every neighborhood has hundreds of people. Start a collection of funds. Give it to the one or two animal lovers in the area who are more than willing to spend their time and energy to get street dogs neutered and vaccinated. All we need is money and a maybe a little help with transport.

The solution lies with people. Stop being angry with animals that don’t know better. Stop being angry with people are trying to help. Awareness and compassion. Awareness and compassion. Awareness and compassion. I beg of you.

………Even as I write this, I know it won’t happen. We are too selfish to do this, and it is too much to ask. Compassion is costly, in too many ways. Violence is cheaper, faster and more effective. Personal responsibility is too scary to think about because it’s too much work. My heart bleeds for the violence that is to come. I am already tearing up at the injustice that millions of animals are going to face, that are going to be punished for the actions of the few. If there is a God, I only ask one thing- do better next time, God. Wipe my species off the face of this overwhelmed and struggling planet and do better next time.

Floored!

I decided to try some floor exercises recently. You know what I'm talking about. You go to the store, buy a new yoga mat, shoes, socks, head band, wrist band, ugly track pants and then come home feeling like you lost 10 kilos just because your debit card is lighter. Worse, you look like you escaped from some 70's disco zoo for humans.

So I did that. And as usual, I was humbled beyond all belief. The conclusion I have come to is that I may possibly have no core. If I do, then as the flat bellied exercise gurus insist, I do not want to engage it. You hear me, I DO NOT want to engage my core. I want to divorce it. What is the procedure for that please?

How do they do it so elegantly in the videos, man? Each time my leg starts towards the floor from above, it falls with a thud. Like its dead. Like its not connected to my brain in any way. I feel like a beast, I tell you, a beast. Maybe its an Indian thing. Take yesterday, for example. As I fell this way and that, the spicy Ruchi mixed vegetable pickle in my stomach decided to reverse direction and come up the tube. So to complete the beast image, I was breathing fire. To add the nail to the coffin, let me assure you- the only exercise I could do with ease and grace was the donkey kick. I realize now that I should not be proud of myself for that, not even a little bit. 

I don't like the instructors, I must add.  Even though I don't know them, as human beings, I don't like them. They smile. They SMILE. How? I know they don't have scalp sweat that runs into their eyes and burns them. Still, its just obscene. Rude. Keep your core and your smile. Instead, tell me how to get a refund on all the crap I bought. Then I'll smile. 

So anyway, the final conclusion I have come to is that there are people like me in the world, who should only be vertical. Walk, run, zumba, whatever, but keep that stomach and those thighs below sea level. Do not go horizontal. You'll just see things you don't want to see, and feel them too. Don't forget the pickle. Let that be your guide. Listen to your body. Let the pickle travel down, and be at peace.

Inner Pieces

People say that the path to salvation lies in your spiritual evolution. On the way, you attain such things as inner peace. I don't know about that.

The whole thing is pretty nerve-wracking, if you ask me. Once you assimilate the fact that the Universe is governed by this wacky law and that your thoughts and beliefs create your reality, there's no going back from that quicksand. Let me explain.

You know how sometimes people get asked what their favorite time of the day is, and they say that its when they wake up in the morning? I find that impressive. When I wake up, even before my consciousness fully kicks in, I involuntarily think, "Oh shit, not again." Then, as the booting up process completes, I realize that I just put a really negative thought out there and desperately try to undo it.  

"No, No, Universe, I didn't mean that. I meant, wow, another day of possibilities, I'm so grateful, yes, I am, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

It's a desperate and pathetic attempt. Most of the time, I'm sure the Universe only registered the first output and I'm going to fall dead. The Universe would go (in Morgan Freeman's voice) "So Ye Asked, So Ye Shall Receive!" and make a horrid pinching movement and down here, I'd croak. 

This is my morning ritual, and please note, I haven't even opened my eyes yet. Inner peace, my ass.

How can something that sucks the joy out of life, give me eternal joy? That's what I want to know. So the guy who cuts me off in traffic- I can't imagine his death in gruesome detail? It's not like I'm going to kidnap and kill him. Can't I just imagine it? NOOOOOOOOOO, says spirituality. You must bless him. I mean, come on!

When I was a little girl, times were simpler. We knew about this thing called Karma. Back then, it was pretty practical. An eye for an eye. Don't do bad stuff or bad stuff would happen to you. There was no talk about thoughts and feelings and beliefs. We were all free to nourish the utmost evil in the cesspools of our minds. Don't you yearn for simpler times like that? You released everything and lived carefree. 

