Feal the fear

"Do the thing you fear most and the death of fear is certain." - Mark Twain

I don't think I believed in this statement entirely until recently - my mother however, was a staunch believer. It was the time when those scary movies for kids (how politically incorrect is that?) were quite common; the ones - where toys would turn into ghosts at night and teddy bears would come to life. My sister and I would watch those movies covering our faces with our hands; we would obviously, leave a tiny hole to peek through. We would sit through the entire movie, and of course being just 7-9 years olds, we'd be awfully scared at night! Tears were involved. 

We were suffering from Lygophobia. This was when our cruel mother would take us out in the dark - one by one - with our 'scary' teddy bears and leave us there until we stopped weeping and were almost comfortable. Thanks to that, both my sister and I managed numerous night camps, walks through the jungle, cycling at night and were never again afraid of the dark or of teddy bears for that matter. Turns out mom wasn't so horrible after all.  

That was Lygophobia - fear of the dark. 

Let me move on to Acrophobia. Most people suffer from a certain degree of acrophobia - it might not be enough to dissuade someone from buying a ridiculously gorgeous penthouse on the 25th storey; but it might not be the topmost preference for all. I fall in the latter category. I was about 8 (yes I had a tough childhood!) when my dad ordered me to jump from 3 m high plank; into the swimming pool of course! Being an army officer - he's quite fierce by nature, but I would rather risk being in his whom-to-scold-today list than make the jump. Over the years - my this fear subsided, yet I wanted to go a step beyond to prove this to myself. Last year I did a Bungee Jump! Yes, it was scary but I'm proud to have tried it. Two more bungee jumps and then I shifted to sky diving. Why try it thrice? I believe that all new things must be done thrice - once, to get over the fear, twice to learn how to do it, and the third time to figure our whether you like it or not.

Thalassophobia - fear of deep sea. This was a big one especially right after watching Deep Blue Sea where Sharks would come out of nowhere and rip the actors apart. I was always fond of playing in open waters - but fear of being pulled down by a blue whale or getting caught by an octopus always was at the back of my head. I managed to put a brave face though. So, this year - since I had some money to invest - I decided to try deep sea diving. I panicked for the first couple of minutes (or maybe more than a couple of minutes) but in the end, I loved it. The simple fact that I'd be exploring the rest of the 70% of the planet that was under water was more appealing to me than the fear of being ripped apart. Alright, that's not entirely true... I still keep a lookout for those sharks!

What I realized from my experiences over the years is - Fear is a part of everyone's life that we experience on a daily basis! In our culture, fear is experienced as negative and is seen as a shortcoming. However, in my case, it has been quite the opposite and I feel a lot better by simply allowing myself to embrace the fear fully. I have decided to always face my fear and let is pass over and through me. Because once the fear has gone, there will be nothing... only I will remain.

The Big Fat Indian Weddings Gone Slim?

A few days ago, as I sat on the bed watching my grandmother chop the vegetables, I asked her the instigating question – How was your wedding? What followed was an hour, or so it seemed, of stories, gossip and the anticipated ‘those were the days’ dialogue at regular intervals. My fault.

Talk to any grandmom and she’ll echo the same.

Makes you ponder whether the weddings in the good old days really more memorable? Much has changed over the last few decades, including the freedom to choose a partner, but we’ll ignore that for a minute, shall we?

One apparent difference that comes to mind is the duration of wedding celebrations. Back in the time, when the world was not so competitive, when most women were home bound, when distances were traveled on foot, the celebrations would last a minimum of 10-15 days. This was the time when people cared enough. Not only to be part of the celebrations but also to share the responsibilities. This was the time when people suddenly decided to have a sleepover, and it was not frowned upon but welcomed with a genuine smile. This was the time when people took a moment and breathed.

Today, the celebrations spread not over 3 days. The guests are humbly booked a 5-Star hotel for their stay. They wouldn’t expect anything less either. They care enough to be part of the wedding, but maybe not enough to share the responsibilities?

Singing, dancing and more singing dominated practically the entire 15 days of frolic. Dusk to dawn. Dawn to dusk. Women will sing their tradition songs. Tease the bride or the groom. Dance on the beats of dholki. Drink tea after every two hours. Sleep in one room, 20 of them. Wake up the next morning and repeat the routine. The D-day arrives. All rituals are performed in a plain simple manner. Time when bride departs is the only time all had tears in their eyes. This was earlier.

