Life Management

I like to believe I'm a pretty average and mediocre person who got lucky in certain things. But sometimes that's just the imposter syndrome talking. I'm a 34 year old married woman, no kids. I've had a job most of my adult life but have also taken a break to travel without struggling financially. I'm a very involved elder daughter to my loving parents and a sister to my brother who's in a different country and also a friend to my sister in law. I lead a healthy lifestyle and focus on fitness and working out as a priority. I manage my life pretty well and I'm now pretty well off in most aspects. When i think about life management the following categories come to my mind in no particular order: 1. Financial management 2. Job/business management 3. Marriage Management 4. Relationship management 5. Health Management And I intend to talk about them not for anyone else but for me to assess and evaluate how I'm doing and improve in areas that make sense. There's no particular goal of this, it's mostly an exercise in self awareness.

Ready to share

It's been years since I've held a pen in my hand and put my thoughts to paper. I read my previous posts today and wondered how strongly I felt about things, about everything. Has something changed? I'm trying to figure out. Over the years I'm a different person now. I've accomplished some things, made choices, experienced consequences. It's made me a better person and I'm ready to share.

Privilège

"I'm so bored ya!", announced as she sipped her coffee in the balcony, dew still settling in on the tree in the front and the water from the swimming pool felt stiller than usual. She sighed for the tenth time thinking about all the work that she has to get done that day, all those deadlines to meet, some real but most in her head. She hadn't spoken to the guy she liked for three days now and cursed under her breath why did he have to get so serious all of a sudden. But then thought to herself, well who wouldn't, "I'm awesome!". As these thoughts were about to cheer her up a more reflective thought came to her and she wondered at least she isn't dead.

Her life is perfect. She can work from home, her family is doing okay, infected but okay, not needing a hospital or the injections that were in short supply. She regretted that she wasn't there with them at this hour as ten of them including her mother battled with the disease alone in their homes. News came that a friends' mother died last night. "How could this happen?" She screamed. "She was fine two days ago!". "I could do nothing. There was a ventilator but no-one in the staff knew how to operate it." Her son replied. She had never seen a man so defeated. The staff who knew were on their way but couldn't reach on time. The medicine that would have saved her life could not be brought to her on time. This happened in a remote village in Jharkhand as she knew it and it was her first tyrst with reality. But it was happeneing everywhere. Every minute.

Was she living in a bubble so far? She pondered. Her coffee was almost over, the sun had risen, she had to get on with her work - the cooking, cleaning and office. But it never left her mind how unbearable his pain was. She trembled as she washed her cup. Had she spoken to anyone, she wouldn't be able to talk without choaking herself. But she was fine. Somebody whom the government had not forced to work in the elections just because they were givernemtn school teachers, somebody who wouldn't lose her sales job if she didnt go to work a week after being diagonosed with covid. She was fine. Priviledged. Unlike those others who were losing their lives at work, at home and on the streets as India bled.

Am I enough?

Shruti: I'm not applying for the editor's position. I'm not qualified. They require someone who's experienced in the crimimal justice system that I have no idea about.
Stuti: Come on! Didn't your paper get accepted in the Journal of Criminal Justice a few weeks ago? And what about that talk you gave to their team on ethical journalism?
Shruti: Oh the paper was just a one-off case and yeah I gave a talk, so what? They have someone give a talk every year. All of the speakers don't end up as editors there.
Stuti: Why don't you just coil up in your bedroom and write about how you're dealing with your imposter syndrome then instead of actually dealing with it?
Shruti: I am dealng with it! Now get off my back!

Imposter Syndrome. The constant feeling of not being enough inspite of data pointing to the contrary. Whether it is settling for a partner who you know isn't right for you, or not applying to that job you wanted and are qualified for but you think you're just not ready. Constantly expecting too much of yourself giving little credit when you achieve those feats. Feeling not pretty enough or intelligent enough or capable enough. Imposter syndrome affects 70% of the pepople at least once in their life. If this is happening to you, you are not alone.

