Showing posts with label being Indian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being Indian. Show all posts

Mar 13, 2018

Reject or Accept : Rumbling Bumbling Cutie pie!



In another plane, another reality

I would be a slim, elegant lady
Waxing eloquent on philosophies of life...

Draped in a crisp off-white, silk sari
Not a hair out of place..
Just filling the room with her grace!

Rather than a Rumbling Bumbling Cutie pie....

My tears would be quietly and surreptitiously dabbed
with a tissue paper, from my waterproof-kohl lined eyes.
No dark, ungainly smudges there...

and no wiping the running nose with hands, for sure!

My slightly curved smile would make it to the cover of Vogue.
My husky measured voice would cause many a-hearts-a flutter,
And not go berserk in the loud hysterical sobs
or guffaws which shake the furniture!

My arguments would be clever and well articulated,
And not tumble out of my mouth
In sometimes shrill,
     sometimes garbled mess, with a life of their own!

My demeanour would be poised,
my emotions draped well on my body,
     well modulated, cohesive and controlled!
Not messy, chaotic and argumentative
     like a lady haggling in Versova fish market!

Yet the person staring at me in the mirror is :

Thodi plump
Thodi defiant
Sometimes messy...or bitchy,
with a dollop of mean streak ...

With a fiercely possessive heart....

AND.....

a

Rumbling Bumbling Cutie pie!

“I knew there was something peculiar about you," she said.
"And I mean that as the highest compliment."
I'd always known I was strange.
I never dreamed I was peculiar.
~Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children
Ransom Riggs~

Aug 15, 2015

Swantantrata Divas....What does it really mean to me?

“Dus ka do…Le lo Na, Didi.
Chalo discount main deti hoon,
Dus Ka teen!”

“Two for Rs ten!
Please buy.
I can give you discount.
Buy three for Rs ten.”

The sale of small paper flags at the traffic signals in Mumbai just before the Republic and Independence Day, is a common sight.

When Soumya was younger, we would enthusiastically buy these symbols of our Indian-ness, eager as I was, to teach her about her roots and what it means to be an Indian. Soon I realized that this was not a good idea!

Once the Independence Day was over, the flag lived a neglected, banished existence…rolling from one corner of the house, to other…gathering dust …and I did not know how to put it away. Throwing away the national flag in dustbin, even though it was a symbolic one, seemed discourteous…even blasphemous!!!

When I was younger, Independence Day meant the mandatory rising up early and going to school for the flag hoisting. I still get goosebumps when I recollect how, as the School Captain, I was made to hoist the flag in front of the School assembly.  Perhaps it was the thrill of being the chosen one… or the intangible sense of pride I felt, as I touched the rope and felt the marigold flowers being showered on my head, the feeling was electrifying...

Over the years 15th August for me has become one of those distinct days in August which has the most ‘happening’ Independence Day Sales in the shopping malls, or when it happens to fall on a Friday or a Monday, becomes that extended weekend when we can head to Goa or Matheran for a quick break from work.


With the advent of the social media, the celebration of Indianness is even more real time and in your face! The DPs are changed on 14th August midnight and the tricolor flashed on our Facebook pages to celebrate our bharatiyta. All of this lasts for a day, before the next festivity, the next flavor of the times, takes over!

I wonder what is the Indianness that I want to reflect on and celebrate this 69th year of Independence?

Is it the immense pride I experience when I hear that Sunder Pichai the newly appointed CEO of Google is an Indian by origin?  Or do I celebrate that India’s first Mars mission, which was blasted off in 2014 cost only Rs. 4.5 billion?

Do I feel embarrassed by the fact that India ranked 94th out of 176 countries in the Corruption Perception Index of a survey by Transparency International in 2013?

Or feel inspired that that there are people like Kailash Satyarthi who work hard and selflessly, almost unnoticed and unrecognized, till an international agency highlights their achievements?

Do I hang my head in shame and embarrassment when I watch the elected leaders of one of world’s largest democracy bicker and fight in the parliament house like irresponsible children?  

And then closer to home –

What is it that is Indian about me?

How do I define my connection to my unique roots?

I realize that paradoxes in the India that I live in are, perhaps, very akin to the contradictions, which exist inside me.

Perhaps the bharatiyta for me is the deepest sense of pride I feel in being connected to my roots, to this amazingly spirited and spiritual country, its eclectic take on life and its diversity. 

Like the collective, perhaps I am chasing some defunct ideals and principles which need to questioned, personalized and owned up to, rather than blindly accepted because they have been passed on from centuries.

There is an experience of abundance of love, connections and warmth in relationships here, yet there is stubbornness in taking responsibility and a dependency on others to deliver!

My Indianness is the whole chalta hai attitude... the inability to go down the route of commitment and discipline which can make me excel. It is this huge talent, yet a general disbelief around my capabilities.

Independence and connection to my Indianness in the truest sense would be to break the shackles of these beliefs…walk my talk and live my life from an authentic space!

Where I need to exercise my muscle, is the muscle of acceptance…the need to appreciate, embrace and even celebrate the different, the unusual, the nonconformist in me and others…rather than follow the obvious, run of the mill herd mentality.

Can I connect to what I truly believe about life, rituals and pass them onto Soumya and others with genuine connection and appreciation of how it plays out in my life? 

Can I stop conveniently hiding behind others, to shine? 

Can I for one, believe in my talent and ability to deliver as a mother, wife, daughter and a career woman and step out of the web of doubts?

On this Swantrata divas, time for me perhaps to connect to my personal and very unique take on my independence!



A teardrop

Was that a drop of tear I saw glistening near his eyes? I will never know because he turned his face away, as soon as he heard th...