Now, masters like Buddha have set us these bad examples we feel obliged to follow. Books have been published. You can't walk 10 feet without stumbling on someone who talks about inner engineering. It's all light, love, rainbows and unicorns. Makes me sick, sometimes. Rainbow colors. Black is also a respectable color, you know. I want to wear black, learn ten different types of martial arts and take down 20 people at the same time? Answer me honestly, wouldn't that be far more satisfying than 20 hours of meditation?

Meditation! Don't get me started on that! Lord in heaven. if there was ever a way to make you want to embrace the dark side, it's meditation. How many hours can you sit like that and not achieve a psychotic break?! Don't you have thighs that protest? Knees that creak? Brains that check out? I don't know.

All in all, what has spirituality done for me? I think I have become paranoid and life, more stressful. And inner peace? Please. Inner pieces is more like it. 

Bless you all!

From the ashes...

I've written before about Godmen. Except for a rare few genuine spiritual masters, there are many such who have read the literature, nailed the look and the accent, and have gone on to achieve success and fame. 

Nithyananda, perhaps, is the most notorious one in recent times. There is even a documentary now entitled 'My daughter joined a cult' in which they seem to systematically take down the image he has cultivated. 

Long before this, but after his infamous sex tape with Ranjitha, I learnt of his personal paradise Kailasa where he had hidden himself away. I was amused to learn he had his own channel live streaming day and night from this Kailasa.  

So, snacks in hand, I opened the website, sat back and smirked, ready to pooh and paah at this charlatan. That's when the Universe decided to teach me a lesson. I watched him do his daily discourse, which I think was called a satsang. That day's topic was about love. This Mister-I-smile-too-much opened his mouth and put forward the most wonderful and accurate and exact definition of love I have ever heard. He said, "Love is the highest vision you can have for someone. It has nothing to do with your feelings, or theirs, or desires or sacrifices or anything. It is simply the highest existence you can envision for them."

That's not verbatim, FYI. But I admit I was floored. I just sat there gaping and listened to the whole satsang. For many days after that, I tuned in, but I never heard anything that profound again. It was good spiritual literature, for the most part, but nothing remarkable. Of course, there was a lot of pompous posturing and self-gratifying statements. I never visited his virtual Kailasa after that.

The point of this, the lesson I learnt, may seem fairly simple. Don't be so smugly superior and so quick to dismiss and deride another person. I am not defending Nithyananda, of course. He has been accused of many vile things, which I think may be true. But like the proverbial rose blooming in the desert, I learnt that there is gold hidden in dirt, that there are diamonds to be found in ashes, that words precious and true may fall even from the lips of those who are called monsters. 

If nothing else, I learnt to better understand this thing that we call love. How unlikely a source, yet how beautiful this lesson!

Complete Frasier Transcripts!!!

 http://www.kacl780.net/frasier/transcripts/?fbclid=IwAR0B-DXqqPKNvFDYvXR1QNz0sS2-FXDi2NPy285qsonO0IkB8I2ljaxbqaw

Watch out!

I miss the good old days when all I did online was check my gmail account and occasionally post on Facebook. I felt smug that I was savvy enough, but then I went and changed it all. I started chatting on apps, subscribed to Youtube channels and joined Instagram. This past year, I've been at my peak. And I think it might be driving me insane. Let's go.

So, I saw this Youtube video. The guy in it said that we must always, ALWAYS bathe in cold water. He went on to list all the benefits; the heart, the blood, the blah, blah. These days it doesn't take much to convince me of anything. So I decided to go along. The first day, as that cold water hit me, I was transported to another time in my life.

It was the year 2000 and I was on a trek in  the Himalayas. This was back when my hips, knees, ankles co-operated with each other.  As thrilling as it was to walk along the edge of the cliffs, the only time I screamed like a little girl, was in the camp bathing stalls. It was like some sadist repeatedly plunged me into a hole in the ice on a frozen lake. Going oooooooooo and aaaaaaaaa over and over again, I sounded like an ambulance stuck in traffic. At one point, I remember scolding someone in the adjoining stall for bathing quietly. It just wasn't fair. "Have you no nerve endings, bitch?"

Anyway, coming back to social media, cold baths are just the tip of the iceberg. (hehe!) It's like I can't look away. I listen to everything. I watch it all. In short, I'm a sucker. 

If there's a Youtube video with the caption, "Know this secret and you will ...." then I must know that bloody secret. Even if I scroll past it in a pathetic attempt to be cool, in a few seconds, I'll frantically dig at my mouse, go up and click on it. It's terrible.