An hour later Shruti was typing away her cover letter for the editor's position when she gets a call. It was her friend, Ravi.
Ravi: Hey Shruti! Want to go to a party tonite? I'm trying to impress the hiring commitee of the Journal of Criminal Justice and I need a pretty date.
Shruti: Oh! You're planning to apply to one of their roles?
Ravi: Yeah! They have an editor's position that opened up recently. What do you think?
Shruti: I think I'll apply to it too Ravi. Do you still want me to come with you?
Ravi: Haha! Sure you can. I'm not competing with you. See you at 8?
Shruti: Sure. See ya!

The negative self talk isn't all in your head. Sometimes it's an internalised form of the lack of belief in your trusted personnel.

Ravi: Thanks for the wonderful evening Shruti. I saw that you were speaking to one of the hiring commitee members. Did you put in a good word for me?
Shruti: Yes I did, however they didn't seem to want to talk about...
Ravi: I know. I wouldn't either. With you around, I'd want to talk about you too.
Shruti: Let me finish Ravi, he seemed interested in my work actually.
Ravi: Oh! Of course! That's what I meant too. Good Night Shruti
Shruti: Good night Ravi

~~ Few days later ~~
Shruti: This is Shruti Singhal. I am joining as an Editor today. Where do I report?

And sometimes you need people to not believe in you for you to believe more in yourself.

Are Humans Monogamous?

Let's just forget society for a while and all its rules and moral preachings and delve directly into what we see, hear, feel. And if possible let's get into the subconscious and maybe our evolution history. Or.... Let me tell you a story.

There was a man and wife living happily. The man didn't have much time for his wife so she found a companion in another man with whom she would talk, just talk. One day the man told his wife he would be out of town for two days and that she should visit her friend if she wanted to during that time. He loved her more than the so-called society allows. She did. He came back the very same night and spent the time with himself. He thought about her ~ the details of her dress that she wore, her nervousness of this unanticipated rendezvous, the desire in her friend's eyes. As she got close to her lover, his own reaction surprised him. He got turned on. The next day when his wife came back, he could tell they just talked.

The first thing that came to my mind when I came across this is, why did he send his wife and then get turned on by imagining physical intimacy between her and another man? But I'm gonna resist myself from delving further because what I am writing today about is far more important.

The woman was indeed attracted to her friend... Even when we are in a committed relationship we do stray in our mind all the time. In fact I would state that at any given point of time there will be one love of your life and one current crush. Whenever u will hear songs, u will think of both. Whatever turns you on, you will imagine yourself with both, one at a time or together depending upon your level of kinkiness. Whenever u will watch a movie, you will think of both, you will want to hold hands with both.

But the Lover of her life was her Husband... The only difference is, your crush will keep on changing but the love of your life will be the one man who will rule your heart, who will make u cry and laugh, who will make you beg and rule, who will make you helpless and ecstatic.* Now I understand what that freak** meant when he said I am totally helpless, it's you who has to think.

Let me clarify that I don't condone anybody cheating on their partners. Quite the contrary. Just like the woman in the story exercised her discretion and understanding of her relationship with her husband and came back without losing her husband, I am in favor of exercising similar discretion in all our actions. But I strongly advocate that we as a society have missed to teach our children the truth about attraction. Today we have confused adults who think something is wrong with them if they get attracted to someone else. They live in a frustration that the society calls them characterless whence they express any such opinions. We must for our own awareness realize there are so many things the society didn't tell us. This is one of them. When we get there not only will we lead more fulfilling lives, we would have made life easier for homosexuals, wife-swappers (though I am against using the term), and different communities who have to hide.

*I talk for women here for the sake of simplicity. Applies correspondingly for men as well. **More about the freak later

In case you did read till the end, thank you.

Wedding Blues

My name is Amina and I'm getting married.

This is how I started introducing myself to people - even those who already knew me. Getting married to my childhood friend was so unexpectedly blissful that I couldn't have dreamt of it. But after rejecting so many potential grooms, Ashish came as fresh air to my dreary existence. He kind of understood.

