Freedom: /ˈfridəm/

It is weird how a man’s wants can be another man’s needs. It is a sad realisation, isn’t it?

Ishani is a good friend of mine and shares her feelings with me. I am a good friend and I let her pour out her emotions that had been torturing her. Today, I decided to get some things off my chest too.

So, Ishani is just another dreamer and achiever from just another tier 3 city of our nation. She went to a convent school unlike the majority of her neighbourhood kids. Oh! I am one of those kids, from her locality, who went to public state board schools. My parents always conversed over dinner about how fluently Ishani can read English headlines on DD News. Well, I could read the alphabets from the headlines as well. Ishani was just one step ahead and could identify the words made up from those alphabets put together. Again, she took part in all these Olympiads and events which I only wrote about in informal letters during Spoken English tuitions. My parents adored her. Yes, appreciation of her “participation certificate” more than my “2nd prize” medal always disheartened me but I knew my achievements didn’t stand in front of her participation. Long story short, I admired her school, her fluency in English and her parents who always talked to me in English. Sadly, I could never reply back to them in English.

Ishani grew up to score a mighty 71 percent in her 10th boards and went to Bengaluru for her higher secondary education. I wanted to move to Bengaluru too and I was pretty confident about my admission with 89 percent. However, I only knew Hindi and Bhojpuri fluently and my tone was ridiculed even by the auto-wala-bhaiyyas there. However, my marks saved me some grace and I proudly completed my higher secondary education in a central school in my city. I scored less than 70 percent but my spoken English tuition had finally paid off. I could understand English movies only with the subtitles and now that I could also speak about myself without stuttering, I could finally move to Bengaluru.

Life is surprising though and apparently, a Bhojpuri tone while speaking English got me shooed away and I landed in Indore. Indore felt free, to be honest. The auto-wala-bhaiyya here never rejected me and I started to wear leggings and jeans with my knee-length kurtis. Yes, getting my parents to pay for letting me wax my arms was a very tricky task. They could not understand how my best friends felt embarrassed to go have momos with me because of my hairy arms. Gradually, I even stopped taking my dupattas to college and no one judged me. In fact, I was so surprised by how light I felt without a dupatta on my chest. My parents do not support me completely but I score good grades, have become a member of students’ association and I haven’t told them that I have two male friends as well. So, they are proud of how modern I have become.

Society has nothing good to talk about me though! They keep whining about how I have forgotten my culture and how this wave of feminism has ruined me. I never bothered about them nor have I craved for their approval. However, deep down inside, I always wanted to let Ishani know that I have become modern as well. I never got that chance because we never visited home at the same time. Our holidays never matched at all. However, this lockdown we finally came together just like the good-old-times and we spend time talking to each other about our colleges, visit each other’s homes and she has even taught me how maintaining ‘Snap Streaks’ marks sophistication. All the neighbours are just star-struck by how she carries herself and how she has not changed a bit.

To be brutally honest, she is a hypocrite. I have seen her pictures wearing shirts and skirts on social media. She wore all fashionable and modern clothes until she got bored with them and now she preaches how Indian attires like saree, ghagra and embroidered dupattas bring out the true beauty of Indian girls.

She often talks for hours about feminism and tells me that I should not wax and encourage patriarchy. I don’t understand how she can feel caged by removing body hair. I wonder what has gotten into her! In fact, she is going around our neighbourhood teaching other teen girls to not fall into the trap of modernisation and wear kurtis with dupattas, bindi and patiala-salwar to look the prettiest. What a fool she is! But this lockdown, I have decided that I won’t let her do this. I have been struggling for the past two years to convince all my neighbours to let their girls wear jeans and Ishani cannot ruin it all with her illogical preachings.

I don’t understand how to make her understand this liberation but I will definitely find a way. I have sent a text to Rudra- the students’ association leader – for help. He is a great person and he would definitely guide me. I got a bit frustrated with his puzzling and philosophical reply but I am smart and I will decode it. Meanwhile, can you help me with the decoding?

