Writing Rekindled

This is more of a welcome post than it is a blog post. A salutation. A hailing of the words that hover on the periphery of my vision. An embracing of the passion that I harbor for the love of words, both in poetry and prose. A homecoming.

A year later, as I resume writing on my blog, I realize just another post won't do. I owe myself an explanation for the irreproachable neglect my writing has suffered over the course of an year. I need to come clean about the fact that I sometimes go into sudden bouts of swift, passionate bibliophile fury, and sometimes also kick myself into sullen silences filled with unspoken words. I realize I need a closure to the intense fury I have for myself, when I have words to speak and write, and I don't express. 

This is not a despairing post. Neither is it a wall that speaks of a wannabe writer long-lost in a wallowing of self-pity amidst a non-existential writer's block. This is just an acceptance of the simple slack in writing and a year of denial I fostered every time I had the inexplicable urge to put my thoughts to words. 

I have had a tough couple of months, ever since the winter of 2015. It took a while for me to realize that I am meant to write and words are my thing. It was exactly the autumn of last year when I gave up my futile pursuance of a career in what I wanted (read Finance), and begrudgingly accepted the prospect of a full-time job as a content writer. I had a gross misconception about the fact that content writing doesn't really challenge you to do better. I was aware I wasn't an amazing writer; I was amateurish to say the most. But I sincerely was of the opinion that the job is something I am settling in, to fit into the 'employed' bracket.

However, a week into the job I realized just how challenging writing could be. An able team of editors, an insightful manager, and an extremely understanding mentor at work showed me the shortcomings of my writing. In no way undermining my writing style and skills, they guided me on how best I could enhance the writing style and polish the way I sequenced my thoughts in words. I was possessed by a mad desire to rise above it all and reaffirm my faith in my own writing. 

A few months into this job, as I look back, I see a magnanimous change in the way my writing has transformed. Words and phrases, innuendos, puns, and grammatical insinuations have a new meaning and I enjoy the rush my work gives me. I have, to some extent, and still am trying to grasp the intricacy of the glorious language that English is. Still nurturing an ardent love for mastery of the language and to become a writer who wears her words with finesse and grace.

The irony remained that I write for a living and yet, I had stopped to live through my words. Career commitments, social obligations, and time constraints made me forget that I really had to write for myself once again. As challenging as my job is, as creatively satisfying it tends to be, I still feel an inherent emptiness which I know only my own words can fill. 

So, I have decided to write once again. To incite thoughts in my readers' minds. To feel the power of words again. To infuse life and love in the words that course through my veins. To live the thoughts I wish to set free into the void that threatens to swallow my happiness. And to love the feverish affair with writing that I wish to rekindle. 

Those Women Next Door

Without beating around the bush, let me begin with a story. A story so simple and touching, that it will resonate in our minds as a tale that echoes a million times over with innumerable girls in India and the world over. This is the story of a mother-daughter duo I had the privilege of knowing.

During my brief stint in Pune, I had rented an apartment that was close to my office. The area was suburban with an equal mix of both IT professionals and villagers. The day I shifted with my roommate, I chanced upon this family who lived two doors away from us on the same floor. Now, this was a family of four, with extremely humble means, where only the father earned and made ends meet. Immediately upon my arrival, the lady, Rekha came over to say hello. She made friendly chatter and we got to meet her naughty but well-behaved kids, Kiran and Kunal. She retreated after ten minutes citing household chores as an excuse and left us to unpack and arrange.

An hour later, as we were heading out for dinner (since all that unpacking and arranging stuff had left us too tired to cook), she caught us near the staircase and dragged us to her house for tea. He husband was away on work and I see could see that between five of us, the family had barely three glass teacups. It really humbled me to see that while we drank our tea from the cups, the lady drank hers from a small bowl made of steel. She turns to us with a radiant smile, "You both can call me Bhabi. I shall always be there if you need any help you know." Yeah, a lot of people say that. But they turn out to be hollow promises that actually mean nothing in reality. So we just smiled politely.