Back at school for a large part of my life I have been what most people call a 'tomboy'. It was a hassle to wear a different T shirt everyday. Accessories are something I'd leave for my girl-friends. I'd hang out mostly with guys, some or the other guy would like me; I would have my on set of infatuations. Life was simple, until...

My marriage got fixed. Suddenly everyone is concerned about my weight. I can never seem to get my hair right or buy the right clothes. Am I expected to put-on make-up now? My well wishers don't let me go out without being covered from head to toe. The pollution would get to me otherwise they say. I didn't even have so many well wishers when I had a plaster on my hand for forty days. But now all my family and friends take care of me in terms of what when and how I eat, practically how I live.

What is this obsession with fair skin and slim body? It seems to be a rampant disease that marriage spreads to the families of the groom and bride. This is where all education comes to a halt- phrases like beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder are proved to be nothing but a set of words. Every moment as I pick up the latest make-up or restrain myself from not eating my favorite pie, I supposedly become more beautiful to the people I don't know and I don't care about but am trying to impress. Yet with every passing event I feel more fake and less myself; I lose my inner beauty I once took pride in.

My name is Amina and I'm getting married.

The Silent Protest

I stood there looking at the thin air before me.

I never thought it would require courage on my part to take that route of protest for change against the system. It took me courage. Not because I was afraid to stand up for what I believe in but to steer through the insecurities of my loved ones who with all their might tried to talk me out of it. It took some time and energy which I do consider a waste to assure them I'll be fine and so will the rest of us who were coming along.

I reached the venue where I was greeted with curious glances of fellow citizens wondering whether I was there for the same cause as they were. The first thing that struck me was the entrepreneurs whose business was in full form that eve. Tired and hungry fellow travelers ate to their fill and drank to beat the chilly winds. As I stood looking at one such tea-stall vendor, I was asked by a fellow citizen, " Are you here for the protest?" He had the look of empathy and consideration I had seen before. My eyes lit up thinking, This is it! while I said with a hint of enthusiasm in my voice, "Yeah!". He beckoned us.

Apparently we were the only people apart from the organizers who had reached the venue on time. We stood there while the crowd became thicker and the wind became warmer. When everybody had their cup of tea, the candles were lighted. Involuntarily we jumped towards the lights with some apprehension in our movements. The whole world seemed to circle around that candle.

We felt awkward. We felt scrutinized. We felt helpless against the wind that extinguished our candle again and again. But we took it like a challenge - to show the wind we will light our candle no matter how strong it blew, to show the society we will bring the change in it no matter how rigid and rotten its belief system is.

By now I had shifted the focus from my own awkwardness and self-scrutiny to the on-lookers. We got multiple reactions. There were people who were rushing past us since they were obviously too busy to notice 50 people starting at them with candles in their hands. There were folks who noticed us, wondered what we were upto and passed. There were folks who were indeed interested enough to slow their vehicles to take a good look at us. The auto-rickshaw pullers assumed we were looking for a ride and beckoned us. Some pedestrians joined us. It made it all worth it. There was one particular reaction that I still remember, a fat guy dressed in white in a big white car saluted us as he drove along. I didn't feel pride, just indifference at his and other peoples' guilt. Somewhere we are all guilty of letting the state of work become so deplorable. Somewhere we are that fat guy dressed in white who's too occupied to come out of his car and take the chance of his clothes getting dirty.

We need to put an end to violence against the fair sex. And we need to chose our own way of doing it. It will make our clothes dirty and the candle wax and flame will burn our hands once in a while. But it will be worth the pain.

Talk to one person and convince them to treat men and women as equals. Help one person understand what that equality means, even if that one person is you yourself.

And as I said, devise your own way of bringing about this change. That Saturday, standing on a street with a candle is what I chose.

It's not enough, but it's a step.