Do you know that I slap my armpits 49 times each? Why do I do this? Because a Chinese acupuncturist lady on Insta said that it detoxifies the liver. Why do I want to detoxify my liver, you ask? Because a spiritual guru on Youtube said that the liver is the seat of anger and the Lord knows that I am an angry person. How do I know the Lord knows everything, hmm? Because that Islamic intellectual preacher on Facebook said that He does. 

One day, one of you will visit me. And then you'll come back and put this post on Facebook- "I went to see Poorni today. She's comfortable, which is a blessing. The people in the psych ward take good care of her. Don't pity her for what she could have been, celebrate her for what she was."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have seven hundred and twenty three saved videos I need to go watch. B'bye!

What's the prognosis?

 At the age of 39.5, I think I'm starting to show signs of adulthood. I'm not sure, and I hope I can nip the condition in the bud, but there's no denying the symptoms are there. Let's analyze:

1. Less is really more?

No, this isn't a life lesson. It has to do with ... Tang. I love Tang. Like really, really love it. For decades, I have terrorized people with it. If some unsuspecting innocent says yes to my offer of tang, it's a medical risk. Fill half the glass with the powder, fill the rest with water and, to add insult to injury, add a pinch of salt to heighten the sweetness. That's my death formula and I loved it. One sip, and people would usually choke, cough and then, as the sugar reached the vital organs, their eyes would roll back in their heads.

But now, I find myself putting in one measly teaspoon of Tang in the glass. I have even, at times, painfully transferred some of it back into the packet. No more salt. It's...worrying. Why has this happened to me?

2. I want...

A life partner. 'To share my joys and sorrows with?' you may ask. No. 'For those cold, lonely nights?', you say? No. I'm just thrilled with all that as it is, thank you. No. I have discovered the absolute back-breaking labor that goes into a particular chore. I just hate it. It's called 're-filling'. Refilling the various hand wash dispensers around the house, the oil dispensers, the soap box, and stuff like that. Does that happen to you? Every time you turn around, the damn hand wash dispenser is empty? Yeah, for me too. 

That's when the war begins. I fill it with a bit of water. That buys me a few more days. I pump it till it spits out air and cries out in agony. Then I try a bit more water. There are hardly any bubbles, but that's life. Then for a day or two, I avoid that sink. I will walk across the length of my house to the other sink. One day, that one will give out too. I'll use my aloe vera face wash once or twice to wash my hands and feel guilty about it.

Eventually, I realize that the breaking point has been reached. The war is lost. Out come the refill packet (which was a stone's throw away from the sink the whole time) and I go around the house re-filling. 

Throughout this journey, these days, I find myself muttering, "If I had one of those damn husband things, I would make it him do this." So there. You see, another symptom. 

3. Grey areas

This does not refer to my hair, although it would be accurate. I mean that the grey areas of life have expanded and encroached on all the black and white. I'm finding it a tad bit more difficult to be judgmental. That's troubling. If one cannot sit back and enjoy one's righteous anger, what else is there to life (apart from good food), I ask! 

I'm afraid that I will end up all nice and accepting one day in the distant future. That is a dangerous thing because it it encourages more people into your life. More People. Ugh. We can't have that, can we? My very reputation as a grouchy recluse is at stake!

     So you see, people, I have these symptoms and maybe a few more I haven't discovered yet. If any of you have discovered a cure for this, please get in touch. I will reward you handsomely, with as many glasses of Tang as you please. No salt.

Mr. Pathetic

 Dear Mr. Married Tinder man, 

My, what a despicable creature you are in my eyes. 

You know what really gets me. Invariably, each one of you loves your child or children unconditionally. You profess great love for your progeny. But the woman who gave birth to these apples of your eyes have become so redundant. She's a use and throw machine, a DNA replicator that unfortunately, you cannot throw. 

For the few minutes of unpleasant suffering she had to endure while you rolled on and off, for the nine months of physical hell she went through, for the hours of labor in which she rebirthed herself as she gave birth, this is her reward- she is an unwanted specimen. One that still takes care of you and your children's daily needs. 

And you come on Tinder and say you're in an unhappy marriage and want some fun. "Stress buster", some of you have the audacity to say. My God! Why is this woman with you? Have you ever thought about that? Your disgusting habits, your poor sexual performance, your childish immature existence- do you imagine these magnetic qualities are making her stay with you?! 

There should be droves of married women on tinder. That would make sense. This is just pathetic. Yucku. 

Epiphanies, not funny! (Blargh)

I had a series of epiphanies this morning when I was cooking breakfast. I had just checked the phone for the tenth time to see if my brother had replied. My ten year old niece did this wonderful painting of a night sky and I was so thrilled with the picture he sent to me on Whatsapp, that I declared that I would buy it. No response. I waited a day and asked again if I could buy it. No response.

