रिश्तों का ताना बाना, Ebb and flow of relationships… तेरा मुझसे लड़ना, मेरा तुझे मनाना, rising beyond ego clashes. तेरा मेरे संग बैठना, मुस्कुराना, like blissful ecstasy. रिश्तों का यूं बन जाना, our destiny.
धागे ये कच्चे हैं, यूं उलझ गए ऐसे ही, न मुझे खबर लगी, न तुम समझे सही! टूट जाते हैं जो धागे कच्चे, गांठें पड़े, न जुड़े कभी भी, दर्द के दरिया में, रोज़ गोते खा रही हैं जिंदगी
इस कदर छा गया दिल में सन्नअटा, silence perpetually. अब न मिलोगे कभी, acceptance eventually. अब इस टूटे आइने में दिखे है, harsh reality. कुछ का होता है यही नसीब, inevitably,. रिश्तों का ताना-बाना, Ebb and flow of relationships!
Trapped in a gloomy dungeon. Everywhere darkness adorned. There prevailed chains, Brokenness, and pain. Everything unreasonable and insane. With all the might, I put up a fight. Depleting me of my energy. As I wriggled out of the dungeon, slowly. There was light so bright. Dazzled, I lost my sight. Suddenly, the world was a new place. As though I was born again! I trembled as I crawled I got assistance and I survived. Some motivated me in my despair. Some offered me kindness and care. Someone share a laugh. Someone convinced me I was enough. I tried to gather my strength to walk. I was feeling weak still. The ascent is always a steep uphill. I saw a hand stretched towards me. I took its support like crutches. I walked a few steps and felt powerful. As the weather changes, so does time. Those dependencies are nothing but enzymes. Chemicals in the brain create that fog. The more you want something, The further it got! But I was in an unusual ‘high’. Love gives you these wings. Freedom to float anywhere, freedom to say anything. Fantasy is a flight towards a dream. Yes, I understand the science behind it all. Mysteries, build adrenaline rush, And push us to do hard things. The ‘high’ is sufficient to move a mountain. Is this ‘high’ making me an addict, insane? In your world, you see the same stars. Awestruck, we see the same moon from afar. My mind and heart feel so connected, Though the distance between us cannot be measured.
How do I see a sameness in differentiation? There is a strong connection in this separation! Although, I love the thought that we could be together, This is but just a thought. I want to feel close, yet I want to stay afar. I am living in paradox. Maybe, I am in love with this paradox. Or is it that, I feel we are not apart? Maybe I am imagining, what you’ll be, It may just be my fantasy. Maybe I distraught the reality, Maybe I assume what is not! Maybe there is more that I do not see. Yet, it is making me the person I always wanted to be.
Personality Contest was an important event at the cultural fest at SPM College, Delhi. I stood there in the corridor accompanying my three beautiful friends, least interested in that event. Make-up and all… uh, not my cup of tea! It was our first year in college. In those days, ‘college’ was not just an institution. It was a platform to create self-identify. In the absence of social media, it was ‘the community’. Being ‘cool’, ‘being popular’, and being ‘sought after’ were important validations, just as career goals (if not more!). I had always been an ambivert (partly extrovert, partly introvert), beside being a Tomboy. Quick to make friends and known for playing pranks on people. I loved to believe, I was not a delicate darling, but a strong, rough, and tough girl! The senior wrote the names of my friends on the paper and flapped the shabby paper at me with a look of contempt. “You can’t apply! You are not selected.” I never wanted to participate in the first place! It was not “my type” of an event. However, her way of speaking put me off. Anger took over. Now through therapy, I understand better what I did not know then, that, ‘anger’ can be a blanket emotion. So with all the hurt in my heart and ‘feeling not good enough’ and ugly, I walked towards doing what I had never done before. Quite impulsively, I approached the lecturer concerned with my request. “Ma’am, although this event is not my kind, and I understand that I will be eliminated in the first round itself, kindly give me a chance to participate.” She was quick to give her consent and my name was added along with my friends.