Miles to go Before I Sleep

Dr. Syeda S. Hameed
I know not if she's a doctor or a Doctorate but I still feel like calling her Dr. I feel in-debt to her for what she did and for what she didn't do that may inspire many to "do". At this point, a statement from a friend haunts me night and day in an attempt to jerk me out of my complacence ~ "You have lots of work to do". He said this as a conclusion of a tale he narrated from his life. It was a plain statement, but to me it was an appeal, a wake-up call, a reminder to my purpose. And so was Dr Hameeds' book: "They Hang".

As every Gudiya, Dilshan, Maimun, Sajoni, Bela, Lakra appeal to me, I hear their cries in my own sobs, I feel their pain in the contractions of my breath, I experience their helplessness in the numbness, the suffocation of my own secure home. And I lift my head in the darkness gaping at the white lining in the distance.
Times are changing? Yes. Is that enough for you and me to sit back and relax? Hell NO!

Missing You

Each day, I take it for granted that I opened my eyes to see the world for the first time. That someone decided that I could take my first breath on the earth. And each day I realise that every breath that I take costs the life of a life-giver who never would give life since her own life was not given to her.

This is my story because I live. This is my story because I could have been dead.

I am the only child of a well to do family - strange how "well to do" is defined by the monetary value of possessions of my father. I go to school. The driver is nice to me. My parents buy me toys and dresses. I don't like to drink milk but I have to. It's a happy family.

A couple of months ago Mom told me we were going to have another member in our family. I was very happy I would become a big girl. But as days are passing she is becoming week. My father wants to take her to the doctor, but she doesn't want to go. I don't understand why. They are having fights. I asked her to take some medicine but she just held me and cried. My grand mom is not nice to my mom. She says it's because of me. She doesn't like me. My parents are having more and more fights. I told my mom I loved her. Yesterday she fell down the stairs when I was playing outside. She was crying. My dad came towards her to pick her up while my grand mom stood at the top of the stairs and stared. I never saw my mother on the floor... bleeding. I didn't know what to do. The servant took me away. I cried to be with my mom.

Today I went to the hospital. She looked week. She held me close to her and said, "Child! I'm sorry. I couldn't take care of your sister. And I won't be around to take care of you. You be strong my girl. I love you." With this she closed her eyes. I tried to wake her up. I wanted to tell her I am strong. I wanted to tell her I loved her too. I wanted to ask her where my sister is. But she wouldn't wake up. The nurse rushed in and screamed for the doctor.

The servant took me away from my mother. The doctors took her away from us. But I think it's not them, it's we who put my mother and my sister away from ourselves.

I live today and try to be strong as mom told. I am missing her. I am missing my sister whom I could never meet. I am missing you, who has given up on us.

A Bird's Calling

A bird may sing, a bird may cry
a bird may fall and she may fly
She sways away to the unknown lands
she lives in no place, neither air nor sands
But the lives she sees make her fumble
The sands of time make her humble
A part of her she shares with joy
and flies away to the lands so dry
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
A land so green, a river so full
O dear Birdy, let me sing you into a lull
The stars shine in the sky so wide
the ocean kisses the shore with gentle tide
Let your music fill the air, so pure
Let your art blossom just a little more
Stay! The song of your heart, for its sake
For every spirit here now you'll wake
will not stand in your way if you chose to fly
unless you promise not to say goodbye

I fly with my words

Theatrical you may call me
A dramatist would disagree
I live in a world where words just flee
And I traverse along, I transcend with glee

Freedom tastes good

Freedom is what I seek
from the known - a childs' play it'll be
The unknown though is creepy
it doesn't cease to be.. oh so starry

To Light

The light in you is shining bright
Hope ceases to be out of sight
Close your eyes and feel the warmth
In the field called love, there's no such dirth

Anamika

You don't want your daughter to be Anamika. That's the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of the horrible realities of the society that you and me form.

Anamika is the portrayal of the concept of the worst form of human rights violation - sex trafficking. It tells their tale through their very tongues that have been forced silent for far too long. From the dungeons where they are trapped, to the beasts (I won't call them men) they are forced to go to - they tell all. Anamikas shake the most popular belief of prostitution being 'easy money'. They don’t have a name. They don’t have an identity. Just a body which is not theirs – it’s sold. Again and Again. And if their cries, their tears don't move you, let this do the job. The only words they have for us is an advice to save ourselves from falling in this trap. They wish us a good life - a life they have stopped imagining for themselves. We have made them give up on us. Are we going to wake up now?