The disappointment suddenly pushed me back to when I was 10 years old. The first time a poem of mine was published in a childrens’ magazine called Gokulam. It was about the rain. I don’t remember much about it, except that it had the word ‘lo’ in it, something that makes me cringe a little. Lol. But I was so proud of the fact that the postman brought a postal order of Rs.10 the next day, which was the magazine’s payment for my poem. I could hardly contain myself. My father bought me a brand new wallet to keep that ten rupee note. I did for a long time.

The next week, in school, my class teacher somehow found out and asked me about it in class. I told her the poem was about the rain. She told me to recite it. Now, I had been writing poems since I started writing words. I had a notebook scribbled with all sorts of nonsense. This poem was just one random piece that I sent to the magazine. No way did I memorize my poems. So I couldn’t recite it entirely. In front of the whole class, she asked me if I had really written it. Instantly, I was crushed. I couldn’t believe the implied accusation. Some of my classmates clearly believed I didn’t write the poem, judging by their skepticism after that class. My glorious achievement had become ‘dirty’ in my little mind.

Thinking back, as I allowed memory after memory to come to the forefront, I realized that this was a pattern in my life. My strict and fearsome father had made sure that I didn’t express myself freely even as a toddler. Every time I did, people tainted it. I was laughed at, mocked, teased, belittled, humiliated and discouraged so many times. It seemed like whenever I reared my head and peeked out of the wall I was slowly building around myself, I pulled myself back in almost immediately, saddened and embarrassed. I did have one or two wonderful people around, but I was too timid with them. To this day, I regret that as a teenager, I never really opened up to my English teacher, a woman I admired from a distance. I wanted to, as I felt like she was the one person in my lonely life who seemed to care. But I was too scared to ‘be me’ with anyone, even at 12 years old.

So, is this where all my problems stem from? My general dislike of being around people for too long, my inability to sustain relationships past a few years, my introverted existence? Was my entire childhood so deeply disturbing to me that I took away from it a general disappointment and lack of faith in people?

Being as shy and quiet as I was, there was one skill that I silently and quite unconsciously picked up- the art of reading people. Most of the time, I know when people lie to me or when they pretend. Be it family or friends, I can tell. I realize now, that every such instance of deceit only strengthened (and continues to strengthen) my reticence. I have always felt this deep hurt when I recognize the lie. It seems to convey a clear message- you are of so little value to this person, that winning/saving face is so much more important.

Ironically, every time I meet someone new, I start off with this complete childlike trust and wonder. But I’m looking. I’m looking and looking. I’m looking for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for the disappointment. Is it fair? No. Not in any universe is it fair to the other person. No one’s perfect. It IS unfair. But then, I am only dishing out what I got, what I learnt. Maybe if I had grown up with my siblings or cousins, I would have taken things lightly. Rough housing could have thickened my skin. As it is, I appear to have taken everything to heart and developed such a strong sense of shame and unnecessary guilt about being inadequate whenever I faced something unpleasant, that I grew up scarred.

Unfortunately, I remained so. I'm grateful for this series of epiphanies I’ve had today. Through the years, I have tried to heal, but there is nothing like understanding to speed up the process.

The one question that saddens me, though, is- have I done all this to myself? People are people. Everyone grows up around others. Should I, as a child, have known better? Was I prone to be sad? These are questions I cannot answer. Not without a time machine.

People privately ask me why I share so much publicly. A couple of reasons. The takeaway- we all learn from each other. Maybe someone who understands this will make sure that their child’s teasing isn’t taken too far in the name of humor. Maybe someone will realize that lying isn’t just about words. Second- I truly believe in vulnerability. I do pull away on one hand, but on the other, I am always willing to share who I am. A contradiction of sorts, I know. You see, there is a difference between believing people are good and that people are good to YOU. That is a powerful statement. Third- I don’t really think that anyone can harm me with what I share. What- is someone going to mock me about having been mocked? Lol. Vulnerability isn’t a weakness. Unawareness is.

That said, I've been sitting here with this, hesitating to hit the 'post' button. Is it too much? TMI? If it is, I apologize.

Going back to how all this began, all I wanted was my niece to feel the way that I felt when I got that ten rupee note. To know that someone recognized that something I had created had value. Real value. Perhaps I am being naive. Times have changed. That little girl is not me. She is probably way more secure and way too worldly to be ecstatic about my offer. Good.

Heavy stuff, all this. I hope you’ve read it, if you’ve gotten this far, as an interesting essay, and not something gloomy. Not all that is worth reading is bloomy. See, I am good at poetry!