           We were quite taken aback when she said, "By the way, don't eat food from outside. You'll fall ill. I've made dinner for you both. In spite of having a lot of work to do, I had this nagging feeling that I must really welcome you both for dinner. So I made chicken,  dal, and rice for you. And please eat it without hesitation, the chicken I've prepared is halal." We were quite overwhelmed at this overt display of hospitality from a woman who barely knew us. We resisted and tried to escape politely, but she'd have none of it. We eventually left her place late that night after a heavy dinner. That was my first encounter with Rekha bhabi, and believe me, that woman rendered me speechless. 

Rekha bhabi once even went to the trouble of making an entire feast of every type of food she could afford when she came to know about my roommate fasting one day. She landed at our door that evening with every bowl and plate she owned, saying she'd made iftar and said she wanted a few prayers from us. That wasn't the only time. I remember her weirdly having this radar, where when she suspected us sleeping hungry (because we used to be tired to cook or go out to eat), she'd bang our doors awake and ensure we slept with our bellies full.
               
Rekha Bhabi had this extremely compassionate and hospitable nature, and I once asked her why she insisted on feeding us, and pat comes the reply, "At night, my deepest fear isn't about how poor we are, or how we will make it work this month. It is this guilt that somewhere around me, a person is going to bed hungry. That thought is disturbing. Honestly, I can eat one roti less, or go to bed hungry, if I have the satisfaction of having known that my neighbors are well fed." When she said this, that is when my heart melted for the first time for a complete stranger and all of a sudden, Rekha wasn't a stranger to me anymore.

The better part of the story is Rekha's nine-year-old daughter, Kiran. Kiran was this extremely witty, smart and talented little girl who loved to dance. During Navratri, all the kids and adults in the colony danced away into the night and Kiran was no less. In between all the people performing dance, Kiran danced like there was no tomorrow. She pranced around exuding such energy and enthusiasm like a soul possessed. She danced all the way tirelessly into the night, her aura overpowering even the best of the adult dancers and making her the cynosure of all eyes.

One such night, when Rekha bhabi overheard a group of 13-year-old guys jeering at Kiran and hooting obscenely at her, she panicked. Being the innocent and worrying mind that all mothers are, Rekha bhabi decided to put a leash on her daughter. The next day I overheard her rebuking Kiran and asking her not to dance and stay out late at night. She told us about the threatening advances by those unruly boys and even cried to stress that she was just worried for her daughter's safety. 

And then, barely nine-year-old Kiran caught us unawares by saying, "Aai, these are dandiya nights and at the end of these nine days, the organizers are giving out the prize for the best dancer. It shall be a big trophy. When I dance, I don't see you, I don't see the people dancing around me, nor those boys. I see only me and that trophy. And I swear, that is going to be mine." It is unbelievable how kids can speak with such innate wisdom and her sheer innocence hit us all. She further persisted fiercely, "You should teach me to be strong. Do not teach me to be afraid of some random guys. I have dreams and I want to fly and conquer them. Just because we have the constant fear of falling doesn't mean that should stop us from going ahead and living our dreams. There is so much I want to do in life without living in fear."  

That ended the argument and we all had no words to say. Little Kiran, in her pretty blue frock, had spoken wisely and way beyond her years. The harsh reality stung, but the words of optimism, the grit and resilient determination from this little girl gave me hope that all is not lost in this world.

On this year's International Women's Day, it isn't feminist claims, awareness marathons, special magazine editions that should rally for our attention. Feminism is not just about those success-driven, multi-tasking, high-flying empowered modern women. It is also defined by the likes of Rekha, Kiran and a million other women around the world who endure away from all the spotlight and are the embodiment of complete spirit and integrity.

         Cheers to the women we all know! You must know that each of you is beautiful and worth every snip of a dream you see. To all you women out there, thank you for existing. And to all the Rekhas' and Kirans', thank you! Because you are the epitome of hope and humanity. 

Comfort zones Are Clichéd

           "But you need to tell me how you feel about the fight we had the other day!" I exclaimed at my twelve year old brother. "How in the world would you expect people to understand how you feel unless you tell them?"

           "I just can't! I am not expressive and I prefer keeping stuff to myself. So don't ask me to speak whatever goes through my mind. Because am never going to!" he retorted irritatedly.  I sighed and left the room. My brother had always been a social recluse as a kid, who stuck to his gaming and art, had bare minimum friends and never had much of a social circle. Now, six years later, he has a growing circle of friends, enjoys travelling and he also blogs out his opinions.

