To Mumbai, With Love

I return again to this space after an unexpectedly long hiatus. The good news is that the break wasn't the result of a writer's block. Rather, it was my busy schedule that prevented me from finding time to gather my thoughts and penning them down. 

I have written about Mumbai so many times before. There are times when I wonder what more is there to say about this city that hasn't already been said before. It has been more than three years since I have lived here; and finally it is no more just a city of dreams or a city of unending ambitions for me.
When I first came to the city, I was one among the many aspirants who come to this place with starry-eyed dreams and believe this is the Mecca of making those dreams come true.

It has been three years and I am not sure where those dreams disappeared. In hind sight, I don't think I can even remember what those dreams were. It all seems like hogwash to me - a thing of a past that is so distant that no matter how hard I try to recollect, the only faint remnants of its existence is experienced in my heart in the form of piercing feelings.
Yet I seem to be in love with this city. It is difficult for me to pinpoint the reason. Do I love the city because it gives me my independence? Or is it the unstoppable life of the city that I am attracted to?
The people, here, are fascinating. They always seem to have new stories to tell; and some of the old ones are always eager to fill you in with tales of bygone days. But then people are interesting almost anywhere you go if you take the time to catch a glimpse of their world.

It is not the busy life of the city that attracts me. Living in Kolkata for almost seventeen years of my life has ensured that I prefer the slow life compared to the madness one sees while travelling in the Mumbai locals especially during rush-hours; and while Mumbai does have a charm of its own, nothing beats the old-world charm of Kolkata in my eyes. The way I see it, the crude, harsh tone of Marathi stands no chance of winning points against the melodious ring of the Bengali language. Forgive me if I appear biased!
Of course the one thing I absolutely love about Mumbai, apart from the beautiful rains, is Marine Drive - the entire stretch at night is an object of devotion on its own.
But is that reason enough to make me want to stay?
Of course not!

Acknowledging Mumbai as my "home" instead of being just the "current city of residence" was not an easy transition. But it happened. This change can be attributed to a lot of factors - my exciting work, my very messy but spacious house, my funny, travel adventures, my daily encounters with individuals that always give me wonderful stories to narrate about discovery and delight...This list can be endless. But one thing that truly makes this city feel like "home" are the wonderful friends I made who stood by my side and always sustained my belief that no matter how bad things were, "this too shall pass".
Sometimes I wonder, if it weren't for them, would I have survived the time I got stuck at Dadar-Matunga for more than four hours owing to the heavy rains? Would I have managed to take a leap of faith and resign from a job that did not seem fulfilling enough if I did not have their support? Would I have had the courage to embark on a road to a new destination I was absolutely clueless about? Could I have overcome the loneliness one sometimes tends to experience living alone in such big cities?
I don't think I could have survived any of that without them!

My old dreams may have evaporated but I have still not become a person who just goes on with the daily drudgery of life with no fun and zeal. Life is a journey and even though one may have to give up on past dreams and wishes as one advances, it does not mean that those are not replaced with newer goals and ambitions.
Mumbai has helped me evolve as an individual at many different levels - today, I feel more connected to my core. I have set new goals for myself and I am aware that I have the support-system I need in order to achieve them. Life is not a bed of roses and there are thorns that I need to look out for but I have faith - in the end, everything will be alright!
I guess this is the Mumbai spirit that everyone boasts about - no matter what disasters fall in your path a Mumbaikar always has a ready disposition to face and overcome all calamities. I think this new-found fighting-spirit that I seem to have recently discovered officially qualifies me to say I am a Mumbaikar, after all. 

The Birthday Wish-List

Today, I received a call from a college-friend asking me for my postal address. She said she needed it to send me my birthday gifts for this year! Now, all those who regularly follow my blog must be aware by now that I am a big fan of birthdays! However, with exactly a month to go before I turn 24 years old, I was a little surprised to find myself not feeling a bit joyous about it. My friend on the phone, perhaps noticing my indifference, remarked, “Are you upset about turning a year older?” I couldn't help but smile on hearing that comment. I always crib about turning old every year. However, this time, I don’t think that is the case. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in a grand, elaborate manner since the last three years.  If it weren't for a select few people who demand a treat, I’d probably be sitting at home on my birthday dressed in my PJs. As I told my friend how tedious I think birthday celebrations are, she was astounded, “You have changed so much post college!” I just smiled and told her, “I don’t have anyone like you here to make this day special for me!” She giggled and ranted on the phone about what she would do if she was in Mumbai for my special occasion. For a while, I was transported back in time as I heard her chatter. Before hanging up, she made me promise that I would make a wish-list because, in the words of my dear friend, “Even if I am not around, my best friend must have the time of her life!”