Now, the 15 days of singing, dancing and more singing is compressed into a day of Sangeet. Selected friends and family put up a performance that is followed by drinking and dancing by all close relatives. It falls just a little short of a clubbing night. No one sings, thanks to DJs. Traditional songs are forgotten. The night lasts for as long as the venue is paid for. The guests then head back to their respective 5-Stars. The D-day arrives. Rituals are now performed exuberantly, courtesy Bollywood. Much attention is paid to who’s wearing what, how good are the arrangements and how much would it have cost. The bride happily says her goodbyes.

Receptions are another thing.

During my parents’ reception, they met, socialized and got to know the other’s family. They, till date, have some amazing stories to tell us from that day. Reception meant much more back then.

Today it means a stage. A stage where the couple sits, flashing their smiles as all relatives come up, one by one, and get themselves clicked with the couple. The ones clicking are 5-7 cameramen with bright lights. They, however, do much more than clicking. They embarrass the newly-weds by pressurizing them to make silly poses and hold the pose till the picture is worthy. It’s not a reception anymore, a photo session more like. The only solace is that the temperament of love today still supersedes the melancholy of photo sessions and materialism as a whole.

The weddings today are gaining more popularity. They are loud and seemingly more festive with all the lights and decorations. However, it was the memorable weddings from grandma’s age that gave prefixes like – big fat – to the Indian weddings. What contributed to them becoming famous were the simplicity, care and love of everyone. The impact of it is so deep embedded that it has laid a foundation that would not be forgotten. Not in my lifetime.

What is your religion?

I was born on 7th January 1987 into a loving Indian family and by default into a religion too. Pooja ceremony followed soon after and there were several more rituals henceforth. This was nothing out of the ordinary for, probably the entire world.

My childhood was nothing less than a childhood.

It had love. A caring dad who held my hand before I could fall. A benevolent mother who smiled even through the tough times. A mushy sister for whom I was a baby doll. A few dogs with their unconditional affection.

It had fun. Locking mom in the bathroom when only 3. Soaking clothes in water when mom had just finished drying them. Scarring dad and failing miserably each afternoon when he returned. Painting faces, soiling ourselves, breaking things and then hiding... And several friends to share those times with.

It had danger. Tumble down from the 1st story and rushing to the hospital when 4. Getting into an accident while crossing road and rushing to the hospital when 5. Shoving a crayon up my nostril and rushing to the hospital at 6. All of them, true stories.

It also had religion.

Do wrong and God will punish you. Be nice to all and He will reward you. He doesn't like kids who lie and adores those who are polite. Perseverance is paid for by Him for He doesn't help the lazy children. And most importantly He protects you from the ghosts, which are of course, everywhere!

In retrospect, it's a brilliant concept. A concept to teach children the basic values in life. Not only does it coerce them to follow the right path, but also makes a permanent mark in their minds. A permanent mark, of both - the right morals and God.

Without the fear of God, I might not respect my parents as much. Without the feeling of protection by God, I might still be scared of the dark. Without the punishing powers of the God, I might be a hypocrite. Without the love of God, I might be a bitter person. Without… the concept of God.

It's the year 2012 now, and I'm not a child anymore.

I no longer believe that going to temples will help me with my life crisis. I fail to understand why people donate money to idols. I refuse to acknowledge temples, churches, mosques that are built at every two steps. I take no pride in being part of a ritual that would only serves as an impediment. I am appalled by the billions being spent in the name of God. I can distinguish fact from fiction.

Say I'm wrong and God is not just a concept, would He mind if you don't fast on Mondays or if you don't pray to Him daily? I don't think He will.

That being said, I would like to establish - I am religious.

I educate poor children. I provide shelter to stray animals. I save dying birds. I help an old person cross the road. I give water to a thirsty person. I enjoy grandma's stories. I respect and treat everyone as equal. I smile when someone needs it. I hug with all honesty. I make time. I listen with my heart. I care with my soul. In return I get unconstrained and immeasurable love.