Chemicals in the brain… I could feel the rush! I didn’t realize that I had got myself in an uncomfortable zone. It was a new journey as I started to prepare for my participation with only three days at hand. I did not have any pair of heels. So I went to buy them. Much to my embarrassment, when I tried to walk, I fell. I hated it. I found it hard to practice for the ramp walk. I kept encouraging myself by saying, “It is for one round only, then I will be in the audience with my class, cheering my friends. Hooting and enjoying.” The day came and I literally wrapped my saree (as it was far from being draped!) and hair tied with a clip, rushed to the college. In our English department classroom, the whole bunch of girls took over. My saree was draped beautifully. My hair was done in a nice top-notch bun. Personal Make-up boxes were there and I don’t even know what all went on my face. Honestly, I did not even look at myself in the mirror. I was somewhere else all the time. I was physically present but mentally away in my own world. There was this constant battle going on in my mind. My ego was bruised. No one knew about it. It had me in flames. I didn’t care a two penny, about the contest. It was all about being on the stage. Since I did not have time to buy contact lenses so, I had decided that I would remove my glasses in the first round which was the ramp walk and introduction, then I had plans to enjoy among the audience. On the stage, red curtains were drawn. The carpets were also red. Oh my God…I couldn’t see without my glasses. There was now a threat of tripping over the carpet in my new heels. (I had to mentally focus to keep my weight backward when I walked). To add to that stress now, there was a danger of me literally walking off the stage. The red color was a big distraction. I could not see where the stage ended! I hated myself for putting me there! However, once I was there on the stage, I felt home. Something took me over. I was comfortable and at ease. Surprisingly, I started to enjoy myself. During my introduction, I honestly told the judges and the audience that I had been a tomboy and I wore glasses. I cleared the elimination round. I kept moving forward easily, as subsequent rounds included quizzing, acting, and oration were not much of a challenge. Overall, it was an unforgettable and memorable event and I had to go without sitting in the audience.
Breaking the stereotypes, I was crowned Miss Personality SPM College 1996. In those days, Jassi Jaisi Koi Nahi was a popular show on air. On the stage, Jassi came to life for a day. That day, a simple plain-looking girl in glasses, stole the show and the limelight. She went missing right after the contest. No one saw her again!
People talked about her, while I stood right next to them, not identifying me (My friends reading this know and would agree). I think, after all, she was not a real person. She was a group effort. The entire class contributed to creating her, making her look the way she did. She was the sum of everyone’s effort and energy. I just played a role on the stage. It was also about- the challenge. The idea of achieving something when it seemed impossible, I strongly believe everything lies in the power of our mind.
Today as I reflect. I can see it very differently. It brings about those two major issues we all struggle with, at some point or the other in our life. First, to be chosen for who we are. We all want to be seen and acknowledged by others, more so by people whom we care about, like our coworkers, friends, and more importantly by our family. Somehow, we feel the need to prove our worth first! This belief of ‘worthiness,’ is so bloody engrained in our mind by this society. We need a ‘high’ about this sense of achievement, to believe, that we are actually worthy and deserve to be loved. Most of the time, we feel not good enough. We internalize, that we are setting goals or increasing standards for our improvement. Sadly, it’s just a cover-up for shame in not accepting ourself!
The second realization is a hard one for me that, the bruised ego is a dangerous weapon. In this context, it brought about a positive outcome. Challenges work on ego. Anger stems from ego. Ego is a false sense of identity. As I reflect on my life, I understand this, time and again the challenges have brought out the best in me professionally and personally. It is a different learning altogether, now, as I look back, I see my ego staring right back at me!
Undoubtedly, there was an achievement and I must give it, its due credits. First, to myself for stepping out of my comfort zone and attempting new things that were not ‘my type’ and navigating through the challenges.
Second, to all my friends from the English department who supported me. It was their incredible effort and presence, memories of which, are so close to my heart. Last but not the least, it feels like a tremendous achievement to break the stereotype!
Someone said, “We mature with damage not with age.” There is a different (inner) devil at every stage. Today I am inviting some of them for tea. These frightened parts of me! I have kept them hidden, I have denied, Disowned and shamed them several times. For I could not do what I was supposed to. For I could not become what was expected of me.
These are my inner children wanting to be- free. So, today I let some of them be! (seen).
For that kid in me is sometimes three, It demands all the attention she missed on. She frets, and doesn’t know how to express and who to explain what is her pain? The world is lonely and dark and mundane. Where is everyone? How do they all function? What is the ‘normal’?
