the ages

It's sweet. The younger me, the naive me..to hug and to care for the old me. Has it just been 2 -3 years? And yet, how much I have traveled  not in miles but in the mind. And I ache to be that girl again. The one cried the first night she spent in London, the night her most ambitious dream had finally become a reality.

I ache to be that girl who I hurt - I know things could not have been different perhaps - age plays its part - and yet I feel for her and what it lead to for her. may be I am wrong in saying I want to be her. Away from all of my past, in a new city where I hardly know anyone, I have come to belong my old self. Ah, the warmth of an Indian city meeting the warmth of my old self.

Today while reading some old posts from 2012 I realized that so much has changed yet so much has not. I am still that little girl running to her blog to find peace. I will always be that. Why is it that the world is not enough to talk to? It is talking to myself that gives some relief.

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I have tired of 'trying'. I do not want to do that anymore. You may say I am giving up the fight before even preparing for it - but then exactly, I do not have the courage, I do not want to go through it all and I do not want to see a doctor to answer why. I don't and perhaps that's the end of it.

There is a lot of grief. Not only in every aspect of my work in human rights, but in every cell of my body that seems to have lost the zeal to live. How can I then love? How can I then hold someone's hands and make promises? When I am trying hard to hold myself lest I should leave me stranded mid-way.

I had love for that little girl even as I was that little girl. Somewhere that self-love is missing. What I see right now is a person who let herself down and I am reluctant to hug her, tell her that 'hey girl, you are me and I love you'.

Blog, you will be seeing a lot of me.

the whole spectrum

From soni sori's handwritten letters, to stories of sexual abuse by those in the family,  to subtleties of "sahmati, poorv-anumaan, chaahat, chunaav, haan, naa, shayad.", to my own personal account.

The perks of being sensitive are downward spiraling.

reminder

I realize just now that everything I have ever done, been proud of having accomplished or been a part of, has been a result, not of any stated curriculum or compulsory coursework. More often than not, from a university point of view, it has been unnecessary, unasked for and even at times unheard of. It was pure initiative on my part when I went up to a speaker in a panel and asked for work, or applied for work even if I did not yet have the credentials, or did more essays than required. Not to say that I have accomplished a lot - it is just that it were the small initiatives where I worked to learn, toiled myself without pay, recognition or even a certificate of internship, that paid off. Mostly, it has been the one nervous phone call - asking people I found interesting in the field if they would let me work for them - for no pay and if they agreed, dedicating my self to the work. After college hours, on Sundays, during summer vacations and winter breaks. And I don't think I missed out on any of the fun either.

Why did I do it?

I hated being at home so avoided going back after college. Sometimes I was running away from the tragedy of a break up, sometimes it was curiosity and sometimes I was sick of the curriculum. But mostly, it was my dad's discouragement that did the trick! I had it in me to prove myself or die trying. I had a cause.

Why am I reminding myself of all this?

Because I need to recall. The appreciation is dousing the flame. I have stopped rebelling as much, or struggling if you like. It's not that I am encouraged now, just that I have stopped caring to prove - as often happens when you leave home. I'm 25 and I know where I can be. If I have to taste the sweetness of being where I want to be doing what I want to do - I will have to keep myself hungry, I have to keep the cinders burning.

You know it now, girl. xoxoxox

Me amo! Te amo!

Hey!

Today is another day! I am happy right now and for once I am going to write it all down without feeling that writing or expressing the fact that I am happy will take it away from me. God knows who put this into my head.. but as if following a superstition I have been ever wary of expressing my happiness in words.. perhaps it is a way of avoiding a potential 'fall' from the happy state. As if the expression might jinx it or perhaps the feeling will vanish. 

Right now as the moment stands - I am ready to forgive myself. I am also ready to accept myself. I am beginning to hold myself again, wrap my arms around myself. I am ready to love and be loved. I am ready to smile and laugh and work. I am even ready to try to love Bombay. (okaaaayy..ready to try, at least. hee)

I might very soon shift in with a friend within my locality only. Living alone is certainly not my thing. I can stand hating a flatmate for a thousand things, but I don't want to be the only person in the house anymore. After London I had started to believe I would be fine - but, no siree!

By the by, I got my visiting card made. After months I am feeling proud of myself. After days of agony today I can feel the sunshine. I am able to love freely! And even if this feeling passes me by and fear takes hold of me - I am ready to fight it and reclaim myself.

I must not let fear boss me about. Que sera sera.

Which reminds me that my lessons in Spanish are going beautifully. I am actually feeling more confident now than I was before. This week I shall take out some time and sit with it.. get a hang of the verb conjugations, glossary and write the two small essays I am supposed to write on "Mi Casa" and "Mi Familia". Looking forward.

Love you, me. Love you, you!

blank stare

Looking for myself. So depressed I can hardly look up and walk straight right now. I want to see less, observe less, feel less. I want to meet less 'kind' of people.. I want to NOT think that deep all the time.. I want to go back into old age and be happy, really happy for once..unmindful of things that I see. Once in another post I had written, 'If you can see Thestrals, you would have witnessed death'. I do not wish to see them now. I do not wish to see these things that bother me, make me feel I am not one of many. Is it a good thing or a bad thing? To see things, and to want to be one of many.

There are so many questions in my mind - when to listen to what and whether to listen at all. I run to my sister for answers, she is more like me than anyone else is - but even then, our lives are not identical - hark, far from it. I am ever able to talk to anyone in such language. Never. I talk in other words and sometimes they get it sometimes not.

Taking an aerial picture, what is it that's bothering me? Isn't everything fine? More than fine, any one else would say. Then why am I afraid to be happy when I am. Why am I terrified when I should be strong. 

I wish I find the answers, they will come to me I am sure. But then I also know that there is no learning, unlearning going on here, there is no right or wrong decision may be, there is nothing called fate, there is simply nothing to this life at all. THERE ARE NO ANSWERS. What makes you think your life is so important? 

Is it not?

I think I am having an existential crisis.

Update

Been and now back from Delhi. Holi it was - with friends - good fun. Especially the beer part. Loved staying at home, with mom dad and my sister.. missed Panther while trying to forget, went for walks and sneaked out at times.Had a few fights, some love too, had home-cooked food, brought some back with me. Never knew I loved Delhi so much and how dry Mumbai really was to me. I have stopped calling it Bombay even. I've stopped caring!

All through the flight back home - kept thinking why I loved Delhi so. Was it the roads, the lights, the metro .. and I realized it wasn't that Delhi was grand - just that Mumbai is unbearable (to me). We pampered lot in Delhi get frisked about all the time here in Mumbai. While in Delhi it is always about 'yes, I matter', here it is almost writ large on everyone's head 'you matter not, nor do I'. Quite an equalizer Mumbai. You are basically a see-through here. A cellophane!

My mom doesn't get teary-eyed easily, she never once did when I left for London for months on end. But she did this time. I couldn't figure it out. She said, 'because you aren't really happy there'. I did tell her I was fine and that I just missed being around her and my friends! But well. 

But I have friends here and I get by. :) Have missed two Spanish weekends, hope to catch up tomorrow. Have much to write. 

More later.