So yes, with just a month to go, here is what I wish for this birthday:

• Happiness:  Happiness means different things to different people. I feel happy when I am valued. I think one never needs a reason to spread smiles. This birthday, I want to be happy by spreading happiness around me. I have decided to perform some random acts of kindness during my birthday month. If you have any suggestions on what these might be, feel free to send me your requests!

• Love: Sometimes all it takes is a hug or a kiss or a concerned arm around your shoulder to melt all your troubles away. I feel we are living in a world, today, that is unfortunately characterized by indifference. On my birthday, if you wish to make a difference in my world, please do not hesitate from spreading love and brightening the lives of those individuals who you feel are special to you (and if I am a special person in your life, please note that I too need my share of love and affection!).

• Acceptance: We all have a tendency to like people for the things they do that make our life special. This birthday, I want to be accepted for who I am. It may seem to be a rather humble request but when was the last time you were able to accept someone unconditionally? I have flaws just like you do but why let that come in the way of treating one another with non-judgementality and unconditional positive regard.

These are the three wishes I have. Three simple wishes, or am I asking for a lot?

A Visit To St. Catherine's Home

A part of my job-profile entails that I liaison with different organizations (primarily NGOs) regarding fieldwork placements of students. This responsibility took me to St. Catherine's Home in Andheri (West), Mumbai on a nice, sunny Saturday morning. While I have visited several organizations in the past, this one, in particular, was a humbling experience for me.

St. Catherine's Home was started in 1922 to provide shelter to unmarried mothers but today it caters to more than 300 infants, toddlers, girls and young, unmarried women who have been the victims of deprivation, abandonment and abuse. The one thing that struck me the  most about this home was its emphasis on not just providing education and rehabilitation but also catering to the psycho-social needs of the individuals residing there and ensuring they are re-integrated into society when they are ready. I was amazed to know that they ensure their children go on a trip to the sea-side once every year!

As soon as I reached the home, there was a young couple there who were just leaving after adopting a ten-month old baby. It was a touching experience seeing the gleam of happiness in the eyes of the new mother as she was holding the child in her arms.
After the couple left, I had a conversation with Sister which made me open my eyes about many things that I was already aware of but I chose not to see. For instance, I was told that one of the major challenges they face when they put children up for adoption is that couples do not want to adopt dark-skinned babies. I guess it is because of such obsession with fair-skin that we need campaigns like Dark Is Beautiful. I was also told that no family in India wants to adopt a child that has any mental or physical handicap. In fact, they do not even want to adopt children who have any scars or marks on their faces. I was really troubled on hearing this! While the mind-set is such that we want our children to be perfect, does this mean that children who appear farther away from perfection have no place in mainstream society? Is only beauty deserving of love and affection? I found myself thinking to myself that it is probably because of this narrow mind-set that the couples were not blessed with a baby of their own in the first place - no matter how hard I tried, I found myself being quite judgmental when I heard these stories. Sister told me that all children with special needs are put for adoption in foreign countries. She told me about children getting adopted and living in Sweden, France, Belgium and U.S.A. and doing very well there.
Every time I hear politicians or some orthodox people condemning how the 'Indian culture' has gone for a toss owing to Westernization, I feel they should reflect on some of the ways in which the Western society is better; especially when it comes to the way it treats its women.

While the home is doing a commendable job despite being short of funds, the fact that it exists is proof that we are living in a society that is in no ways safe for the people who have the XX chromosome. Every day, news of molestation, child abuse, gang-rapes continue to be hurled at the public through newspapers, radios and televisions. I wonder what happens after the sensationalism is over? No one is ready to take any responsibility. We wish to blame the government, the police-forces, the judiciary, the media, the politicians, the organization but nothing really comes out of this blame game. I just feel that it is now time to take matters in our own hands and be responsible for our own safety because expecting this country to be a safe place for women is like a Utopian dream.

