Corrosion and Crumbling

Something pinches, I can’t tell you what

It scratches my insides in the gentlest of ways

is it corrosion of decay or crumbling of incomplete structures?

It sounds like a machete in a distance, a buzz of a bee in the room

It is replete with repetition, and has an innocence of the unknown

It thuds sometimes, bringing me to a standstill, for just a second not more

Then it leaves me just as shyly it had come in,

Leaving me with the echo of its existence, the vestiges of its itch.

Thoughts on Mortality

Mortality is embedded firmly in our lives, we are all born with expiration dates, in fact, a finite life is the essence of human existence. Yet perhaps at certain points of a certain healthy, thriving life, it is the most denied eventuality.

Humans have the gift of being aware of their mortality, the fact that they someday will return to dust, and one would think that would guide our time here on earth but in few instances does this arise. Yes, adages have dictated, “Live everyday like it were your last” or even “Carpe diem” which hint at the obvious but how often do we actually think about our own mortality?

But this is the thing, we live like we have all the time in the world to accomplish everything we have planned, find the perfect partner, the most coveted house, the ideal job, else defer happiness if we have a crappy job for we can always work hard now in throes of unhappiness and cash in on it in the future. Is the fact that we refuse to acknowledge our mortality, an indication of us being over optimistic about our life spans or just denial — a coping mechanism? Perhaps a bit of both.
There are times when we are reminded of how fragile we are. The death of loved ones serves as this reminder. It makes us realise how helpless we truly are at the hands of the universe. We hold on to grudges, inflate our egos at the cost of others, seek redemption, justice, when wronged, often over things that may seem trivial when viewed, juxtaposed with death. I can understand where the defence mechanism comes from—where we are deluded to believe the perpetual continuity of our lives and those of others. And it makes sense; we need to protect ourselves, for constant reminder of impending doom may not make for very spirited lives. Nonetheless, if we could channelize only a part of this realisation to make ourselves better humans— forgiving, kinder, less judgmental and follow our passion and dreams during the finite time we have, perhaps the acknowledgment of our mortality could be the biggest gift we could give ourselves.

The Illusion of "Perfection" - Recited Verse

Mind your own damn... Never mind. Just shut up.

The society loves to wreak it's wrath on others. Honestly, it loves it when everyone conforms but hates it if there is a deviation. 

There are many deviations according to the society - unmarried women, children who don't do well at school, men who don't have steady employment, married women who don't have kids, same sex couples, divorced folks etc; I would say this exists only in India but that's far from the truth. World over, the society frowns at these anomalies with some level of intensity. Ofcourse the extent of societal discomfort varies but it exists none the less. 

I have been married two years now, and don't understand what the fuss is about. It hasn't changed my life, I live like I did, I behave like I always did, albeit I have some psychological security which is quite a myth anyway, to ameliorate the insecure demons in my head. But that's about it. 

In my head I'm the same but in the mind of others I am now a "married women" and that brings with it a plethora of behavioral and physical changes. Well, obviously I don't endorse this line of thought as you may have inferred. 

I have been in a long distance relationship for six years now, and we have made it work somehow. No one cared honestly when I did not live with my boyfriend in the same city or within close reach before we got married but suddenly, as I found myself married one day I realized everyone is gunning for us to live together. Go team Mudra! 

I have things to do, so does my husband and while it's not ideal this arrangement of living across continents , we know what is best for us. Ofcourse I don't expect the collective conscience of the society to change for me, but what I can do is tell it to mind it's own affairs. But some days, my peace and calm is ruptured when I hear this conversation for the 100th time.

Concerned Member of society (CMS): Where is your husband?

Me: In London

CMS: oh, are you going there? / you have left him alone! /oh, poor you. Shouldn't you be together. 

Me: fake smile/ clever repartee/ or a kill me now expression. 

Neither here nor there. Ergo, nowhere.

Having lived in 6 countries and moving to the seventh now, I often feel that perhaps I will always remain an outsider. Sure, I love the experience in these foreign lands and the cultural soy sauce that accompanies the concoction, but I do sometimes crave for the familiarity of home. Home being India. Home being where you are not looked at curiously for your skin color, your accent or your culinary taste. Home, where you are accepted for who you are. 

This is however an illusion and nothing more.   Anytime I need a reality check I think about applying for a visa for any country while in India. I have had strange requests from agents and VFS- no objection certificate from my husband- which prompted me to change my status to single on the visa application, to a letter stating why I am not returning to India on departing from a certain Schengen country. Answer being: since I am going to UK to take up employment. But clearly that's not good enough. Either because of my nationality or some profiling formula- I am not eligible to travel at whim. And should I want to, every agent involved in the process will frown their eyebrows and look at me with eyes riddles with curiosity and a degree of frustration. "But you have to come back to India!"

