Digressions

Kochana Mamo,

Sometimes writings should be coherent streams of words but sometimes there is a need for them to be just a series of loose digressions stitched together with invisible thread of thoughts.

Mom... Thank you for always being there... You were the only person who watched all my videos and read every single word i had written. It did not matter that you couldn't understand it all, what mattered was your presence. You were there, while others satisfied themselves with seeing my face on a poster, in a interview or with telling me that I should write for a newspaper. Do you remember how you were ill in last months and I was getting ready for a performance at university and you would come down sometimes to sit with me and I was explaining to you what 'abhinaya' is? What is the meaning of my padam... Thank you for being present there...

Mom... I was thinking few days back that Shakespeare must have had bipolar disorder too... Only a sanely mad person could have said that "All the world is a stage... "  Mom... How many roles do we have to play and how difficult it becomes sometimes....

Mom... Can I tell you a story? I'm not sure how much of it will you take as a metaphor, how much as my memory but you see...
Father always loved circus, so when I was a child I have always been forced to accompany him to watch a circus performance, Just like I was forced to collect stamps when I was six, while all i wanted to do was to give an exam to a ballet school but 'my daughter is not going to make her living by shaking her leg'.... but that's another story... i'm digressing in my digression... I hated going to the circus with father.... it always made me sad... I felt so sad and sorry for the lion that had to jump through the wheel of fire, bears that had to walk on 2 feet and elephants with chained legs....  People were laughing at the clowns throwing cakes at each other, falling on stage, getting stuck with one foot inside the bucket and i felt like crying and I wanted to get up from my seat and run to the stage and help them get up from the floor... Somehow I could never laugh at them and always felt so sorry for them...  as if their falls were my own...  I liked some of the performances though  - the jugglers, the woman with a spine of a snake...

Mom... I'm thinking a lot about idioms and metaphors these days...  It's a story that I had told you long time back.... but if I were to search for a metaphor for heart it would be a tiny green teddy bear of a smell of vanilla...

Mom... I know that I keep coming back to a boring topic of Water station once again, but you see... it taught me a lot... Just like now i'm learning a lot about languages and multiple readings... but that play taught me about the set construction.....  it taught me how to put bolts and nuts together while working on the set...    and the english classes i'm taking are teaching me about the beauty of stormy weather..... but I designed my own umbrella for the performance.... i stitched my old flower dress on top of it and painted it green - my safety net of green trees and flowers around me....  would have loved you to see the pictures.....

Kochana Mamo.... I'm tired...  good night...

And my dreams...

My fears...

Just a song

Just a song that is very much there in my mind...

The gifts

Do you remember the orange that I keep in my bedroom? It was there since I was 12. It was a beautiful gift that I wanted to keep forever so I dried it and kept it there at my speaker.
There once was an amazing dancer with beautiful long curly hair and a little 12 year old girl who wanted to learn how to dance... So she took her flute and went to the old town to play and earn her money for the dance classes.... And since she liked that dacer very much she once gifted him a box that had a small flower inside... she learnt it from a play that she watched so many times - the greatest gift that you can give is you yourself...  And the dancer gave her a gift on her birthday  - the performance was for her only and an orange that was used as a stage prop... she kept that orange forever... She even vaguely remembers him sliding down the rope in another play few years later... And the story of his first love whose name was same as mine... I think he even looked her up and married her eventually... But I can't believe that somebody like him could have become a pole dancer later on...
I recently found a guava that I'm planning to add to my little collection of memories... A fruit from the dreamlands of nature...

I still dream of a perfect birthday gift when one would take me to an empty theatre and all night I could just stand o empty stage and experience the magic of being right there....

Pole dancer... Just like I couldn't believe that you could have exchanged Shakespeare for Kingdom of Emptiness... It did buy you a dog and a nice flat... but I liked that blue room with cracked walls much more than that.... And a gift....

There once was a tree where a boy used to have tea with two girls. One was a beautiful one, a picture of utter perfection - big eyes, short height, soft contours of her face... The other was an ugly one - too tall, long face, small eyes, dishevelled hair...  The boy kept looking at one and kept talking to another... He loved the beauty of the soft face and the words and stories uttered by the other girl... He wanted to gift them gifts, so he painted the beautiful one and gave an empty blue notebook to the other one.....  Thank you for not painting my face.... What can one do with a painting but keep it on a wall and look at it every day......  I was so disappointed when I got my gift, but I think it did me well... I did not know in the beginning what to do with the empty pages of all those notebooks that you gifted me on Christmas and my birthdays, but I know it now, and they fill up with ideas for new works, blue notebook came to life as a blog....  Thank you for giving me empty space so that I could discover and re-discover myself every single day....