Towards the end of the visit, the words of Sister that remained with me were, "Count your blessings! Our children, here, would gladly exchange places with you right now. You have food, shelter, clothing and so much more - be thankful to the ones who provide them for you. Parents are always taken for granted and never appreciated for all the things they do because after all you feel it is their 'duty' to do so." She gave us instances of fathers molesting their own daughters; mothers selling their daughters; uncles making their nieces work in the flesh-trade and all these stories just gave me goose-bumps. The trauma one feels when one becomes aware of the fact that the one who is assigned the job of protecting you and taking care of all your needs is the one who is subjecting you to exploitation and oppression is one that can be extremely heart-wrenching and something that no one can understand unless and until you have been in the same shoes. At the end of the visit, I just felt grateful for having so many privileges, luxuries and comforts - while I never have issues expressing my thankfulness, today was one day when I felt a simple 'thank you' would just not do.

To all the people reading this, I reiterate Sister's message and request you to make a list of all those things in life you are grateful for and express your heart-felt thanks to those people who have blessed you by providing those things. It will not only help you look at your life from a different perspective but you will also be making a difference in the lives of those who you hold in special regard. 

In Search Of Light

Have you ever seen a sea in the sky? Have you ever seen a void in that sea? Have you seen a world in that void? Have you seen a light above it all? That shimmering ray which sparkles a glimmer of hope...It is alright if you haven't. There are days when even I can't seem to find it...I keep walking in the dark hoping to bump into someone holding a flaming torch to guide the way ahead. I find myself getting lost in the dark. I never seem to reach the end of the tunnel and find the light. Thankfully, this does not last. I usually manage to shake myself awake from these nightmares.

However, on some days this is not possible. How do you wake yourself up when you realize you were not sleeping in the first place? What do you do in those moments when you feel that the entire purpose of your existence is like the tip of an unsharpened pencil - completely pointless! What do you do when you find the very ground on which you stood, resting your faith, is crumbling to pieces and you have no place to ground yourself. In those moments, can you patiently wait for the universe to shower your life with happiness and meaning?

Like many, I too had dreams and the will to chase them with the hope that one, fine day, they would become a reality. Leaving behind the luxury of familiarity, I entered a strange land with dreamy eyes and elaborate plans. I wanted the tree of life but only grass and weeds lay on my way. I searched for people who would dare to be different but no matter where I looked, everyone was just like the others.

I sought solace indoors and hid myself from the world. I no longer wished to participate in their worldly affairs. I wanted to get lost so that I could be found. I waited and waited for someone to miss me and come looking for me but no one knocked on the door. I stared out of my window and looked at everything happening around me. Nothing stopped because I wasn't a part of it. What was I to do next?

I stared at myself in the mirror. I could not recognize my own reflection. I still stepped out of the house hoping that the world would accept and accommodate the new "me" even though I wasn't at peace with myself. I really had nothing to worry about. The world did not notice any difference - it treated me in the same manner as it always had. I did not know whether to be hurt or whether to breathe a sigh of relief.

Yet not everything remained the same. I started noticing things I had never laid eyes on before. I could see the sadness in her eyes no matter how hard she tried covering it up with a big smile on her face. I could see the way he crossed his fingers nervously even as he portrayed himself as the perfect picture of confidence. And then it dawned on me! People are forever tenderly wrestling and negotiating with their own shadows, making preemptive strikes on their personal share of the world's evil, fighting the good fight to keep from spewing their darkness on those around them.

In moments of darkness, we have to look for the light within us for there is nobody else to illuminate the path for us. The realization that there is no "you" was quite a liberating experience for me. It means that succumbing to institutionalized relations of 'family', 'love', etc. is merely a struggle to keep the illusion of an "I" and a "you". In reality, there is only the "other" and nothing else. Therefore, by refusing to associate with another, I am really just liberating the "other" as a consequence of destroying myself.

Sometimes I feel that I am the moon that removes darkness from people's lives while never revealing my dark side; and just like the moon gleams because of the light from the sun, I too shine because of the light from another source - I just don't know who my source of light is. Hopefully, someday in the future, we will meet. After all, what is life without hope?