            Yes, my brother has finally come out of his comfort zone. He has thought it wise to explore options outside his area of comfort by starting to be more expressive and social. Am pretty sure, there are many of out out there who are struggling with the same inhibitions he did.

For those who don't know, a comfort zone is a place, situation or a particular method of thinking, ideology or way of living that people stick to, simply because they feel at home in it. People find it easier to do things inside a protected atmosphere, because breaking of their personal shell keeps them at risk or they feel it threatens their happiness and peace.

But how long will it be before you actually get real and decide to come out of your comfort zones? You really must discover that there is a huge, exciting world out there, waiting to be delved into, to be explored. For starters, try learning a new hobby that you never considered. You don't dance? Never danced? Great! Go ahead and join a dance class. Do you always go out with the same gang of buddies? If yes, then try befriending new people. Sometimes making new friends with a person who doesn't speak the same language as you, or doesn't belong to the same culture as you will delight your social skills in more ways than one. You just have to be open to trying new stuff.

You have no idea how much good breaking out of your comfort zone will do. Most importantly, your perception about your physical strengths, your determination and emotional intelligence will change. You will only realise that you are a way more talented and strongly driven individual than you thought you earlier were. Trying to do new stuff will only make you assess your talents and vulnerabilities in a new light.

       Do something you were earlier scared to do. Chances are you will overcome your inhibitions and fear, and this will not only add up to an enriching experience but also give you another story to share with friends and family. Moreover when you start to do better in an area that isn't your forte, people around you will respect you and admire you even more for it.

   

       Oh! And did I tell you about the ego boost? I remember that I once hated this subject cost accounting during college because I sucked at it. But when I took up the challenge to do better and prove myself wrong, I improved by the dozens. A year later, as I explained the same concepts and intricacies of the same subject to my friends, it gave me the kind of bigger and stronger confidence in my own abilities, that am sure no other subject could give.

To sum it all up, comfort zones are great. But they are also cliched and boring. Everyone can excel in something that is their area of expertise or forte. If you would instead take a leap of faith and do the things that you've never thought of doing, that would be the ultimate experience. Breaking out of your mould and leaving your comfort zone won't be easy. But hey! Who said it would be? After all, it is the difficult things in life that are worth living and fighting for. 

Survival: Insider's Perspective

                 Straight question  - Did someone tell you that in between getting good grades, graduating, getting a job  and trying to be a morally right person, you also need to be a Survivor? No, I bet no one actually did. The things in life worth learning are never taught before you need them. You learn the little things with hands-on experience. I've been living away from family and friends for close to 4 months now, and it isn't as if this is the first time I am away. It's just that this is a newer phase where I live miles away on my own, work and earn for my own self, navigate my way through a completely new city and function as a fully grown adult.

                 It isn't easy at first. There is no familiar face at work. You are really cautious of making friends in a new city. You struggle to find some free time for yourself. Pursuing your area of interests is a rarity to go by. You try so really hard to have a tight leash on your expenses every month (still learning to not splurge). Friends and family far from you take a backseat, because all your core skills and time is concentrated on functioning alone and without the protective shield of your home and family over you.                  

           

                But yes, you slowly fall into the hang of it. Prioritizing, saving, learning useful life hacks, finding your way through a new city without losing your shit, and using your core survival instincts - ll that is very important. No one will teach you stuff like this. You will learn and unlearn many things. Yeah. Un-learn. For example, I had to unlearn how to take work seriously. I learnt to leave behind all those office worries the moment I boarded my cab for home. 

            

               The only advice that you can probably use is  - Be who you are. Be fluid and merge as easily into the crowd as if you were one of their own. But still hold tight to your roots and identity coz that is all that matters and it will set you apart from the others. Find time to do the things you love to do. Be a fighter, but also learn when to let go. Don't stop playing or laughing like an idiot when you hear a stupid joke. Appreciate the little happy things in your daily life. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. After all, there is a very fine line between being a victim and being a survivor. 

 Stay raw, Stay safe!