If you had asked me I would say "no"...  But the truth is that I would like to thank you God for making me different from others by making me me see the world differently than most people do...  Thank you for giving me all the street dogs, cats, open sky, a rainbow, leaves to look at...   Thank you for those few moments when I thought I lived through my own death... you made me go through the greatest fear of mine.... and thank you for making me pray to a heart of stone for I know that one day somewhere somehow it will awaken and somebody will finally hold my tired soul in his arms... Thank you for bipolar disorder for I prefer to see the world in its thousands colours than only see it as a spectrum of greyness...  Thank you for my grand mother who was the most loving creature of us all...

Thank you for making me loose the battle... you taught me humbleness... to win one has to loose sometimes... i'm learning patience... it is a difficult and painful lesson...  thank you for life...  I love it...  It is the greatest gift of them all...

I, myself, Draupadi...

A friend of mine went today to accompany his colleague in 'seeing a girl', while I had an encounter with two road side predators (the word romeo would be much too mild here).

I have always been disturbed with the expression “to see a girl for marriage” - nobody goes to “talk” to a girl before marrying her, as if a woman was to be seen only through the external beauty of her body. Why do people only want to see women? Why can’t women be also heard? Is my being limited only to my appearance? Should I just keep myself at the periphery of the society and family and allow events to happen to me rather than take my own life in my own hands? Should I be a passive object floating in the rivers of family and society , or should I rather have the right to stop the prevalent societal trend and choose myself the course of my destiny.

The questions connected with what it means to be a woman, what defines me as a woman? Is it just about a biology and ability to bear children? Is it just about having the yoni/vagina (words that I have problems with uttering even as a 30+ person) and its physiological functions? Is it about the roles that the society imposes on women?

As soon as I start thinking about “womanhood” I remember how my mother used to ask me “have you fallen ill?” each time she wanted to ask if I'm having my period. I remember how she would cook my father's favorite dishes, but nobody remembered to ask what would be hers. I remember how she herself suffering form cancer would prepare meals for my father, while he sat watching tv.

Do you know that marital rape is still beyond the purview of criminal law in India? I also came across a newspaper article about a panchayat in Haryana that decided that in order to fight the increasing number of rapes the marriage age of girls should be made lower. Another article was published in Tehelka about the problems that women face when trying to report cases of rape at the police station. Why is it that women are being blamed for being raped? Why is it so that teenage girls should be given away in marriage in order to protect them from a sleazy gaze of men? Why is it that Krishna in Mahabharat did not try to prevent the humiliation of Draupadi, he merely covered her up, but did not stop Duhshasana.

 Is wearing a burqa, child marriage, not allowing women to go out unaccompanied a way of protecting their chastity and honor? Or is it just another way of oppressing them? I was shown the "f... you" sign from 2 guys on a bike today when I asked a shopkeeper for help. It was 18.45, not middle of the night and I was wearing a jacket.

 Is it right to constantly cover your body in fear and be subjugated by the patriarchal society or is it needed to use the body as the act of protest like some women of Manipur who undressed themselves in front of the army camp in order to protest.

But I do not blame men for it... It's the societal problem. Do you remember good old photoshop and the photoshopped pictures of “female beauty” staring at us from covers of magazines. The mask of make-up covering the real face. Is a female body really only an object? It is another extreme on the line between covering and uncovering the body – the scarcely clad female body that the west represents is another way of seeing the body as an object of gratification for the male gaze.

A friend and I conducted a workshop for 130 male student of 1st year of college, One of the exercises was to find gesture to represent one's own personality.... If you could see the mount of hidden sexual aggression.... I felt sorry for those boys.

I don't want my man to be a picture of brainless testosterone operated machine. I would like to meet a man who would want to talk to me rather than look at me, who would feel shy to touch my hand and who would be scared that I may want to find his arms less attractive that muscular arms of other men. Naive and romantic? Maybe... but you see, I see myself as a person and would like to meet a human being not a machine in life.

Anytime, any day....

Kochana Mamo,

I miss you more than ever..........

