In a few days, one will start inching closer towards a milestone birthday. Not much seems to have changed in the past year and yet everything seems to be changing. I still like my seven year old rickety car and eight year old broken phone. I still sleep alone but always with books on my bed. The loves remain the same and the hates? Well, I hate very passionately, like I can scare the crap out of myself with that emotion it can be so intense so I avoid going there, completely. But the people I’ve harboured resentment towards the past two years…I wish I was mature enough to say I’ve forgiven (I’m not there, yet) but one’s found a better way of dealing with it, by being totally engrossed in other things and venting on this platform. Therapy has helped, it makes me realize, how intense the abandonment issues are , what an asshole one is ( not really a revelation but the intensity certainly is) and how intuitive one is. The humour is too self deprecating, apparently, areee come on, I don’t have a spouse to pick on, so I’m my best source of entrainment. But the prime get away has been there are things you can gain with effort but love isn’t one of them, so there’s no shame in giving up on some things and some people. Another thing one has figured out is avoiding human contact, is freaking awesome for my mental health because I have the maturity of a two year old.
One’s been surprised by people, this year. The Art Fair, was something else. The gallery didn’t inform me that they were discussing my work during the art walk, so one was a bit taken aback, with the way they described my pictures. One’s only met a few people in the past two decades who have really seen it from my point of view, so that was refreshing. And there’s another thing that will stay with me- I met up with some batchmates and one of them, has written this interesting read called Cupidity. So, one was having a fan girl moment and what truly surprised me was her friend’s reactions. They were so thrilled for her, that it pleasantly surprised me. Aspirational. I think one would want to someday be like this author’s friends, actually be really, genuinely as thrilled for another woman, with that kind of intensity.
The other thing one has been fixated on is:- what do I want to be when I’m forty five? So, the hours that one’s been putting in, has very little to do with money and much to do with that thing that one wants to turns oneself into- an unstoppable machine ( the only problem with that plan is the BPD- the highs are so freaking high, one’s totally energetic, like a disciplined soldier and the lows make it impossible to get out of bed. It’s like something I read- sometimes I feel like Van Gogh’s starry nights and sometimes like his suicide note) who doesn’t need anyone, especially not a man.
Before you accuse me of being a man hater, let me just say, ‘ come on, look at me, if anything I’m totally, unbiasedly, misanthropic. But I do adore men. Not all though, not the weaker ones who get off on verbally, physically or emotionally abusing women. I’m done with those, for this lifetime! But the rest- I love working with them, I think like them and I thrive in their company, as they’re aggressive and very competitive and that’s totally up my alley. In fact, every time I walk into a room, my first instinct is to gravitate towards the mundas because that’s where all the fun is and one has failed at decoding one’s gender, as miserably as they have. Plus, like them, I too am looked at like a spoilt, badly behaved, work in progress, rogue who needs to be fixed ( no man has been able to fix me, maybe a woman can).
Having said that, the super clingy (SC) part of my personality, looks at all of them with doe shaped eyes and has always wanted to be rescued by one of them. They’ve tried and failed at doing a job, that isn’t meant for them ( we have to rescue ourselves, I know, I know…dil ko behlane ke liye Ghalib yeh khyaaal acha he). In any case, women are better at this, unfortunately the thirteen year old who was going through a I hate all men after a molestation attempt, who developed a crush on SK and PK, twin sisters who played basketball and looked so cute, with their short hair hasn’t found a woman other than Anokhi Parekh and Sushmita Sen, she would want to be fixed by. ‘Please God, help me tap into my bisexuality, send me a woman with a deep husky voice, broad shoulders and strong hands before I die. I want to play Romeo, someone needs to play my Juliet..man, woman I don’t care’, is my birthday wish, this year but unfortunately nothing, nothing is happening.
Other than my very sweet aunt, sending me proposals. I know she likes me but sometimes , I want to tell her and the boys, who seem to loiter around that, ‘ For once look at me carefully….if I don’t get along with my own tubbar, I’m the blackest sheep in a family where everyone is not really normal, what are the chances that I would get along with a man’s family and especially his friends? With my Sheldon Cooper type ability to put my foot in my mouth and my intense aversion to being controlled or even being answerable to anyone for anything, on what planet would this work out?’ But I remain invisible, I guess, some are blinded by love and the others by contempt. But one remains Mr India, nevertheless.
Happy Father’s Day, to my constant source of entertainment and woes, my companion and my in-law and my source of inspiration for the person I wish to be and also someone I hope I never become. This statement, as dichotomous as it is, falls short in explaining our rather complicated dynamic. But like the boy, you insisted I should be with said, ‘it’s like Amitabh and Deepika in Piku!’ Who knows? For now let’s just try to fit into that box.