This very love gives me the fortitude to follow the right path.

This love is my strength. This love is my God. This, is my religion.

What's yours?

Of the new life or old?

There’s so much going on in my life right now. I barely know where to start from!

Alright, since am at job now (I don’t really waste time at work but this is the first time since I don’t have any urgent deliverables), let me talk about that first. So, I managed to scrape through 2 months! I think that’s my longest ever (without any leave!). My IA report (NUS requires us to summarize all we’ve done in IA till now so we (and they) know that this internship is helping us learn something worthwhile. Though I don’t really understand why they pretend to care so much. They don’t care when we don’t get a module we really want to learn about; or when you’re an international student and need accommodation (just because one doesn’t have CCA points doesn’t mean he/she should be thrown out of university!) is due coming Friday. I have yet to start writing that report (unlike a few interns who go home Every single day and scribble in their journal what they’ve done today so it’ll be easy to write the report). I reflect back and the first word that comes to my mind of the last two months at job is – Excitement. I am not saying good excitement or bad excitement; just excitement. Heart-beating-faster-at-work kinda excitement. Tension when I have to meet deadlines. Worry when I need to hop on to a conference bridge and actually talk. Self-confidence when I dress up every morning and come to work knowing that me having responsibility simply means that someone has faith in me. Happiness when my boss appreciates my work. Contentment when I drink two huge cups of only the-most-awesome-free hot chocolate ever!

But what I realize from working these two months is – I (like most people) can get accustomed to a regular working lifestyle (where everyday schedule looks like this – wake up early (sulk that you can’t snooze alarm anymore), get dressed – wait for bus/cab – reach office/same desk/same chair, work for 9-12 hours (with a break or two where you drink hot chocolate and pretend to have a great time with colleagues), leave from office in the evening and either rush home to see your family or meet your friends for a couple of drinks, and at night before sleeping – you think of the long day ahead of you tomorrow and wish for it to be Saturday miraculously), but I do not want to; and I am now determined to make sure that I do not get trapped in the flow.

Let’s move on to my private life now. Let’s talk about family; family I haven’t seen in so long. I think this is the first time in 6 years that I have not gone back for more than 6 months. Had this been Junior College, I’d have been crying myself to sleep every night (Girika knows how home sick I used to get by the end of 6 months) but now I am much stronger. Though I feel badly for the fact that I couldn’t be there for my sister when she needed me beside her while she touches everybody’s feet (It IS a big deal!); can’t be there every evening to play squash with dad and show him that I have actually improved a lot (without my arm giving up on me like last time. if my arm weakens this time, I swear I will cut it off!); can’t be there to whine to Ma about eating meals and see her chase behind me; can’t be there to take Mishti for walks 4 – 5 times a day and run as fast as possible as that tiny creature pulls me along. But, I am much stronger now.

Part of that strength comes from my other family here – Akshay, Chandrakant, Girika, Manu (in alphabetical order =p). If it wasn’t for these guys I would have… had different friends? Ha ha. Friends – foes – friends for over six years now. We have stuck through thin and thick (literally for Manu!) and now we are at a place where we don’t feel like friends anymore but something more. Girika with her motherly instincts, Chandrakant with his self-interested nature (ha ha), Akshay with knowing a lot about a lot and Manu with his whining and stubborn nature make just the perfect balance. And if we are to go by the conclusion that I am the annoying Monica in F.R.I.E.N.D.S, then I am the ‘glue that holds everyone together’ (alright! Stopping raising the eyebrow!).

So, turns out… there actually isn’t much going on in life at all. Fine! I needed a starting line that wasn’t, ‘A blog entry since I have decided to slack a little at work for the first time’.

Of the six months ahead

It’s a fine Saturday afternoon. And I am scared. I ate my meal and I ate my cake but I still am scared. I watched Will & Grace lying on the comfy bed. I am scared.

My heart is pounding and I never want to leave my room. I am terrified.

Of Four letter words

Exams ended. Never mind on how they went. Exams ended.

Everyone’s going home. Half the Indians around are already back home and more will be leaving in the coming days. Home, to your parents, to your siblings, to your friends, to the weather, to the smell, to the warmth, to the love. Everyone’s going home.