Ship Of Theseus - An Intellectually Stimulating Work Of Art

As a student of psychology, the Gestalt school of thought has taught me, “The whole is greater than the sum of all its parts because the human eye, first, sees objects in their entirety before perceiving their individual parts.” Simply put, it means that the construction of an entity is more important than the individual pieces of the entity on their own. Yesterday, I saw the movie, Ship of Theseus, which made me look at this Gestalt principle in a slightly different light.

The premise of Anand Gandhi’s film, Ship of Theseus, is the Theseus’s paradox, as contemplated by the philosopher, Plato, which argues that if you dismantle a ship, plank by plank, and then reassemble it, does it remain the same ship? Thomas Hobbes had introduced a further puzzle asking what would happen if the original planks were gathered up after they were replaced and then used to build a second ship. Which ship, if either, is the original Ship of Theseus?

You know a movie has left a mark if you walk out of the cinema-hall and continue to think about the film even as you wake up the next morning. Ship of Theseus had that effect on me.

 Gandhi brilliantly engages the audience with the Theseus’s Paradox by drawing analogies from the lives of his protagonists. There are three stories – each featuring very different situations – yet they all come together in the same frame at the end, in a manner that is so brilliant and that makes such absolute, perfect sense that you are just left gasping with wonder.

The life of each protagonist is showcased as an autonomous component and each of their journeys leads you to a place where you are left asking questions. The story of Aaliya makes you wonder, “If you do not have eyes, does that mean you cannot really see?” or “Is there a possibility that sometimes physical sight actually hinders the real, insightful vision?”

The second story is about Maitreya, a Jain monk, who leads a fight against animal testing. When he is diagnosed with liver cirrhosis, he refuses treatment because he cannot accept drugs that have been tested on animals. Attempts to convince him are denounced with intriguing arguments. This story raises questions that are seldom heard in mainstream features and, on a personal front, left me wondering about the extent and purpose of ideological rigidity.

The third story is about Navin, a stock-broker, who is constantly goaded by his maternal grandmother to contribute to society, at large, in some way or the other, instead of just going about his daily routine. He is presented with an opportunity to do this when he decides to fight for justice for a poor brick-layer, Shankar, who has been a victim of kidney-scam. At one level, this story beautifully portrays how all of us start as ignorant beings and, then, where the journey for the search of truth takes us. At another level, it makes one wonder if a human being is interested only in making money, does it really make him or her a lesser mortal being than someone who believes in sacrificing personal happiness for the greater good.

It is only in the end that you realize that the three beautiful stories of Aaliya, Maitreya and Navin are only deceivingly independent stories – in actuality, the three are all planks that form the unsinkable “Ship of Theseus”. The subtle reference to Plato's allegory of the cave, in the end, is remarkable. 

I would recommend this movie to everyone as it is indeed thought-provoking and forces you to utilize your mental faculties for some serious introspection and reflection about your notions of self, and your notions of faith, ideologies and relationships. The beauty of this film lies in the fact that it does not attempt to provide any answers to the age-old debate of the Theseus’s Paradox. Watching Ship of Theseus was quite a fulfilling experience for me and I would recommend all those who haven’t seen it to catch it as soon as possible – it might not in theatres next week – because it is a film that leaves much to savour even after you have watched it. 

Leaving Crossroads

He was a silent worker who always kept to himself. His reclusive and lonesome nature was one of the many objects of interest for most of his co-workers.
She used to chatter away to glory with anybody who as much as looked in her direction. She was the life of many parties. People were mesmerized by her charms and mannerisms but she did not seem impressed by anybody.

It was a typical Monday morning for everyone at work. Almost all the people were cribbing about returning to work after having “so much fun” during the weekend. It wasn't just another day for him. It was that day of the year when he had turned a year older. As he entered office and walked towards his cubicle, not one head glanced in his direction. He was hardly a prominent figure – no one noticed his presence nor missed his absence. He sat at his desk and switched on the computer. He, suddenly, noticed a note on his bulletin-board. It simply read “Happy Birthday”. He recognized the handwriting. It was from her.
The whole day she was busy with presentations. He managed to catch hold of her at lunch-time. “Thank you,” he said. “But how did you know it was my birthday?”
She flashed her million-dollar smile, “I keep a list of everyone’s date of birth so that I don’t forget to wish them! Birthdays are important, don’t you think?”
She walked away without really waiting for a response. He watched her go, baffled by the ease and comfort with which she did things. No one would believe that this was just her first month at work.