I wish you were here with me today and I could tell you who I am, how I've changed, what I think,how far I have travelled in my mind.....

























Kochana Mamo.... Are you there looking at me through the clouds, the way I look at you every day...

Kochana Mamo.... I wish the Elves could really exist.... would tell me a story about him?

Kochana Mamo....

The outskirts

Kochana Mamo,

I want to tell you a bit about the place where I live on the outskirts of a jungle. I meet some strange creatures here:

I've met an Ogre a few times. I actually met him for the first time a year back during my residential stint at the North Pole, but the first impression that he gave me was that of a buffalo as he was trying to impress me with his very limited knowledge of a foreign language. The impression was so bad that even the Elf was put into the category of buffalos for a moment and I refused to have my favourite drink in the company of these two creatures. But I've met an Ogre a few times now, and I think he simply is a creature with many layers, like onion, and he is quite intelligent too. And I actually like him a lot. It feels very good to be experimenting with magic in his company. i can feel the sense of connection. A strange thing happened today - the Ogre held me for a moment, and it felt so good, like a child. I don't think I realised how tired I am and how my body needs peace of simple human warmth. And you know Mom,it even feels nice talking to him, and he knows how to make me laugh.
Oh Mom... I recently discovered how much I love laughing. In the North Pole my adopted father used to make me laugh, and the Elf always knows how to bring out laughter in me. And I get so amazed when i laugh loud, I feel so happy then... like a child... and i simply love laughing loud, even though many people might find it inappropriate.

But you know Mom, it's not that I like everybody here on the outskirts. There is a creature that claims to have been named after a little lamp, but I think she is more of the tube light, even though she is rather short. She worked for many years in a corporate office under some bald head minister and she keeps talking about some marketing things, companies, applications, and god knows what else. She was out with us for lunch today and I was dreaming of having a fork with me to pierce her mouth so that she would remain quiet. She is so boring!
I was invited for some food to a social media advertiser's place, whose name has something to do with the forests, but I think it was a big mistake committed by her parents. Anyways, the evening involved 4 acrobats who constantly compared which part of their body got broken and when. it was so boring that I left after an hour.

There is also Dwarf that you already know about. He often reminds me of his non-existing elder twin brother and I love having nonsense conversations with him. It feels a bit as if he was my younger brother, just like my younger brother from the forests of north-east, who by mistake shifted to the North Pole to get some rotis for his parents. He is planning to go back to his kingdom soon, and I'd love to visit him sometimes and do some magic together. We had done it once before and I enjoyed the process a lot. And I am very proud of him for he struggles hard to send the rotis home. It impresses me. Oh, and he is a fantastic painter, plays flute and recently began to learn photography.

And there is another adopted younger brother of mine here. He sometimes doubles as a charioteer and a friend. He was named after the god of war, but he is a very naughty but peaceful creature. And he has a tail, and a lovely creature attached to that tail... I think she could be an Elfian princess in disguise.

There is a native girl from the land of dreams and I find her to be a wise and interesting person and would love to spend some time with her.

There is also a creature that was named after the offerings, and I like her a lot.

And you know mom... I touched the Elf... and it felt so warm, peaceful and gentle...  I think I would love to have many occasions for my experiments with touch...

And Mom... do you know that people here have so many crazy names for their jungle friends!!!! Well, I am a bit less adventurous on that front, but the names of my animals keep changing depending on my whims and moods, so the tigers have been through different phases in their lives: Bharata and Natyam, Marx and Freud, Cat 1 and Cat 2, and now only Mr Cat...

And Mom... do you remember how I wanted to name the hamster Indira when I was 5, and grandma began to explain to me that I should not be doing such a thing for Indira gandhi was an important person and my hamster is just a small creature....
Mom... Don't you think that I am a bit ridiculous????

Kochana Mamo...

Kochana Mamo,

We haven't spoken for a long time... I miss you a lot... I think today I miss you even more than ever for there are so many things I would like to tell you about. Do you remember, you used to say about me that if there are 2 ways ahead of me in life I always choose the one that is longer and has many turns, never the straight one...  I think I walked for many days, but I think that the path I have chosen was the right one. It took me to a forest, you know? And there is a magic elf who lives there... he is the most colourful elf you could imagine. I wish you could see him...

I'm not sure what to tell you about today, there are so many things to say and I don't know which one to choose first... but I think maybe today we could try to talk about slightly lighter subjects...