As I digest the fact that I, most probably, will not be going home these holidays (this is going to be the first time), I can’t help but miss home even more.

Mama gives me a HUGE hug when I come out of the airport and quite briefly looks at the luggage I’ve got to check whether I listened to her when she said, “Get the big suitcase and the blue bag even if you have no luggage so I can fill it up when you’re going back.”
Bapu gives me a hug and a peck on my forehead. He keeps it quick because though it’s an Army vehicle and no one dare say anything if it’s parked right at the entrance, dad doesn’t like anyone raising an eyebrow. So he makes it quick.
Didi…well…she’s almost never there to receive me. I see her only when half my holidays are over.
Most excitement is shown by my baby, Mishti! Jumping and running around from one room to another – biting bhaiyas – getting on the bed/sofa waiting to be petted – following me everywhere! Ah, I love her.

Next few days are wonderful. Everyone makes me feel like a princess; where everything happens at my command. If I want to sleep the whole day, Ma doesn’t let anyone even disturb me. She even lets Mishti sleep until I sleep. If I want to eat Rajma, Ma ignores dad screaming ‘Channa!’ at the background. If I want to watch T20 with dad, Ma pretends to enjoy it. If I want to play squash dad very willingly offers to play with me, even though he knows he’s going to be totally bored. If there’s a tiff between my sister and me over the phone, well, alright, they always take Her side! But I feel like a princess nonetheless!

As more days pass. I still sleep for as long as I want. However, now I’ve been told to sleep early so I can wake up in time for lunch. Also, Mishti has to go for walks in the morning with bhaiya. I still get the food that I like. However, now I’ve been constantly told to learn how to cook it myself. Nobody cares what I want to watch on TV since according to dad, “that’s what you do the whole day” (which is not true. It just happens that when he returns from office, I’d have just woken up and switched on the TV). Now dad wants to play more badminton than squash, which works for me as well. And Now if there’s a tiff between my sister and me over the phone – they still take her side. All this makes me love being at home - just like the old days. I love the fights.

As more days fly by, sister comes home. She hugs ma, bapu and trouble Mishti. I stand in the corner and say ‘Hi’ to her. She responds with a fascinating story, which she always has ready for every occasion. How does she even remember all of them? And we both are thinking, ‘Thank God she’s here!’ We three go for walks, buy pocket-full-of-chocolates, eat kachra all the time, (after a few days) fight, make up in no time. When sitting in a room full of people, we communicate with our minds; it’s incredible how we can understand what the other is thinking. I am not sure if this happens to all the siblings but it comes really handy at times.

As the end nears, Ma burdens herself by stuffing my bags with all sorts of food items which I constantly tell her not to put since I know it is going to get wasted. I don’t know whether she puts on that strong face or does she actually not feel too sad that I’m leaving. She gives me the strength to be away from home and still be happy. Dad gets busy with vehicle and accommodation arrangements. He gets emotional and tells me in his own way how much he loves me and misses me. Sister has to choose which two amongst the three dresses I like of hers, should she give me. Ma should transfer some of her strength to di since crying for every little small thing doesn’t suit her now that she is 26 (hehe)! Mishti just gets sad and sits next to the suitcases. Before leaving I make sure I give her one of those chewy sticks; Mishti sees those and gets a little distracted while I quickly leave.

I miss home. All this love, emotions, drama, jokes, family time, protectiveness, comfort, warmth… I am going to miss home.

So much for my 'plan'!

When I decided to come home for 2 months, I made up my mind that I will channelize all my energy and free time in doing something constructive. What I forgot to take into consideration was the fact that I'm going to be in Wellington. But anyways, Wellington wasn't all that bad since any facility you could ask for was available at your service. But all those facilities went for a six when I sprained my neck again and couldn't play any of the sports. But if not playing sports then gym, I thought till I got hooked on to a few great programs on TV and till di got DVDs of Mahabharat. But TV does get on to you after a while(more like dad accusing me of watching TV the whole day and not doing any ghar ka kaam) and then all you can think of doing is sitting idly in a veranda and talking to Mishti.
THUS, sitting with Mishti in the most amazing weather and taking her for walks several times in a day are the two constructive things for which God sent me to Wellington.