I look at you with amazement and horror and that makes me realize how lucky one is to be able to have parents who were fallible humans and not demi Gods, one would have idealised but instead looked at as co travellers, who didn’t have all the answers. Having said that, it doesn’t mean one doesn’t appreciate how hard working and dependable you were. How you stuck around when most would have bailed and how you managed human relationships, so well, for the longest time. To deal with your life partner’s illness, then loose a young son and then to deal with your wife’s death and inspite of your grief to consistently work and focus on someone other than yourself and not shut shop, when you have the option of an easy life, is commendable and highly admirable. It reminds me of the tortoise and the hare.
Your sense of humour keeps me entertained and is also the absolute death of me. No one in this world can come up with such one liners-
‘There are two biggest doomsters ( which isn’t a word, it’s doomsayers but you insist on calling me thus) one was Nostradamus and the other is you! Always, preparing for the worst case scenario .’
‘Jo bhut aur dayan hote he unna koi gender nahi hota!’ Ya, I know, I’m one!
And my most favourite, ‘ You’ll never be a good daughter to me, so don’t do this pakhandbazi!’
The last statement has helped me more than a year’s worth of therapy. It has set my heart free. Hope something takes away the woes of your heart, as well. Have a lovely day.
The Amber Heard/ Johnny Depp trial, had me almost as engrossed, shocked and appalled as the Kashmir files and the series of events that have unfolded in the Valley after that ( which we will talk about).
One has been ranting on other people’s walls…how upset somethings make one is the reason, I avoid the news, like the plague. Whatever other voyeuristic tendencies one may possess, watching people leave their homes, mother’s weeping for their kids, people dying, my heart ain’t capable of watching all of it for consumption, so I’d rather be an ostrich and bury my head in the sand. These two things unfortunately still managed to sneak up on me. The trial barged into my morning breakfast routine, which includes doing a little visualisation ( where I try to see myself with someone/anyone and miserably fail at imagining it…the sky, the moon or the clouds, is the best one can do) and watching Larry videos on YouTube, while I munch. The last thing I need, is something stressing me out but YouTube threw up this display of how toxic marriages and human relationships are in my face and ugh.
It reaffirms a nagging thought one has been having for the past two years (since my own trial of sorts) – fuck society and fuck a system that still burns women it imagines to be witches at the stake. The definition of the stake and the method in which its done may change but the act remains the same, nevertheless!’
Is she a saint? Hell, no! But she seems as damaged as him so bo freaking ho! What is this crap that people throw at beautiful women- she only wanted him for his money? Oh ya and he wanted her because she was Mother Teresa not because she’s really hot? Come on, at least in the olden times, when we weren’t all pretending to be so evolved, we knew, for marriage ( which is a business transaction) women were acquired for their looks (procreation and coitus) and men for their money ( security). Yet, can you think of a term similar to ‘gold digger’ that a man is accused of, for doing the above mentioned? Nothing as demeaning.
I don’t know if she faked her injuries or not but I do know that, men get away with domestic abuse all the time, with the help and might I add encouragement of society. Let me tell you, however drugged a man is, the minute he realises that someone will call him out for it, he straightens up, fixes his clothes, puts on his best behaviour. If it gets too serious, he knows who to bribe and impress- from the authorities, to the neighbours, to the victim’s relatives, he’ll charm the shit out of them all! Why do you think women don’t leave the abusers? Their abuse doesn’t end with the slap, it just begins with it. The maligning of the woman, stripping her off her personal autonomy and support system, that’s their trip, weak men get off on thrashing and trashing women, makes them feel more manly.
And who is their ally? Always other women, who believe that said woman has too good a life or she’s lucky because she has access to his wealth from relatives to friends, everyone begrudges her, this perfect existence. In Heard’s case, just look at her, women must be disliking her without her even opening her mouth, it’s like Aishwarya Rai, most people begrudgingly appreciate beauty. ‘She’s too perfect’ can only be used to insult a woman, it’s never unattractive on a man. Neither is ambition. A man is driven and passionate while a woman is greedy and crazy.
Forgive me if I don’t believe someone’s guilty just because strangers will vouch for powerful men and women are being tarnished by their own, that’s just society on it’s classiest act. That’s why abused women keep looking for protectors- either physically strong men or men who are top of the societal hierarchy.
Oprah Winfrey, recalls how when she began anchoring, her male colleague was paid much more than her. So, she went and asked her boss for more. Guess what was his reply? ‘ What do you need money for? You’re not married, you don’t have any kids, why do you need a raise?’. So she thought, ‘wait, I’ll show you!’, for the disrespect. In the scheme of things, it’s my realisation- the top of the pyramid is the politician (where too male is above female but it’s tolerable) . Then there’s rich man, less fortunate man, woman married to rich man, woman married to less fortunate man and then at the bottom there’s the single woman, divorced is considered better than someone whose never married and ofcourse wealthy comes over someone who doesn’t have, enough. We single women stand on the threshold of society, some have been cast out and others don’t seem to fit in. In Heard’s case it’s the latter- too pretty, too ambitious and she’s queer, there wasn’t a chance in hell, she was going to win this one. Like, I say, they are still burning witches at the stake! Screw their rules, be magical!