After this incident, their interactions increased. He found that he could talk to her about anything. His evenings were no longer spent doing over-time and his weekends were never spent alone at home.
She gave up being a people’s person and settled for a small group of close-knit friends.

They were inseparable. They completed each other’s sentences. One knew what was on the other’s mind even before words were spoken. 

People talked about them. People made up stories. 

This did not bother them. If anything, it was nothing less than a source of entertainment for them!

After some time, he quit the organization to pursue what he felt was his “real calling”. She stayed on only to join him later, after some months. This move was in “their” best interest. Distance was not doing their relationship any good.  It wasn't what her heart wanted but she did not want to disappoint him. He needed her just as she needed him, she told herself.
He hated it when she used to prioritize work over spending time with him. It tore her heart to a million shreds when she found him choosing the company of other people before her. Something was amiss and it was now time to strike a compromise.
She gave up her passion to help him follow his path of dreams. She plunged herself in darkness in the hope of showing him the light.

As time passed, it became clear to her that it was all futile. He did not need her. She decided to go back to her old life. But going back isn't as simple as it seems to be. Retracing one’s steps does not mean that one manages to restore themselves back to their old selves in a complete manner. She found that she could just not force herself to be the person she used to be. She no longer craved company – she did not like having people around. They annoyed her. She immersed herself in work but her zeal had vanished. She was just not as good as she used to be at one point of time. She felt that her parts had gone rusty. Each day, she was dying a slow, painful death. She wanted to run away but she had no place to go. She did not even know who or what she was running away from. In the end, she settled for a life of mediocrity. She was with people but felt alone all the time. People are, after all, no substitute for the emptiness one feels within.
He became extremely successful in his new field and stood on top of the ladder of success. People looked up to him in awe. He had everything in life. He was content, blissfully and conveniently unaware of the damage he had caused, perhaps unintentionally, to someone who, once upon a time, was his closest friend. It was alone up there but he wasn't lonely. After all, he had always enjoyed his own company.

They had crossed paths but their destinations were different. He wanted to be like the Pole Star, the brightest star in the northern sky.
She wanted to burst like a star and dissolve like a handful of glitter into the universe to give herself back to where she came from...

The Two Roads (Flash Fiction)

She was tired. Once again, she found herself standing at the cross-roads. The path that she had previously walked on had led her to a dead end. Dejected, morose, and extremely fatigued, she felt like screaming her lungs out. It was alright to scream. Her cries fell to deaf ears even when she screamed on top of her voice. No one seemed to be listening to what she really wanted to say.

How had she landed herself in this situation? She wondered about what had to be done next. Taking decisions had never been her strong point. It is never too late to return – people used to say. She had managed to retrace her steps and had landed at the intersection yet again. Once again, she had to make a choice. Which road should she take? Should she take a new path and see where it leads her? Perhaps, it would take her to those who valued her. At the same time, there was also the possibility that the new road could still lead her to old disappointments. Did she have it in her to handle another blow? She was not too sure.

On the other hand, she could go back to the old road that led to her old life. 

Fighting the same old battle on familiar ground seemed like a safer option. Perhaps, she should go back to those who might, someday, learn to value her. Perhaps, she was giving up too easily. Change was a long, painful process and she wasn’t even sure if she would get the returns from it that she desired. Perhaps, treading on a new path was a futile attempt at obtaining something that, probably, isn’t meant for her.

Who decides what is meant for you and what is not? A voice surfaced from inside. She did not know who owned this voice. It did not soothe her. It only added to her confusion. The time to ponder was up. It was now time to act. In front of her, lay two paths. One path led her to her old life; there were thorns on the way but she was aware of where those thorns were and she knew which areas to avoid and where to walk. It would ultimately lead her to where she had come from – a familiar life of hurt, despair, and monotony.   The other path demanded new actions and came with the hope of providing her a different life, perhaps, the life that she had always craved for. Yet, it was unfamiliar territory and she was completely clueless of the hurdles that were strewn her way.

She took a deep breath. There was a determined look in her eyes that pointed steadfastly at the two roads that lay ahead. She had made her choice. She lingered at the cross-road for some more time before, finally, walking ahead in the direction of her chosen path.