Who do I question? There is no one near except fear. She is expected to be quite. A “Good child”. Tired of all this, little one cries.
Sometimes, this inner child of mine, Is thirteen. Feeling the pain of growing up and changes in adolescence. The world is scary, strange and unsafe. She hides behind her pride. Lets loose the inner rebel. She formulates a survival guide. Strong face. Just a disguise. Yet a safe disguise!
Sometimes this inner child is nine. Desiring a new bicycle and a pair of running shoes. Why do people ridicule? Why can’t I fight back? Break the norm. Break their bones! I will be a Don! Dare they strike! I will kill. I will fight…! Some voice mimics, the dialog from the social script of ‘that mean aunt’ in every family, who is always critical, of literally everything! “Oh my little child, but you are a girl… You will not survive. Uh, accept that it’s your plight. For those boys are big and you are just nine! Surrender! For if God wanted you to be successful you would not have been a girl’!” My child at nine decided to hide(“the girl”) till whenever possible. Frills and frocks were discarded for rough jeans. Long curls gone just like the story ‘Maggie Cuts her Hair’. She’d defy. I am no less. I am a Tom-‘boy’! Fighting on the street. Bruised legs and feet, it did not pain. It was a matter of prestige! The scars were the pride, of my inner child.
However, these lessons are wrongly learnt it was a survival guide. It felt safe to defy, To be angry rebel or to hide. For long, I let my coping mechanism be my comfort zone. As that was what could possibly be done! It’s an un-learning time. With you, I work, to reconcile.
Today in my forties, I acknowledge this pain, My inner children, you are not shamed! Now, I won’t let you suffer again. I won’t deny, in me, you may confide. For, we are the same. Let go of these fears. You are safe, as I am here! For you, I will always be here!
Many of us are small children in adult bodies. Exhausted and emotionally reactive. We are threatened at the slightest provocation or conflict. We are choking on our fears. Pretending to be strong and in-control by hiding away those fears and insecurities that are killing us on the inside. For the fear of tarnishing our “image” that we have so carefully carved. However, being misunderstood can be seen as an opportunity to love one’s self more and let people think what they want to! Sometimes we develop immunity to change and self-limiting beliefs and face difficulty in confronting subconscious fears. Society seems like a monster as it’s “should” and “must” govern us. We get identified by labels and we live in the boxes.
In trying to become all the things people want us to become, we loose ourselves.
Dissociation and numbing are the coping mechanisms one develops while growing up. “I won’t think about it, I will dodge it. Forget it!”, “I am ok”, “I can handle it”, “I am strong”. We use anger to hide the pain within. We wear different masks. We create our personas. All these have caused more harm than we realize. Initially not getting that toy car or the barbie doll; missing the position of school monitor or captain; being left out by friends, not being invited to the party. Not getting that dream job or promotion or house, not getting married to that person, not being able to live in the country of dreams. So many things we need to feel sad about and grieve. Instead, we push it aside as “no big deal!”. We teach our children to “be strong” and “take it in your stride”! Let’s break the boxes. Trying to run away from suffering is running towards it. Being a hero is not about dismissing the hard feelings. It is about being brave and facing them. It takes courage to own up that grief, rejection, loss, and pain. Controlling emotions does not mean denying them. Acceptance is heroic. Grieving is an act of courage, towards not being comfortably numb to being comfortably conscious and receptive! It takes some unlearning to say “It’s okay not to be okay!” Enjoy the song by Marshmallow
December invariably makes me nostalgic. Every year. This year seemed to have halted in March and seems like “March-ember”! However, the chilly wind, fog, and silence are the perfect setting for nostalgia to set in. Today my thoughts are wandering to December 2018 when I jotted down my first poem after twenty-something years. It was so hard. My happiness knew no bounds. I had worked many hours to write a few lines. Writing a few lines, in that mental state was such a difficult task. I was so delighted.
Why am I sharing this today? For two reasons.
Written in December 2018
First, I want to thank those people who stood with me at that time when I was so lost. Those who supported me in their own way. I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. The inspiration I got to pick up the pen to write, in the first place in 2018, changed my life, totally. I found my voice. Thank you, my friends, for your loving and caring presence and all the encouragement.