Here’s what Rudra has texted:

“FREEDOM – /ˈfriːdəm/ the power or right to do or say what you want without anyone stopping you

CHOICE – /tʃɔɪs/ the right to choose; the possibility of choosing

Pragya, you have your freedom to make the choice of the right answer for yourself. Best wishes. :)”

The Abnormal Cine World

The new normal for me is extremely abnormal. It is brutal. The new normal for me is to never watch “Bobby” again without knowing that Rishi Kapoor would not appear in any more movies. I can’t help but wonder if he would have done another debut movie, given a chance, would he have spent his old age watching his old and new movies? The new normal for me is being unable to sing along ‘Qaafirana’ because SSR isn’t there any more. The new normal for me is being teary, watching clips of Irrfan from ‘The Lunchbox’ again. The new normal isn’t normal!

New is supposed to be updated, modern and better. How is this better? I don’t want to stalk Neetu Kapoor every time I want to look at some ‘new’ pictures of her dead beloved. I do not want to watch ‘Qarib Qarib Single’ while my heart sulks about the death of Irrfan Khan. I cannot fathom the idea of watching ‘Kedarnath’ again because he wasn’t served justice.

My Bollywood will never be new. The cine world is abnormal now, it’s incomplete…

I Tried To Taste Home Today

I tried to taste home today
It tasted bitter.
I tried to go to my happy place then
It was in vain.
I got lost not because there were many happy places
I got lost because my happy place wasn’t happy anymore.
I tried to taste home today
It tasted bitter.
I tried to go back in time to find a cure then
It was in vain.
I reverted to present all aghast not because there were no cure
But because the past and present had no difference… ever.
I tried to taste home today
It tasted bitter.

Sunshine

Testing my phone’s camera and my photography skills, I clicked a picture of the Sun rising at dawn yesterday.

I wanted to post some diva-like pictures of myself on my social media. I waited for the golden hour to peep through my window and I kept feeling the warmth of the rays on my skin through my cotton sleeves while clicking selfies with eye rolls, ear to ear smiles, a random book that I had never read and the soft toy that I’ve been fond of from as long as I can recall.

Oh! I never sweat a lot and this gives me an upper hand whenever I plan such random photoshoots in the late afternoons of May and June. Moreover, it’s really awkward for me to not wear full sleeved clothes in pictures or even at home because it’s neither attractive nor presentable to have hairy arms or legs, you know.

I finally got a picture that I decided was an Instagram post-worthy picture. I captioned it as “Teddy-like” and clicked on ‘post’. I giggled in pride for my cunning choice of words. My friends would comment how Pragya is as cute and cuddly as a Teddy but only I know that I’m as hairy as a teddy bear too.
I chose another picture for my profile picture on Facebook as well. (I know my friends don’t use it anymore but I feel too guilty to leave a social media platform I was once committed to with sincerity, please don’t judge!) I captioned the picture as ‘Sunshine’.

Meanwhile the Moon came up bidding adieu to the Sun in Shakespeare’s style. Wait, or is it the Sun welcoming the Moon while it goes to rest in solitude?

Anyway, I packed up my photoshoot props and turned on the fan. I felt relaxed. As it turned dark, the weather turned cooler and the stars soon covered the whole sky.
‘Venus is the closest and most favoured by the Moon’, I thought and waited for comments on my posts. I kept scrolling and checking the whole evening and by 10 PM I had 147 likes on my picture already. I could finally go to sleep with no worries.

I switched off the night bulb, put my phone on flight mode, hugged a pillow and closed my eyes while having a mental slideshow of all the pictures I had clicked and fell asleep really soon…
Just like the Sun, spreading warmth of life all around while going back to its dark abode at every dusk, with no window for light and no space for a friend…
With none to go back to when tired…
With none to express its jealousy towards Moon which has innumerable friends even when it’s dark, ugly and lifeless.

Cancerous Feelings?

(This piece is about my experience with Cancer.)

‘Motivated forgetting is also defined as a form of conscious coping strategy’ and that is exactly what I did to calm my nerves from the scary memories of needles, pain, blood, baldness and pale faces of people around.

It was towards the starting of 2010 that I started to develop swelling in my neck and in the blink of an eye I was bedridden with no voice and just mild upper body movements. I do not remember much except for the parts where the doctors continuously mentioned that the medicines aren’t working and those where I wanted to breath and be without pain.

One of the worst part of my experience with my cancer, which I haven’t yet recovered from, was my hair loss and mild baldness. I loved long hair and always flaunted my waist-length hair but today I am very skeptical about my hair length and have developed this fear that the longer my hair, the more the chances of my disease coming back.