P.S. If you want to watch this movie, please refer to the link : http://www.prajwalaindia.com/films.html
or leave me a message. I may be able to assist.

Shhh... I've got something to tell you

The pen is mightier than the sword.

I have always written/ spoken about the bigger picture. For me it has always been more effective. I would talk about poverty in general rather than the story of one or two particular people. But what I found out recently was stories.. get across that message that no generalization gets across. And hence historically, it is via stories that all the wisdom has been transferred over the ages.

I've got something to tell you.
I have just experienced my first trance. I felt it. In a flurry of emotion, a rush to catch something unusual, like a shooting star, like the first drop of rain fall, I succumbed in the vast creation of nature. She urged me, compelled me to go forward, telling me not to be afraid, to open my eyes and feel the light shadowed amidst momentary darkness. I tread carefully, feeling every sound, every vibration in lousy air until all came to a grinding halt. A halt i can not forget - a halt I dare not forget.

Creating interest. A mystery about to unfold, something about to happen, when one lets loose of ones imagination and flows with the story teller, gets transported into a world where anything can happen. Or maybe... those things happen which were dreamed or dreaded.

I stood there standing for a while at a distance where they could not see me. I saw a group of kids like me both boys and girls lined up outside an enclosure. A couple of men called them by a strange number. I wondered why I wasn't hearing any names. 2 girls and 1 boy were sent inside the enclosure and the rest of the kids were put in the truck they probably came out from.

Is the tongue mighty enough?

Poisonous Silence (Part 1)

Where are we? Here! How are we? Good. Who are we? The One, The Only! But...

We are adraid. Of truth.

We want to live in the world that does not see what is real. We want to tell everyone that the "act" (we don't even want to name the act) does not exist. More importantly we want to tell ourselves that the "act" does not exist. So in our less than perfect world, we live in constant denial phase of the not so uncommon "act".

And that's what we teach our kids. That it doesn't exist.
When the child says he/she doesn't like milk, we tell them "No, milk is good for health. You must drink it."
When the child says they don't like this pair of pants, we tell them, "No. How could you not like this pair of pants? It's a good one. You must wear it."
When the child says I don't like this uncle / aunty / relative, we say "They're so good! You must go to them and shake hands."

1. What are we telling them?

When the child comes out of the shower without his/her underwear, we say "Shame! Shame! Don't come out like this."

2. What are we telling them?
.
.
.

Child: Oh.. I don't like this person but mom/dad say they're good. I don't like this.. I am confused.. Why is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? Am I bad?... I can't tell them I don't like this uncle / aunt. I must obey them... They say they love me.. I don't like it.. I am a bad child... I should be punished... I am afraid I will die... I am afraid they will hit me.. I don't want to feel anything.. I will close my eyes.. Nothing ever happened.. No one will ever know.. This can not be happening.. I don't know what this is.. I am a bad child. This is what I deserve.

1. What did we tell them?

Don't trust your instinct. Ever.
Consequence: When a child faces sexual abuse they are confused. They feel "I don't understand what is right or wrong, what I should / should not like, should or should not do. I should obey my elders. I don't feel good about this, but they must be right. How can I defy my elders?"

2. What did we tell them?

You don't show your private parts to people or talk about them.
Consequence: When a child faces sexual abuse they can not tell since they have been trained not to talk about it. They have been told, this is a bad thing to talk about. Don't be a bad boy / girl!

Our dead self forces them to drink the poisonous potion of silence.

Is it Necessary?

"It was just beer!"
"Why?"
"It doesn't even contain much alcohol."
"It's a nice beginning then."(Rolling eyes)
"I was very happy."
"You forgot a lot of things in your happiness it seems. Chose a very nice way to feel your happiness and to ruin that of people who love you."
"It was the last day of college."
"So had to be the first of your downfall? So it had to be the day when you broke your parents' trust? So it had to be the day when you ceased to be yourself?"
"My head hurts."
"Would you like some vodka now?"
"Stop it. Don't you.." (passes out)
She walks towards the drawer, takes out her dad's bottle of vodka and downs it in one gulp. It wasn't good. But necessary.