The second reason is the journey itself. We need to reflect on the growth as well. Many times we are so critical about our own lives that we fail to pause and look back at the distance we have traveled. As psychotherapist Tory puts it, “Growth is not always how far we have come but also how far we can meet ourselves in our mess.”
These were not phrases. It was the battle cry! Looking back at the poem I can observe that even a 7-year-old could write better. Yet the journey begins with the decision to start – one step at a time, one day at a time!
Yeh dil mange more, Ahha! More sunshine. More Rain. More Happiness. More Gain. More Profits. No Pain. A life safe and sane. But, life is ebb and flow. Impulsivness, mistakes, surrenders and the let go’s. Still we try, to be wise. Many plans we devise, We polish our appearance. Make everything so significant. We disconnect from ourselves. We justify the delays. We ponder and we reflect. So we don’t get in the same mess. What are the wounds that we hide? Oh, what all wars we fight! Because we keep raising the bar… We feel never enough, Although we are! All the glamour we adore! Hey Dil, why do you always, Always want more….Anhha?
That window creaked. The iron bars made the rusty screeching noise as a four-year-old pushed and pulled them. It was powercut at DDA flats Keshav Puram. This corner window was her favourite hideout. Swinging there was her refugee from the world. Wondering if those rusty bars break? Her eyes were hazy with tears. Loud silence prevailed in the monotonous night. She found solace in the darkness. Pitch darkness. No scope for shadows. Even at that age, she knew that some amount of light was needed to create shadows. Shadows were scary. Shadows are always scary!
I am an alien. She usually thought. I don’t belong here. Alien? UFO’s was an intriguing topic of debate among elders. Door to the fantasy world for a child. An introduction to escapism. It was a fairytale. It was so tranquil. In a blink of an eye, she was teleported. The cool breeze blowing on her face in the chilled winter morning. Aromatic flowers in the garden. Sun shone magnificently in the sky. Clouds taking different shapes with the blowing wind. Grass moist with dew. The park had small hills. She enjoyed to roll down from them repeatedly.
As small feet could not match the walk, her elder brother made her sit on his shoulders as they stroll in the park. It was their custom to sing songs. Beatles… “We all live in a Yellow Submarine…”, “Let it be…” Her brother would sing and those words unknowingly started to mean so much to her. Most memorable time of the day were those walks.
Nevertheless, shadows are scary. They are self-reflection. They mirror our own insecurities. It takes a great amount of courage to look at our shadows (self). Being alienated is so painful. Many times one cannot related to where he or she belongs to. Sometimes, without realising, one can live alienated to self. For the concept of self is quite complex. Nature grounds. Feeling of belonging, an identity, image of self. Music is meditation. It’s an expression.
Dysfunction sinks in the subconscious when we are children. We became what we see. All of us felt like revolutionaries at our teenage. Trying to do things our way. Trying to defy society, however, eventually, gave up to the will of our elders as we grew older.
Today, as I sit to do this shadow or inner work. Those shadows are as scary at 44 years as they were at 4 years. I realise, I still need to be a rebel. Not outwards but inwards. Rebel to my social conditioning. Examining each thought as it rises. To discern how much of me is actually not me but what people desired me to be. It is hard work trying to break the pattern. To sincerely try, that, I don’t give my children the same dysfunction I inherited. And I hope I am not too late.
Its the journey of unbecoming! Concluding with lyrics from Beatles song (Thank you, brother, for introducing me to soulful music.)
“And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree There will be an answer, let it be. For though they may be parted, There is still a chance that they will see… There will be an answer…….. let it be!” (Beatles-Let it be (link below))
Life keeps tossing challenges at us every day like a ping pong ball. Ping…pong… I can visualize it right now. 🙂
What has ping pong to do with challenges?
Well, today I am writing after a long time. These days usually I have to write reflection as I am going through therapy for my PTSD which is usually very heavy stuff to share.
However, today, on the Independence Day, I reflect as an Indian. Many times we want to do great things for our country. We are filled with patriotic flavour, especially on these days when we celebrate the Independence Day or Republic day or when India wins the World Cup! We as masses are swept in this wave of ecstatic patriotism flooding through everything we do. We go wishing everyone, sending messages on social media, the color of dishes, dresses, the decoration theme of the entire nation is tricolors. Sadly, the wave recedes with the same intensity with which it arose. Within a day of broadcasting the celebrations, the news surges with the usual crime, fraud, corruption, rape, and murder headlines. The wave that seemed to have immersed the entire nation in patriotic flavor dries as if it never prevailed.