Today, I feel numb about my experience and, as mentioned, do not remember much. However, I have the realisation that I need to be firm and address people to spread awareness about how important positivity and will power to survive can be.

My message : Be positive, trust your strength. Regretting, at your final moments, about how you left your strong self, wouldn’t be fun.

The Confessions Of A Hair Tie

Hey, you know me well, don’t you? Well, even if you do not – I know you very well. I have seen your highs and your lows. I have seen your no – makeup face and your party – ready sassy looking face too. I have been their with you while you were feeling pukish after your first drink and also when you had your first crush. Although, to be true, I have a love – hate relationship with you. Yes, that’s true. I never loved you or hated you completely.

Remember the day when you were getting late for college – the day you had that Journalism test? You were late because you couldn’t find me. Actually, it was a perfectly planned revenge to let you realise my importance. How could you share me with those friends of yours? They don’t even handle me with care. Anyhow, you didn’t ever share me with anyone again and that proves that you have learnt your lesson well.

By the way, just in case you had a doubt, it was me who kept making your hair fall the last monsoon. I didn’t have any other option. You looked very unpresentable with that haircut you got and the shampoo you were using was not even organic. It was very harmful for you and I could not bear the thought of you going bald as I wouldn’t be of any use to you then. However, I don’t mind gratitude, so you can always thank me. Oh, when it comes to gratitude, you owe a tonne of it to me. After all, I’ve saved you from innumerable bad – hair – days. Also, it was me who saved you from embarassment on that windy day when you decided to pamper yourself and click gazillions of pictures of yourself or rather candind pictures of yourself.

Oh, my girl! I’ve loved you a lot every day except for the times when you leave me fallen on the messy ground under your bed. Nevertheless, I hope our relationship never breaks because your silky, smooth and long hair are my favourite place to be in. It is where I belong to, my home.

Commitment

Love is enduring. Love is eternal. Love is what everyone craves for. We say that Food, Clothing and Shelter are basic human needs but isn’t love a basic requirement as well?

Humans are social animals, after all. Couples are suggested to start a family or rather plan a child because ‘who will take care of you once you are old?’ No sooner than the parturition process takes place the new-born is placed in the mother’s arms. As soon as the child celebrates a birthday couples go for another baby because their one year old needs a company now. And even newly-wed couples are asked for ‘good news’ because the elders of the family need a company. You see how deep is the human requirement of love and affection and the fear of loneliness that a complete new life is started for the purpose?

Remember those days of middle school where you teased your friend for talking to anyone from the opposite gender? Or what about those days now when you see a friend of yours planning her date with her beloved? You often feel lonely and the need of a someone. An entity who will be there for you and with whom you will share all your wishes, goals, insecurities and be your true self and be the least pretentious. Yes, only you know who you really are.

But what about fear? Some say that “fear has a large shadow but he himself is small” but the question is that can you exist without your shadow? Can you get rid of your shadow? Fear is in-built in us. None can deny it because evolution, fight-or-flight and survival of the fittest can’t be denied as well. We fear being left out. We fear separation. We fear rejection. We have various phobias and yes, we fear death. But, what about commitments? What about promises, promises of eternity? Many of us fear giving commitments and I think it’s as rational as anyone’s fear of heights, reptiles, abandonment or emotional attachment.

Commitment isn’t just another word in our vocabulary but it is an act, an act of responsibilities, devotion and assurances. Committing to anything means that you have the complete power over that process when you know that changes are inevitable. For example, promising to be someone’s forever means that you have full control on the person’s fate, choices and emotions and you gurantee that no matter what changes occur, be it physical disfigurements, infedility or even brutal murders, you will be there with the person.

There are innumerable reasons which can contribute to this fear and the reason that I consider the strongest is the feeling of being powerless and not being in control because you are not in-charge of anyone else but you and when it comes to relationships, you never know how the other people’s changes would be. You do not know how their personality would grow over time and how your emotions would react to those.

Your fear is rational. Your insecurities are justified and I am in awe of everyone who is brave enough to promise but I also respect everyone who fears the act because humans have the instinct for peaceful survival and not being comfortable with any risks to your emotional or physical stability is okay. First, understand you own self, bring our emotions under your control and then start your jounrey to the destination of the promises of eternity.

P.S : Do not let fears run your life.