Out of Slumber 1

It's right to kill.
In an interesting conversation with an accomplice, layers of dust on me was finally beginning to give way to the light that waited on the other side of the tunnel. I have had these experiences before where the universe suddenly becomes reachable and yet, so small am I that I can only marvel at it's being.
What's right and what's wrong can only be decided by you. But what most people fail to understand is, they'll discover this "you" only when they challenge the basic assumptions governing their lives, ruling them and making a slave out of them that has no option but to submit. That slave has seen no other life and hence is so sure about their current state being the ultimate one that it's nothing less than obvious that that's all there is to life.
They call this decision-making aspect religion, culture and society. But WHERE did it come from? A story told over and over, passed on via word of mouth from one person to another, finally takes a different form all together. It may have become a work of fiction with any resemblance to a living character, place or event entirely coincidental.
So, let's clear the dust. And we may so be convinced even killing is not wrong. Death is after all the commencement of a new beginning. Food for thought.

All I could do was write

This is the story of a situation we were faced with some time back.

It's about a small business owner who runs a retail outlet in front of a ladies hostel of a reputed engineering college. She has been facing physical and mental torture for the past three years by a man who initiated family relations but had altogether different intentions in his mind. The victim is a widow, with two kids, an old mother and a non-supportive brother.

It all began when he saw her at the market-place buying stuff from the whole seller to run her shop. He approached her through a common contact and told her about his wealthy family and offered help in case she needed. She declined the help he offered, but he continued maintaining contact calling her like his own sister. He found our about her whereabouts and where she lived and brought his wife along with his son to her place to encourage family contacts which she could not refuse owing to persuasions of his wife. With time, he started making advances towards her which she complained to his wife. His wife assured her she would stop him, but it never happened. In the meanwhile, he started visiting her at odd hours in the night creating disturbances and breaking stuff in and outside her house. The neighbours got irritated and held her responsible. Instead of helping her, they asked her to leave the place and move somewhere else. They were perhaps scared of his political connections and did not want any trouble for their families. But where could she possibly go? It was the only dwelling she had. She endured and kept appealing to his wife to put an end to this as she thought herself close to his wife. But it didn't happen. Finally she appealed to the police. The police took her lightly at first, saying why she didn't approach them earlier. So she appealed to the local media. The next time he broke her door she called the media persons and they caught him red-handed. The police was also called and that was when they took some action and put him in the lock-up. He was granted bail soon owing to help from his contacts. As soon as he got bail, he attacked her and threatened to kill her child.

This man has been sexually abusing, physically torturing, and blackmailing her for quite a long time. Off late the assault has increased to such an extent that made her attempt suicide many a times. He has been intimidating her by means of physical assault at her home at odd hours in the night. She has been raped a number of times in front of her own son. She has been hospitalized a number of times, during which she could not run her shop, leading to severe financial problems. He is not scared of showcasing his brutality even in public. She is not able to stay at her own home, and has fled to a friend's place.

Finally an NGO was approached. It was by chance that a prominent local political leader could be contacted and he raised the matter to his party to which the abuser was also associated. They pressurised him to lay low and not spoil the image of the party. He has stopped for now, but it remains to be seen what happens after the elections scheduled in a couple of months.

Sweet Realisation(II)

Habits changed the way I wanted,
I did complete what I started.

It took me to unexplored meadows,
The need for climbing virgin peaks arose.

Realized my purpose was still incomplete,
Smiled and said I will live free.

In a flurry of commotion,
of that unpleasant yet romantic realization,
the lump of air, I couldn't swallow.
my heart screamed, I couldn't follow.

Wise did it make me yet again
taught me to embrace that pain,
to work with me ,
set myself free,
wake me up from my slumber,
taste life, no wonder.