So, where is the gap? Personally, I feel we need to be mindful of what we do and how we live to be a real patriot. People who do or have done so much for the country, are the people who live from an awareness of what role they have in the country.
This quote always stays in my mind, I don’t know who wrote this, I often quote it during my lectures.
“Do what you can, Being who you are. Be a glow-worm, If you cannot be a star, Be a pully, If you cannot be a crane. Be a wheel greaser, If you cannot drive a train!”
It dates back to 2017. Having been bedridden for a few months due to spinal cord injury. I thought I had lost it to life. I lost my job and missed my usual routine. All I dreamt was to walk on my feet, day and night. After spells of crying and helplessness, one day I decided. I gathered all my will power and committed myself to my healing. I got acupressure treatment, yoga, and physiotherapy. My entire focus was on getting back on my feet. I was dreading a life on a wheelchair. Those were the days that changed me in and out. As soon as I was able to walk I started the walk in the park. Initially, I was giddy and could take only one or two rounds of a park. It took me six months to be able to walk as average people did. As I was going through a rough patch in my married life, I was also emotionally unstable. I started going to Sukhna lake for a walk everyday. It took me 1 hour and 25-35 minutes to walk from end to the other and back. Within 3 months my stamina increased. There was an event walk-a-thon( a walk for cause) for awareness for organ donation and as I started walking with the youngsters of college and school, in no time I was at the other end. To my amazement I was the first one to reach the end in almost 15 minutes and was awarded a certificate. I was feeling so proud of myself on my “achievement”.
So very delighted!
As I reached the other end towards the parking, I saw a man who had just one leg, doing push ups. He was wearing a Tshirt with national flag. All my pride was humbled in minutes as I saw him workout with so much difficulty. I have always been an introvert, but that day I gathered my courage to talk to this man.
I walked to him and introduced myself. I told him I was school teacher and asked if he could tell me what happened. He told me that he was a national Table Tennis champion and while saving a child in an accident, he lost his leg. Now, he represented India in para games, regularly bringing laurels in international table tennis events. He had been awarded a gallantry award and numerous prizes. I would always remember meeting Mr. Mukesh Kumar that day. While it humbled me, it instilled in me, a zeal to do what was in my capacity, giving my hundred percent. This reiterated to me, that living with awareness is true patriotism. Jai hind!
Subject: Your mother’s apology for deficit parenting.
My Dear Children,
I wish life would have been like a Sci-Fi movie, required ‘customised’ software would get download in parents brains the moment a child was born. A software; tailor-made and customised as per the needs of that unique child that was born. A software that would instruct the parent’s brains to handle the child as per his instruction manual effortlessly. And believe you me, the world would be a better place in no time!
Today research has proven that the behavioural issues, mental health issues and many unsuccessful people have childhood issues as the root cause.
In Indian society, the child is supposed to bind and cement the marriage. How ironical that a relationship that two married adults and their families can not “fix” is expected to be cemented by a small 2.5kg bundle of love who doesn’t even know who he/she was!
At 24 years, I was holding in my arms a bundle of joy… I was a mother at that time when I did not fully understand what parenting meant. Then again at 30 years. Looking back is not easy for me today.
Dear children, as I go picking up my scattered pieces I realize that the residue was piercing you. The fragments of me exist in you. With all my weakness as an immature mother, I tripped time and again. With no formal parenting education, all I could do was to experiment with my instincts to give you what I considered the best. When I became a mother I did not know that it is in this role my best and the worst comes to play. I have at times collapsed under the pressure of maintaining our existence, work and attending to your needs (physiological, emotional, mental). I have many regrets. I “could have” and “should have” are many… However today I am writing this apology for having not come up to mine and your expectations and for having not known better. However, with the new realization (acquired as a result of my facing my own mental health issues and traumas) I promise to be more mindfully present for you. Will try to rectify my parenting deficits. This life is a journey and the cycle will continue in each generation. Love grows when we let go of all the grudges and build trust and acceptance. Thank you for being my bundles of joy! May God bless you as you continue to grow into wonderful human beings.
Love
Monika
Musings - An Endeavour to writing 