chidhood – Musings – An Endeavour to writing

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!

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))

Tag: chidhood

Hello Me, I will always be here.

Will there be an answer?