I understand basic checks for issuing a visa but I don't understand the increasingly skeptical eye that every visa applicant must be scrutinized with by the embassy employees. I don't think I have been asked for a no objection certificate or such a detailed letter when applying for visas outside india. Why is it that we are faced with such cynical and skeptical scrutiny? Ok, I might know the answer to this one. I might not fit the description of a typical traveller going to Europe or Hong Kong all by herself at that, which could raise eyebrows. But still. One would think that once someone has developed a certain travel profile or some credentials by virtue of education and a clean record, this would not happen. 

Reasons I am beginning to adore London

1. Tea is available everywhere all the time. One English breakfast please. 

2. The food is amazing. You can walk into a restaurant and be amazed, even if you haven't checked its reviews or ratings on trip advisor

3. The tube is clean and efficient. Love the plush seating on some lines. 

4. Peoples propensity for being polite appeals to my innate apologetic nature. No longer do I feel sorry for saying too many sorrys. 

5. There is history everywhere.

6. Prince George.

7. It's a melting pot of culture. In little under two days I have had interesting conversations with a guy from Jamaica planning to open a restaurant serving West Indian food in Goa and a Sri Lankan who speaks Tamil and had many insights on the political situation in his country. 

8. Miss selfridge, top shop, Hamleys, boots, marks and spencer candy

9. Landmark hotel. Enough said. 

10. A city on the banks of a river has a charm to it. Budapest, Prague, Banaras, Frankfurt, and of course London.

2015

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May we be resolute

In our conviction,

Strong in our severance

Of the weight that binds us.

May we love with abandon,

And without conditions.

Loving to love,

and not to receive.

May we be kind and gentle,

not only to others

but to ourselves.

May we nourish our souls

with adventure, and peace.

May we find in our hearts

to find the forgiveness,

that deserve to set free

the cobwebs of the past.

May we be true,

first to ourselves,

and then to others.

And may we rise each day

with humility and grace.

Possessions

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I don’t have baubles

Or pearls

Nor assets abound

Or houses or cars I possess

I don’t have shiny shoes or

Chanel bags

No summer cottages nor ski cabins

In my repertoire you will see

I only have a heart,

With a void, if you will

To put the love of places I traveled

To carry with me for eternity

The smiles found on a journey

The glances exchanged

on a turbulent road.

Selfless Songs

Songs have the ability to understand my emotions. Sometimes they are even capable of extracting them and keeping them safe.

Time moves on, but when that one song entertwined in that heavy emotion comes on, the song almost persuades me to accept those emotions once again.

And then I do, for just a minute, let the emotions wash over me. I revisit all the pain, the sadness or the joy and madness.

Then I offer the song, the emotions once again—it accepts them. No questions asked. Until the next time the radio gods decide it's time for me to revisit those days, those  emotions, I am back in the real world. 

Dare I trust you, Delhi.

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You usher into an elevator or a car full of strangers in Delhi, and people steal their eyes away from you, scuffle into a corner, avoiding all contact. Me, I am trying catch someones eye, to say hello or exchange a smile. Do we hate and mistrust each other so much now?

It saddens me that a country that thrived on the values of community and camaraderie, has given way to collective paranoia, mistrust, and snap judgments.  The perversion of the system has permeated deep into our psyche. The poor are not to be trusted since they will steal. Why? Because our state can not provide for them. So lets shun them, and ignore them. This is the caste system with an economic seasoning. But whom do we trust really? And can we blame the poor for being opportunistic? What with the BMWs and Audis running wild on the streets of the metropolis', while some don’t even have a whole cloth over their naked body, can we really say that those who do not have a square meal on any given day, be content with their situation? 

I can only speak for myself, but I do feel that if I hadn’t eaten for days, and didn’t have a warm coat to protect me in the winters, my morals would be shaky too. Would I be able to speak of integrity, and morality, and honesty? I can’t be sure that I would. What recourse then we have of making a better society, a society built on trust and camaraderie? I want to say it should happen organically, but this idealistic view is a tad naïve. Unless our government does something to build institutions’ that provide food, shelter and overall physiological security to millions, I don’t think there is a solution. I only see an institutional recourse at this point, nothing else. Sure, each of us can do something everyday, and we shouldn’t shirk from it, blaming the governments reluctance or absence. This Hawain parable speaks to the very issue:

A man goes out on the beach and sees that it is covered with starfish that have washed up in the tide.  A little boy is walking along, picking them up and throwing them back into the water.  "What are you doing, son?" the man asks.  "You will never make a difference."  The boy paused thoughtfully, and picked up another starfish and threw it into the ocean.  "It sure made a difference to that one," he said.

So note to self and anyone who may be reading this: smile away, make a conversation, break the ice, stop shoving each other in queues, and for gods sake, please don't make me feel that my non-aggressive stature is a shortcoming. Living with patience (less honking at cars, and more deep breathing), love (if someone shouts, be kind to them), and forgiveness (you know that lady that jumped the queue, forgive her, don't fume).

The tide will rise, till it does, each one of us must.