I'll tell you about the elf.... He is funny you see.... He has a crooked nose and very rude manners...

Mom... can you imagine that I travelled for 1745.08 km (apparently) to find him and his manners are so bad that he didn't even offer me tea!!!!!  Do you remember how I was ill once and you walked to my house in winter in snow to bring me pastries?

Mom... Can i ask you a question? How come life is so strange sometimes that the most colourful people on earth go through life with so many bruises? I don't understand. Mom... do you think we could try to tame the elf a bit?

You know mom, he is a really funny elf...  He is a bit short of hearing and refused to wear a hearing device, so talking to him was a bit like talking to grandma:

'Grandma, would you like to have some tea?'
'Yes, yes, the cat is outside'

I gave him a dictionary and now he is now learning how to read...  But you know what mom... I tried to give him the same dictionary a few times in the past and he refused to take it...  I think he is a bit short of sight and should wear glasses more often...

You know mom, he sometimes thinks that he is a writer... But i think he has to improve his skills as a reader a bit... Mom, can you imagine that I used metaphors a few times and he didn't understand... Can you imagine????  I told him once that 'I'm being suicidal with words'  and he got really scared thinking that I will jump out of the window or something as stupid as that, while all I meant was that I want to write a few chapters in my dictionary that I am confused about.

Mom... Do you remember, when I used to study for my Sanskrit exams and I was always scared that I may fail (silly me.... Just for the record - I was always one of the best students in my class...) and you and I would sit together in the kitchen and I would give you my notebook and recite all the verses. You did not understand a word of Sanskrit, but you were there and your presence was important. Do you remember how you would keep your fingers crossed for every single exam that I had to give... And oh.. Mom... do you remember when I had a surgery and was in hospital and I asked you to bring me a book about Bharatanatyam and you brought Mahabharata instead???


Mom... will you tell him that if he dares to laugh at my little jungle I shall pierce him with my spear, cut him into pieces and feed him to the dog. Mom... will you tell the elf not to confuse me with keeping mirrors on stage. Mom... why is he always laughing at me?
Mom...

I want to...

I always wanted to write a letter to you. I would have written it on a paper that has flower petals in it, and I would have put a drop of vanilla perfume into it, so that its smell would remind you of me. But you left without leaving the address, and I didn't want to let you go...

I don't want you to go. I want you to stay. You make me feel beautiful when I see myself in your eyes. You make me feel warm and secure. I trust you. Your eyes make me feel green and alive. When you look at me I want to run towards you and become a part of you. I want to be a part of your body when you busy yourself discussing things with others. I want to stand there next to you holding your hand and giving you warmth and support in whatever you do.

I want to be a child in your arms. I want to sleep covered with your smell and wake up in the morning to watch you sleep. I want to keep your head in my lap when you are tired and sing you a lullaby so that you could be a child one more time.

I miss you. I am jealous of your work for it has so much of you, while I have nothing. And when I miss you it turns into physical pain that I feel there in my arms.

You amaze me... You give me the most wonderful gifts of my life. Something that I always dreamt of. You make me happy. Thank you for it.

I am sorry if I ever hurt you with my anger. I don't want to hurt you, I never did. I want to give you peace.

I don't want to catch you.  I want you to come and hold my hand into yours.

I want to watch your hair turn grey. I want to hold your hands and keep them warm on a winter night. I want to touch the tear on your cheek when the world laughs at you. I want to wait for you every evening by the window and learn the sound of you footsteps by heart. I want to follow you wherever you go, and when you die I want to go with you into the darkness with a candle in my hand to light your path. I want to see your face before I close my eyes for the last time. I want to take away all your sorrows and make them mine. I want to laugh at you when you are funny and quarrel with you in the morning when we decide who would be making tea. I want to know the touch of your mother's hand. I want to live in a small corner of your room. I want to bring you squirrels, cats, dogs, butterflies, monkeys, parrots and donkeys and beg you to allow us to keep them at home. I want to gift you a child that would be a part of you. I want to miss you when you are away and call you to tell you to come home. I want to tell you stories. I want to listen to your nonsense. I want to listen to your non-nonsense.

I want to be a pillow on which you keep your head when you are tired. I want to be a tree that gives you shade on a sunny day. I want to be a river that brings water to your lips. I want to be your night and day. I want to learn you by heart.

Will you allow me?